#obviously there are more regular oozes to fight but still

[claire-starsword]

gonna assume are different drop rates for cards in this game because i have like, 5 regular oozes and almost none of the others

[yanderenightmare]

any tips in writing a yandere midoriya? i’m currently writing this book — and honestly the way you write midoriya is spot on! it’s hard for me to grasp characters, especially since they’re gonna be tweaked since they’re yandere. it’s not only midoriya that’s a yandere, it’s poly, so how do you think he would go about sharing his darling as well?

How to write yandere ! Midoriya Izuku

First: let’s look at the basics, as in key personality traits.

Midoriya is seemingly two things personality wise: he is optimistic and passionate. These two things however are strictly based a certain mindset, certain emotions, emotions that are highly volatile, as in changeable. What we can take from him being optimistic and passionate, is that he is calculating, observant, diligent and tireless. These traits, as opposed to the emotional traits, lack needing to be fueled by certain emotions such as happiness, and will therefore survive no matter his emotional state, which in turn makes them his key personality traits. Viewed in other ways: these are his key personality traits because they are unshakable as opposed to his awkwardness, anxiety and self-doubt, which are also things he can overcome, (things he has overcome in my take of him). All in all, no matter his emotional state, he will always remain calculating, observant, diligent and tireless.

-

Now: having these traits calls for different abilities, a.i. they add up and award him with certain titles. Titles such as Hero, Genius... God.

Being a genius, where his experience as one of the most revered people in the world has led to many opportunities in dissecting and analyzing all his peers, meaning he has a great understanding of the human psyche, which in turn distances himself from them and makes him feel above them. Because, despite being superior, he is still human and still vulnerable to all human faults, and when humans are worshipped, they will think they are God, forgetting their purpose in the light of glory, forgetting that he is a Hero for the people, of the people, by the people and beginning to believe he’s above the law, (which eventually leads to him justifying kidnapping for his pleasure). He genuinely believes no other human can achieve his level of strength and smarts. And having a God complex as well as being psychopathic-smart, will lead to the bending and eventually breaking of morals, where he can excuse his depravity with it being conscious and not mindless, he can excuse it for being for the greater good, something above regular human understanding. Thinking that: because he’s aware of it being wrong, that it is somehow allowed, somehow less dangerous and justified. Completely blinded by his own sense of superiority, never once seeing just how dangerous his feelings of being above the law can become, (definitely not seeing it when eventually regarding his darling).

Secondly: we have to take a look at how Midoriya views love.

Because Midoriya is such an intelligent person who knows the natural laws and works behind love, knowing how it’s simply a chemical reaction made to make animals breed with nothing supernatural or mystical or heavenly about it, he’ll naturally have a very unromantic and practical approach to finding a partner. He’ll want to resist falling prey to dependence.

But, even he cannot fight the vicious bite of loneliness. Finding a perfect someone after so many years of resisting and ignoring and denying those primal urges obviously gets to him in the end, where finding his darling feels almost like godsend. Which was exactly what he was trying to avoid falling prey to, where he was aiming to rise above regular human needs, regular human beliefs regarding love: a concept he had no faith in, a concept he didn't want to have any faith in, but fell for anyway.

However, while beholding his darling as something precious, his own God complex gets in the way of viewing her as his equal, where she’ll often feel as though he doesn’t even view her as human, more like a pet or even a plant, not something to communicate with, but something that should sit still and look pretty, something to maintain and admire, not intelligent like him. 

But, there are different types of smarts in the world. Whereas Izuku has practical, social and analytical intelligence, he’s more or less let go or forgotten about true emotional intelligence. Which is something that will surprise him about his darling, or something that will surprise him about himself, how much he enjoys her presence, her humanity, her basic straightforward moralistic compassion, her need for contact, things he’s long ago forgotten, things he’s only now realizing that he’s missed dearly. At first he believes he’s simply entertained by her, but then he realizes he quite admires her, envies her even, because she’s innocent enough to feel things that he no longer can.

Thirdly: we have his yandere characteristics: sadistic, obsessive, possessive.

-Sadism (groundwork)

It is simply my belief that all yanderes have an inch of sadism dwelling inside them, because I find it hard to digest that any other human without such desires would enjoy controlling another human being. However, the amount of sadism inside may vary drastically.

Midoriya’s sadistic tendencies lies dormant, yet can come out at any given moment, making him rather radical, as in unstable or unpredictable. Though, not like an animal is unpredictable, as he will never act without finesse, he will never act without having complete control over the situation, including himself. We have to remember that Izuku takes great pleasure in knowing how he can rise above impulses. His sadism is more like a hunger that arises every now and again, where which Izuku realizes he is hungry, followed by Izuku luring and trapping his food then playing with his food and finally eating his food. Executed with finesse.

-Obsessive (one side of the coin)

Obsessiveness in general: is not just about laying worship, not just about adoring someone so much that it hurts, it’s about needing someone, needing someone so much that it outweighs and overcomes all obstacles that stand in his way to achieve having them

Obsessiveness in Midoriya: is slightly delusional, where which it tells him that him and his darling belongs together, where he’s optimistic that time will eventually gift him with her love in return. This is his softer side, his more lenient side, his understanding side, his tolerant side. And despite it being slightly delusional, this is actually his more logical side as well, where he’ll bare patient understanding that it’ll take time for her to reform herself, where he takes her emotional status into mind.

-Possessive (the other side of the coin)

Possessiveness in general: is not only about ownership, not only about restrictions, it’s about fear, it’s about reassurance, it’s about finding security in knowing that he and only he will ever have the liberty of having his darling, where he finds an inane amount of uneasiness in thinking she wasn’t always his, needing to find a way to make him forget that disgusting thought by having her belong to him in every single possible way.

Possessiveness in Midoriya: is slightly denialistic and protective, where it tells him that she belongs to him, no exceptions, no room to misunderstand, where what she feels doesn’t really matter because he loves her, he’s chosen her, and she’s simply not allowed to love anybody else, where any refusal will be corrected, will be proven futile.

Fourthly: what is Midoriya’s attitude towards his darling:

Here we add up everything we’ve just considered!

His intelligence calls for a type of deserved arrogance, a vain imagery of himself, making him a narcissist, which again makes him prone to dumbification when approaching his darling, manipulative suggestive language constantly making her feel like her rightful place is beneath him. This can be done in many ways, more so than degrading verbal comments. In visual effects: he can dress her up in innocent clothing just oozing with childlike naivety, braid her hair, decorate her with pastel bows all making her look like a sweet harmless little thing, but more importantly making her feel like a sweet harmless little thing. He can also act out degradation: through head-pats, carrying her places, bathing her. One can even take it so far as infantilization.

