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chalkrevelations · 3 years

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Well. Episode 34 of Word of Honor, and, oh.

(Spoilers. Scroll on by and come back later if you want to watch it unspoiled.)

Oh. No. NO, show. Only A-Xiang is supposed to make me cry, so fuck you, Zhou Zishu, with your SAD LITTLE FACE, oh my god, why don’t you just pull my heart out of my chest, throw it down in the dirt and stomp on it? It would be kinder than having to watch you deal with the implications of whatever it is, precisely, you’ve done to yourself that means you’re expecting to drop dead any day and lose your chance at lifetime happiness with your soulmate but are hiding from everyone. (Well, I guess it’s your turn to be hiding something, because it looks like everyone in the jianghu except you was in on at least some part of Wen Kexing’s plan.)

So, the first thing that struck me in this ep is the way ZZS sits at the table at the post-Hero’s Conference meal drinking session, hunched over, like his bones are made of shattered glass, and here’s the thing: He’s absolutely just had a serious emotional blow. But also, this is a guy who’s terminally ill and in chronic pain, and we saw that repeatedly for about the first two-thirds of the show, and then the emphasis on it kind of slacked off. And I’m thinking now that maybe it wasn’t just slack writing or WKX playing his xiao in the rain through the nights at Four Seasons Manor like the worst emo kid ever that helped, that maybe some of the progression of the deadening of ZZS’s senses might have offered him some relief, but whatever it was, I’m wondering if whatever he’s done now – I presume pulled out those gd Nails - has exacerbated everything all over again. I cannot believe that at least Wu Xi can’t look at the way he’s moving and holding himself at the table and see that he’s not just stone-cold angry and emotionally hurt about being left out of the loop, he’s in physical pain. Don’t get me wrong, I think it’s a little like being stabbed in the chest when he gets confirmation that Chengling and WKX were in on WKX’s “death” together while he was in the dark and believed this asshole actually died on him. But I also think we’re getting physical pain ramped up again from him; there’s a hesitation and delicacy of movement that speaks of someone who’s judging their movements and maintaining a high level of control, because if they do make a wrong move, everything could just explode into agony. I also noticed the way he clutches his cup when A-Xiang starts explaining how WKX made a deal with Xie Wang in order to rescue ZZS from Tian Chuang, and I can’t for the life of me figure out if it’s having to hear about WKX finding himself in that position in order to save him, or if it’s A-Xiang calling him “Sick Dude” at a moment when that’s going to press right on one of the tenderest, most vulnerable places. Because, god, everyone else at this table who even knows about his terminal illness still thinks that Wu Xi is going to be able to fix him. And here’s where ZZS apparently is a better person than me, because I don’t know that I wouldn’t have an absolute breakdown and end up throwing it in WKX’s face that if he had just told me what was going on, maybe I wouldn’t be about to drop dead tomorrow and leave him alone for the rest of his life, asshole. But no! His zhiji’s happiness is so important to ZZS, that he’s not going to say a word about it! It’s more important than his own life, that his shidi has been able to avenge his parents while keeping his own hands (relatively) clean of any more sins. He’s going to continue to be there, to be whatever WKX needs him to be, for however few days he has left. I won’t fail you. (Even when you fail me). Here’s the thing though – at some point, you’re going to drop dead, Zhou Zishu. And apparently you’re going to leave WKX completely unprepared for it, so I don’t know that you’re doing him any favors being the one who’s hiding something, this time around. And oh my god, I just realized something – you made him drink three pots of liquor as a punishment – was that to get him so blind drunk he wouldn’t notice the Nails were gone? You realize you have to tell him at some point, right?

ANYWAY, WKX gets sloppy drunk and stumbles into their(? has everyone just given up any pretense at this point?) bedroom, and first of all, can I take a minute to flail over the way ZZS pushes drunk WKX’s hair back off of his shoulder? Can I? Because I rewound and re-watched that 2 seconds of the show three times. But then, then, WKX starts drunken rambling about how happy he is, and how scared he’d been that he wasn’t worthy of ZZS, and tears start welling up in ZZS’s stupid eyes, and WKX starts talking about how finding ZZS made him a whole new person, and ZZS’s stupid precious face gets SO SAD, and I start fucking welling up too, and then WKX talks about his parents and their shifu, and ZZS presses WKX’s head to his chest and gives us his stupid sad little smile, and I’m literally clutching my shirt hem in inarticulate pain and distress by this point, and then ZZS starts to break down as he holds WKX’s hand as WKX finally falls asleep, and he gives that stupid shaky sobbing little gasp, and just UGH. I’m DYING here, show. Also, how did you manage to do this to me with just your face, Zhang Zhehan? I’m not sure I can take the next couple of episodes, when the whole Nails dilemma is sure to come out.

Second big takeaway of this ep is that I just … oh my god. I cannot with you, Xie’er, holy shit. And I say this in a completely loving yet utterly aghast way. Was it absolutely necessary to literally sit on Awful Yifu’s lap? I’m reduced to a state of horrified laughter over the envelope pushing. The absolute fuckery of the power dynamic fluctuations of the Zhao Jing/Xie Wang relationship at this point … it’s something. It’s finally reached a point where it’s so fucky and complex that I may have to go looking for some fic, despite my general desire to punt Awful Yifu into the sun. I do have to say that the whole (one-sided) conversation when Xie’er finally let everything out was super-cathartic. Go off with your unfilial self, Xie’er. Li Daikun has been amazing all through this, and he’s continuing to maintain a perfect balance as we move toward the finish line. I’ve heard he was offered Wen Kexing and supposedly didn’t want to take the role because he didn’t think he was ready for it? And while I absolutely appreciate Gong Jun and the chemistry between ZZS and WKX that he built with Zhang Zhehan, I’m flabbergasted that Li Daikun was able to pull off Xie’er like this, yet thought he couldn’t manage WKX ... and I have to admit, I kind of would like to see what WKX would have been in his hands. I’ve also heard a rumor that they’re talking about maybe filming an origin story for Xie Wang? I … am torn, because on the one hand, more Xie’er, but on the other, more Awful Yifu. Anyway, I think we’re continuing to see a whole tangle of resonances between Xie’er, Wen Kexing, and Zhou Zishu, and the awful men in their lives who helped make them who they are today; there’s something of a contrast between Zhou Zishu, who, maybe significantly, was older and had some grounding from his Four Seasons shifu when he got tangled up with Prince Jin and Tian Chuang and who was willing to gnaw off his own leg to get out of the trap (and only finally struck back because he was forcibly taken back) and the other two, one of whom killed and … dismembered? flayed? his abuser before taking his literal throne, and the other of whom turned his abuser into a muted … piece of furniture? sex toy? before taking his figurative throne. Xie’er is about five steps behind Wen Kexing on a parallel path, and maybe there’s still time for him to untangle some of the fuckery in his head about his awful yifu. But meanwhile, there it is: You failed me. Xie’er, you’re breaking my heart, but I feel like I have to point out, again, this is the guy who is literally responsible for the existence of the Department of the Unfaithful. I did have a brief moment when I was convinced Xie’er was poisoning himself and Awful Yifu in a murder-suicide move, but then we got lap-sitting instead? Which could have made me think we were getting some kind of reversion to wanting to feel safe, like a kid able to (finally) sit in his father’s lap and play at comfort, but then he went and made it – let’s be honest – a little weird.

Last really big takeaway for me from this ep is that A-Xiang and I continue to be simpatico, because lady, I also have a very very bad feeling about Fan Shishu’s absence in this wedding “party” from the Gentle Wind Sword Sect, and watching your dawning realization at the end of the episode when he doesn’t show up and doesn’t show up and doesn’t show up as the group enters only confirmed my suspicions that something is UP. Am I supposed to expect a fakeout to Mo Huaiyang’s haranguing speech to Cao Weining, with a wrap-up of “But since you clearly love her so much and want to be a good influence …” Because I won’t believe it. And I’m not going to be happy or comfortable until we see the back of this asshole, because speaking of somebody who says everything with his face, Mo Huaiyang was NOT happy when Ye Baiyi called off the rest of the Heroes Conference, after his horse in the race had already been completely repudiated and he lost whatever chance he had at gaining power and influence on Zhao Jing’s back. Even if he did come all this way – bearing gifts – just to tell Cao Weining he’s an ungrateful brat and to never darken the door of Gentle Wind Sword Sect, it would still be a jerkass thing to do. But I don’t trust him as far as I could spit, and my only question at this point is whether all of Cao Weining’s shidi who came with him to the wedding are in on whatever bs Mo Huaiyang’s planning to pull.

A couple other random things:

Oh, so A-Xiang’s two moms are going to stay together for the rest of their lives, are they? And Liu Qianqiao is even like, “Loser Boyfriend? I don’t know him.” Followed by a cut to Luo Fumeng and her vaguely smug reaction. I’m dying.

No one’s going to say anything about this random body that Wen Kexing used for his plan? Just, you know, went to the store or something and picked out a random body? I realize it’s very late in the game to be getting moralistic about the adorable merciless killers, but come on, man. I also think we have once again overused the infodump. I realize we only have 35 episodes, but some of this explanation of WKX’s very complex plan should have been shown, not told. Anyway, cue series of flashbacks to finally explain how the whole Rube Goldberg plan was put in place, and ah-hah! WKX, himself, talked to Chengling ahead of time. I notice that in that flashback scene and the one when he talks to Ye Baiyi, he’s prominently still wearing That Hairpin, so we’ll realize this all got set into motion before ZZS was rescued and brought home.

Finally, why has everyone seem to have forgotten (still) about that KEY that WKX was waving around? No one’s going to mention it? Really?

And now, I think I’m going to fortify myself with some bourbon for the next ep.

#zhou zishu #wen kexing #xie wang #zhao jing #gu xiang #word of honor #word of honor episode reax

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sourwolfstories · 4 years

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Hey! Do you have long fic recommendations? Can you involve some soulmate fics but AU are welcome too Long like 50k, 100k+ but really ill read anything

Soulmate fics (at least 50K)

When the Universe Comes Knocking (It’s Polite to Open the Door) by isthatbloodonhisshirt (wasterella)

It was like a door he’d nailed shut in his brain suddenly exploded open, all of his past confusion and anger and hurt and adoration flooding out at once. Stiles? Was it actually Stiles?!

Stiles, the guy he’d had a crush on for fucking years growing up. The guy who’d been an absolute dick to him their whole last year of high school.

The guy who’d told him he loved him in a dirty men’s bathroom on prom night while drunk and upset because he thought Kira was Derek’s girlfriend.

That Stiles? But it couldn’t be!

Marks and Mics by DLanaDHZ

Hale siblings Derek and Laura have been hired to run security for Stiles Stilinski's music tour. Business as usual, except someone is trying really hard to prove they're incapable and hurt Stiles. Derek finds himself curious about Stiles' bitter attitude and a strange illness that plagues the singer. And on top of that, Derek's soulmate remains elusive.

Written Can’t Be Denied by lookslikenico, winglesswarrior

Since time immemorial the story of ‘soulmates’ has persisted. In short, the idea that somewhere out there is your perfect match, the one person who can complete you and with whom you can find total happiness.

The story goes that, the first time you meet your ‘soulmate’, the universe will give you a sign in what should be the most obvious way - somewhere in your immediate vicinity the word ‘soulmate’ will appear. If reports of ‘soulmates’ are to be believed, rather than being written of as hopeful delusions, then this ‘obvious’ signal is anything but, fleeting as it is. The word seemingly only appears for a matter of moments and only when two people first meet. There is no guarantee that they will be looking in the correct direction to see it, nor that they will have any idea who their supposed ‘soulmate’ actually is.

A fact that causes havoc the day that up and coming actor, Stiles Stilinski holds up a bottle emblazoned with the word 'soulmate' in the middle of a press conference where Derek Hale is working as a photographer, in the middle of the worst day of his life...

Connected by readridinghood

After the death of his wife, Stiles finds himself left alone with their three children, struggling to keep from being sucked into a void of grief and despair that her death left him with. Knowing his children are safe in the pack's arms under Derek's watchful eyes, he struggles to regain his footing. What do you do when the world keeps tumbling over you and what you've thought of as fact no longer holds true? As the world comes back into focus, so does the love for Derek he thought he'd long since conquered and now with his eyes open, what he thought was the end of him, is only a new beginning. A decade after he fell in love with Stiles, countless days of keeping himself restrained while building a friendship with him, Derek finds out with absolute certainty that Stiles is his mate. You only mate once in your life, so how is it that Stiles was mated to Sophia, his wife and mother of his three children, the woman he is grieving the loss of at the same moment that Derek makes his discovery.

Three Marks by sanam

"And then there was pain again, but this time it was in only three places—his arm, below his clavicle, and next to his heart, all on the left side. It felt like the skin was being sliced apart, ripped open, flayed off— And suddenly it was done. Derek looked across the room and saw the boy on the floor, looking about as bad as Derek felt."

Derek and Stiles learn that bonding is probably best done with ridiculous amounts of video games and maybe a little bit of time.

Other fics (at least 50K)

Rich Man, Poor Man by TyReed

During a first date gone horribly wrong, Stiles Stilinksi realizes that the snarky guy he's been asked out by is actually Derek Hale, an heir to Hale Industries, one of the most profitable companies in the entire world. Who is, for whatever reason, interested in the son of a teacher and a cop, a loser who spends all weekend watching movies in his pajamas, and who is also possibly one of the biggest dorks on the Internet.

At the same time, after screwing up their first date horribly, Derek Hale realizes that the funny guy he's asked out is Stiles Stilinksi, the warmest and kindest individual he's ever met in his life, with a family just a loving and caring. Who is, for whatever reason, interested in a guy who screws up everything he does, lacks any semblance of a backbone, and who is possibly one of the biggest history dorks in all of the United States.

These rich and poor men will come to experience a taste of each other's lives, and learn where the real blessings in the world can be found.

Feel it like a fever, burning through the night by LunaCanisLupus_22

“That was my favourite fern,” Deaton declares and Stiles glances at Scott for clarification that such a ridiculous statement just came out of his boss’ mouth.

“You could have just told me not to touch it,” Stiles points out sensibly, squirming inside with something he refuses to believe might be guilt.

Not about the dumb plant, but the instant devastation he’s currently overwhelmingly and inescapably capable of. He can destroy with one touch now.

This is going to complicate things so much.

Or the one where Stiles tries to do the noble self-sacrificing thing: gains a new power, a spectral skin colour and basically ruins his own life. 0/10 would not recommend.

It’s (Not) a Cult by lhr111

“Well Stiles, you told me a few weeks ago that you thought Derek was leading a cult.”

At that Derek whipped his head toward Stiles in shock. “You thought I was a cult leader?”

Stiles will not be shamed. “Well, either you or Peter. Peter made more sense, but since he deferred to you that one time I was a little unsure. I mean, what else could I think with all the weird shit going on. You, hanging out with random high school seniors, doing secret things, ordering them around like you are their parent, them actually doing what you tell them. It’s really weird, okay?”

“Are you familiar with Harry Potter?” Derek asks.

Talk about a non sequitur. “What? What does that have to do with anything? And, of course I know Harry Potter!”

“Well to quote Sirius Black, ‘Once again you’ve put your keen and penetrating mind to the task and as usual come to the wrong conclusion.’"

The Sheriff starts snickering, and Stiles is both insulted and also a little in love.

Call Me (Cliché) by SomewheresSword

When the sheriff's sister ends up in a wheelchair for the duration of summer, Stiles' dreams of three months full of pack bonding, late-night video games and bro-time with Scott come crashing down. He's temporarily relocated to Redford, a three hour drive away, and he can already tell he won't be getting many visitors.

Sure the pack will forget about him while he's gone, Stiles is determined to make the most of his summer of isolation, training his body and mind - and his magic - so he can come back with a bang, and maybe catch a certain Sourwolf's eye.

Then Derek shows up at his window one night with a flimsy excuse about needing research done. Suddenly, his summer away is looking a whole lot more interesting.

There’s No Escape for the Potato Man by isthatbloodonhisshirt (wasterella)

“Who is this? Where’s Erica?”

“Wrong number, asshole!”

“Stop calling me an asshole,” the man on the other end snapped aggressively.

Stiles could understand. He’d be pretty aggressive too if he’d murdered someone and texted a wrong number to ask for help burying the body. This guy obviously failed How To Be a Serial Killer 101.

“What kind of idiot thinks I murdered someone?”

“The kind of idiot who got your text messages, you fucking dumbass!” he retorted hotly. “Maybe double check your contacts before sending a random stranger details on your nefarious plans to dispose of a freshly cut up body!”

“What?!” the guy on the other end demanded, crossed between horrendously confused and livid.

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

If you want more soulmate fics you can check that tag here

you can also find more long fics here and here

Happy Reading :)

#answered #anonymous #sterek #sterek fic rec #sterek fanfic #sterek fanfiction #soulmates au

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rjhpandapaws · 4 years

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A Cup of Something Better

Ch7: When Stuck in One Place, Try Another

Hank was in a tight spot, his manuscript was late already, and it was only going to get later. Hank was out of ideas, well, kind of, distracted was probably a better word for it. Somehow he didn't think his editor would take the excuse of 'so I'm gonna need an extension on that deadline because I'm out of ideas, and also the time I could have spent writing I've spent thinking about a guy that I've seen like once,' all that well. Kaya was great, don't get him wrong, she put up with a lot of his bullshit, but even she had her limits. Hank being almost a month late with a manuscript was definitely one of them, that he unfortunately knew from experience. Best to get this over with. After his meeting with Kaya he was meeting Jeffrey for lunch, something they didn't do as often as they should.

Figuring he'd sat outside her home office long enough, Hank turned off his beat up old car and got out to head inside. The sooner he got this over with the better. She met him at the door, her red hair tied back in a bun, her green eyes were narrowed behind wide red framed glasses. He was definitely about to get an earful.

"You're late," she said in place of a greeting stepping aside to let him in, "but im beginning to notice thats the one garuntee with you."

"Good afternoon to you too Kaya," Hank remarked letting the tall redhead lead the way to her office.

She sat in her office chair and Hank took the couch. Kaya waited until he was seated before she spoke, "Please tell me you have something, even just a progress check. You're creeping up on a month and the company is starting to breathe down my back."

Hank cleared his throat rubbing at his beard, trying to find words that wouldn't get him flayed alive, "the college has been keeping me pretty busy, when I've had time to write I havent been able to get anything down. I was, um, I was wondering if I could get an extension or maybe a hiatus period. I honestly thought I'd be done by now, I'm sorry Kaya."