Obviously, the creation of rules and laws will build, also the product of his degrading nature, where the list of things his darling can and can't do or should or must do will grow longer over time as he finds that he quite enjoys having this type of control. I believe Izuku is quite lenient but has a breaking point. He won’t enjoy punishing his darling for every single little indiscretion she dares make, believing that this is both time consuming and a waste. His method is to wait until his darling has made a certain amount of faults, her mistakes topping each other like building blocks until the tower eventually tumbles, where which he will deliver a rather large punishment meant to correct her attitude once and for all, or at least until the tower topples again.

He’ll constantly be making a case of how much smarter and stronger he is than her, not in an aggressive way, but in a demeaning, patronizing way, often accompanied by him smiling a chiding smile that looks sweet yet when accompanied by his threatening eyes just look like teeth. Exercising dominance will become like a drug to him, where I’d say he’ll develop both a daddy-kink and a size-kink. His daddy-kink calling for patronizing behavior, teaching her manners and posture and punishing her when she refrains from doing what daddy tells her. And, his size-kink evokes the love to measure everything of his up against everything of hers, often comparing her soft petite precious hands to his deadly scarred ones, how she has no chance of pushing him away whereas he’ll have no problems in crushing her skull if he so wished.

Then of course, his feelings of entitlement call for him taking giant liberties when he’s craving she give him something she’d rather keep to herself. These entitlement feelings coming to fruition through his status as the world number one hero, his morals disappearing in those seconds he manages to twist his view of his darling as her own person into seeing her as his reward, as the world’s way of saying thank you, made simply to please him and having no purpose outside of him.

But, his idealization of his darling encourages him to pamper her, or at least in a way that he views as pampering. He’ll often ask her if there’s anything that she may want, either it be a wish for activity such as art supplies or reading material, or accessories such as jewelry, lingerie, cute little dresses. And when she never asks for anything he wants her to ask for, when her response is always a demand that he let her go, he’ll give her something anyway, something she’ll cry so preciously for to make him stop.

Obviously, I have expanded my view of him here, but I believe the key attitude he’ll carry towards his darling is simply being sweetly degrading, demeaning and patronizing.

Fifthly: how would he go about sharing?

In order for him to feel comfortable enough to share his darling with someone, they have to be someone he respects, someone he can almost look at as an equal or someone he looks up to and idolizes.

In other words: Midoriya will have to love his yandere partner in some form or way to share his beloved darling with them, either it be through mentioned respect, or through loyalty, where platonic or fluid friendship could also be a possibility.

Here are some examples I see being possible poly relationships:

MIDORIYA - ALL MIGHT - relationship based on idolization MIDORIYA - BAKUGO - relationship based on equality/respect MIDORIYA - SHINSO - relationship based on admiration/respect MIDORIYA - “FAN or FREIND” - relationship based on loyalty/trust MIDORIYA - URUAKA/TENYA - relationship based on friendship

I don't see sharing being much of a problem, unless the darling picks favorites. But, because Midoriya is likely much softer than the other yandere, I’m presuming, the favorite will probably be him and not his partner. In that case, he might really like having a parter to compete with! He’ll enjoy how she’ll resort to pleading with and appealing to his soft nature as opposed to the other yandere. He’ll probably love that sort of attention. 

I also think Midoriya will like cornering his darling with the help of his partner, trapping her together. I can definitely see him love playing good cop/bad cop. Perhaps even sharing the daddy-kink. Dynamics like Daddy/Master/”DARLING” or Sir/Boss/”DARLING”.

Also, I think he’ll love gossiping about their darling with each other behind her back, talking about how cute she is when she does this or that, how lovely she looks in that specific dress, how well-behaved she’s gotten, and all sorts of stuff, kind of like parents talking about their child.

[peterpan-ouat-imagines]

I love you, I hate you- Part 2

Felix telling me that Pan is seeing another girl puts a million thoughts in my head. Does he like her? Why does he feel the need to see and be with her when I’m here? Am I not pretty enough? Or good enough in general? I get worried not knowing what this means. But I don’t get why this is being shared with me either.

“Why are you telling me this? Pan trusts you, he would be livid if he knew you were telling me that kind of information,” I ask not thinking his head is clear.

“I am telling you this because I care about what happens,” he answers. Why does he have to be so freaking vague about everything? ‘What happens’ could mean anything! Ugh.

I try to pry him for more information but he doesn’t budge anymore. Breakfast comes to an end and we all clean up. I go to the medical hut to change my bandages. When I unwrap it, mine now looks terrible. It’s red and goopy and there’s some black cracks up my arm too which is abnormal unless it’s poisoned but we don’t use dreamshade to hunt so it isn’t that concerning. I go to find rubbing alcohol to try and disinfect it but there’s none. I wipe it up some so it’s less messy and put on fresh bandages this time wrapping it tighter than before because I’m still distracted by who this Wendy is and the amount of pressure I use shows that. It pinched my skin so much it hurts.

After it’s taped down I go outside and Felix tells us that we are going to practice sparring and tells us to partner up. I grab a stick and go to my friend Joe and we start doing it. We start fighting just as we normally would. He takes things up a level by going for my legs which obviously I jump for. I do the same and swing my stick at some of his weak spots and he reacts falling a couple times but good overall.

“Joe, go to Lee, I would like to practice with y/n,” Pan says in a business like tone. He nods and goes to the end.

“Pan!” I beam, “I missed you so much!” I exclaim and hug him. I then have the after thought of how he was with someone else and let go and step back quicker than I normally would.

“I missed you too,” he kisses me, “I’m sorry I left without saying anything,” he tells me.

“It’s fine,” I tell him not asking where he went. After a small awkward silence I talk again, “How was it?” I ask wanting to know if being with that other girl was horrible or not.

“It went fantastic. Who I saw was very interesting and I definitely will be going on a trip to see them again soon,” my heart drops when he says that. He likes her, I’m no longer the only girl in his life. Where will I go now? Neverland is for those who are lost and unloved but I feel incredibly more lost and unloved right now than I ever did back home.

We start to spar but I’m too distracted by what he told me to focus on fighting. Within the first 10 seconds he knocks the stick out of my hands.

He looks at me weird, “What’s gotten into you? You were fighting just fine moments ago,” he asks me.

“Just the excitement of having you back,” I lie with a fake half smile. I don’t care if I’m overreacting I feel like I belong on that floor for not being good enough for him.

I fight with him the rest of the time trying to keep my mind focused but it works less than I would hope for it to.

After the morning session he leans in and whispers, “now how about we spend the day doing some stuff to help you relax. You look as if you need it,” as he trails his fingers up and down my back.

I step away uncomfortable doing anything of the sort with my current knowledge, “That’s a nice offer but I’m okay. I had some plans today,” I tell him, “With Lee,” I add on wondering if some jealousy will get him back to wanting me and forgetting about that slut.

He looks confused but not jealous of any sort, “Alright then,” he tells me and then goes his own way.

I stand there lost wondering if he’s being a stupid boy not taking a hint or if he really doesn’t care. Either way I might as well give him attention and maybe flirt a little in front of Pan with him to try to get what I want.

I sit with him at camp all day being real close having Pan glance over at us occasionally unphased even when I try to flirt. He doesn’t flirt back which I didn’t expect because I thought I’ve seen enough signs for him to be into this. After a good couple hours of it I give up and go for a walk alone. I stumble upon Felix again and we get to talking.

“Pan had the best time with her, he plans on going back! I flirted with Lee all day and he didn’t say or do anything!” I tell him.

“Why do you think I care? Isn’t that what your mermaid friends are for? Anyway if you want my advice, do it with someone intimidating not Lee,” he shares.

“My relationship is over,” I state even though Pan hasn’t said it I know inside.

As the day comes to an end people are playing dumb stuff around a fire. I join in and drink. They seem to be playing truth or dare. I just want to forget about Wendy and how Pan left for the night again and get really drunk knowing something bad will happen.

“Y/n, truth or dare?” I’m asked.

“Truth,” I answer.

“Tell everyone what you think of Pan keeping on leaving for the girl in London,” the guy asks.

“Everyone knows about that?” I ask embarrassed. They nod saying they are surprised I found out. Having the alcohol hit me and soon to be regretful words, I pour out everything, “Well I’m pissed as fuck! I’m his girlfriend he should only want me! If he does whatever he wants what’s stopping me from sleeping with one of you? He wouldn’t care!” I see I sparked some of the lost boys interest when I said that as they lean in, “I just want him to want only me not that slut that is in a different realm!” I huff mad.

We play more rounds and I finally choose dare, “I dare you to makeout with me,” Sam sitting next to me says scooting closer, definitely thinking of the slutty comment I said earlier. Feeling so vulnerable and unloved I get ready to lean in to do it. Before I can move my head Felix comes and takes me away to Pan’s cave.

“What was that for? I was going to!-“ I begin lazy.

“I don’t care what you were going to do! I have a job and that’s to keep you safe while Pan is away! And that includes not fucking any lost boys out of anger!”

I turn away from him angry once he goes I feel my injured arm have this horrible pain that’s unlike anything but I’m too drunk and tired to check on it and I fall asleep.

I wake up the next morning with a raging headache and do the regular routine. I hunt with a group of people that’s not Lee for a change. They start talking about what happened last night as we climb in a tree.

“I can’t believe I said all that. Did Sam really try to kiss me?” I ask and they nod and I’m humiliated. I try to spear a boar distracted by something new and miss, it runs off. Rich does it correctly to another one and we carry it back.

I sit next to Felix, “Thanks for having my back last night,” I tell him.

“Just doing my job,” he tells me and sips water.

I sit with him in silence as we both eat.

Felix tells us we will not have a morning practice session and I go back to sleep this hangover off some more.

When I walk in the cheating Peter Pan is standing there.

“Hey,” I tell him holding my head.

“Hey darling how are you?” He asks.

“Exhausted. I got a raging hangover because I was stupid and let the guys rope me into drinking way beyond my normal limits,” I groan.

He comes over and helps me lay down, “I’m sorry. Is there anything I can do for you?” He asks being genuine.

“Just some water is fine,” I say. He goes to get some and I look at my arm and even though it’s oozing some I don’t want to get anyone involved and I put on a jacket to hide it.

He comes back with what I asked telling me to get some rest and to call if I need anything that he will be in the tent he does business in.

I nod and sip the water and watch him as he goes. I lay down for several hours left with all my thought in my head I’ve had the past 24 hours. I can’t lose him though. I have to try to win him so I’m the only one he wants.

I go to his tent and see him standing there looking at pieces of parchment, “What are you looking at?” I ask poking my head behind him.

“I’m making a deal with Hook so he continues doing my dirty work,” he tells me.

“What if we do some dirty work?” I whisper and move my hand down to his crotch area and kiss his neck.

I can tell he’s smirking from the corner of my eye and he turns to me, “I’d love to do some dirty work with you,” he whispers back, “but I must finish this. I will later I promise. I do want to,” he kisses my cheek.

“You aren’t going to London? I mean away again tonight?” I correct myself because he does not know I know everything.

“No. I have more important things here. Like you,” he smiles which makes me smile feeling better about my place.

I leave his tent and go to see the mermaids and tell them everything that’s been happening and ask for there incite.

“You’re reading into it Pan loves you he would never cheat,” Serena tries to assure me.

“I don’t know. Two nights in a row on his “business trip” and if Felix of all people say that it’s true it probably is. He doesn’t bullshit stuff,” Alice tells me sounding sceptic.

They go back and forth defending there reasons leaving me confused.

“I still think Lee likes you. Grabbing you by the waist? And not moving his hands once your in a safe spot? That sounds so sexy!” Alice tells me.

“But that doesn’t explain why he didn’t flirt with me,” I tell them.

“He probably knew Pan was there and got nervous. Isn’t he shy? You might have to get him alone,” Serena suggests.

I think about it realizing that actually could be really true, “Thanks girls this has helped a lot,” I head out and find Lee.

He’s sitting around the camp. Right by the tent Pan is in lucky for me. I go to change my nasty bandages for my horrific arm and come back out, “Hey Lee,” I say right by the nylon outside of Pan, “Do you want to get out of here? For a walk in the woods or beach maybe?” I ask. I put my hand on his arm hoping Pan is looking at our shadows.

“Yeah. He smiles. That sounds nice,” he stands up and we walk into the trees. I look back briefly and see Pan staring at us starting to hide in some bushes not far away with a jealous look and I smirk.

[emachinescat]

Knock

A Merlin Fan-Fiction

by @emachinescat

@febuwhump day 10 - “I’m sorry, I didn’t know”

Summary: It is common knowledge in Camelot that one should never, under any circumstances, enter Sir Owen’s chambers without knocking.  Unfortunately, someone forgot to tell Prince Arthur’s new servant.

Characters: Merlin, Arthur, Sir Owen (OC)

Words: 4,618

TW: PTSD episode/flashback

Note: Early days for our boys. :)

Keep reading here, or on AO3!

If you enjoy, pease consider liking, commenting, or re-blogging, and you can follow me for more content like this!

Everyone in Camelot knew about Sir Owen, and everyone who had met him loved him.  He was an old warrior, a man of honor and valor with a keen sense for battle and a veritable treasure trove of wisdom.  He was old and gray now, and limped from the festering aches of old battle wounds, but he always had a smile and time to chat with anyone he met, nobles and servants alike.  After he had retired from knighthood, Uther had awarded him quarters in the castle and a life of luxury.   

The kind old man received regular visitors to his spacious rooms and always gladly welcomed them.  Lady Morgana brought him a vase of flowers every week, new knights would often visit for advice and encouragement, many of the maids would stop for quick chats between chores, and Gaius brought him his medicine for his old battle wounds and nightmares every evening before bed.  Once or twice the king himself had been seen visiting his old friend, and he too always departed with a smile. 