She sighed, an incredibly swdate response compared to the anger that was burning in her eyes, "an extension Hank? You come in here a month overdue with nothing to show for it and you have the nerve to ask for an extension! You never fail to amaze me. I'll see if I can get you marked as on hiatus. I'll cite your being a professor as my reasoning." Hank breathed a sigh of relief, though the feeling was short lived as Kaya continued, "If you do something like this again the company is going to drop you most likely."'

"Thanks Kaya." Hank responded, "I know I'm not the easiest to work with, but this shouldn't happen again."

She watched him stand with a distant expression, "you know what happens if it does."

He nodded as he made his way to the door, "Have a good day Kaya."

"You too Hank."

Hank figured this was a long time coming, but it was still a surprise to hear just how close he was to being dropped. Not that it wasn't deserved, only a few of his manuscripts had ever been on time. For a few months out of the year he could blame it on being a professor, but the main reason for it was just that his writing process was unstructured and slow.

He needed a pick me up if he was going to be dealing with Jeff as well as Kaya. He drove the familiar route toward the university, planning to stop by the cute cafe again. He parked and walked into the cafe, making his way to the counter with plans to try that same latte again with less espresso since he was feeling more human today. There was a different barista working the counter today, Josh, according to his nametag.

"Hey," Josh said with a charismatic smile, "welcome to Hand Brewed Hope, what can we get started for you?"

"I'll take a medium vanilla latte with two shots of espresso," he almost ordered something for Jeff but then thought better of it.

"Connor will have that down at the other counter for you when its done," Josh said handing the cup off to the other barista.

Hank followed the action with his eyes and then his brain froze. It was the barista from yesterday, he figured as much from the name, either the kid from his night class or his twin. He was just as struck by Connor this time as he had been before and it took all of his strength not to just stare. If anything he was more attractive now that Hank was awake enough to take in more than just his eyes.

Connor was tall, maybe a couple inches shorter than Hank. His brown hair was styled back neatly save for one errant curl that fell defiantly onto his forehead giving the look boyish charm. Hank caught himself staring and decided to make conversation.

"So, uh, Connor, was it?" Hank asked in the ineloquent way that seemed to be the usual of him when he was around the barista.

"Yes professor?" Came the almost immediate response and Hank needed a minute.

Hank stared again, trying to assess if he had in fact heard that correctly. Upon the realization that he he had, his stomach turned on itself. Nothing said dirty old man quite like crushing on one of your students.

"Well that answers that I suppose," Hank said, and hopefully he didn't sound like he was choking on his words.

Connor couldn't be more than in his early twenties at best, and Hank was turning thrity-nine come September. On top of being his professor, the age difference would make anyone uncomfortable. This crush needed to be tucked away, it couldn't become anything. He was pulled from his thoughts by the paper togo cup coming into his line of sight. He took it with a weak smile.

"Have a good day professor," Connor said kindly as he turned to leave.

"You too kid," he responded lifting the cup in place of a wave as he left the cafe like the devil was on his heels.

He could already hear Jeff giving him a hard time about falling for yet another pair of pretty brown eyes, as well as the following lecture about appropriate behavior. He rolled his eyes at his own thoughts and started his car heading to their usual place, a diner by the police station. He drank from the latte, deciding that two shots of espresso was ideal, the bitter perfectly balanced by the vanilla.

Hank arrived before Jeff as was usual and picked a table close to the door, somewhere easy to spot. Jeff arrived a few minutes later, sitting across from Hank. He eyed the coffee cup.

"Good to see you're as much of an asshole as I remember," Jeff joked in way of a greeting, "stopped for a fucking coffee and didn't even get me anything."

Hank laughed shaking his head, "I don't see you for six months and the first thing you do is bitch at me for not buying you a coffee. Some friend you are."

"How's the new book coming along?" He asked looking over the menu.

Hank winced, "I asked to be put on hiatus with my publisher because of got nothing in me right now."

Jeff gave him a sympathetic smile, "how's the university treating you then?"

"Good," Hank replied setting his own menu down having decided on a bacon burger, "night classes are pretty relaxed. How are things at the station?"

"Hectic." Came the reply as Jeff flagged for a waiter, "just got a bunch of new academy graduates and they all think they're hot shit."

"You know how it is, give them a few months and the gravity of the job will set in."

There was a lull in the conversation long enough for them to place their orders. Then the topic finally turned away from work. Though Hank didn't like the new topic that much better.

"So you seeing anyone Hank?" Jeff asked right as he was drinking from his latte. His choking must have marked him as guilty because Jeff continued with, "let me guess, brown eyes."

"Its complicated," Hank replied when he caught his breath, staring at the table as though it held the solution to all of his problems, "he's one of my students. I met him here though." He said tapping the paper cup, "he's a barista."

He could feel Jeff's eyes on him and he looked up. "You've got it bad, its written all over your face." Hank could feel the lecture coming, "you know you can't do anything right? At least not until the semester is out."

"I know that Jeff, jesus." The second half took a little longer to catch up with Hank, "wait what?"

"He's taking night classes right? So that usually means older students. Try talking to him outside of class, like at the shop once the semester is over," Jeff said casually, as though he wasn't suggesting that Hank talk to a guy that was younger than him but also definitely out of his fucking league.

Hank was saved from having to reply when their food arrived. Content silence followed as they enjoyed their lunch, though in the background Hank was overtaking what Jeff had said. Could he approach Connor? Would that be okay? Worst comes to worse Connor would just assume him an overly conversational customer. It couldn't hurt to try he supposed, but then again he'd always been a sucker for brown eyes.

They switched to lighter topics until it came time to part ways. Like always they parted with the half empty promise that they would do this more often. Hank giving a less empty promise that, yes he would at least try and talk to Connor when the semester was out.

Hank had left in a better mood than he had arrived in. For the first time in months he felt inspired, he wanted to write. Not for his manuscript, but maybe it was time to start a new project. Something that better fit what he was feeling, something light and happy. A short piece probably, but well worth the wait. Something that reflected the warmth that can be found in warm brown eyes.

#A Cup of Something Better #dbh #d:bh #dbh hannor #hannor #hankcon #dbh hank x connor #hank anderson #dbh hank #d:bh hank #rk800 #connor rk800 #dbh connor #d:bh connor

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ghostspideys-moved · 4 years

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All For The Best

Chapter Six

A/N: This one’s unfortunately kind of short, but I’m doing my best to keep up and update on time.

Word Count: 1.1k

Pairings: Steve Harrington x OC, Nancy Wheeler x Jonathan Byers x OC

Summary: Just when Hawthorne thinks his life can’t get any weirder, he’s proven wrong, and he wonders if it’s too late to back out.

Hawthorne groaned when he heard the phone ring. He’d been sleeping, so it was a very jarring sound. Even worse was how early it was, and it seemed like Jonathan was just as aggravated.

Groaning, Hawthorne threw the pillow over his head and tried to drown out the sound. He sighed in relief when the ringing stopped, thinking it might be over and he could sleep peacefully again.

His hopes were dashed the moment the ringing started up again. Jonathan groaned and finally got up to answer the phone. At this point, Hawthorne realized he was going to get any more sleep and sat up, rubbing his eyes and yawning. He could just barely make out Jonathan’s voice.

“Nancy, why wouldn’t he be safe?”

Whatever was going on, Jonathan sounded very distressed, which was an immediate red flag that something was wrong. Hawthorne got up and went to check on him as he placed the phone back on the receiver.

“Is everything okay?” he asked, his voice still croaky from sleep.

Jonathan sighed and hurried back to his room. “We’re going to find the kids,” he said. “Nancy said something’s wrong, so we have to find Will.”

Hawthorne frowned and followed after him, watching for a moment as he frantically changed. “And just when I thought things might be a little normal around here.” He should have known better than to hope for some normalcy.

There was hardly any time to waste. They headed out to Jonathan’s car and headed to the hospital for Nancy as fast as was legally possible.

As soon as the three of them were finally together, they headed to Nancy’s house, where all of the kids were hanging out. No surprise there. They always gathered in the basement, that he was aware of.

The door to the basement was closed when they showed up, but Nancy was quick to knock frantically. Mike yelled back in response.

“Not now, Mom!”

“Mike, open the door.”

There was a pause before Hawthorne heard Mike scramble up the steps to open the door for them, a perplexed look on his face. Before he could even ask what was happening, Nancy hurried them down the stairs to gather the rest of the party.

Hawthorne listened to her ramble on for a bit, explaining everything to the kids. He could tell she was distressed, and he could tell why just listening to her. Admittedly, though, having to hear more shit about the Upside Down and the Mind Flayer, especially after his vision (could he even call it that?), just wasn’t sitting well with him. Sure, he knew they had to do something about this. He was well aware. But the more this dragged on, the lass he wanted to be involved. He hardly wanted to the first time around. And could anyone blame him? Hawthorne spent a whole three years in a lab only to find out he could have been dealing with this earlier? He wasn’t a fan of it.

Even worse was having to listen to Nancy and Jonathan act passive-aggressive towards each other. Hawthorne was trying so hard to fix whatever was going on with them, but they didn’t make it easy. Nor should he have to fix it. He just hoped they would work it out, otherwise he wasn’t sure what he was going to do.

Instead, he was trying to focus on the fact that, apparently, there were more people who were “flayed,” as the kids put it. That felt like something much more important to pay attention to, albeit much scarier.

El seemed to connect some dots, which led to Nancy’s realization. It was all happening way too fast for Hawthorne to keep up with, and, before he could ask for some much needed clarification, they were already heading back to Jonathan's car. Perhaps the one time he really hated being tall was right now. Piling in with a bunch of kids wasn’t really fun. Before he knew it, Nancy was hurrying out of the driveway. It was alarming to him just how reckless she was being, but he didn’t say anything given the circumstances.

Hawthorne walks up to the door, trailing behind everyone. He feels like he’s gone on autopilot. Like he’s not really in control of himself anymore. He knows the moment they walk into this house, they’ll get the confirmation they need. And that’s when he’ll have to accept that he really is being roped into saving the world again.

It’s the last thing he wanted when he arrived home a few days ago, but he can’t do anything to put a stop to it. Not himself, anyways.

Nancy rang the doorbell — that much he can hear. For a moment, it grounded him to reality, to the moment. He really snapped out of his thoughts when no one answered.

This is it.

El opened the door for them, and there was a twisting feeling in Hawthorne’s stomach. The house was eerily silent. The only thing filling that silence is their footsteps, slow and careful as they stepped inside.

While Nancy was preoccupied with calling out, hoping to hear from any of the Holloways, Hawthorne looked around. He kept an eye out for anything out of the norm. But so far, it was just an empty house.

Except the weird smell in the air.

Thankfully, Hawthorne wasn’t the only one who noticed.

“Do you guys smell that?” Nancy asked.

Hawthorne nodded quickly, scrunching his nose at the smell. In the kitchen, assorted cans and bottles of chemicals were strewn across the nearly every surface. It made his stomach sick just thinking about what it was all for.

Jonathan picked up a can. “You think they’re guzzling this shit?”

“Yeah, either that or they went on a hell of a cleaning spree.”

Hawthorne felt gross just looking at all the cans. “That doesn’t make any sense, though,” he said.

“Yeah. Last year, Will didn’t eat chemicals,” Max added. “Did you?”

Hawthorne was pretty sure he’d remember that part if he had.

“No. This is something new.”

Mike seemed to have a solid theory about them making some new substance with the chemicals, which didn’t confuse him any less.

“Can the Mind Flayer even do that?” Hawthorne asked. “I mean, keep people alive after downing...what...a ton of different chemicals.”

Will shrugged. “It’s hard to say what it could do. I don’t think it has that many limits.” That thought wasn’t unsettling at all.

Nancy led them into the dining room, where she found an empty bottle and a blood stain on the carpet. How quickly she put the pieces together astounded him. It always did.

Hawthorne followed them to the next room where a rope laid. None of this was a good sign at all. And now they were going to have to find the source of this mess? This was the worst.

“Mrs. Driscoll,” Will chimed in. “If she wants to go back so badly, why don’t we let her?”

Sure, it was their best shot, but Hawthorne didn’t have to like it. Already, he had lots of regrets about tagging along.

Taglist: @charmedtenderness @nxncywheeler @musicalytrashpanda

#steve harrington #jonathan byers #nancy wheeler #steve harrington x oc #steve harrington x original character #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington one shot #jonathan byers x reader #jonathan byers x oc #jonathan byers x original character #nancy wheeler x original character #nancy wheeler x oc #nancy wheeler x reader #stranger things #stranger things 2 #stranger things 3 #stranger things fic

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atlas-of-a-human-soul · 5 years

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Love me, love me not ~ pt.10

10: When Grayson learned to love

Summary: Trying to protect him, Y/N tries to end things. But after their argument, Grayson surprises her with his actions.

Warnings: ANGST, swearing

Word count: 2.3 k

A/N - I’m considering leaving it at this, although I have an idea for one or two more parts. Should I end the series like this?

Love me, love me not ~ Series Masterlist

Being a celebrity isn’t all it’s cracked out to be. Y/N learned that firsthand when the man she trusted had turned their relationship from dreams to nightmares. It was toxic, she knew it early on. It was full of ultimatums and non-disclosure agreements, of fights about how tight her dress is or about the hug she gave her male castmate…but she let it slide even when she shouldn’t have. Even when she knew what was happening because that’s what Hollywood told her love is.

Until she met Grayson.

No longer would she look back and feel regret wash over her for leaving that cheating bastard. He was a man of many talents, lying being the main one. He turned the story on her, making her the bad guy, nearly taking out her career in just one video leak of her losing it after finding out about his ‘hobbies’.

Y/N thought her misery was over and her career safe. She believed she was done suffering, that she found stability in her newfound bravery…and in Grayson.

She was wrong.

Frantic, she dialed her manager’s number, her hands shaking. She didn’t even know what she felt anymore – anger? Fear? Confusion? Too many emotions came to life as she waited for the annoying ringing sound to stop and Tracy’s voice to come through on the other line. When it did, she realized rage was the main emotion after all.

“WHAT THE FUCK IS HAPPENING?!” Y/N’s sharp, loud tone had alerted the twins who exchanged worrisome looks before scrambling to their feet. They ran into the room, nearly toppling over each other in the process.

“I TOLD YOU TO SHRED THE DOCUMENTS AND EVERYONE SIGNED NDAs!” Y/N continued to yell, running her hands through her hair in frustration, nearly ripping it out in her craze. Her face burned as if someone pushed her into the fire, her eyes turned to flames and her usually sweet tongue into acid, matching the unforgiving rage bubbling inside. She stood up, pacing the room as she listened to Tracy whine about being clueless herself, how she plans to get to the bottom of things.

“What happened?” Grayson asked timidly, dropping his phone on the bed, getting a violent wave off as his answer.

“I don’t fucking care, Trace! I want this resolved. I’ll film a video with Grayson on the matter, but find the leak and make sure it never opens up again. Got it?!” Her words terrified the twins, mostly because they watched way too many mafia movies and that usually meant someone would die. But she scared them more because she had never been so angry before. She was never red in the face as a result of pure, unadulterated rage.

She threw her phone to the bed, her hands tangling in her hair with a pounding headache coming on. Closing her eyes shut to keep the world at bay, she felt her temples pulsate, her nostrils flare with a sudden need for deep breaths, her lips pressed together to stop herself from screaming at the top of her lungs.

“Princess? You’re starting to scare me.” Grayson’s voice is soft and accepting, a gentle caress of a sweet soul like his. He didn’t call her a drama queen as Henry would. He didn’t shout at her for acting out as a child as Henry would say. He didn’t even stop her from expressing her emotions, letting her be who she is – sometimes overly dramatic with a tendency to throw tantrums, feeling everything with every part of her being or nothing at all…he let her be human; tempestuous, deeply flawed and in the end…his.

She is his. Despite the way things started, she was truly his and no amount of denial will ever change that. And she was done denying herself the finer things in life because of some guy who was maliciously intent on damaging her. He had cracked her, but Grayson was the compass that showed her a way to the glue she needed to repair herself.

“Someone tipped off the media on our contract.” She sighed, shaking her head. Her eyes still closed, she felt the surge of panic is still present, unyielding. She didn’t even hear Grayson as he stood up, the bed creaking in the process. She didn’t feel him come closer, nor did she notice when he towered over her.

But she did feel his hands on her elbows, traveling up her forearms and to her hands that had made a complete mess of her hair. He untangled her hands, encasing them in his own carefully, rubbing his fingertips over her knuckles patiently. Grayson Dolan had learned to be a patient man – at least with her.

“They can say whatever they want. Proof is gone and our feelings are too obvious for anyone to deny. We don’t have anything to worry about.” Grayson tried reasoning with her, sensing she’s spiraling and closing in on herself. She’s always been her own worst enemy.

“How can you say that when everything is on the line?” Her voice didn’t waver and Grayson knew her anger didn’t either. At least she was angry. He could work with anger. Indifference scared him and he found himself feeling relieved when he realized that wasn’t the case.

She opened her eyes, the usual swirl of color now darker with the sudden turn in her heart.

“You do realize we can lose our roles for this? A rumor is enough to ruin your reputation and that can put a big risk on a movie franchise like The Vampire Academy who failed miserably when they tried to get it going the first time around! I’m already broken in their eyes, but you? You’re just starting out and being linked to someone like me could ruin you Gray. Being in my vicinity will make your career implode.” Her eyes widened while her own words washed over her, knowing she was right. She was right and she couldn’t do that to him. Grayson was her safe harbor, but she was his stormy sea and even the best-equipped harbors can’t stop a tsunami…and that’s how she felt – like a tsunami.

“Break up with me. Okay? Say I seduced you to get my image clean and broke your heart. It will secure your future, okay? I’ll step down from Rose and I’ll –“, she didn’t get far with her self-destructive rant, interrupted by his lips on hers. It didn’t take her long to pull herself together and gather her wits, pushing him away as firmly and definitively as she used to do before.

Ethan remained quiet, scrolling through the tweets and reading all the reactions. Most fans refused to believe it, but some were ready to flay them alive.

“Stop talking nonsense.” Grayson hissed, losing his patience.

Not for an instant did his eyes leave hers. Y/N was forced to hold his gaze while inside, her heart ached. The world left her no choice. Lifting her chin, she struggled to draw breath and forced herself to shrug as she looked away. "This day was very pleasant, quite eye-opening, but…" Shrugging again, she swung aside and stepped away, feigning indifference. "Not enough to make me stay."

She was a good actress…too good for Ethan to doubt her words as he looked up sharply, but not good enough to fool Grayson.

"Look at me, dammit!" The command was issued through clenched teeth. Swinging back to face him, Y/N saw his fists clench and sensed the battle he waged not to touch her. She immediately lifted her chin defiantly.