There was something that every one of Sir Owen’s many admirers and visitors knew, however, and honored without compromise: Never, under any circumstances, should you enter Sir Owen’s chambers without knocking. 

More specifically, no one should enter his chambers without loudly and clearly announcing themselves first – a light, polite knock wouldn’t do, especially not now that he had lost all his hearing in one ear, with the other ear quickly following suit.  You had to knock loudly and aggressively, and if he still didn’t hear you, then you had to proclaim yourself as loudly as possible when you eased the door open to peek in.  Ultimately, the last thing anyone wanted to do was to sneak up on the beloved Sir Owen, because if he was taken off guard, if he thought he was being ambushed, he became a completely different person. 

Sir Owen had fought valiantly for Camelot for many decades, and in that time he saw horrors of battle and the worst of humanity.  He’d been gravely injured protecting his fellow knights on no less than three occasions, the final of which had forced him to hang up his chainmail for good.  And though he was a perfectly pleasant gentleman when he was in his right mind, in those moments of fear and panic – like when he thought he was being snuck up on or ambushed – he shifted back into the fearsome warrior who had felled scores of Camelot’s enemy’s over the years.  And though he was old, he was still strong for his age, and crafty, and his confusion only fueled the desperate strength within him.   

Sadly, his moments of lucidity had declined rapidly in recent days, and sometimes he struggled to remember who was his enemy and who was his friend during normal, mundane conversations.  He only became violent when he was scared or surprised, however, which was what made announcing one’s presence of the utmost importance when calling upon him. 

Every servant in Camelot knew this, as did all the knights and nobles who paid him regular visits.  Well – all of the servants except for Merlin, Prince Arthur’s new manservant, who had just been ordered by his prince to go to Sir Owens’ chambers to escort the man to the training grounds.  Arthur had asked him to oversee the newest recruits on this crisp autumn morning, and to his delight, the old knight, who had been staying in more often than not, had agreed to do just that.  Merlin was happy to have a job other than hefting all of Arthur’s heavy equipment to the training grounds on his own (and all in one go, because Arthur was too impatient to allow Merlin to make multiple trips and very clearly cared nothing for Merlin’s well being in the slightest). 

Merlin had never met Sir Owen before but knew that he was a bit of a legend around the castle.  He’d heard whispers of some of the brave deeds and epic battles the man had fought in Camelot’s first days.  He also knew Morgana brought him flowers to brighten up his chambers, and that he was supposed to be a very kind man with great advice and a smile that would brighten every room.  Sir Owen sounded a positive delight, and Merlin had jumped at the opportunity to fetch him for Arthur so that he could meet this amazing man for himself. He sounded like a breath of fresh air in the stuffy citadel – but then again, most anyone who wasn't the prince of Camelot could claim that title, in Merlin's book.  

Although Merlin had never been good at the niceties of court when dealing with Arthur, he did make it a priority to remember to knock if he were at anyone else’s door – as Gaius had told him on many occasions, if he just barged into the wrong person’s chambers, he could be in trouble so deep that even Gaius couldn’t bail him out.  And so, when he reached the old knight’s chamber door, Merlin made a point to reach out his fist and give a few hearty knocks on the door. 

No answer.   

Merlin waited a short time before knocking again, but again, no one answered.  Pressing his ear against intricately carved wood, he thought could hear something from inside of the room – a faint shuffling, as if someone were moving around.  The warlock shifted anxiously on his feet, warning bells clanging in his head.  If someone was in the room, why didn’t they answer the door?  At the very least, why did the person not call out?  Merlin could only think of two possibilities: Either the person in the room could not answer, or was not supposed to be there.  Either way, something was off, and Merlin had to check and make sure the old man he was meant to fetch was okay. 

Merlin tried the door – locked – and, glancing over his shoulder to make sure he was alone, directed a pointed stare at the lock, felt the heat of magic swell within him, and heard the rewarding clunk as the door unlocked itself.  Quietly, Merlin eased the door open and peered inside, looking for any sign of trouble.  “Sir Owen?”  His calm, quiet voice contradicted the furious beat of his heart, that instinct that warned him of danger.   

No one seemed to be in the room that the wary servant could see, so Merlin inched his way further inside, taking in the elegant but sparse furnishings, the headless training dummy in old old but obviously well-cared for armor, and the weapon rack mounted on the wall that seemed to be missing its occupant.  “Sir Owen?” Merlin called again, this time a little louder. 

He didn’t even have time to turn when he heard the quiet rush of footsteps from behind.  The next thing he knew, Merlin was facedown on the warm woolen rug that spanned much of the stone floor, the breath completely knocked out of him.  Pain lanced through his upper back, sparking like lightning between his shoulder blades.  Something had hit him – hard – and Merlin’s instincts warned him that whoever it was that had attacked him wasn’t done.   

Only sheer force of will allowed the warlock to heave himself over on his back just in time to see Sir Owen himself, with his normally friendly, laugh-lined face twisted into a ferocious mockery of itself, gray hair come loose from its tie, and a hefty longsword, dulled with age but still deadly, brandished in his right hand.  Merlin noticed that the sword, and the hand that held it, shook slightly moments before the old man – still in incredible shape for his age, as Merlin’s screaming back proved clearly! – lunged again, this time with the point of the blade and not the flat. 

Merlin rolled to the side, lungs still heaving for air after being winded by Owen’s first hit, and the point of the sword cut a frayed line in the rug right where Merlin’s head had been.  Struggling to his feet, the disoriented servant tried to appeal to the knight’s sensibilities; he gasped, “Sir Owen!  I’m sorry; I didn’t mean to frighten you.”  Another swing of the sword, and Merlin ducked out of the way in the nick of time.  “I did knock!” he insisted. 

Sir Owen’s eyes, Merlin noticed, were clouded, and when the man spoke, it became obvious that he was seeing a completely different scene than what was actually going on around him.  Somehow, it seemed, he thought he was back on the battlefield, fighting a deadly opponent, instead of cornering a frightened servant who had done nothing to harm him.  “I won’t let you do it!” the man roared, and his voice cracked under the pressure of the rage and sorrow.  “You killed my men – you take no one else!” 

He advanced again, this time slowly, methodically, and Merlin backed away at the same pace, all too aware of the corner he was trapping himself in but afraid to bolt and frighten his confused aggressor into doing something he’d later regret.  Raising his hands, Merlin spoke like he was addressing a small animal or a frightened child, “Sir Owen, my name is Merlin.  I’m Prince Arthur’s servant.  He sent me here to fetch you for the –” 

He was cut off as Owen slashed forward with the sword unexpectedly, and this time Merlin wasn’t quite fast enough.  Even the dulled edge was enough to slice through Merlin’s shirt and into his upper arm, and fire erupted in the wound.  Blood, warm and sticky, oozed from the cut and meandered down his arm.  He ignored it, more focused on staying alive. 