"You're making too much of it, you, as all men, should know just because we had a few nice moments together doesn’t mean I should stay with you or marry you." Her heart twisted; she forced her voice to lighten, forced her lips to curve lightly.

For one instant, she feared she'd gone too far. There was something, a flash in his eyes, an expression that flitted over his face that locked her breath in her throat. But then he relaxed, not completely, but much of his frightening tension - battle-ready tension - seemed to flow out of him.

She saw his chest rise as he drew breath, then he was coming toward her, moving with his usual predatory grace and the intimidating flare. She wasn't sure which she found more unnerving the intimidating warrior or the graceful predator.

"So you really think I can’t read you? That I don’t know when you’re lying to me? Didn’t you promise me you’d never lie to me again?" His fingers, cool and steady, slid under her chin and tipped her face up to his. He smiled, but the gesture didn't reach his eyes.

“You, Y/N Y/L/N, own my heart. I am not going anywhere no matter how hard you try to push me away. Even if your words did wound me just by knowing you’d ever say them, even if you don’t really mean them. You hurt me. Deeply. Repeatedly. But I’m still here. I always will be. Fuck my career if you’re not a part of my life.” His eyes locked on hers. Only desperation allowed her to keep her features still, to stop them from crumpling. Inside, she was weeping - for him, and for her. But she had to turn him from her. There were no words on earth to explain to him how much he’d miss out on if he chose a girl who he barely knew.

But he continued.

“I’ve had a life where all I did was make content and nothing else. I’ve had fame without love. It’s not worth it. It never is, princess. Because…in all my time on this Earth I have never known what love really is. I thought I did, but now I know. I found love with you. And you might not feel the same way and you might be willing to throw everything away, but I’m not. I. LOVE. YOU.”

She was at the end of her strength and she knew it. She put her last ounce into brightening her smile, her eyes, her expression. Her fists clenched so tightly, her nails cut into her palms.

“When I was in pain from him, I took it out on you. When I couldn't say to him how his actions kept me in constant pain, you were the safe target. So all you saw was ‘push and pull’ of my brain and heart fighting to find some middle ground. A push away when I needed to act out a form of strength, and a pull when I panicked, needing you close. I'm sorry. I wasn't aware, now I am. You heal my mind with nothing fancier than a smile and warm hugs. You always come when I call. I guess this is recovery, when I can see the people who are really helping and ask them to come closer, staying quiet when the urges to push them away returns, ensuring that their kindness is mirrored by my actions and words. And I’m still working on the staying quiet part.” She chuckled dryly, letting a single tear slip past her defenses. He caught it with easy, intently pressing his thumb into her left cheek, only to cup it after.

“I love you too, Grayson. I really do and I know I’ve done a crappy job in showing that. I want so badly to protect you and if letting you go is a part of that, I’ll take the pain. But you’re right. I won’t push you away. You have the power to decide if you want to leave or not.” With one of his usual graceful nods, he headed for the door. He opened it, and, without glancing back, left, pulling the door gently closed behind him. Y/N held her position; for a long while, she simply stood there, staring at the door, not daring to let herself think.

“E?” She whispered, her lips quivering as her eyes flickered to the still brother in the corner of the room who was trying to comprehend what just happened as well.

“I’ll check on him. Don’t go anywhere, okay?” Ethan told her, rushing after his brother.

It didn’t take long before she heard the car engine, forcing her legs to move. She held the tears back. Why on earth was she crying? She'd done what had to be done. She reminded herself sternly that it was all for the best. That the numbness enveloping her would eventually pass. That it didn't matter that she would never feel his hands on her body, worshiping every inch of her skin or that soft smile he reserved just for her, or the way his voice would go higher whenever she challenged him to drive him insane…She’d miss a great deal of things about him – his heart most of all.

Finding the driveway empty, her car the only one remaining, Y/N pressed a hand to her mouth to stop herself from crying openly. The sob in her chest made it harder to breathe, but she couldn’t break down now.

Instead, she returned to his room. Her shaky fingers pulled at the band of his father’s ring, sliding it off her thumb. It didn’t feel right keeping the ring anymore. Not when he didn’t want her. Not when he decided he didn’t want her just as she admitted her love for him.

She gave him an out and he took it.

She couldn’t be mad about that, could she?

Tags: @xalayx @dolandolll @godlydolans @dolanstwintuesday @anything-dolan @peacedolantwins @maybgrayson @nowheredolan @graydolan12 @beautorigin @justordinaryjen @starrydolan @pitreshawn @grays-laugh @adventureswithmell @gia-kerks

#grayson dolan #grayson dolan x reader #dolan twins #grayson dolan angst #grayson dolan fanfic #grayson dolan series #grayson dolan fanfiction #grayson dolan fic #grayson dolan au #ethan dolan #grayson dolan x y/n

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dotthings · 5 years

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Well that flayed my emotions as much as I hoped and in some encouraging ways YES PAIN WITH PURPOSE THANK YOU. There’s a lot here, as is usual with Bobo eps and I’m going to have to take this one at a time especially since I really really need to break down what happened with Dean and Cas in this ep, at length. Yep I am going to go on a bit about Dean and Cas. As you do.

I’ve posted quite a bit of meta about how the rift was a combination of things. It’s years of unaddressed issues. Dean’s abandonment issues vs Cas’s tendency to be taken away, or die, or leave. Years of that. Then on top of it, when Cas couldn’t stand with Dean about Jack, and when he kept some crucial information from Dean that he shouldn’t have due to Jack. Let me restate something I’ve said before: Dean wasn’t wrong to express his hurt and anger. He loves Cas, and Cas is imperfect. No Cas isn’t always the screw up and Dean I already knew regretted that and didn’t believe that (see? I told you) nor does Dean ever want Cas dead. But Cas is imperfect and Cas has hurt Dean, as Dean has hurt Cas. Then there’s Cas’s fears about not being needed/wanted, his doubts about his place in this family, and in Dean’s heart vs. the complicated mess that is involved in being adopted into the Winchester clan as deeply as Cas was. So their insecurities have been their own worst enemies for years, and then the Jack and Mary thing happened. And then ON TOP OF ALL THAT, Chuck and Dean’s wondering what’s real what isn’t. I was pretty sure at least some of that might make it overtly into the prayer. But no none of that.

While I think it is definitely good that Dean expressed himself so openly and did it in a prayer he definitely had reasons to believe Cas would hear and it is really really good Cas HEARD HIM OH MY GOD THANK YOU CAS HEARD ALL THAT. It’s also not such good news that what comes out here is that this is all about Dean’s anger issues and he “can’t stop it.” And I’m not deciding here whether this is authorial eye or Dean’s. It certainly makes sense that Dean would pull guilt onto himself (rather than authorial blaming Dean). But Dean pulling all the guilt into himself, crying and apologizing and there being very little in the ep to address the other side of this--the Cas pov, and how Cas has hurt Dean--is just more cyclical unhealthiness.

Maybe this prayer was cathartic. Maybe this will help Dean going forward, letting go of that anger, that guilt.

So that dynamic therefore is actually really unhealthy. Lashing out at your best friend, who you love, that severely because you just can’t help it when a crisis happens and the pressure is on, even if said best friend hurt you? It’s not a problem that Dean expressed his hurt and anger, it’s that he went too far. And he couldn’t help it. And it wasn’t Chuck existential crisis or even about Mary, it’s just that when under pressure Dean lashes out at those he loves and can’t stop it. While that is a valid issue...that kind of takes the entire burden and puts it onto Dean. Full stop. It’s all Dean’s fault. Dean, how dare you get angry and hurt when you best friend does stuff that actually...hurts you. This is, IMO, canon putting the kind of pressure on Dean that fandom does. Only express positive feelings, Dean, otherwise shut up. Regardless of intent, that’s kind of what this scene validated.

So on top of years of issues Dean and Cas haven’t dealt with, chronic issues, about each other. On top of reasons here Dean might think the bond was manufactured by Chuck, but all right, that last point doesn’t seem to be presenting itself unless I reach pretty down deep into subtext. Maybe we can say it’s fueling Dean’s anxieties and made everything worse, ramped everything up.

But I think given how this unfolded, Dean and Cas having some time apart isn’t a bad idea. That this turned out to actually be “Dean lashes out when he’s panicked and he can’t stop himself” and hurt Cas so much with it is worrying and I get it’s supposed to be worrying. But I’m not exactly vomiting rainbows. I WANT THEM TO FIX IT. I’m incredibly uncomfortable with how the story (whether authorial view or not) places it all on Dean.

This is, frankly, going to feed the Dean hate and I’m just so tired of it, it’s unfair, it’s a twisted stanning view of the character, it lacks empathy, and I’m sorry that this episode did something that validated people who literally needed Dean LITERALLY ON HIS KEES CRYING AND APOLOGIZING before they might believe Dean isn’t an uncaring asshole. Some of us didn’t need that to know, while it is good that Dean said what was deepest in his heart. Yet there’s still going to be stans who keep bashing him and saying he doesn’t care about Cas. I really wish they would just stop and they never will so I will ignore it best I can.

After what I just witnesses in this ep, I am beyond FLOORED if there would be ANYONE LEFT IN THIS FANDOM WHO COULD THINK THAT. I get thinking they need couples therapy or maybe they need space. I’m thinking it. But to actually keep flogging the idea that Dean doesn’t care about Cas, that was already egregious before this ep, now it’s REALLY really egregious to keep flogging that.

So I’m uneasy, for what this means for Dean and Cas--not that they can’t or won’t fix this. OBVIOUSLY THEY WILL FIX THIS. They want to fix this. The arc isn’t over--and for what it means for Dean.

On the one hand, I’m glad to see things dig so deeply into Dean’s issues. Because it’s not Dean hate to say, yeah he’s got some anger issues and needs to examine that. But on the other hand, Dean crying and apologizing on his knees is NOT THE FIX FOR THE RELATIONSHIP. Because there’s unaddressed stuff from Cas’s side. And I’m sure a lot of people are going to breeze right by that. Because in this fandom you have to choose Dean or Cas, and one or the other is being dragged as being an uncaring assholes.

The good news, this ep was exactly what I thought and hoped it would be for Dean and Cas otherwise, in terms of getting them past that early season freeze.

Oh that revisiting of Purgatory was effing beautiful, structurally and emotionally. Cas refused to split up this time. Cas waited at the portal. Cas went through the portal with Dean. There is healing in this ep, they went through a similar situation only with a different outcome. Cas isn’t voluntarily staying in Purgatory to wear a hair shirt this time. This time, Cas didn’t run off and leave Dean just to protect Dean, they only got separated after they were overpowered. Cas waited and waited by that portal and Dean looked and looked. That was no really, that was beautiful (whatever issues I have about the prayer itself).

This was the thaw. This was the beginning of the next phase for Dean and Cas, and no it’s not intended as a fix. The door’s been opened, the ice has broken, the walls have crumbled, so that they can fix it and hopefully to an even better, stronger relationship that all they’ve been before, which is really strong already but damn they have so many issues. While Dean and Cas have mostly been a comforting relationship for me on SPN (health for relative values of healthy) and it is mostly a positive relationship...yeah. Issues.

JFC I just really hope Cas is going to get to voice how he feels about hurting Dean as he has and it does an incredible disservice to the characters and their story to skip over that, not just because I’m defensive of Dean, but for Cas’s sake, for the sake of his character and pov. I feel like Cas’s pov is incomplete. He’s not getting to express himself the way I really really hope he will and I think he needs to. Hell, can I have Cas on his knees in tears pouring his heart out about Dean, it wouldn’t be a prayer or actual tears probably, since he’s an angel, but give me something.

Howe even did things get to the point where it’s Dean carrying most of the Destiel and expressing most of the feelings and bleeding out emotionally again and again in canon and yet so many people act like CAS is the one doing all the pining, as if Dean is the uncaring asshole, while we have such gaps in Cas expressing his pov on Dean. It’s absolutely WILD. It’s beyond wild.

The other good news is despite my discomfort with the speech, I am reeling a bit at just how expressive it was. I do think as the one who said the harsh things, Dean would be the one who needed to take the first sledgehammer to the ice wall and he did it. It’s not that I agree all the blame is on him. But yes Dean opened the door and that’s a good thing. Dean falling to his knees, weeping because he’s scared he is losing his best friend again. To PURGATORY AGAIN NO LESS *screaming internally* and with all the times since he’s lost Cas. It wasn’t an angry emotional rant. It was a vulnerable, sad, quiet pleading prayer directly to his best friend. I am a bit shook that the Dean and Cas feelings weren’t nested in with some other bigger plot thing eating at Dean, where Cas is one of a list, or it’s something else breaking Dean and losing Cas is just too much on top of that. No, it’s just a guy falling to his knees because he’s scared he’s losing his best friend who he loves in every sense of the word yet again and it’s just them and their feelings.

The last time we saw something this overt from Dean, tear-filled, raw, laying it all out there, Cas was dead and in The Empty and Cas couldn’t hear it.

Ohhh and remember how I pointed out in S14 Cas hearing in Dean’s trauma memories the scream Dean let out when he lost Cas and I wasn’t sure if Cas knew that was for him or not, just that it was traumatic.

BUT THIS TIME CAS HEARD IT. HE HEARD THE PRAYER. HE KNEW DEAN CRIED. HE HEARD ALL OF DEAN’S ANGUISH ABOUT LOSING HIM. (Hopefully Cas will get an actual clue now, I hope).

#Dean Winchester #Castiel #Dean and Cas #Destiel #spn #supernatural #meta #supernatural spoilers #COPING WITH MY FEELINGS BY THROWING WORDS AT IT

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eris0330 · 5 years

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Cards against The four horsemen – Part 1

Genre: Comedy, light angst, Fluff (friendly way… I may eat my own words later on) Summary: A group of three university student from different majors, unite at the grand final party to celebrate their last bit of youth before adulthood. Jimin majored in acting, which granted a bonus to his charming smile and works wonders to get top score. Jungkook majored in the IT department, with a handful extra time to study the works of the dark web. Taehyung got a diploma and a museum attraction for his photography, that he promises to continue with passion. They all had their own career in front of them but decided to stick their heads together, to form secret detective group in honour of finding the truth within a mission. Except... they need your help.

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“Okay, next time I’m not using a whole night with this lady without a proper lead. Either it’s double in cash, or no physical meeting!” Jimin sighed frustatingly as he walked into the room, throwing his black velvet jacket to the ground. Taehyung scanning the photos upon the black board, pinned with photos of a woman in her early 30’s. “I mean, it was your own idea? Could have waited till we got enough to send you out” Taehyung explained, pinning another yellow note to the board.

“We aren’t getting anywhere with this? Mr. Kim asked us to find out if his wife is cheating on him and on top of that, figure out if she has any secrets before he will decide to propose. I spent a whole night with her, without her touching me and you have hundreds of photos, while Jungkook has zero leads upon her social media! We’re supposed to uncover the truth but here we are, waiting for something spectacular to happen?! If we don’t make this a success, this will eliminate our business!” Jimin exhaustedly seated himself in the worn-out couch, rubbing his temples to relax. “What did you expect? Three guys in a torn down apartment and internet to keep us occupied. I’m surprised we even have customers in the first place” Taehyung chuckled, seating himself next to Jimin to stare at their so-called evidence.

“I think the worst part is, we haven’t found any dirt on this woman and trust me, we all have some kind of dirt.” Jimin claimed, untightening his tie to throw it in the bunker of clothes on the floor. Jungkook coughed in their presence, gathering their attention to his desk station. “There is no doubt that this woman has secrets but it’s not easy to find things, when we aren’t the actual person” Jungkook explained, leaning back into his chair. “Then hack her computer or something, you’re the IT guy!” Jimin answered, flapping his arms in the air to have them fall back by his sides in defeat. “It’s not that easy to hack someone, specially when you don’t know what you’re actually looking for.” Jungkook sighed, looking upon his screen filled with the target’s social media pages. It was drawn to be quiet in the apartment, as they all sat in despair of the mission that is bound to wash down the drain. It was as if a light struck upon Jungkook, as he sat energetically at the edge of his chair. The boys giving him a twisted brow, worrying whether he got a stroke. “Remember Y/N from first year?” He questioned the others, engaging them to think back into the past. “The one who got kicked out in second year, for trying to hack the school system?” Jimin questioned back, looking upon Taehyung who were sitting dumbfounded. “Exactly, I’m pretty sure she didn’t just randomly stop because of that and that she is still doing her thing. Last time I spoke to her, she was working for the FBI about the dark web. After that, she went off the grid.” Jungkook explained, excited about the idea that you could be a part of their plan. “And how do you expect us to find her? She went off the grid, which means she is basically nowhere to be found.” Jimin asked exhaustedly, thinking this was the worst plan they had ever come up with. “Well... She always told me I could contact her, if I just used my dark web name” Jungkook answered softly, shrugging his shoulders. “Dark web name??” Jimin added confused, waiting for an enlighten. “Means I don’t use my real name but a name I’m known for, when I studied the dark web back in university. It’s kind of like a username but this can be used everywhere.” Jungkook explained, making Jimin slightly annoyed that it was nothing but rubbish within the conversation. “So what, you’re going to beam up the sky with your ‘dark web name’ and hope she sees it? Not only is it morning right now but this whole batman idea, is so far up in the fantasy.” Jimin mockingly spoke, while Taehyung was thinking deeply. “Exactly! That’s it!” Taehyung outburst, making the boys stare at him in disbelief. “You’re going to beam up the sky???” Jimin added confused, while Jungkook tilted his head. “No, you dummy. We’re going to contact her THROUGH the dark web! See it this way; we’re going to post our address into a forum or whatever, of this so-called apartment because in all honestly, no one wants to be here anyways. We use Jungkook’s dark web name at the end, so she knows it’s him!” Taehyung explained, standing up in excitement that the plan sounded so well in his ears. “And if she doesn’t see it?” Jimin questioned, shaking his head in disbelief that he is even asking. “Then we gotta go, cause I ain’t about to find out what kind of people are on the dark web cause’ they decide to check the address.” Taehyung answered, walking towards Jungkook who had already found a forum to post the address. Jimin staring confused but decides to sigh as he gives up trying to stop them- “I’m surrounded by idiots…” Jungkook types down the address of their worn-out apartment, making the post visible for everyone. Taehyung sighed while patting Jungkook’s shoulder, looking upon Jimin on the couch. “And now we wait.”

11 pm.

The sound of a banging door and police siren in the distance, woke the boys from their slumber. They each gave a glance at each other, while gathering different kind of objects in the room to use as a potential weapon. The banging becoming louder and louder, by each step they take towards the entrance. Taehyung turning the door handle, to be flown back by the force of the door flung open. Their eyes wandering in the dim light, watching a hooded figure close the door to look down upon the three men. They each have different scenarios in their minds, of whether they are going to get killed by a stranger or be tortured. “Erhm… hello?” Jungkook spoke out, with his voice shivering out of fear. The hooded figure revealing their identity, to kneel down on eye level. “ARE YOU ABSOLUTELY INSANE?! TO POST YOUR ADDRESS ON THE DARK WEB?! ARE YOU BORN YESTERDAY?!” You yelled at them, seeing their body posture changing to scared puppies. They all looked dumbfounded at you, watching your brows frown upon them. “Wow.. the plan really worked..” Jimin whispered, getting your attention as he gulped. “What plan?” You questioned, standing up straight to watch the boys follow. “Our plan was to get in contact with you and here you are!” Taehyung added, flaying his arms around as if he had seen a celebrity. Jungkook sighed lightly as he stepped forward, to notice the height difference. “We are on a mission to find information on someone but we don’t have the skills.. that’s why we need your help”. You pondered on the request, as the boys stood in silence of your eyes scanning their looks. Jimin stepped forward to add in the information, catching your full attention. “Look, maybe we need to explain what we’re doing first. We are having this kind of detective-gang thing and-“ You put a finger upon his lips and another on your own, to simulate shushing. The other staring wide eyed, as you looked around the room in silence. “We gotta go, it’s not safe here. I got a place we can stay, pack your things and follow me. Do not leave anything behind.” You ordered, making the boys hesitate at first but the simplest sound made their skin crawl, as they hurriedly gathered all of their things. When they got all their things, you walked out of the apartment to have them follow you like sheep. “NJ, get the transportation ready” You spoke into a bracelet on your wrist, making the boys watch with furrowed brows at the action. You stopped at the exit, gathering the boys at the front. “There’s an uber coming for you, it knows its destination and I’ll meet you all there.” You explained, watching the headlights of a car come close. Taehyung coming closer, tilting his head with a suitcase pressed against his chest. “But what about you? Aren’t you coming with us?”

“Don’t worry about me, I have my own transportation. All you need to worry about, is to not talk about me or what happened tonight, at all cost.” You added, pushing the boys outside as the car pulled up. An elderly man greeting them, as they looked back to see the entrance being empty. The things stuffed in the car and their road ahead were silent, as they were too scared to speak after of what you have just told them. They were worried if you were a fraud, what was going to happen to them and who would know if they went missing? Everything seemed like a blur, when they all ended at the destination point. They were at a parking lot, while their transportation drove away to a new customer. Their things surrounding them, standing in front of an entrance to a wooded area. They walked closer to investigate as they saw a figure come to sight, they sighed in relief when they could make out your body posture. You were leaning against a motorcycle, seeing the boys stand in awe. “Of course, she has a motorcycle…” Jimin scoffed making you smirk in return, as they all stood in front fo you. You scanned them thoroughly as you put your wrist close to your lips, making them watch curiously. “NJ, did you get the time to search them?” You questioned, making their stomachs turn to hear a voice answer. “They got their usual dirty stuff but they are clean”. It was rough and clear at the same time, making them question if it’s a computer or an actual person. You smirked in delight, crossing your arms as you asked them curiously; “So… Tell me about this so-called ‘Detective group’?”

-To be continued-

#fanfic #fanfiction #bts #bts texts #bts fluff #comedy #fluff #action #detective au #hacker au #romance #jungkook #jimin #taehyung #bts fanfic #bts fanfiction #bangtan #story #writing

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argyleandjonathansmokingajoint · 5 years

Text

My Boy Keeps Me Strong

Pairing: Byeler/Byler

Words: 4k (a little more but close enough)

Summary: Will and Mike have been through more than they ever should've together, but nothing feels as scary as coming out to their best friends does. Then, when it all goes south, they're left to pick up the pieces of each other again. But all their years of friendship can't just really be over like that, can it?

Warning: Uh, slurs, homophobia, and cussing.. The homophobia is sorta resolved though?

Author’s Note: This just came together through my venting, basically. So, I hope you enjoy! I just love them so much. (Btw, in a perfect world, none of the party members would be homophobic and I usually like to headcanon them as such, but I'm very gay and I was just feeling some type of way, sorry..) Happy ending though, I swear! You can find it on my AO3 here.

“Hey guys, guys! Um, so We had something we wanted to tell you.” The party were currently all splayed out around the Basement in the Wheeler residence, as per usual. Mike’s comment had drawn their attention though, so everyone stopped what they were doing and turned to face the taller teen and Will, whom they assumed he must also be talking about, since he was standing beside him.

“Okay, Mike! It looks like you boys have the floor!” Dustin yelled, earning some light jeering and laughs from the teens.

Will could feel his palms growing sweaty. He was more nervous to do this than he’d ever been to do anything probably. Mike looked over at him, knocking into his arm and smiling to reassure him, although his own nerves were no better.

El, seeming to sense the emotions from the two boys, brought silence to the room so that they could continue, and so, continue they did.

“Uh, yeah so anyway, gonna try to keep this kinda short, I guess.” Mike’s voice wavered and there were a few laughs around the room, but nothing else, so he continued. “So, where to start?” He looked at Will, and the boy gave an encouraging smile, so Mike took a breath and just went for it. “We’re gay and we’re dating!” It came out in a rush, and for a second, he wasn’t even sure if he had said it at all, but then after a couple of beats of silence, silence he would come to wish he could have back, all hell suddenly broke loose.

“What!” Lucas jumped up from his chair and Max was off of the floor beside him, not a second later, grabbing his arm, as if she thought he might hit one of them. Honestly, Mike was kind of thinking the same thing.

“Wait, since when?!” Dustin looked more than a little freaked that two of his best friends suddenly happened to be homos.

“I don’t understand. Is this bad?” This one little question from El gave them a brief glimmer of hope amongst all of the shit that was starting to pile onto them right now.

“I-I” Will couldn’t even seem to form any words, but it didn’t matter to the group because apparently, Lucas had plenty to say, or more specifically, just one thing to say.

“No, I-I just can’t, okay? Jesus, I can’t even look at you!” And that was that from them because then they were storming out and dragging El away as she looked back with confusion in her eyes.

Well, they were kind of confused too, to tell the truth. Their best friends since childhood had just had one of the worst possible reactions imaginable to their coming out, and the worst thing of all? Neither of them had even imagined this scenario taking place at all. They were so sure, so confident in their friends’ love, loyalty, and bond that they hadn’t even questioned it. Well, that had royally screwed them this time, hadn’t it?

“I-I just stood there. I can’t believe I just stood there.” Mike was looking at the floor, his face in complete shock.

“I was no better, Mike. I couldn’t even make a case for us.” He registered the words as he said them. He shouldn’t have to make any case, right? What were they doing, feeling guilty? Will looked down at his hands and realized that he was shaking. He eyes then landed on Mike to see that he, on the other hand, looked almost numb from the experience they had just gone through. Will placed his hands around him and delicately wrapped his arms around him, waiting for Mike to lean into it. Mike’s head immediately curled into Will’s neck and his cheek landed on his shoulder. Even though he was a tall guy, Mike loved his comfort positions and Will secretly loved him all the more for it. It hurt to see him like this though. Will just wanted everything to be okay. He wanted their friends back, and he almost wished they could take back their most well-guarded secret. But looking at Mike, he thought, almost, but not quite, with a warm feeling in his heart.

“Those fucking bastards! I mean, honestly, screw those guys! Ya know, baby? who needs ‘em anyway, huh?” Mike huffed out a ragged breath and looked behind him as if the party members would still be standing there. “Bunch of lousy “so called” friends.” As he said it, he put in air quotes and the disgust was clear, then his shoulders slumped and he wrapped his arms around the shorter boy in front of him and pressed his forehead into Will’s own, closing his eyes tightly. This conversation had been going on for awhile now. Maybe around three hours already. But Mike was fired up and Will was exhausted, and they were both feeling extremely let down about the whole thing, not to mention just hurt and betrayed by the rest of the Party.

“Hey, hey now. You don’t mean that.” The voice in which Will used was gentle, trying to soothe the aching pain his boyfriend was feeling, even as his own heart still smarted from the rejection of their friends. Were they still friends? They’d been through something akin to hell and back together. Was this really the driving force that was going to rip them apart?

“Will, I really, really fucking do. Those assholes! I’m through with the whole lot of ‘em! They think they can just go around and say anything and it won’t matter? Well, it f-fucking matters to me, damnit!” Mike’s entire body was shaking, even his hands were trembling, and he was breathing heavily from his outburst. After catching his breath and seeming to compose himself a bit, he spoke up again. “Doesn’t it mean anything to you?” His voice was much quieter now, almost a whisper even.

“Of course, it does! Of course.”

“Yeah, yeah. Alright.” His boyfriend started nodding and then grabbed him by the hips, pulling him closer. Will held his hands that were gripping him and linked their fingers together, giving him a smile. This must be a good sign. Everything was going to be okay. Then Mike began to speak again. “L-let’s just go somewhere together. Somewhere far, far away from here.”

Will’s look turned to one of confusion. “What? Where?”

“I don’t know! As fucking, far away as we can stand! Let’s just go, please, please, Will.” The anger and hurt were clear in both his voice and face, but more than that, there was that deep-rooted fear they both shared. He was scared, probably more than he had been when they’d faced the demogorgan, or the mind flayer, or the flayed. Any of the upside down’s tricks, but homophobia had that beat by a thousand miles or more. Will could understand, now knowing why Mike was acting the way he was. It made sense. But even though he got it, Mike was what made Will strong, so even though, yeah Will was scared, he’d face just about anything if he had Mike by his side, whether that be interdimensional, portal hopping demon or your everyday, old-fashioned homophobia.

“Mike, sweetie.” The tone he used carried a slight pleading tone to it. “I know you’re hurt, and I get it. Like I actually do, more than I did earlier. I know it’s scary when you’re like… us, but I’m not scared. Do you know why?”

Mike’s head was facing downward, his shoulders shaking slightly. Will could see a teardrop fall from the corner of his nose and he brushed it away. Mike shook his head, a sign for Will to continue talking. “Because I’m never scared when I’m with you. Not really. You give me the strength to be brave, and if you really wanna leave all this? If you just want to pack up and go, leave everyone behind? Our families, friends, everything we’ve ever known… I’ll go.” Mike’s head lifted when Will said this, the shock in his face clear. His tear stained face was blotchy and red, and Will couldn’t help but smile softly at his boyfriend, reaching his hand up and cupping his face. “I won’t lie, I might be scared. But I’ll go, and I know we’ll be okay because, at least we’ll be together.”

A breath left Mike’s chest in a whoosh when he heard Will’s heartfelt confession. It might as well have been a love poem and a dozen roses for the way it made his heart feel. “You stupid, I love you so much!” Mike dragged him into a hug, and if it weren’t for the loud sobs wracking his body, Will wouldn’t know he was crying at all.

“I love you too, you big baby.”

_____

Will was a little drunk and more than a lot pissed when he found out the party members were hanging out down by the quarry without Mike and him, so maybe he decided to do something a little bit stupid and a whole lot brave about it. He was going to go out there and confront those dicks and tell them just exactly how much it pissed him off.

But, safety first! A drunk person should never operate an automated vehicle. Or, something like that. No, Will forgoes his brother’s hand-me-down car and grabs up his bike that’s a couple sizes too small by now and hops on, pedaling down to the quarry as fast and as steady as his drunk legs will carry him. The bike’s still in pretty good condition since he uses it sometimes to go riding with Mike or the rest of the party. Well, they used to. The memory stings, urging Will on faster and he ignores his aching legs in favor of pedaling harder.

When he finally reaches the quarry’s edge, he sees them all out there, laughing and having a good ‘ol time. It makes him so angry that he throws down his bike as he gracelessly gets off. He might’ve regretted that if he were sober, but as it stands, he couldn’t care less. Will stumbles down to where the party are sitting, and they look up as they hear someone approaching.

“Will?” El is the first to say anything. She sounds surprised but pleased to see him. Will doesn’t even care anymore. He’s through giving chances, playing at Mr. nice guy.

“What are you doing here? Where’s Mike?” It’s Dustin this time. He doesn’t sound too off put, but not too thrilled either. Yeah, Will’s not surprised with the show he put on the last time they saw each other at Mike’s.

Will scoffs. “Do you really care? Let me guess. You wanna make sure he’s not in the bushes, with like b-binoculars or something, creeping on you? Huh? Is that i-it?” He lets out a noise that is supposed to be a sound of disbelief, but really just sounds like a poorly done fart sound.

“Uh, are you drunk?” Max looks worried, after all the time is only around four or five in the afternoon, so her worry isn’t for nothing. However, Will doesn’t even register her, too lost in his own emotions and drunkenness to even hear the sound of her voice.

“You know what, fuck you guys! Okay, Mike was right. You don’t even deserve to have us as friends. W-we put so much trust in you that we actually, stupidly thought you might- I don’t know, not care who we love, or who we sleep with!!” Will’s voice cracked over the last bit and he could feel the sting of hot tears in his eyes, but he tried his best to hold them in. He couldn’t, wouldn’t give them the satisfaction of seeing him break down. “You bastards think it’s easy?! I’m a walking fucking poster for the Aids epidemic! Damnit, you have no idea, none, what mike and I go through every day. Even if I wasn’t gay, I run the risk of being killed or beaten in an alley because I “look too fucking queer”, and that’s something someone told me once before he punched me in the face, so take your sorry excuses or non-excuses for why you can’t be friends with the two fags and shove it.” If he wasn’t crying before then he definitely was now. Great, heaving sobs suddenly filled his chest and he collapsed in on himself. He wanted Mike. They didn’t get it, no one did, only Mike. Mike was the only one that ever did. Will was genuinely weeping, huge gasps leaving his body and an onslaught of new sobs taking over. It felt as if he were mourning some great loss and, in some way, he was.

He looked up at the sudden feeling of arms surrounding him, and for a moment he thought that maybe he’d imagined the whole thing and he was actually with Mike right now or just dreaming. But when he looked up, it wasn’t into the smiling face of Mike, it was into the concerned faces of El and Max, with Dustin sitting in front of him, looking equally as concerned. Lucas was a bit further away, but still near and all of them wore matching expressions of shame and guilt of varying degrees.

Dustin’s voice startled Will out of his thoughts. “I-I’m sorry, Will. We shouldn’t have treated you like that. I mean, I don’t really get it, I guess, but that’s no reason for me to treat you differently. Besides, you’ve always fought so hard for me, for all of us, and I know you always will. So, I’ll do the same for you. I love you, buddy.”

“But, even though we’re gay?” Will’s not sure what the question is, but the others seem to understand well enough and rush ahead to reassure him.

“Hell yeah, I mean it. I’m like, all in now!” Dustin smiles a big, goofy grin, that almost makes Will want to smile himself.

“Yeah, dude! Besides, I’m from California. I mean, this kind of thing is nothing new around there, so I’ve seen it plenty.” Max places a comforting hand on his back and this time, Will does smile.

“Really?” Dustin actually sounds a little interested, but Will can’t tell if it’s real or for his benefit. Either way, it’s appreciated.

“Wow, so you’ve seen people like Mike and me lots?” Will can’t help himself. He’s never been able to share this side of himself or ask questions with anyone else but Mike, so this is a pretty nice feeling.

“Oh sure! Tons! They’re just normal people after all, but some you can just- tell. It’s really cool though, actually. There’s a lot in, like San Francisco, I heard my dad say once, and even New York has a lot. I guess because it’s such a big city and nobody cares what anybody else is doing, I don’t know.”

Will’s cheeks are starting to hurt from smiling. “Woah, you actually know a surprising amount.”

“Yeah, you pick up some things living in the big city.” Max just grins back at him and pats his back.

“Will?” El speaks for the first time since he first arrived at the quarry. He nods to let her know that he’s listening. “I’m happy that you’re happy again, but I don’t understand why you and Mike were sad? Is gay good or is gay bad? I don’t know.”

Will lets out a small sigh. He really doesn’t know how he feels about having this conversation with El in front of everyone. Or at all. Everyone said they were okay with it now, well, everyone except Lucas, who hasn’t even spoken yet. He might as well get it over with, though. It’s what he came out here for, after all.

“Well, it depends on who you talk to, really. Some people hate it, hate everything about it. But there are some people that just think it shouldn’t matter if you’re a boy and love a boy or a girl and love a girl or even whatever else there might be out there. They say that love is just love and that’s that. Well, that’s what I think. Mike, too. Um, so yeah.” He looked down after finishing, feeling suddenly bashful. Maybe the alcohol was wearing off.

“El, it doesn’t matter who you choose to love. It’s just love, and that’s a beautiful thing. You know that, right?” Everyone looked over to the one that had spoken. There, staring back was Lucas. It was the first time he had spoken since Will had arrived at the quarry and everyone was more than a little shocked by the words coming out of his mouth. The other party members, excluding Mike and Will, had personally heard Lucas go on more than one rant about having queers in the group for so long and not even knowing about it. Now he was speaking again though. “I mean, isn’t that true, El?” Her nod was enough of an answer for Lucas to continue.

“I’m sorry, Will. Everything you said today just made me think and… I was a real asshole. I love you no matter what.”

Will looked at him for a long moment, as if considering, then shook his head wryly. “I-I love you too, but you guys should really be apologizing to Mike.”

Lucas nodded firmly in agreement, his aura radiating determination. “Yeah. Let’s do it.”

_____

The soft melodic voices of the band, Chicago were playing in the background, softly droning on. Just say you’ll love me for the rest of your life. I gotta lot of love and I don’t want to let go. Huh. It was just Mike’s luck that the radio would be playing something that only made him think more about his problems, instead of taking his mind off of them. That’s how it usually went, wasn’t it? He was still so scared and hurt by how everything had happened with the party the other day, but more than that, he was worried he’d overstepped things with Will. Maybe he’d gone too far, said too much, and now he’d ruined everything. As the next song popped on, one he didn’t recognize, he heard feet coming down the stairs.

A lot of feet come to think of it, and he hadn’t actually heard that sound in over a week. Mike turned his head towards the sound, where one by one his boyfriend and each of his friends, or ex friends, he wasn’t exactly sure, came around the corner and stopped a few feet away from him.

He blinked a couple of times and then looked at Will, as if to say, um what’s going on here, and then that’s precisely what he did say. “Will, what’s going on? What are they doing here?” He couldn’t keep the bitter edge out of his voice, even as it was clouded by confusion.

“Uh, well they wanted to talk to you.” He could see that Mike was about to interject, and it didn’t look like he had anything nice to say so Will quickly continued before he could put in any words of his own. “Hold on, before you say anything. I already talked to them, okay? And I know this doesn’t fix everything-”

“You’re damn right, it doesn’t!” Mike was on his feet now, looking almost ready for a fight. “I don’t care what you guys think, okay-”

“Sweetie, don’t-”

“No, Will! Are you forgetting what those assholes said to us?! How they treated us?” At this, Will looked down at the floor. He hadn’t forgotten, of course. And sure, it still hurt. But he knew that they meant it when they said they were sorry. “Cause I-I haven’t forgotten.”