“Liar!  Traitor!  Murderer!”   

Merlin didn’t want to use magic on Sir Owen – from what he’d heard, the man was a genuinely good person, though something seemed very wrong with him now.  On top of that, if he realized that his opponent had used magic after the fact, Merlin would be killed anyway.  But the idea of being run through with a dull sword was so unpleasant that Merlin decided to take the risk.  He turned to run from the next attack, allowed his eyes to flash gold, and heard his pursuer curse as his weapon somehow tumbled from his hands and skittered across the room.  Hopefully, if he remembered this at all, he would put it down to losing his grip. 

Now that the sword was out of the picture, Merlin felt a bit safer, but he couldn’t decide if he should try to help Sir Owen himself or run to get someone else instead.  His choice was taken away from him, though, because he hesitated a second too long – in the time that Merlin had been debating his next course of action, the keen knight had made up his mind and charged bravely into battle.  Sir Owen was the kind of warrior who would continue to fight with his bare hands against an entire heavily armed battalion until the very end.  He never gave up, never let a little thing like losing a sword stop him. 

And so he charged.   

To Merlin, it was like Arthur’s prized steed had barreled straight into him, such was the force with which Sir Owen slammed against him.  For the second time in ten minutes, the wind was driven out of him from the force of the blow, and he sprawled, stunned, on the chamber floor, his head rapping painfully against the stone.

Bright lights flickered in his field of vision and he tried desperately to get his body to move, but his arms and legs weren’t listening.  He watched as the old knight, fury in his dark eyes, approached him, having abandoned the sword all together now that his enemy lay helpless at his feet.  Merlin should have been glad that he wasn’t using the sword, but he had a very unpleasant feeling that Owen did not need a weapon to kill. 

Seconds later, his unprotected side exploded in agony as Sir Owen drove his boot forward in a merciless kick.  Afraid to use his magic again, forgetting everything but his basest instincts to survive, Merlin curled in on himself, nearly crying out at the pain the movement caused him.  Another kick, this one to his back, and Merlin rolled away the best he could, panting in pain.  Halfway to his feet, on hands and knees, almost there – 

Another kick, this one to his gut, and he gagged, falling forward, face-first onto the floor.  Blood welled up in his mouth – he must have bitten his tongue. 

Merlin scrabbled for purchase on the cold stone, trying to regain his bearings even as every part of his body rebelled against him.  He felt the man’s toe beneath his torso and sucked in a painful breath, but this time, all Owen did was flip him over.  Merlin lay on his back, breath wheezing from his chest, and he was sure he had a broken rib, maybe more.  Slowly, deliberately, like he had all the time in the world at his disposal, the old man knelt next to his fallen foe and leaned in close.  Merlin could smell breakfast on his breath – the stink of aged cheese mingled with the sweetness of fruit – as he man hissed, “You’ll die for this – sorcerer!” 

Fear crescendoed, overshadowing the symphony of pain, as Merlin realized that somehow, Sir Owen had figured out what he had done, what he was.  Helplessness took hold of the warlock.  It didn’t matter if he survived this encounter – which was looking less likely by the second, unless he used his magic again – his life in Camelot was over.  Might as well use his magic to escape.  The giant lizard was wrong, then.  It couldn't be his destiny to serve Arthur and bring magic and peace to Albion.  He would be on the run for the rest of his life. 

Merlin focused on his magic through the pain and felt it rise within him.  It slipped out of his grasp as something latched onto his hair and dragged his head up.  Merlin got a single look up close at Sir Owen’s eyes, filled with the kind of suffering no sword could inflict, brimming with regrets and hatred and death, before the man slammed the back of Merlin’s head into the ground.  A flash of white light – intense pain, swirling darkness.   

Merlin may have blacked out for a few seconds, but it couldn’t have been long, because when he regained a semblance of awareness – he couldn’t move, so much pain, vision blurred, he was going to be sick – Sir Owen had retrieved his sword and had it poised over his helpless victim’s heart.  “Rot in hell, sorcerer,” he spat, and Merlin squeezed his eyes shut, partly against the pain, mostly in preparation for death. 

A voice sounded from somewhere close by, first annoyed, then panicked: “What the hell is taking so long Merlin?  I– what – NO!” 

The fear in the last word, unexpected and guttural as it was, was enough to convince Merlin to open his eyes.  Through the haze his vision had become, he saw a red and gold blur tackle Sir Owen, heard through ringing ears the sound of a brief struggle and the angry accusation “Sorcerer!” and then there was someone kneeling over him again, and Merlin struggled to sit up, to get away.  He managed to turn over just in time to vomit all over Prince Arthur’s clean boots. 

To his surprise, the prince didn’t yell or order him to scrub them again, right then and there.  Instead, with surprisingly gentle hands, the man eased his servant back onto the ground and began checking him for injuries. 

“You idiot,” Arthur said as he probed the back of Merlin’s head, eliciting a cry of pain and frowning at the blood staining his fingertips.  He moved on to check Merlin’s ribs (“Three broken, at the very least, but we’ll have Gaius look at you.”) and arm.  “It’s fairly shallow,” he said, and Merlin thought he must have been giddy with pain and exertion at this point, because it sounded like the prince was actually relieved.  Arthur stood, stepped out of his boots with a grimace, and ordered, “Stay there.  I mean it – don’t move.  I’ve subdued Sir Owen for the moment, but he needs Gaius.”  A deep crevice between his brows, the prince added, “And so do you.  You’re a mess.” 

Merlin didn’t hear if Arthur said anything else after that.  He didn’t even see the prince leave the room.  The darkness had claimed him by then, wrapping its welcoming arms of comfort around him and staving off, if only for a little while, the pain and the fear of what was to come. 

***

When he awoke, it was in his own bed, in his room, and he was alone.  Merlin’s head hurt more than he could ever remember it doing before – even more than the time he and Will had climbed on top of his roof and he’d fallen through the thatch.  He’d smacked his head on the kitchen table when he’d landed on it, but the pain he’d been in had been nothing compared to his mother’s wrath.  Now, though, it was not an ache or even bursts of sharp pains – it was like a drum, and every beat increased the agony he felt.  It was the kind of headache that turned your stomach against you, too, and made the world around you lose its crisp edges and stole your ability to concentrate on even the most simple of tasks.  His arm, now bandaged, stung fiercely, and the gnawing ache in his ribs turned into a cacophonous mass of torment any time he thought of moving. 

So he didn’t move.  He lay there, head pounding, body hurting like he had been run over by a horse, and allowed his mind to wander, though with the headache he had, he really did not have much control over the direction of his thoughts, anyway.  In the end, every wandering pathway of his consciousness, every thought and question and memory, all led back to the terrifying realization that Sir Owen had seen his magic – somehow – and had probably already told Arthur and the king.  Any moment now, guards would barge into his room and throw him into a cold, dark cell.  Or maybe they’d skip the cell all together and toss him on a pyre.  They wouldn’t even have to tie him to it.  He was too weak to move. 