“You’re right.” Everyone turned their heads to Will in surprise. “What they said hurt and I can��t just forget that kind of pain, but Mike, look at me.” He walked over to his boyfriend and tipped his chin so it was facing his own face. “They apologized to me, and they meant it. I know they did. So, just give them the chance to do the same to you before you make your choice. Please?” A small smile painted his lips when he saw Mike nod his assent.

The taller teen turned his attention to the rest of the party, who had been looking on in fascination and awe as they watched Will coax Mike into talking with them. Now they seemed to straighten up at having his attention on them.

“Well, talk then.” Mike growled out, clearly impatient and in no mood to be doing this at all.

It struck Max that he was only doing it for Will in the first place, and what a wonderful thing their relationship must actually be. To show that much restraint, clearly uncomfortable and looking ready to crawl out of his own skin. But he stayed, for Will. He didn’t turn them away, for Will. She caught Mike’s eyes and noticed the way his gaze shifted quickly away from hers. Max shook herself out of all of her other thoughts. All she really wanted to do was let him know that she didn’t see him any differently.

“I’m sorry, Mike. I should’ve said something when you guys told us, but I was scared and I thou- well, yeah. I guess, I was just too scared.” Mike kept quiet and looked off to the side. It might seem to ruse to someone else, but Max saw it for what it was. The boy was afraid. She noticed he was clutching Will’s hand, tightly, so she just continued speaking, her tone earnest and soft. “I want you to know that I don’t think of you guys differently, at all.” Mike’s head jerked up to hers at this. “It’s like I told Will, growing up in California, you see gay people all the time. I’m used to all kinds of different people there- I mean, n-not that you guys are different! It’s just not something that everybody l-likes, I guess. I mean- sorry.” She trailed off in a whisper, sighing. Somehow, she had the feeling like she had made things worse, but when she looked at Mike’s face it didn’t look like she had. He had that same wide-eyed look on his face that Will had when she had told him about California and New York.

El patted Max’s arm like she was trying to make her feel better, before she looked at Will and Mike. “Will told me about gay and what it means, so now I know. I’m sorry I didn’t before, Mike. I don’t understand why we dated if you don’t like girls, but you can tell me when you’re ready, okay?”

Mike’s face paled and the group could see Will squeeze his palm. Then Mike said, in a barely there voice, “O-okay.”

El nodded and smiled. “Okay. I’m always here for both of you. Promise.” Everyone felt themselves relax a little when Mike gave her a small grin.

Surprisingly, Lucas was the next to speak up. “Mike. I’ll just get right to it. I know I said some shit things.” Mike let out a snort, but otherwise kept silent, allowing the other teen to continue. “I was a total ass, okay?! And, and I’m just so sorry, man!” Mike was shocked, not by the words, but because Lucas was crying. It’s not that he’d never seen him cry, but it must’ve been a few years at least.

“W-wait, you’re serious right now? This isn’t a joke, right?” Mike was wary, but hopeful. He stepped up to his friend, who suddenly rushed him, pulling him into a massive hug which nobody expected.

“You should love whoever you love, I know that! That’s your right. And you and Will are two of my best friends! Fuck, why would I ever try to stop you from being together? What kind of dick am I?!” Mike didn’t know what to say, so he just did his best to comfort Lucas, rubbing his back and telling him it was alright, everything was fine, but Lucas insisted that everything was not fine, he was actually a giant tool that shouldn’t even be forgiven.

That actually got Mike a laugh out of Mike and it was like the dams breaking open. Then Dustin was running over to them with tears in his eyes, pulling Will in and creating a group hug between the four boys, which Lucas complained about, still grinning ear to ear with his own tear stained face.

“This is Mine and Mike’s moment, Dustin!” Lucas tried shoving the curly haired boy off, playfully.

Dustin just pushed back, ignoring him completely. “But I’m sorry, too! God, can we all just agree that everyone here are assholes except for Will and Mike? And maybe Jane, because there’s a lot she still doesn’t know?”

“Oh, okay actually, yes. I can totally get with that.” Lucas chances a look at his two friends, grinning when he sees that they’re both actually smiling.

“Hey, you two get in here!” And then Mike’s pulling Max into the Hug, and Max is grabbing onto El to drag her into the lovefest and they’re all just hugging. They’ll deny the tears until years later.

_____

Later, when everyone else has gone home and it’s just Mike and Will, they will listen to much happier songs on the radio and talk and Will will mention to Mike that one day, when they do decide to move away, because they will, they should maybe think about New York or California. He hears San Francisco is nice. Mike will whole-heartedly agree. Besides, as long as he’s got his boy by his side, they’ll be alright.

#byeler #byler #stranger things #will and mike #mike and will #my fics #st fic #byeler fic #my stuff #hi just me venting through characters nbd #this is probably the longest fic i've ever written #i hope you like it!

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biillyhargroves · 5 years

Note

Have you discussed what you think Billy would have been like had he survived Starcourt? Would he have woken up to himself a little and apologised to Steve? Or would he have stayed the same?

I feel like he’d go somewhere in the middle.

First, there’s the physical trauma. He had large wounds on the majority of his body. I wouldn’t surprised if organs were jostled, ruptured, etc. I can only the imagine the surgeries he’d need to correct that kind of damage. Plus, think about all the chemicals he drank while flayed. I don’t know how the whole Mind Flayer parasite thing is supposed to work, but all that shit still went into a human body, and he’d probably need his stomach pumped at the very least. He’d be bed-bound for a while given that the worst of his injuries were around his middle of and chances are he’d be held together by stitches and staples; he’d have some level of muscle atrophy from being bed-ridden and would need physical therapy. A young, healthy, active guy like Billy going through that would pissed as hell. He’d need help doing everything and anything, from going to the bathroom to bathing himself to walking across a room. He'd be embarrassed, and frustrated, and that would probably amplify his bad attitude. I picture him lashing out at anyone who touched him, regardless of how much he needs their help.

There’s also the mental trauma. There’s no way that Billy would get out of that without PTSD. I imagine the isolation of his recovery (he already didn’t seem to have many friends, and he can’t exactly hit up the high school parties when he can barely walk on his own) would lead to depression. When he is able to start getting around on his own, I think that driving at night, among other things, could cause anxiety. And it’s not as if he has a great support system in his parents; I can’t imagine that Neil ever told him it was okay to be upset or afraid- on the contrary, he was probably taught that fear equals weakness, and so any mental health issues that cropped would frustrate him even more. More frustration would equal to more lashing out, because that’s what he knows. It’s his default.

But!!! I also think that his circumstances would garner sympathy from people who otherwise wouldn’t have bothered with or felt for him. Max already showed worry for him in S3, and I think that she’d be so grateful that her brother’s still alive that she’d do whatever it took to help him heal, even if it meant getting yelled at by him. She’s also one of the few people who has shown she’s not afraid to stand up to him (I mean, she hit him with a sedative and then threatened him with a baseball bat full of nails. Girl’s got guts.), so I don’t think she’d shy away from throwing back anything he flings at her, and that normal sort of banter with his sister would help him ease back into things. It would take time, but I think their relationship would get better. She’d be protective of him. He’d be appreciative of her, even if he doesn’t know how to show it very well.

Eleven would also want to help, because now she knows him better. She would care. And I think that the others, after Eleven tells them everything that happened, everything she saw, how Billy stepped up to save her once she’d helped free from him the Mind Flayer, would want to thank him. He would be uncomfortable with it at first. He’s never seemed to have people rally around him. He wouldn’t know how to handle that kind of attention. But I think he’d warm up to it, and even start to apologize to them about things he’s done in the past- including Steve, who would feel especially guilty about totaling Billy’s car when he was trying to stop Billy from driving into Nancy and Jonathan. (And I can also totally see Steve, knowing how much the car means to Billy, would take it upon himself to have the Camaro fixed so that it’s ready for Billy once he’s finally cleared to drive again).

I don’t think it would be this big *snap*, he’s been humbled and now he’s a nice person! kind of situation. Billy wouldn’t wake up after the fact and suddenly want to right all his wrongs. It would definitely be a process for him, but I think that with the help of the rest of the group, he’d definitely begin to come around post-Starcourt, and that he might even gain a few friends from the whole ordeal.

#anon #answered #stranger things meta #billy hargrove #I could legit talk about this for DAYS

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keeroo92 · 5 years

Text

Be My Nightmare Ch1

Arrival

The brutal murderer V is the newest arrival at Mundus Psychiatric Hospital where you work with the most violent of criminals. Can you help him find peace, or will his machinations pull you into his dark web?

CONTENT WARNING - mental illness, blood, murder, hallucinations, dubious consent, lots of dark thinking.

Word count - 4,261

___________

---Reader---

“Shit, he’s got a knife!”

Five words you never wanted to hear while working in a psychiatric hospital.

They sent you straight into high alert, scanning the lobby and intake area for the threat. Only a few visiting family members and orderlies occupied the room. Still, because of the constrained space it took a moment to find the culprit. Your eyes widened when you spotted the slim figure at last.

A tattooed man with black hair, he brandished the blade before him with a gleeful smile, his green eyes lit with crazed mirth. He sliced at the person closest to him, leaving a line of dark red on her white sleeve.

Fuck! This looks bad…

Yet you didn’t intervene. Instead, you ducked lower behind the intake counter to hide, trying not to draw attention to yourself as you picked up the red phone and dialed the security office. Protocol dictated it, and despite your fascination with the potential new patient you knew better than to ignore the rules. While the line connected, you peeked over the counter to watch the chaos.

The man with the knife had his teeth bared as his green eyes swept the room, searching for something. The three orderlies present were standing between him and the visitors, hands held high in a non-threatening pose. You recognized Kevin and Rob and smirked. They were both experts in de-escalation; that’s why they worked in intake so often.

The third man looked scared, a new face you weren’t yet familiar with. He didn’t hide his fear at all, and the attacker easily picked up on his inexperience. The knife flashed toward him, aimed right for his heart. You held your breath, anticipation flooding your senses as both Kevin and Rob darted forward, each grappling one arm.

Kevin wrapped a meaty fist over the man’s bicep, his other hand applying pressure to his extended wrist as the blade grazed the third orderlies chest. He tightened his grip until his knuckles turned white and the black-haired stranger’s fingers opened against his will. The knife clattered to the floor and Kevin kicked it away as a nurse came running with a set of restraints.

Over already.

A sigh of disappointment slipped through your lips. Contrary to popular belief, working in a mental institution was incredibly boring. Routine and stability were crucial to patient recovery, and the monotony of it made you restless. Not that you wanted people to get hurt, but a little break in the tedium was nice.

“This is Aaron, what’s the issue?”

“Oh! Uh, Kevin’s got a violent patient restrained in intake. Two minor injuries, but nothing serious,” you replied.

“On my way.”

The phone went dead and you set it back into the cradle, monitoring the tense situation as Kevin and Rob forced the stranger into the restraint system. The crazed man repeated the same words over and over as they tightened the straps.

“A land of sorrows and of tears where never a smile was seen!”

You smiled. This guy would be interesting.

__________________

The second your replacement arrived, you headed for the director’s office. You held up your badge to Lenny with a smile and he waved as he buzzed you past the double gate, allowing you into the administrative wing. Within moments, you were knocking on Dr. Malphas’ door.

“Come in.”

You couldn’t hide your excitement as you entered your boss’s office, taking a seat on the comfortable armchair in front of his desk. Dr. Malphas was an odd fellow, elderly and kind. He was the one who hired you straight out of college, despite the lack of experience on your resume. He closed the navy file before him and gave you a grandfatherly smile, folding his hands over the desk to meet your gaze.

“I want the guy from this morning,” you blurted. He chuckled and removed his glasses, using the backside of his tie to clean them.

“I knew you would. He does seem like he needs your special touch. How’s your case load?”

You hummed thoughtfully, reviewing the patients you were already working with.

“I could hand one or two to Dr. Mustafa, one of his just got discharged.”

He gave the lenses one last wipe and carefully placed his glasses back on his face. They made his eyes look bigger, buglike and you smirked. He knew what they did, and he loved it.

“Make it two, I have a feeling this guy will take up a fair amount of your time. Once he’s stable, feel free to begin.”

You beamed and nodded, eagerly accepting the file he held out for you to peruse. The name on the tab made no sense, and you stared back at your supervisor quizzically.

“His name is V? That’s it?”

“That’s all the court provided.”

Weird.

You stood and inclined your head. “I’ll go get to work. Thanks, boss!”

Dr. Malphas chuckled again and waved you off as you hurried out the door, already scanning the file.

Court ordered admission, patient murdered a family of three. Damn, the kid was only five…

You barely acknowledged Lenny in your rush to get back to your office on the third floor. Over the last few years, you’d developed a reputation for your ability to help the very worst of patients, specializing in criminals with violent tendencies. They fascinated you, especially serial killers. If you used the textbook definition, this “V” didn’t fall into that category since all his known kills had occurred in a single evening.

But I’d bet a month’s salary he’s got more skeletons in the closet. They always do.

You grinned; you couldn’t wait to get started.

__________________

It didn’t take long for you to choose two patients to transfer, and as you gathered the required files in your office, you heard approaching footsteps. Only an hour had passed since V’s arrival; it was probably the orderlies bringing him to his cell. You grabbed your badge and scurried out to watch.

They were easy to spot in the hallway through the glass of the security checkpoint. Two bulky men in blue scrubs dragging a third, much smaller man in white between them. Kevin’s annoyed grimace helped you recognize him, and Aaron was unmistakable due to his mountainous form. You waved at Ben and he buzzed you through with a shake of his head.

You stepped into the hallway and kept out of their way, content to listen to the man’s growled oaths.

“I’ll destroy you for this. I will flay the flesh from your bones and make you watch, I’ll use your blood as bath water!”

“Sure you will, buddy,” Kevin replied.

V snarled like an animal, gnashing his teeth and writhing against the two men’s tight hold of him. He contorted until his eyes locked on yours, and he froze as if a cattle prod had hit him. You expected him to continue his tirade of threats, but he fell silent and tilted his head to the side, furrowing his brow in thought.

Huh… interesting reaction.

You held his gaze unflinchingly and waited, curious to see what happened next. The corner of his lips twitched into a smirk and for the first time you noticed how damn attractive he was. It was hard to look past the madness in his expressions, but once you did it was impossible to ignore.

What a waste.

You followed the three men without thought, your inquisitiveness too strong to resist. Kevin and Aaron dragged V’s newly compliant body into his cell, strapping his limbs down until further notice. It was standard procedure with a new high secure patient; people didn’t end up in your care unless they were a danger not just to themselves, but to society.

“Now, are you going to cooperate and take these or do we have to sedate you?” Aaron asked, holding out a paper cup with V’s first dose of Seroquel. You watched from the doorway as his eyes narrowed, considering his options.

Please be smart, please be smart, please be smart…

After an uncomfortable moment of silence, he opened his mouth obediently to accept the medication.

Yes!

Kevin leaned forward to check his cheeks and smiled kindly when he found them empty.

“Good man,” he said, then turned to you. “What’s up, doc? He one of yours?”

“As of today!”

“Well, good luck. Hope you can reach him,” Aaron answered. He gestured at Kevin and the two men departed. With V tied down under three levels of restraints, there was no need for them to stay and monitor him. You stepped closer, pulling out the chair from under the desk and plopping down to begin.

“All right… V… I’m Dr. Waras. I’m here to help you get better.”

You paused, waiting for some sign of acknowledgment of your words, but V kept his eyes glued to the pale ceiling overhead. You cleared your throat, but still he didn’t respond.

What the hell? He was talking a few minutes ago.

After another moment of silence, you started to get worried. He hadn’t even blinked. You leaned forward, coming into his line of sight. You chewed the inside of your cheek at the emptiness of his expression.

“V? Can you hear me?”

Nothing.

His tattoos were extraordinary and you couldn’t help but glance at the intricate patterns on his arms. The dark lines looked tribal, like war paint in a way. You tilted your head and called his name again, with no result.

You leaned closer, bringing your mouth next to his ear. Even his head was strapped to the bed, the poor bastard…

“V? Hello?”

He’s not dead, is he?

You extended your hand and felt for a pulse, your fingertips pressing into his neck gently. There was a normal rhythm, nothing out of the ordinary. You moved your fingers to check his airflow, hovering under his nostrils as the telltale exhalation crossed your skin. He still hadn’t blinked and tears were forming in the corners of his eyes.

A catatonic episode. Pretty intense, from the looks of it. Poor guy.

---V---

The scent of blood was overwhelming, but all he saw was white. Where was that delicious aroma coming from? He hoped it was fresh; the color became dull after only a few hours.

“V? Hello?”

Sensations filtered in one by one. Warm pressure on his neck. A thin cushion under him, something wrapped around his wrists and ankles. V struggled to gather his wits, his thinking sluggish and disorganized. The aroma grew stronger and he stifled a moan as the source revealed itself to him – a woman in a white coat, leaning over his prone body. Her fingers were held under his nose.

Irresistable.

V slipped his tongue past his teeth and between his lips, taking a delightful lick of your fingers with a pleased hum. You retreated with a grimace and pulled a napkin from your pocket to wipe away his saliva. He blinked, savoring the saltiness of your flesh.

I should’ve bitten… damn.

The restraints limited his vision, but every flash of your slim fingers against the white fabric made him want another taste. You tucked away the napkin and opened a thin blue folder.

“R- right. I’m Dr. Waras. Do you know where you are?”

He smirked; he’d rattled you. V reveled in the sense of power it gave him to know only a momentary caress of his tongue had caused such a reaction. His nerves vibrated, anticipating all the fun he could have with you.

What other reactions can I elicit?

He wiggled his arms and legs, testing his range of motion. Only a few inches, far from the distance required. Damn. He’d have to remedy that, somehow.

“Can you speak?”

Ah, I suppose I should play along for now.

“I can. What’s your name?”

You frowned. “I just told you, I’m Dr. Waras. Are you having trouble remembering?”

“I meant your first name.”

You sighed, pursing your lips for a moment before answering. “If I tell you, will you answer my questions?”

V hummed, pretending to think while inside he celebrated his first victory. He hoped you’d prove amenable, but this was almost too easy.

“I will,” he replied with a false smile.

“Y/N. Now, do you know where you are?”

“Y/N,” he purred. He liked the way it sounded, a delightful arrangement of letters. It echoed in his mind, becoming a mantra as he closed his eyes to bask in a plethora of imagined situations where he could say your name again.