The door opened, and Merlin jumped in a mixture of surprise and terror.  Even the small movement caused all of his injuries to flare up and he slumped back, face beaded with sweat, panting in exhaustion and pain, waiting for the inevitable and wondering if he should try to fight back with magic since his secret was already out anyway. 

It was good that he didn’t, because it was Arthur who entered, and he was alone, and there was a strange look on his face – if Merlin didn’t know better, he would have said it was somewhere between worried and guilty, with a healthy dose of discomfort sprinkled in for good measure.  “Merlin,” the prince said in surprise, and it occurred to Merlin that he hadn’t expected his servant to be awake yet.  Arthur  stayed in the doorway, uncertainty rolling off of him in waves.  “I – Gaius stepped out for a moment, to check up on Sir Owen.  He’s been in quite a state, really disoriented and worried that he hurt you badly.” 

Merlin frowned, and even that hurt.  “Gaius?” 

Arthur stared at Merlin like he’d grown another head.  “No, you moron.  Sir Owen.  He feels terrible about what happened.” 

Perhaps it was the head injury, but Merlin found himself thoroughly confused.  “So… you’re not here to arrest me?”  He could hear the slur in his own words and realized that he probably looked as bad as – if not worse than – he sounded.  Arthur appeared to be as baffled as Merlin.  He finally moved beyond the arch of the door and into the room, awkwardly taking a seat in Merlin’s chair, near the bed. 

“Why would I be here to arrest you?”  His blue eyes narrowed suspiciously.  “What did you do this time?” 

“Uh, Sir Owen, he said…”  Merlin’s thoughts were as fuzzy as his sight, and he felt that distinctive curdling in his stomach that told him he was going to be decorating Arthur’s shoes again very shortly.  Arthur must have seen that tell-tale paling of the face and whitening of the knuckles, because moments later, a bucket had been shoved under his nose and he threw up into it, vaguely surprised that there was anything left to expel.  Arthur had produced a cup of water from somewhere, and when Merlin finished, the prince helped him take a sip.  The water was bliss, cooling his raw throat and chasing away the sour taste in his mouth.   

Nausea under control for the moment, Merlin cleared his throat uncomfortably, not meeting Arthur’s eye after the strangely intimate moment (if he had been looking, he would have seen Arthur studiously avoiding his gaze as well).  Merlin picked up where he’d left off, his voice cracked and timid.  “Sir Owen called me a sorcerer.”  Arthur did look at him now, Merlin felt his eyes, but the warlock didn’t reciprocate.  Instead, in a rush, he said, “If he told you that, you have to understand–” 

“Merlin.”  Arthur’s voice held no malice, only concern and a heaviness that the servant did not understand.  “You don’t have to explain to me that you’re not a sorcerer.  Yes, Sir Owen said something about it when I was pulling him off of you, but I know he was confused.” 

Cautiously, Merlin pressed, “How do you know?” 

Arthur laughed, a harsh, clipped sound.  “Are you saying that you are a sorcerer?” 

Merlin’s stomach flipped over on itself.  “No,” he lied, not sure why he had even mentioned Sir Owen’s accusation in the first place.  He was making himself look more suspicious; it was just hard to control what came out of his mouth – harder than usual, anyway.  “I just want to know why you believe me over a respected former knight.”  There.  That was reasonable, right?  Merlin’s head ached, and he just wanted to go back to sleep, but he had to know, had to have some kind of concrete assurance before he could rest. 

Arthur sighed.  That same weight tugged at the next words he said: “Sir Owen… he was a great knight, and incredibly brave and strong – still is, for that matter–”

“You can say that again,” Merlin muttered, wincing.

Arthur glared at him, daring him to interrupt again, and continued, “But he has seen some horrible things on the field of battle.  And if he thinks he’s being attacked, he lashes out.  Gaius says that he somehow finds himself back in the middle of a war, fighting off his worst enemies and watching his men die around him.  It’s like he’s reliving the worst days of his life.  And that’s why he attacked you – he thought you were trying to ambush and kill him.” 

“But that doesn’t explain–”

“I’m getting there, Merlin.  For someone who looks half-dead, you sure can run your mouth like usual.”  Merlin grinned, despite himself.  “Oh, don’t look so proud,” Arthur ordered irritably.  “It’s incredibly irritating.”  But his own mouth had stretched into a half–smile as well.

“Anyway – the last battle, the one that ended his career… A sorcerer who was fighting against Camelot nearly crippled him.  He lay there, helpless, and had to watch as the sorcerer killed at least a dozen of his men.  One of them was his only son.”

A grim silence settled over master and servant, and a sick pit had formed in Merlin’s stomach.  It was the kind of hollowness that could only exist in misery and pain, and he found himself wishing for the nausea to return.

“He thought I was that sorcerer,” Merlin clarified, heart aching for the man that had nearly killed him.  “I didn’t know”

“How could you?” Arthur asked.  Then he added, his voice taking on more of the guilt that Merlin had thought he’d heard earlier, “And I – well, it’s my fault,” he hedged lamely.  “That you got hurt.  Because I didn’t even think to warn you to knock before you entered the room.  I was so focused on getting to the training field that it didn’t cross my mind that you didn’t know about Sir Owen’s flashbacks, as Gaius calls them.”

Merlin’s eyelids were heavy, and everything hurt, and he could feel sleep calling to him, but he insisted stubbornly, “I did knock.”

Arthur raised his eyebrows in surprise.  “Wonders never cease.  But,” he clarified, “if he doesn’t hear you knocking and doesn’t know you’re coming, then it doesn’t even matter if you did knock.  I should have told you to announce yourself, or had someone go with you that knew what to do.”  

Somewhere in the other room, a door opened and closed.  

“That’ll be Gaius,” said Arthur, standing up.  He looked down at his battered servant, hesitated for the briefest of moments, and then said, “Sir Owen sends his apologies, and he hopes to meet you under better circumstances once you’re both feeling up to it.”  In a rush, he added, “And, for what it’s worth, I – I’m sorry too.”  

Merlin blinked in surprise, knowing how hard it had to have been for Arthur to admit he had made a mistake, let alone apologize for it.  And even though the servant truly didn’t think the prince had anything to apologize for (after all, Merlin forgot important things all the time), it was touching, and he could tell that despite his discomfort that Arthur really meant it and needed to know that all was well.

Arthur leaned over, gave Merlin’s shoulder a gentle squeeze – even that sent bolts of agony through Merlin’s body, but the gesture was appreciated, even cherished.  “You did… surprisingly well in holding him off until I found you,” he admitted as Gaius’s footsteps were heard ascending the short set of stairs behind him. 

“He beat me to a pulp and nearly sliced me in half,” Merlin deadpanned.  