You shifted your weight. He wondered if it was from discomfort or if you enjoyed hearing your name roll from his lips. He said it again, testing. A pulse of blood rushed down to his cock as he envisioned decorating your flesh with little cuts, thin lines of red trailing across your skin. He repeated your name again, letting a hint of his arousal color his voice.

You shifted your weight again. He wished his head was free, wished he could see if you were angling your body against the chair to ease the ache…

I think she likes it!

“Hush, Griffon!” he cried, angry at the interruption. Just when he was getting to know you…

“Griffon? Who is Griffon?” you questioned him.

“Now see what you’ve done? You ruined it! Accursed demon!”

“Demon? V, tell me who you’re talking to.”

The coil of heat in his belly flickered away, extinguished by Griffon’s untimely words. V growled his frustration and closed his eyes, trying to recapture the images he’d conjured. But it was no use, he couldn’t shake his annoyance. He’d lost the precious moment.

“Hey, stay with me. Come on, V,” you said. A warm hand came to rest on his forearm; a gesture of reassurance.

He instinctually tried to turn his head to meet your eyes and growled a second time as he met resistance. Being restrained was infuriating. To limit his freedom, how dare you! He would destroy you for this, no matter how good you tasted.

“If you can calm down and focus, I can take the head strap off.”

He froze, surprised by the proposition. Perhaps you would prove more entertaining than he expected? He revised his strategy and took a deep breath, exhaling slowly and closing his eyes. He held his body as still as he could, projecting calmness as convincingly as he was able. It did not come easily to him.

Regardless, you swallowed the bait and reached out to loosen the thick band of leather holding his skull in place. He waited until you pulled aside the straps to lie flat on either side of the mattress, then turned his head to face you fully. You smiled kindly.

Those features would look even more lovely if I twisted them in fear.

“So. Do you know where you are?”

V rolled his eyes. Such mundane questions you asked, what did it matter if he knew his whereabouts? But he had to play the game, at least for now.

“Unless the judge changed his mind, I would assume this to be Mundus Psychiatric Hospital,” he replied.

“Yes. You’re currently in the high secure wing, but depending on your progress we may be able to get you to mid secure. I’m in charge of your treatment.”

He smirked. “Then I’ll see you regularly?”

You shifted your weight again, and this time he could see your motions. He licked his lips.

“Every day. Next question – do you remember what happened in the lobby when you arrived?”

The image of the knife flashing, its tip sinking into flesh and drawing blood sent him reeling. Such a beautiful sight, why did the fools have to interrupt him? Such a pity. It was the first chance he’d had in months to create another masterpiece, only to be wrestled into submission against his will and drugged.

They will pay.

---Reader---

It was child’s play to catch the gleam of pleasure in V’s eyes, hear the way his breathing hitched at the reminder. Not only did he remember, he felt no shame or guilt. No, he enjoyed it. You shivered, a surge of adrenaline flooding your system as you eyed this incredibly dangerous man.

“I remember nothing,” he said.

He’s lying. But why?

“What would it take for you to release my legs? They’re growing stiff.”

You tapped your pen against your lips. With this type of patient, it may be wise to let him think he had control of the situation, put him at ease. Overconfident. Then, he might open up and give you the details you needed to treat him properly. It was a risk, it always was. Completely against protocol.

But if it works…

“Answer three questions and I’ll untie one leg. Another three, and I’ll do the other one.”

Even if he lies, it’s still valuable information.

“Deal. What would you like to know, Y/N?”

You almost dropped your pen at the low rumble of your name over his lips. It truly was a waste, to see such an attractive man like this. Tied up. Caged. He could’ve chosen any other path, but here he was. You sighed, trying to focus. What did you want to know?

Let’s start with an easy one.

“What’s your full, legal name? It can’t be just V.”

He chuckled, his mouth stretching over his teeth in amusement. “I truly couldn’t tell you.”

Clever bastard. He knows I’ll have to waste more questions to get the full answer. Is it worth it?

You pursed your lips, thinking. This stage of treatment was critical. It established the parameters for the duration of his time here, whether he would see you as an authority figure deserving his respect and trust, or if you’d be nothing more than a naïve fool in his eyes.

“Okay. Who is Griffon?”

His smile vanished. It seemed like you’d caught him off guard by your easy change of topic, like he’d expected you to pursue his name. You smirked and waited for his answer.

“Griffon is a demonic bird. He speaks to me occasionally.”

Audio hallucinations, got it. This might be the last time he answers, better make it a good one.

“Okay. Why did you kill that family?”

V bared his teeth and growled like an animal. His eyes flashed and for a moment you thought he wouldn’t answer. His hands clenched and he tugged at the restraints, but at last he spoke.

“They were supposed to be my masterpiece. That’s three.”

You shook your head. “And that wasn’t an answer.”

He sighed, grimacing briefly in irritation. When he opened his eyes again, he looked so different it stole your breath. The anger, the playfulness, the energy from before had disappeared. Only mournful resignation remained. You leaned forward, pen poised to write his response.

“I wish I remembered.”

Huh. I think he’s telling the truth.

You sat back, surprised by the honest expression he still wore. It was clear he was intelligent, and liked to play games. When he licked your fingers, you first saw the gleam of humor tinting his green gaze. The memory sent another shiver up your spine and you rubbed your fingers together to remind yourself the wetness was gone. There was no way he knew how sensitive your fingertips were, it had to be a coincidence.

“That’s three,” V reminded you.

Right. Here goes nothing.

You scooted closer and unhooked the cuff from the anchor, letting his leg have full range of motion. He groaned suggestively and stretched, overextending his knee until it popped. Lips pursed again, you retreated to allow him the room to lift his leg high and stretch his thigh muscles.

“Would you be so kind?”

You shook your head. No way in hell were you letting him dictate the situation.

“Not unless you answer an extra question.”

His leg trembled and he clicked his tongue, but nodded.

“Do you ever find it difficult to concentrate?”

His eyes narrowed in suspicion and you internally celebrated. Such an ambiguous question would challenge him to decide if a lie was necessary. He remained silent for a long moment, long enough that he lowered his leg to rest. You knew the second he decided and watched his pupils to see if they dilated.

“Never.”

Lie.

Still, he never agreed to tell the truth, so you stepped closer to lift his leg into an assisted stretch. His eyes rolled back into his head and he whined, making a sound so lewd you dropped his calf in shock. You pursed your lips as he smirked at you tauntingly.

All right, time to teach him a lesson.

You darted forward and clipped his leg back into place, grimly amused at his growl of frustration as you stepped back again and gathered your things.

“I think that’s enough for now. I’m sure we’ll make more progress tomorrow,” you said.

He laughed and winked at your departing from. “I’ll be counting the moments, Y/N…”

---V---

Once you were gone, V set his mind on planning. He had to escape, that much was obvious. If he remained here to languish, his masterpiece would never be completed.

Unacceptable.

He tugged at his restraints with an irritated growl, testing their strength. The leather was durable and thick, but perhaps he could sabotage the buckles? Assuming he had a moment of freedom to do so… He’d need to be fast. A distraction would help, as well, but how?

He lifted his head as high as he could, straining to get a look at the rest of the small room. There wasn’t much to see. He deduced the existence of bars over the small window based on the pattern of shadows across the plain beige walls. As expected, considering his supposed crimes. Besides the cot, his only furniture consisted of a cheap wooden desk and the chair you had used during your visit.

Not much to work with, pal. You’re gonna need help.

“Yes, yes, I know,” he replied aloud, rolling his eyes in derision.

How about that cute doctor? She seemed to like you.

“Possible, though it would take a fair amount of time. I’d have to go slowly…”

He fell silent, recalling how cooperative you’d been earlier. There was definite potential there, but V wasn’t one to leave all his eggs in one basket, so to speak. Other allies must be found.

But how to turn you to his side? How to convince you he could be trusted?

Ugh. I don’t have to exhibit docility, do I?

She wouldn’t believe it after the knife thing.

“A valid point.”

So, he’d have to turn you. V truly believed everyone had the capacity to discover the truth that only he seemed to know. Perhaps you simply needed a guide to show you the way?

He smirked, his eyes glittering in wicked amusement. A rush of blood flooded his cock as he envisioned himself teaching you just how much pressure to use when slicing at flesh, the perfect grip for every blade. He licked his lips as he pictured the look of joy in your eyes at your first stroke, discovering the release for yourself. It would be magnificent, ethereal to taste the blood of your shared victims on your lips. He would fuck you until you couldn’t speak in a pool of crimson, your bodies serving as paintbrushes against the canvas of the floor.

He hissed and tried to arch his hips, but the strap over his waist held tight. His cock strained against the rough white fabric of his pants and he shifted his weight, just enough to get a little friction against the head. Enough to imagine how you’d look, licking a mixture of white and red from his length. You’d be so beautiful with streaks of blood left wherever he touched you. True artistry.

Gods, how he wanted to touch himself. This was such exquisite torture. He wondered if you knew the effect you had on him, if you might even be watching from somewhere as he writhed and moaned, his cock tenting just inches below the accursed strap.

Calm yourself, fool. Do not allow your lust to destroy your plans.

“Fuck off, Vergil!” he snarled to the cold, disembodied voice. The bastard only ever spoke up to insult him.

Or to keep you from self-destructing.

V growled. So many disruptions today! Sometimes being the only one they could talk to was immensely irritating. Once you were able to hear them too, perhaps he’d finally get some peace. For now, there was only one sure-fire way to get Vergil to leave him alone. He smirked and licked his lips.

“Jackpot.”

…fine. Have it your way.

He grinned gleefully, victorious. Yet the interruption had already done its damage; the tent was gone, his cock limp and lifeless once more. He clenched his jaw in frustration.

Soon, I will have satisfaction.

He tugged at the restraints again and sighed. This would become terribly boring without something to occupy his thoughts.

A long roar rattled through his mind. Shadow. She was the most helpful of the bunch, and he smiled at her wise counsel.

“Thank you, as always,” he said. Another, much shorter roar sounded and he focused his mind on the problem at hand.

How to show you his reality, the true reality. It would shock you if he wasn’t careful, to rush the process would spell disaster. Patience was a struggle, but he needed to try. Subtlety had a higher chance at success, and his masterpiece was too important to allow failure.

~~~Next Chapter~~~

#fanfic #v x reader #au #angst #Be My Nightmare #dmc #dmcv #my writing #reader insert #devil may cry #insanity #mental illness

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journeysintowebcomics · 5 years

Text

Worm Liveblog #119

UPDATE 119: Guided Missile

Last time Francis took a power, and gave half of a vial to Noelle. How will the results of this action be like? I suppose I’ll find out in this update! Let’s see...

Noelle screamed, her back arching.

“Well,” Krouse said, as he reached for the tubing that led from the bag of blood to her arm. He pulled it out, then removed the tape that had held it in place. “That’s bound to get someone’s attention.”

Nothing out of the ordinary so far. From what I recall from when Battery received her power, and from Francis’ own reaction last update, it’s at first a painful and kind of electrifying process. But yeah, screaming like you’re being flayed alive is not what you want to hear a patient do. Someone’s bound to come check what’s going on.

Apparently it’s normal for your heart to stop beating from time to time while you gain powers. Wow. That sounds so dangerous. Once another thing you don’t want to hear happening to your patient, I bet a load of alarm messages are being sent to the nurses’ office right now.

He stood and blocked the door of the room with the chair he’d been sitting on. Noelle screamed again, a howl, almost ragged.

Had he screamed that much? Or taken that long? He felt a twinge of anxiety.

I’m not sure what to think. Hearing someone you love scream in obvious suffering is bound to seem eternal even if it doesn’t last long...or maybe Noelle really is taking too long. Who knows.

During Noelle’s vision, Francis sees it as well. It’s the usual vision about unfathomable beings twirling and approaching Earth, nothing particularly new...I think. Usually the core of the vision is the same, without much variation other than the events themselves. This must be a sign Noelle is receiving her powers right now – the moment Noelle’s life took a turn for the worse. Well, leaving aside everything else that has happened to her this morning.

The vision got Francis distracted enough for a guard to come, bust into the room, and...start attacking and kicking Francis instead of helping the patient in distress. Which, fine, this is a guard and not a medic, but still, where are the doctors? I know the hospital is understaffed but goodness gracious! Francis had good reasons to believe she could die, there’s just no way a serious medical emergency can be solved quickly.

While he’s getting kicked and hit all over, Francis examines the objects to try to find a good one to swap with the guard’s rifle or with the guard, but it’s hard to think while you’re getting kicked in the head, really. All he manages to do when the vision ends is swap the guard and his own position, and that only gets him a second to fight, second he uses to tackle the guard and try to find something to swap with the gun.

Noelle screamed.

This is taking longer than mine did.

Yeah, honestly by now a rather long time has passed. Francis didn’t writhe and scream for so long, neither did Battery from what I remember reading yesterday. The narration has its way of making the moment as long as possible, but somehow this feels like it’s taking longer than usual. A consequence of only having half of the power, perhaps?

He knew if he lost it, he’d probably get shot. The use of his power had been the only way to avoid being beaten into unconsciousness, but he suspected it also raised the stakes. Given a chance, the officer would kill him in self defense.

I think he’s right. I said last update I suspected the hero who exploded was killed precisely because he was a parahuman. Francis has revealed he has powers, so if he loses the fight, he’s doomed. He has so many incentives to stay alive. Say, this room must have security cameras or something, right? So they should know something’s happening with Noelle, and if she shows signs of having powers, she’s dead too.

Francis can swap not only things that have a similar shape, he also can swap objects according to mass. He does that to gain access to the gun by swapping it with a blanket, and attacks the guard now that he’s unarmed. Gotta knock him out, anything to prevent him from leaving and getting more help – if none isn’t coming already, that is.

Krouse closed his eyes and slammed his forehead into the lower half of the uniformed man’s face. He headbutted the guy once more. Blood welled on his own forehead, where a tooth bit too deep into the skin.

I have never understood why the hell headbutting is a move people do. True, your skull is a rather tough and hard thing, but...it’s your head. Colliding against something that’s most certainly not soft, because often it’s done against an enemy cranium. I sure know I wouldn’t be able to fight any better if I had a throbbing headache from headbutting my opponent. Also, hitting your head sounds like a great way to get your brain rattled. No, thanks, I’d rather not give myself a concussion.

The fight ends once Francis takes the rifle and swings it at the guard’s face, knocking him out after a few blows. He’s alive, I think?

He managed to climb to his feet, blinked slowly as he looked down at the uniformed man. Not a cop, not a soldier, something else.

PRT agent, perhaps? From this area’s PRT?

Oh, the doctors and nurses are there, in the hallway! Running away because they’re afraid of Francis. Since the coast is clear, he returns to Noelle’s side, who is still having visions. This really is taking much longer than it usually takes. Curious, I’d have thought taking half of the serum would make her have like half of the vision, not a vision that’s like...four times as long. With nobody else interfering, Francis is able to stay there by Noelle’s side until she’s done.

There’s some consolation: Noelle is healed. Hm. Maybe it took so long because of the extent of her injuries and because she had to regenerate so much of her guts. How long did it take for Alexandria to have her vision, I wonder? Regardless, Noelle is healed, ready to go, and gets dressed while Francis makes sure the rest of the power concoction is safe.

So! Now it’s time to deal with the current obstacle: escaping a hospital that is already aware there’s a madman doing who knows what to one of their patients. Perhaps this is the moment the extent of Noelle’s powers will be revealed?

“Well, you only got half a dose. If you get any powers, they’re liable to be pretty weak. Could be that you burned up whatever juice is in that stuff, healing the damage.”

If only. Maybe things wouldn’t have gone as badly if any, any of the other power vials had been in half.

Noelle feels her skin fizzing, what a curious sensation that must be. She doesn’t see any changes, but she feels fizzing. Brings acids to mind, really. Looks like it’s mostly on contact with her clothes, for some reason, touching other stuff around makes nothing happen. Hm...Francis is on his own here, doesn’t seem like Noelle will be able to do anything – voluntarily, that is. If something very powerful and very awful and deadly happens, I’m sure it’ll be accidental.

Outside, people have been gathering to tackle the emergency, and it isn’t just PRT agents. Myrddin – who apparently got a sex change when I wrote about him two updates ago, my bad, Myrddin – is here with six other superheroes. Many would say this is overkill when dealing with a parahuman who barely can use his powers well, having it for...like two hours so far. Perhaps Francis got captured and the rest helped him escape the heroes?

I think in this room you’re the one who knows the most about Myrddin, Francis, and what you know is very little. Welp! Time to learn on the fly, because Myrddin flies, shatters the window, and lands inside the room. Will he recognize Francis from the very brief moment he saw him?

“Stand down,” Myrddin ordered.

“I’ll pass,” Krouse replied. He looked at the injured P.R.T. soldier, “We’ve got-”

“Begone,” Myrddin said, pointing his staff.

The officer vanished in a cloud of mist.

“-A hostage,” Krouse finished.

Hah! Great job, Francis. Nothing like making clear you won’t let this end peacefully by saying things like ‘We’ve got a hostage’. Also, using ‘we’, implicating Noelle in the process. Honestly I’m pretty sure he singlehandedly made the situation worse for himself and Noelle with one single sentence. Amazing.

Two other heroes flock into the room. How big is this hospital room, holy crap. Where I come from, I can assure you there wouldn’t be enough space for a hospital bed, all the lifesaving equipment, and five people. Well, the people would certainly be able to move and all, but there sure wouldn’t be any space for fighting. It’d be the worst fight ever.

One of the heroes – Anomaly, is her name – uses a ball of something to try to attract Francis, Trying to subdue him. With some quick thinking Francis swaps Noelle with the third heroine, and lets that heroine be trapped in Anomaly’s power. Hah! Noelle almost falls down the window, before that happens Francis swaps her again, this time with Anomaly, and so he just defeated two heroines in a few seconds flat. I’m aware they were fighting a newly discovered parahuman and therefore they didn’t know what he could do, buuuut losing a fight against someone who’s had powers for a couple hours at most doesn’t speak well of these heroes’ skill. I’m sure they’re good at their jobs and what not, but they sure kind of lost pitifully here.

“Who are you?” Myrddin asked.

Krouse glanced out the window. No. This might go badly before he had a chance to execute their escape. If he had to teleport to the back of the crowd, they could wind up in a situation where there was no escape.

“Nobody dangerous.”

Says the guy whose first words to the hero were ‘We’ve got a hostage’. You can’t trust anyone who goes with hostage-taking as the very first measure to try to get an edge over your opponent!

Myrddin’s turn to so something! Francis theorizes about the nature of Myrddin’s power, thinking he has personal dimensions with different rules. One of those dimensions has energy, and with the staff, Myrddin opens it according to the shape drawn with the staff, hitting the opponent with the blast. That actually sounds like a pretty cool power! Great!

Thinking about other dimensions makes Francis ask Myrddin if he can open doors between worlds, and that alarms Myrddin because for a moment he thinks Francis and Noelle are like those monsters the Simurgh brought into the world. The least you’re associated to the Simurgh, the better, so that’s something you don’t want the heroes to think about you. Francis hurries to disguise his interest as idle curiosity.

No more questions to ask, time to leave! Seeing a police car approaching the scene, Francis swaps Noelle and himself with two people in the crowd, and then does it again to be placed inside the car, and he proceeds to drive it as nonchalantly as possible. Flawless escape! He had the advantage of nobody knowing what he could do, that was what tipped the balance on his favor. Now they have to return to the rest of the Travelers.

He reached for Noelle’s gloved hand and squeezed it, but she didn’t smile, didn’t show any relief. She looked troubled.

He realized why. Her left hand was undamaged where she’d slashed it on the shattered glass of the window.

Oh, that means she has fast regeneration, right? Maybe that’s what the fizzing was, her body getting prepared for regenerating. Not bad! For her. Because healing fast is going to get in the way of fighting her if necessary, in the present.

Finding the house where the rest of the Travelers are gathered was easy enough, and they go in to find their friends gathered. Cody isn’t among them, because he’s still an outsider to the group. Mars hugs Noelle right away, and Luke says Francis was stupid for all he has done. But at least Noelle is healed, and that’s good. Should help with the morale.

Obviously the rest don’t approve that Francis went and gave powers to someone else, and this time it does get to him because it’s a friend saying it instead of Cody. All Francis can do is try to make excuses for all this, saying it’s the Simurgh’s fault, and while that’s correct, the distinction isn’t as notable as Francis hopes it is.

There’s Cody! And heeeee has powers. Fucking Cody. Of course he demonstrates what he can do, to boast about his newfound abilities.

“I got powers. The paperwork said it was the ‘Vestige’ can. And as luck would have it, my power counters yours. Totally and completely.”

Naturally. He got seriously lucky, then! Is this his chance to finally one-up Francis? He sure seems to think it is. Everyone else tells him to stop messing around, while Cody uses his power to punch Francis. Seems like some sort of...time travel? Luke agrees, and Cody explains more. Hah! It’s for the reader’s benefit, really, because otherwise I’m certain he’d love to keep the details of his secret hidden from the guy he loathes.

Cody shrugged, “Directed time travel, anyways. Backwards only, a few seconds at a time. You teleport away, I set you back to where you were, then kick you in the balls for being an asshole.”

Hmmmmm...it can have its uses, uses beyond the pettiness Cody is indulging in. It’d be great for second chances, if things went disastrously wrong immediately. Wouldn’t be useful for extended fights or choices. I’m kind of interpreting it as a way, way weaker version of Coil’s power in that Cody gets into a specific timeline, rewinds, and tries something else. Maybe Coil’s power comes from the Vestige kind of power too, just that with a much stronger configuration, the kind that costs hundreds of millions of dollars.

Brushing aside with kind of admirable nonchalance that Cody most likely gave him like two dozens beatings with his power, Francis decides now they need to work on getting out of the quarantine. Easier said than done, really, I’m sure Myrddin is arranging things so everyone’s on the lookout for Francis and Noelle. Good thing the rest of the Travelers are still a mystery for them, that could be the element of surprise they need.

Mars mentions ‘their stuff’, and when Francis asks what she means, Cody rewinds so nobody can answer what he asked, and once again tries to get everyone to ‘stop catering to him’. Oh, shut up. Fucking Cody.

“You’re being as bad as he ever was,” Luke said.

Cody turned towards Luke, “No. No I’m not.”

“You’re making calls on our behalf. You’re not being a team player, and you’re making things harder than they have to be to get your way.”

“It’s not the same,” Cody said.

Honestly I think I wouldn’t mind that as much if he was self-aware he’s a jackass. I think that’s why I’m liking Francis much more than him, Francis at the very least makes no attempt to pretend he’s on the right. Cody covers his ears and shouts he has done nothing wrong and that Francis does things worse.

I think this interlude has improved my opinion of Francis somewhat, really. He’s not on my favorite characters list by any means, but at least I tolerate him now. It helps that he’s not being antagonistic towards characters I like a lot – like Skitter, who he clashes with by virtue of Skitter being the main character. Also, following his train of thought and knowing his backstory helps a lot too. Frankly, this whole thing has endeared me more to the Travelers in general! Especially Sundancer. I like Mars.

Since arguing with Cody is a futile endeavor, Francis decides to make an example out of him by throwing him against a bookcase, and doing it again and again and again when Cody keeps rewinding. When Cody uses his power on himself he never remembers what happened, leaving him vulnerable to the same thing happening over and over. Soon he realizes that, and stops rewinding. Hah! Not even with powers he’s able to get an upper hand over Francis, the guy managed to find a weakness in...five minutes. That was good.

He isn’t satisfied with this, though. He asserts to everyone Cody fighting him every once in a while is a problem, and that he’s turning into a liability because he can’t control himself. Oho! Is this what leads to Cody’s absence from the Travelers? Because by now it’s pretty clear he’s not ballistic, and none of the Travelers has his power. Something must have happened to him.

As if crushing Cody’s delusions about how having powers finally got him ahead of Francis, Francis makes pretty clear that if he ever fears for his own safety or feels Cody is actively harming their efforts to return home, he’ll kill him. And he means it. Cody can tell Francis means that. Well then! Guess that answers what happened to Cody before the Travelers arrived to Brockton Bay.

Well at least the arguing is over now. With some luck that’ll be the end of this, buuuut I’m not holding my breath.

What they meant with stuff is that they went to steal everything they may need. It was a necessary evil, given they have zero money. Other than the stuff they stole, they should also try to take as much cash as they can, because they’ll be needing it. Luke still has some degree of consideration towards Francis, they used to be best friends. Sure aren’t in the present, what with Ballistic not being in the best of terms with everyone.

Now that I think about it, the widening distance between the Travelers – in the present, I mean – must be a result of the stress and having to go around with nothing but promises of being able to reach their goal of helping Noelle and go back to their world, because here, at the start of everything, they weren’t as distant with each other. They seem to me like a generally united group, no doubt because they used to be a gaming team. I also think having Francis as a leader must have made that even worse.

So far Noelle hasn’t revealed what power she has, even though she experimented by touching stuff around. Hm. Can’t really guess what power she has...

While Francis was out there healing Noelle, the rest gave some consideration to taking some powers of their own, or at least Luke did.

Luke was nodding a little.

“Luke!” Jess said, aghast.

“What? Half the damage is already done,” he said, “And as far as I’m concerned, the benefits of getting more powers outweighs the possible danger. We don’t have any real income, we don’t have anybody to go to for help, and it’s going to be far easier to get funds if we can do something like mercenary work with a team of people with powers. Like Cody was talking about, we could hire someone to get us home.”

Ah, that’s not a bad idea. I notice Luke didn’t say ‘team of heroes’, he simply said people with powers, meaning he wasn’t refusing to consider working for villains right from the start. You know, they’re rather lucky stumbling upon heroes and villains is rather easy, given they don’t do much of a job staying hidden – when it doesn’t involve their real identities, of course. He also brings up they’ll have to keep Francis and Cody under control, and that’ll be much easier when they have powers.

What gets Jess to be interested in taking a power is that it may be able to heal her legs. You know, it sucks that it didn’t. Why didn’t it heal her legs not even a little bit? I know the serums have only a chance of healing, instead of being guaranteed, but there wasn’t not even some healing, from what I know. Rather unfortunate the one thing that got Jess’ attention ended not happening.

“I am,” he echoed her. “She set Cody against me, so I had an adversary, putting me off balance. Then used Noelle’s injury to push me to act. And you guys? You, Luke, Marissa and Oliver? She kept you occupied. Kept you focused on yourselves. You want to talk about the Simurgh’s game plan? It centers around me. I can’t see any other way of looking at it. She isn’t aiming to have you guys get mondo powers and kill a president or something. Why would she make Oliver feel like crap if that was her end goal?”

“It’s you?” Luke asked.

“Doesn’t it make sense? Just look at where the focus is. She distracted you guys because you were the ones who could have talked sense into me. The can of worms is opened, and I’m the person she’s turned into a guided missile.”

Ahahahaha, oh, my, he was so close and got it wrong, and I’m pretty sure that’s because his head consciously refuses to consider the truth. Okay, so, speaking from what I have seen in this arc. I think he may be right about the Simurgh intending to keep everyone else busy with the problems the Simurgh reminded them of. She bombarded them with those memories and thoughts, so they’re unable to make Francis think twice when it’s about everything he has done. All that exposure has made him focus on Noelle so much everyone else wasn’t a priority. Now that Noelle is okay, maybe they’re all on the same standing – until things become ‘help Noelle return to normal’, I suppose. So yeah, helping her was Francis’ entire motivation, so...if the Simurgh intended to keep everyone else busy so Francis would be able to carry out what he pushed him to do, wouldn’t that make Noelle the guided missile, not him? Because if they had been able to calm him down and make him think, then Noelle wouldn’t have gotten powers. Also, she’s the one people dread in the future, not Trickster. Noelle must be the cornerstone of the Simurgh’s plans.

What I’m not sure is how Cody fits in this. He fighting Francis at every turn would get in the way of helping Noelle. That’s the one thing that doesn’t mesh with my interpretation. Unleeeeeeess...maybe Cody really did push things a little too far and got himself murdered by Francis – Cody will be so pissed off about that – and that led to the current fractures in the group, because none of them are comfortable with being under the leadership of a murderer. It’s a plausible possibility, in my opinion.

Jess is in. No word about if Mars and Oliver are interested, but I suppose they won’t back down now that everyone else has powers. If it wasn’t because there was half a vial left, I’d even think Oliver wouldn’t take any. Oh well. They’re deciding who takes what.

“I’ll take half,” Oliver said.

All eyes turned to him. Oliver continued, “If Noelle doesn’t want to finish it, I’ll take half. I’m not strong, I’m not brave, or smart, or creative. I don’t have it in me to be a hero. So as long as you don’t ask me to risk my life fighting stuff like the Simurgh, I’ll take the half, try to find other ways to help.”

If Oliver isn’t really that interested in powers and won’t even give use to them, they really, really should give Noelle the other half. From what I have heard, he can’t do much in the present, so his half of the vial didn’t really change him in any significant manner, taking him around wouldn’t have been any different if he had been powerless.

Goddamnit they won’t. But at least Francis said a kind word to Oliver for once.

“Okay,” Krouse said. “Anyone want to call dibs on the others?”

“Robin,” Luke said. “Sounds like it might mean I could fly.”

Hah! That sucks. He’s going to be so disappointed he can’t fly, since it seems like that was why he picked that specific vial. I mean, maybe he could stand on something large enough and then propel it through the air, but that sounds so dangerous and unlikely to work it’s not worth it. Why was Ballistic’s power under ‘Robin’, I wonder.

“Mars?” Jess asked. “You care?”

Marissa shook her head.

“Then Deus for me.”

I should have known the Deus vial was Genesis’, now that I think about it. The name is a pretty big indication of what she can do.

Everyone will take a vial one at a time, so they all have time to writhe and scream and have their visions, and they’ll leave before sunrise. And so, the Travelers were born. Change of scene!

I’m kind of disappointed there’s no scene of them escaping the quarantine. I knew it was guaranteed they would escape, but it can’t have been too easy, can it? Not when the heroes knew there was one, possibly two rogue Simurgh parahuman thralls on the fly. But no, the next scene opens with them already on the road, driving their stolen cars. Things seem to be generally okay right now, no word on where they’re going first to start their mercenary work and look for someone who can get them home.

They had their powers, and there was a slight cast of disappointment for everyone involved.

No kidding, I imagine Jess was disappointed she wasn’t healed at all. Luke is also disappointed he can’t fly, and Mars hasn’t realized yet the extent of her powers, but given how much she dislikes hurting people with it, I bet she’ll be disappointed too. Hm. Maybe things would have been a little better if Luke had gotten the Deus vial, since it’s versatile and would have given some flight even if it was with a creation. Jess may have done well with any of the others. Mars...uh...well if she dislikes destructive powers then she wouldn’t have been happy with either. Sorry, Mars.

There’s Francis, thinking everything is okay and not about to take a turn for the worse in...hm. How long did it take before they realized something was wrong with Noelle, I wonder? If it was so bad they needed to keep moving and lock Noelle in a vault, then it’s not something that can go unnoticed for long. The other shoe must be about to drop.

The Travelers stop at a highway stop, and they go inside to the facilities. Aaaand there it is. Disaster strikes, Mars comes out a little later, frightened, from the women’s bathroom. Everyone else is inside except Cody, who keeps getting isolated from everything, and Francis gets in, finding Noelle on the floor.

There’s something on Noelle’s leg, a pretty big burn-like thing. My first thought had been that Mars had accidentally burned her, but then I recalled Noelle supposedly had fast regeneration, so that shouldn’t have mattered. Then comes the reveal.

Beneath the angry red skin on Noelle’s thigh, there was an eyeball, twice the normal size, with a broad yellow iris. Noelle’s hands were clenched into fists, gripping the cloth of her jeans as the eye’s gaze darted from one member of their group to another. It settled on Krouse.

Accusatory.

I’m not sure what exactly is going on besides the obvious ‘she’s growing an eye on her leg and that’s not okay’, which is already pretty bad for Noelle. This is obviously a byproduct of her power, and given her terrified reaction, I suppose it’s not something she wanted. What is her power? It can’t be just growing body parts, because that’s not destructive enough to warrant all the danger in the present. Something’s off here.

That’s the end of the chapter. Whatever’s going on will have to be for next time. No way this is the last chapter for this arc.

Next time: in three updates

#worm #worm liveblog #webserial #liveblog #webserial liveblog

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maladaptive-ninja-returns · 5 years

Text

Devil’s No 1(7)

Chapter 7: Abundance

Loki x fem!Reader, Bucky x fem!Reader

Theme: The definitions of devils, angels, demons etc. are twisted here in this world. But some things remain the same.

Series: Will contain violence, death, destruction, softness, fluff, smut, everything that my mind can conjure, really.

Chapter warnings: None... is a kink a warning?