“Yes, but you’re still alive, and that in itself is almost impressive,” Arthur said, and Merlin couldn't tell if the prince was serious or not.  “Anyway,” he said, backing away and making room for Gaius, who was puttering into the small room balancing a tray of medicines and broth.  “I need to get to training.  Gaius, make sure he’s back to work the moment he’s well enough, but… also, not a moment before he’s ready.”

Gaius nodded, patted Arthur on the shoulder in thanks, and began to treat his patient.  Merlin watched Arthur leave, a warm feeling blossoming in his chest that had nothing to do with the broken ribs.  He barely even heard Gaius’s lecture about propriety and taking care of himself and knowing all the facts before he walked in on a situation.  His wandering, aching mind was too busy thinking about the prince. 

When he’d first come to Camelot, Arthur never would have apologized for anything.  Already, amazingly, Merlin was beginning to see a change in the other man, a spark of something that made Merlin the tiniest bit proud to know him.  And it may have been the head injury talking, but right now, despite the irritation he so commonly felt toward his new master, the idea of this destiny the dragon had prophesied suddenly didn’t seem too terrible after all.

Maybe Arthur wasn’t so bad, either.

[themandylion]

Fandom: Batman - All Media Types, DCU, Red Robin (Comics) Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Characters: Tim Drake, Prudence Wood, Bruce Wayne Additional Tags: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence Summary: When Jack Drake died, Tim appended a Wayne to his name, moved into the manor, and no one there had any reason whatsoever to examine his family tree.

—

The first time Tim did it on purpose was while he was still following Batman and Robin. He'd gotten some really excellent shots of Robin silhouetted against a rare clear patch of sky and his mind wasn't on his surroundings. When he turned to go, he found the mouth of the alley blocked by a group of thugs, more than eager to relieve him of his fancy camera.

They were all bigger than him, and armed to boot. There was no point in trying to fight or cry for help. He was cornered, they all knew it, so Tim did what his dad always told him to do if he ever found himself in a situation like that.

He screamed.

Tim didn't stick around to see the fallout, after. Just ran home and hid under the covers on his bed and waited for morning, his heart pounding his chest. It was scary and exhilarating at the same time, something he both did and didn't want to do ever again. In the moment, he swore to himself he was done following heroes, that he'd never do it again.

He was out again a fortnight later, though he now carried a collapsible baton with him, just in case.

—

Batman didn't want metas in Gotham, didn't think them fair or sporting. He liked things he could measure, could understand, could predict all the outcomes of.

Tim respected that and, even more importantly, respected Batman. Once he was Robin, he used his hands, his legs, his feet, his mind, his staff—sometimes all of them together. The only time he used his voice was to cajole or taunt or query.

He didn't scream, even when he wanted to. Batman wouldn't like it, wouldn't want a Robin who could do that, and Tim—

Tim needed Robin maybe just as much as Batman did, sometimes.

—

When Jack Drake died, Tim picked the lock on his father's safe and replaced the will there with a carefully altered one. He didn't think he was really ready to be Bruce Wayne's son, but he also wasn't ready to stop being Robin, and there were things that would need adjusting if he wanted that to happen.

He was pretty sure his cousin would understand. After all, she'd seen Bruce at the funeral, had shared a long, meaningful look with Tim before ducking out early.

Less than a month later, Tim appended a Wayne to his name, moved into the manor, and no one there had any reason whatsoever to examine his family tree.

—

The second time Tim did it on purpose, it was too late to worry about losing Robin, maybe even too late to worry about upsetting Bruce. He didn't have a name anymore, at least not one beyond 'Tim Drake-Wayne,' and he wasn't sure if he even had all of that, now.

What he did have was another thug, another tight situation. No escape, no one to call for help. But he wasn't Robin and he wasn't in Gotham, so Batman's rules didn't apply. And besides all that, it wasn't just his own life on the line this time.

Widower's blades flashed, Z and Owens fell, and Tim screamed.

Riding back to the hotel, after, he glanced at Pru in the passenger seat. She was clutching her side, the wound she received before she could take out the stunned assassin still oozing a slow trickle of blood.

"I'd appreciate it," he said, "if you didn't mention what happened back there to anyone." He didn't say that he meant to Ra's, but then he didn't really think he needed to.

"Don't know why you use that bloody stick with a voice like that," she grumbled.

"Batman doesn't like his people to have anything… abnormal about them."

She snorted and shook her head. "If I was working for someone who didn't appreciate my natural talents for what they are, I'd find a new boss."

"Yeah? And how's that working out for you?" he asked, thinking of her partners they left in cave miles behind them, victims of a battle they didn't even know they were fighting. He wondered if Ra's even knew any of their names, or if they were all just faceless, disposable lackies to him.

"Found you, didn't I?"

—

They found Lucius's youngest daughter in the hotel room when they arrived, there at her father's request to drag Tim back to Gotham. She was obviously completely ignorant of just what the Wayne family got up to after hours, despite her father being all too aware.

He and Pru passed her back and forth as they battled the ninja Ra's sent swarming into the room, and while Tam Fox was far from unskilled, it was all too clear that she was way over her head. With people like Lucius to look up to, it was no wonder Bruce's parenting tactics were far from optimal.

It was enough to make a guy think.

—

"Hey, it's me. I know it's been a while, but I was wondering—is your offer still open? I've got some stuff to take care of in Gotham, but after that… I think I'm ready."

—

They didn't manage to leave Ra's al Ghul behind.

Tim found himself cornered in an office. A window at his back, a sword-wielding psychopath coming at him and—

He was back in Gotham, but no longer Robin. He wasn't sure if he was even part of Batman's brood anymore, if he even wanted to be.

Thoughts were whizzing through his mind and there were things he wanted, things he wished for—

But wishes never got anyone anywhere, and Bruce wasn't back quite yet. Not to mention the man currently running around the city as Batman had slightly different priorities than his predecessor.

Ra's was coming at him, he had to make a split-second decision, and while he might have chosen differently just a few short months ago, he knew what he had to do now.

Tim screamed.

—

Bruce came back.

—

Bruce came back, completely ignorant of everything Tim went through in order to make it happen. He came back and right away started asking for more—more work, more lies, more time. More years of Tim's life.

"I don't know if I'm ready to be back for good just yet. There are some things I need to see to, and it would be easier to do that while I'm not exactly back yet, officially." Bruce said it like it was the most logical thing ever.

It wasn't. It didn't make sense at all. Between Hush pretending to be him out of the mask and Dick continuing his legacy in it, it wasn't like Bruce had ever actually been gone. Except to the people that mattered most. To his friends and colleagues. His family.

"You do you," Tim said, pulling off Red Robin's cowl and handing it to him. "But you'll have to do it without me."

"What?"

"I realized some things, while you were gone," Tim explained as he began pulling off the rest of the suit. "Things about myself. Things about you."

"You're quitting?"