A/N: This was written two years ago (I think) on @phantomrose96 ‘s prompt/situation of a shy girl summoning the devil to be friends with him (and something else that he does but I’ll leave that part out for you guys to have fun with). But I- being thirsty for tragedies- twisted things a little.

Word Count: Work tomorrow. ugh! Sundays always make me feel lonely. So lonely. I need a hug.

MASTERLIST in bio, love. Tags are open

credits to @russian-hiddlestoner for the picture

It was a journey. Through a tunnel, maybe? Or something deeper in the ground. Well, that's what it felt like. Like when you travelled in a train and passed a junction, or where the tracks met, maybe even a tunnel there! That was how you were feeling. Or rather, your conscience was feeling? Or should we call it your soul?

Let's just skip to the part where you felt it all and woke up.

...

WAKE UP!

A loud gasp rose from your lungs as your eyes threw themselves wide open.

"There you are," you heard the dark honey voice of the devil himself from somewhere around- hopefully he isn't still inside you, "I was worried about you."

By the layers in Loki's voice, you could clearly tell how he was mocking you but your brain was on too much of a spin to even consider registering that idea right now.

"Ughh," you responded, trying to get up from the sofa. "What happeuuh-" you barely stood straight before feeling yourself falling down again if not for Loki breaking your fall, catching you in his slender but surprisingly strong arms.

"Woah! Now, now. We haven't even had proper drinks yet."

You took the support of his arms- which were eerily stone-like under all that expensive fabric that he was wearing- and scrunched your nose as you stood up, this time slowly. "We had freaking Jagër didn't we?"

"And that's got you so blurry already," he announced, sitting down, and took you by your shoulder with him, causing you to look at him with a bit of a diluted and confused rage, "we really need to work on your drinking capacity."

You don't know who you shared a look with- God, an angel or any entity that was invisible right now- but you were certain of the age-old fact that the devil was not a good influence on you.

"That's the only way I get that thing out of your system."

Now hold on. What was that?

"What? What thing?"

Hmm...maybe not as bad an influence?

"That thing inside you make you all-" he flayed his hands like an English noble while scrunching his nose just a bit- "so depressing and boring."

Your neck hurt having to turn to look at him but your ego was taking none of it. "Excuse me?"

But did he show any empathy for you? Unless that devilish smirk- that was meant kill thousands of weak-hearted earthly creatures when gazed upon- was his way of showing you how he felt for you, he clearly wasn't anywhere close to 'e'.

Oh, what am I even expecting! And from whom?!

Loki turned to you and relaxed into the sofa, his back being supported by the arms of your comfortable furniture.

"So, humans don't count being saved by the devil from a demon empathy?"

The broken harp inside you made the worst possible sound any instrument could.

"Please stop doing that," you begged, turning away from his face, heat radiating from your cheeks from the embarrassment.

"Why?"

"Those are my private thoughts," you tried to stress but your voice broke.

Loki got up and leaned a little closer to you, making you shift a bit to the other side- never stopping him from leaning closer. "Oh but I like hearing how irresistible you find my form," he nearly moans into your ear.

Holy Buddha! Lord of mercy!

"Aw," he pretended to groan- quite seductively though- in your ears, "don't take his name," whispering while moving your stray strands of hair away from your face, "he always kills my party mood by giving me his eerie smile and asking me how I'm doing. Like he cares."

He nearly spat out the last sentence and you sat there with raised brows, wondering what choice had you made that brought you straight in the arms of the devil while he narrated his dislike for Buddha.

"It was a Wednesday and you had your exams that week," Loki began, still playing with your hair.

"No, stop!" You shifted to the other end of the couch, raising your leg over the sofa to block his body, "stop telling me what I chose wrong. Stop telling me how excessively great Buddha is and definitely stop reading my thoughts."

The rims of Loki's eyes light up in a fiery-green glow, looking at you with a tilted curiousness. "Are you ordering me, darling?"

Great. Now he brings his powers in play.

"I am requesting you," you stress, folding your hands in front of him, "this is really uncomfortable and my head hurts and...wait." The tone of your voice changed, so did that pleasing colour in your eyes that Loki was loving till you dropped it wear a hint of confused blue before turning into a suspicious grey. "What exactly did you do inside me?"

"Woah," Loki raised his brow, "I didn't know you were into those kind of...kinks."

You looked like a sad confused potato till it dawned on you how of context the devil was taking your words.

"Seriously? I am dying here from this unending pain and all you can think of is sex jokes," you nearly shout with whatever energy you have left inside you.

Loki flicked his finger and within seconds there were vines coming out of the floor, wrapping around your limbs like snakes ready to devour you whole. "Stop," you said with a hint of rage but the vines only grew tighter, beginning to dig into your skin. "Loki, please," you begged this time, watching them force your hands behind your back.

"Loki," you cried softly with just the right amount of fear burning in your eyes. Exactly what Loki wanted.

And so, he finally shifted, fixing his arms around you as his hovering figure came to a stop above you, blazing eyes looking at you with the intensity of burning everything between your skin and his.

"Do not forget, pet," he cooed, too close to you, "that I am the one who holds the chains to your life. And if I want, I can yank them as hard as I please because in the end, your cries will only deliver me pleasure."

You should have been afraid. You should have been shivering in fear and panic; your heart should have been pounding for watching death right in the eyes. But this scorching sensation that you felt inside you did not seem fear like. The shiver was definitely not because of panic or your nerves feeling this unhinged tide. And all you could do was look at him while blinking with visible stupidity, gulping down something to moisten your dry throat while Loki's eyes seemed to shift.

"See?" He nearly sang, "Now that's the colour I love to see." He inhaled your essence in, moaning as he felt it register inside him, making you question his senses- and for this one very discreet almost 'invisible in the darkness of the moonless night' reason, made you question yours. "Smells like the right amount of fear," he chuckled, "with a hint of something I can't really put my finger on."

Her kink of being tied up and aroused by you! Your insides shouted.

Shut up! Shut up!

"Hm," Loki looked at you with fresh eagerness, nearly killing you with the intensity of embarrassment about to explode inside your head, "I have to say you seem interesting to play with without your thoughts too. So, I'll keep this thing off till as long as I like."

He finally got up and away. You were relieved.

Danggit, your inner voice didn't seem, though, I thought he'll finally kiss you without context!

Awesome, you hit back at her, just the person I want you to be rooting for!

You know if she had a physical form, she would be rolling her eyes at you now because both of you knew you had felt something glow inside your chest- and heat up inside your legs- at the mention of being at his mercy.

Shaking your head, you tried to bring yourself to reality.

No, I am better than this. I have to be.

"So," Loki chugged a glass of your Jager, "what do you want to do now?"

"What do you mean?"

"Well, I'm not going to wait for you to decide on getting drunk and all that because I know the moment you hit the limit you will be crying your eyes out and I am not in the mood to ruin my suit for pent up tears tonight," he declared, letting his hands show you the piece of work layering his body, "more critical tears of underpaid labourers and cattle have gone into the making of this."

You shared that look again, with no one, in particular, being done with the devil for the night and yet knowing that there were still so many more hours to go.

"Fine," you got up, realising the vines had long since vanished, leaving barely any scars on your wrists and ankles, "we can go somewhere then? Uhh...someplace you'd like to visit? There's a pizza place here that's open at this time of the night."

You went on and on while Loki's concern for you modified into a chuckle transforming into laughter. "Oh, you poor human. You are about to die in five days and you are still worried about the things I want to see? Honestly, woman, who died and made you the queen of ethics? Wait, is there a course for such things now?"

He wasn't wrong. Because he admitted it right now, it all started to seem more real. You were going to die in five days. He was going to take your soul to hell and God knows do what all with it. Peter's disappearance and your state then had created such a perfect picture for it to make sense but now...

"Are you having second thoughts, darling?"

His words broke you out of this nauseating spell that you cast upon yourself and you found yourself standing in the kitchenette with your shot glass in your hand looking down at the floor where broken glass lay in a puddle of water along with one of your ceramic angels. You picked up the ceramic figurine to look at, a familiar old ache replacing whatever little glow had risen inside your chest.

The angel seemed to be looking at you, begging you not to do this.

"Yes," you finally declared, throwing the figurine in the bin, "I'm sure."

The angel on the watch sat by the lake on the lone bench, going through his device, looking at various statistics while someone hummed in the back somewhere, going about its own business.

"And another one and another one and another bites the dust..."

The humming was not as serene for the angel at work as he wanted it to be, but he was trying to get through it somehow. It was a really special person after all. One couldn't just tell him to stop humming.

"Would you stop humming," the angel announced, "I am trying to work here, Peter!"

Everything went silent, letting the angle heave a sigh of relief and go back to his tablet.

The tree behind him rustled before Peter popped out of it upside down. "Whatcha dooooooin', Happy?"

"Tryna' work."

"Can I help?"

"You've helped us already."

"No, I didn't."

"Yes, you did. No go cuddle spiders...or something."

"Well, technically our friend did. You know, that woman who goes by the name-"

"Peter I just want a few moments of silence to track down what exactly does Tony want from that stupid-"

"Bad word."

"Excuse me?"

"You said stupid, put some of your essences in the swear jar."

"Yeah, right. That's not gonna happen. Now please just shut u-"

"Oh shoot! Happy-"

"Aha! Now you take out your essence young man and put them in the swear-"

"No, Happy, look!"

The angel followed Peter's gaze to the lake as he watched a figure soaking in it coming out with scars and wounds being healed by the water. The figure- a man, apparently- was heaving for breaths, his glass eyes searching for someone, anyone.

"Hello!" he shouted, the tiredness in his voice abruptly changing his pitch. "Is there anybody there?!"

"Should we let him in?" Peter asked in a whisper.

"Hello! Mr Stark?" he shouted again, catching Happy and Peter's hundred per cent attention, "it's me, Scott. Can you please let me in? There is some very very important news I have to share with you."

Happy turned to his device to open the gate of mirage.

The man, still tired as he was, lit up on seeing Peter and Happy standing in front of him.

"Oh! Thank God!" he almost cried, putting all his energy in his legs to walk towards, "thank you! Thank you so much! I need to s-speak to Tony Stark."

"Identification please," Happy announced, earning a confused stare from Peter.

"Happy, he can barely walk."

"I don't care. Whoever has to meet Tony has to go through me."

"But Happy!"

"It's okay," the man smiled at Peter, still breathing heavily, "it's okay."

"My name is Scott. Scott Lang. I'm Y/N's guardian angel," he declared before falling on the ground and losing all consciousness.

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scaryscarecrows · 5 years

Text

Ring, Ring, Roman!

AN: It’s been too long since I’ve had Jason call Black Mask and heckle him, so I had to fix that grave oversight. Sorry, Roman! I forgot all about you for a hot minute.

* * *

Roman Sionis is going to personally murder the next idiot who shows any fear whatsoever of this ‘Red Hood’ character. This is not hyperbole. He has the whole thing planned out, from one brass-knuckle-studded punch to the face, to the knife to the soft, delicate abdomen, to the boot to the stab wound, to-if the man cries enough-the final, merciful bullet to the skull.

Red Hood. Ha. Some cheap Batman knock-off with the Joker’s old name, that’s all he is. Cocky little shit—

His phone rings. He does not recognize the number, but he answers. He has to.

“Make it good news.”

“Aww, jeeze.” Oh, no. “You don’t sound like a good time. I thought for sure that stall was trustworthy…”

Roman takes a deep breath, envisions skinning the bastard alive, and grinds out, “What do you want now.”

“There’s people around, aren’t there?” The little shit has the balls to sound offended. “You always do this to me when there’s people. It’s like you don’t love me at all—”

The phone shatters against the wall.

Yes. He is going to skin him alive and then dump his hopefully still-writhing body into a vat of acid. See how many smart remarks he’ll make then.

* * *

The room is awash with corpses and at least two small fires. The merch is nowhere to be seen. And his phone is ringing.

Roman answers it with a desperately flat, “I don’t care. This was a small-time thing, and you know it—”

“You’re not gonna chase after me?” There’s a choked noise, and an exaggerated sniffle. “I’m hurt. All those bullets fired, all those guns and drugs stolen, and you’re not coming after all. Life’s just not worth living when you’re ignored like this…” More sniffling. “Guess I’ll just burn this cocaine. Make myself feel better.”

To Roman’s resigned horror, there’s the strike of a match (and oh, he knows he’s meant to hear that, damn him and the bitch that brought him into the world), followed by a soft fwoop. And then, muffled screaming.

“Wow, your people are really, really flammable. Just so you know.” A pause. More screaming. “Hey, if I put your number in my phone as ‘Daddy’, how pissed do you think Batman would be?”

Flip phones are the only acceptable phones. They break so easily.

* * *

Roman doesn’t see the phone at first. In his defense, there’s so much blood, brain matter, and broken glass in the way that, well, Apple’s ‘latest, slimmest model!’ just…sort of gets lost in the shuffle.

So he’s a little startled when, “BEEN CAUGHT STEALIN’/ONCE/WHEN I WAS FIVE!”* blares from the corpse’s mouth. Oh. Oh, no.

He rips the phone free, scowls at it until he sees the little green ‘answer!’ button, and envisions impaling the little shit on a rooftop somewhere, as a warning to anyone else getting bright ideas.

“The fuck do you WANT?”

“Whoo! You kiss your mother with that mouth?”

The phone is not Red Hood’s neck. He tries to remember this.

“Do I sound testy?” The men with him scurry into corners. Normally, the reminder that his underlings fear him is soothing. Today? He wants them to come back. He needs to punch a face. “Do I? It might have something to do with the corpse you threw through my window! IT JUST MIGHT HAVE SOMETHING TO DO WITH THAT!”

“It was gonna be a brick, but he came around the corner and…I kind of panicked and stabbed him. Sorry.”

The phone crunches against the floor. He stomps on it a few times, to make sure it doesn’t ring again, and kicks the corpse. Unfortunately, he kicks a little too hard and in just the wrong place, and ends up with his loafer touching the poor schmuck’s liver.

He paid good money for this loafer, and he. Is. Offended.

* * *

NO! NO! HE HAD HIM! HE STABBED HIM! IT WAS DONE! IT WAS OVERRRRR!

It isn’t over. He stabbed the damn decoy. The decoy! Who even has decoys anymore?

And then, oh-ho-ho, as if that wasn’t bad enough, Batman tackled him through the window, the building blew up, and now he’s standing in the street, surrounded by proximity mines.

Roman has never, in his entire life, wanted to kill a man more. At this point, he’s almost grateful it was only the decoy, because now he can think about this, come up with the perfect, the most painful, the absolute peak of punishment.

It needs to last, he decides, glaring at a flashing red dot on the asphalt. Flaying is too good for him. It needs to be days’ worth, broadcast on live television, plastered all over the internet. Big letters, flashing and declaring to the world that YOU DON’T FUCK WITH ROMAN SIONIS, NO SIREE!

His phone rings. He knows, deep in his soul, who’s calling.

He answers anyway.

“I’m going to kill you,” he says, and saying it does actually make him feel a little better. “I hope you know this.”

“You already killed a guy today! Wasn’t that enough?”

“What do you want.”

“I got time to kill, you’re stuck…thought maybe I’d serenade you? How’s about a little Poison Idea, huh? I used to be able to nail ‘Made to be Broken’ on Kareoke Night.”

NO.

He hurls the phone into a nearby dumpster. It’s his only defense.

* * *

“Tell ya what, kid,” he says, prodding what he knows is a compound leg fracture, “I’ll be nice. You like phones. I’ve got a phone. Anyone you wanna call and have listen to you die?”

Red, the contrary little brat, doesn’t answer. He just lays there and wheezes. Hm. Kids today, no respect…

So he’s justified in hauling him up by the jacket and shaking him until he yelps and gasps out, “No.”

“You sure?” Another shake. This one gets a choked-off scream out of him. “Last call…literally.”

“Screw you,” the kid spits, blood on his teeth. Roman drops him and pats his head.

“Kind of what I had in mind.”

He’s just picking up the power drill (Hmm, floor or wall? Choices, choices.) when there’s a horrible, ominous crunch.

And then he’s being kicked into the wall.

“Batman-!”

It’s over embarrassingly quickly. But the worst of it isn’t the broken bones, the surprise, or even the fact that his least favorite person will likely live to pester another day. No, the worst of it is that Red stayed conscious (likely out of spite) and with it enough to gasp out, as Batman’s getting ready to take him away, “I’ll call ya. In prison.”

…

God, he can’t stay there. He’ll get no peace.

THE END

*Jane’s Addiction’s…well, ‘Been Caught Stealing’.

#Jason Todd #Red Hood #Roman Sionis #Black Mask #oh boy Jason #this might be why people want to kill you

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howtohero · 5 years

Text

#240 Villain Songs

We’ve already spoken about how supervillains love to monologue. For some of them, being able to monologue is 80% of their motivation for committing crimes in the first place. You see, supervillains tend to be outcasts and they rarely have people around to listen to them rant about things they don’t like or to marvel about how well-laid and intricate their plans are. (Especially since they keep killing their own henchmen. According to a study done by Professor Lucius Flay, in 2019 supervillains killed twice as many henchmen as they did superheroes.) Because they so rarely get a platform to just let loose and talk about whatever they want, some villains have started to significantly jazz up their monologues. And of course, once one villain goes above and beyond the average monologue, all the other villains in their social circle are going to step up their game as well, in order to keep up. This has led to the widespread adoption of the villain song. A villain song is no regular monologue. There are backup dancers, there are lights, there is very involved choreography. Sometimes, if you’re unlucky, there will be a rap. If you thought monologues were bad, you haven’t seen anything yet.

(Note: The subject of this entry is not villains who have been trapped in some kind of forced-musical scenario. These villains are just very dramatic, and quite frankly, I kind of see where they’re coming from. There are some grievances, some hatreds, that are so intense that they can only be properly expressed through grand musical number!)

While villain songs are no less drawn-out and time-wasting than regular monologues for the average superhero who is trapped it is at least slightly more entertaining. If your villain has any skill or sense of showmanship you could have the once in a lifetime experience of having a front row seat to a fabulous show that will only happen once. That’s pretty rad. Of course, if the bad guy has no actual performing skill, and if they haven’t shelled out for professional backup dancers and instead have just decided to dress up their henchmen in leotards and sequins, things can be very very bad for you. But superheroes are nothing if not resourceful, and villain songs actually provide you with a good many opportunities to save the day.

It pays to listen carefully to the lyrics of a villain song, because they will undoubtedly contain crucial information that you can use, once you’ve escaped, to foil the villain’s plan. When a villain monologues or rants and raves for hours on end, it can prove difficult to remember much if any of the villain’s actual plans or goals. But songs rhyme, songs have rhythm, songs are easy to remember. Plus, songs have a chorus, which will most likely contain the most important points or big ideas of this villain’s plan. Surely you can remember a chorus. Conversely, the need to be able to relay information in song tends to force supervillains to simplify their grandiose, and exhaustingly-complicated plan. If they can’t make it rhyme, and if they can’t fit into an approximately three-minute song (already a massive reprieve from the seventeen hour monologues about how soaps should not look like candies unless they are going to taste like candy that superheroes used to have to fit into their busy schedules) then it can’t be their evil plot of the day.

Additionally, if the villain is serious about what they do (if they aren’t then you don’t really need to worry about them anyway) then their song will be accompanied by a lot of supervillainous pizzaz. There will be streamers, there will be a kick line, there might be a light show. It’s going to be a lot, and it’s going to be distracting. Which means a villain song is the perfect opportunity for you to escape captivity and stop the villain right then and there. If you read our recent entry on escapology, then you know that everything is a key, and that includes many of the props that can be found in a grand musical number. Mounds of glitter can be melted down (using laser vision, a pocket lighter, or a nearby torch that is being used for the musical number) and then sculpted and molded into a key. Stereo systems can be cannibalized and their innards used to make crude explosives. Even if you can’t reach anything outside of the cell or cage or death trap you’re being held in, you’re clever enough and informed enough to break out with whatever you’ve got inside the cage. (Remember folks, even your teeth can be used as keys in a pinch. And you’re innards are basically one big skeleton key.) The point is that your villain will be so focused on making sure they do their big Broadway-esque song and dance number perfectly so as not to completely embarrass themselves in front of you, their greatest enemy, that they won’t be paying much attention to you, their greatest enemy, escaping and foiling their schemes. (After much trial and error we have determined that the very best time to mount an escape during a villain song is right at the beginning, when they’re snapping dramatically with their back turned towards you. If you make any sort of noise during this part of the song they’ll get frustrated that you’ve thrown off their rhythm and take it from the top. This way you don’t have to be subjected to whatever horrible performance a villain who calls themselves The Worst Showman has in store for you and you don’t even have to worry about staying quiet during your escape.)

Sometimes a villain will sing not only about their evil plan, but about whatever tragic/hilarious reasons they have for pursuing such a plan in the first place. (”For you seeeeee, I was laughed out of seminaryyyyy/ All the priests thought me a dope, because I just could not stop eating soap”.) It pays to listen to these lyrics too, if you can understand why a villain is doing what they are doing, you may gain a better understanding on how to stop them. If you can get to the root of their childhood traumas and/or all of their perceived adulthood slights, and if those issues have a simple fix, then you can avert not only the crime these bad guys are about to commit, but all future crimes they would go on to commit as well. Wow! Who knew music could be so educational??

Another reason why villain songs are much better for superheroes than standard villain monologues is the colossal waste of resources they represent. In order to perform a villain song on par with all the other villains that are desperately trying to one up each other, a villain needs to spend thousands on props, personnel, and pyrotechnics that they’d normally put towards building soap-melting rays or perma-dirt, the “dirt that cannot be scrubbed off with soap and will one day put the entire soap industry out of business”. Sure, they might just rob a bank to accrue those funds, but bank robberies are very easy to stop. Especially since the banks started hiring their own superhuman security forces. Villain songs also take up a lot of time, they require choreography sessions, endless rehearsals, and lengthy vetting sessions to make sure none of the backup dancers are superheroes in disguise. (Don’t worry, if you’re thinking about going undercover this way, all you need to do is whip up a fake resume with places like “Cruelliard, the school of villainous arts” or the “Badway Dance Center” and put us down as a reference, as we’ve said before, we’ll back any of your outrageous lies.) All of this means they’re not spending times committing crimes or fine-tuning their evil plans. Anytime a supervillains is wasting money or time is good for you!

Supervillains are always striving to reach new heights of extreme drama. Where once they would simply talk a superhero’s ear off for hours or days or years (never forget the three year monologue of George the Cranky Immortal about how he was sick a tired of not qualifying for senior discounts and was therefore going to use a nifty machine he built to de-age old people.) now they’ll sing and dance until they feel they’ve gotten their point across. Which is usually before hours or days have past. Singing and dancing takes a lot out of you it turns out. This new practice has provided superheroes with entertainment, valuable information, and lots and lots and lots of saved time that they can spend with their families or actively improving the world. It’s an overall win for everyone in the world except for the supervillains, who have once again played themselves, like fools.

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