"Yes. No. Maybe?" Tim shrugged as he pulled off the last piece, then began replacing it all with regular, comfortable clothes. His clothes. "All this time I followed your rules, thinking that made me something stronger, something better. Took you being gone for me to realize that all it was really doing was holding me back."

"Tim… I don't understand."

"There comes a time when every bird has to fly free of the nest and find its own song." Tim slipped on his shoes, picked up his pack. "I'll see you around, Bruce."

—

Dinah met him at the manor gates with a fast bike and an extra helmet.

This time, he didn't look back.

[oneofthecrowd]

@bobbilonglegs​  |  gimme your pennywise! *grabby hands*

This is disgusting. Damien Thorn, thirteen years old, crowned prince to the seven rings of Hell, harbinger of the apocalypse and Satan's only son; the Antichrist, walked nearly a half-hour down a dark tunnel, ankle deep in literal shit. What kind of 'monster' makes its domain within a sewer? A dumb one, that's what. Damien adjusts his filtration mask for the third time, uncomfortable and disgusted with his surroundings.

His group of bodyguard's had found the lair after hours of searching the day before, claiming that the map provided turned out to be more out dated than previously assumed.

Four grown men, and couldn't read a fucking map. Useless, the lot of them.

Still, they found it. Damien had expected the whole thing to be another dead end and just the lore of a small town. He inspected the massive, rotting hill of children's clothes and toys, looking to be spanning back decades upon decades and it all surrounded an old, decrypted wagon.

Pennywise The Dancing Clown. 

What the fuck?

Some of the others climbed and combed through the pile while the rest explored the surroundings, clearly hoping not to find anything of note about this monster. Each one of them were loyal and faithful to him; Satanists for decades and lived to serve Damien's cause and fulfill his whims.

"Anything, yet?" the young teen demanded, aiming his flashlight obnoxiously into the face of one of them, making the man flinch away.

"We found, what seems to be a well just behind the pile." The man reported and pointed the way.

Peering down the well with his flashlight, the well was obviously very old and just as disgusting as the rest of the place. The well walls absolutely caked with black mold and slime and annoyingly too deep to see the bottom. Done with his inspection, the teen turned to his followers and looked at them expectantly.

"What are you waiting for? Get the rope."

.....................

Damien sent two men down first before he followed afterwards. Going down the well was a quiet experience, but what he noticed the farther he got was webs. Huge, and so much stronger than the regular spider's web. Damien ran his hand along the sticky substance as he's lowered and frowns. It was starting to....sink in, that there really was something down there.

............................

Eggs. They found an enormous clutch of slimy, rotting eggs. Each one dead and cold to the touch.

Whatever this monster is, it was female and appeared to have just experienced a very traumatic loss just before falling into her sleep cycle. So what did this mean for Damien's plans now? Would it be best to just leave this thing to grieve?

The teen crouched down and picked up the closest egg. It was covered in webbing and oozed slime like pus from a wound, large enough to need two hands and soft enough to give under a little bit of pressure. Something floated inside, dark with what seemed to be many tails or legs? Yet not? What the hell was he looking at.

"Sir?" one of the men behind him called out. "I think we should lea-"

A blood curdling scream rang out from deep within the cavern and suddenly it was chaos.

Damien was shoved down into the clutch of dead eggs while gun shots nearly deafened him, but he could still hear the roaring screech of a beast and the screams and yells of his bodyguards. He's suddenly yanked out from the clutch and carried out from the hole on one of the men's shoulders while the others continued to shoot their guns at the thing.

"What are you doing?" He demanded in a scream, hitting the back of the man hoisting him up and out of the well. "I still need it!"

But that's when he saw it. A crab like pincers tearing the men apart and a great maw swallowing the mortals down with terrifying ease. He stopped fighting then; terror shooting down his spine and gripping the man's jacket tight. He didn't even care that he was mistreated and tossed out of the well like a sack. He scrambled to his feet and ran, uncaring if the last of his bodyguards made it out with him.

Which way was the exit?!

[every1studio]

REQUESTED:“reaction to booty smacking”mafia edition [ateez]

genre: suggestive

ficstyle: reactions + bulletpoints

request: “ Henlo! I wanted to see if you could mayhaps do an Mafia!Ateez reaction to you backhanding them after they smacked yo booty in their own club cause you didn't know who they were?💀 thank you ily and I love your works omg - 👻 a new anon “

note: tysm for the request + hope you enjoy

You didn’t want to go out tonight.. But your friends insisted since you finally broke up with that headass of a boyfriend. You gave in; they invited you to a hard-to-get-in club and it was pretty packed. You knew it belonged to one of the most known mafias in the city so it made you feel a little uneasy. It didn’t take long for you to start enjoying yourself until you felt someone smack your ass. You were caught off-guard because wasn’t a light love tap; you felt the hand linger for a while. Until you turned around and backhanded them in the face... 

HONGJOONG

(type: mischievous dom)

you saw the bouncer come for you as he yelled, “WHAT DO YOU THINK YOU’RE DOING YOU LIL-”

but the guy that you slapped raised his hand and shooed him away

the bouncer left

you were surprised that a little guy like him would have any authority over a big bouncer

“still I startle you sweetheart?” he made his way to the seat across from you

you crossed your arms at him, “even in a club setting, that would be considered as sexual harassment..”

he peeked through his eyes as he cracked a little smirk

“I like how that word sounds from your mouth.. sexual..”

you couldn’t believe this guy; you scoffed as your rolled your eyes

he’d use playful yet sensual skinship; practically ghosting over your skin

“whatever..” you turned to leave but he slithered his arms around your waist and pulled you in

he cocked his head, “I wasn’t done talking to you yet, sweetheart..”

you tried to push him by his chest as you tried to threaten him

“if you don’t let go, I’ll find the person in charge and-”

“and what? seduce him? you’re already one step head of yourself, love..”

you were about to speak up but you realized that HE was the person in charge

you left your mouth gaping as you were trying to comprehend the whole situation

he tilted your chin up to look at him, “keep on leaving that mouth open like that and I’ll give you a reason to keep it open..”

you quickly closed your mouth and looked at your friends for help

but they were just encouraging you to make a move

even though he wasn’t the tallest or the buffest guy, he definitely knew how to use his playful charms

he let go of you and gestured over to the bars

“now, sweet little kitten, what can I get ya?”

SEONGHWA

(type: godly dom)

Seonghwa’s eyes went hungry as they scanned you as you walked into the club

you were definitely not a regular at his club and he wanted to “get you know you” more

he makes sure that you were as beautiful as you were in all different angles and lighting before he pushes himself out of the circle of girls that were leaning up on him; they were disappointed to see him on the move with his eyes obviously on you

Seonghwa was the type of guy who had girls run to him; it was never the other way around

never

he couldn’t help but look at how good you looked in your outfit; it look like it was made for your body

he walks over to you and leans in from behind you, “you look good, but you’d look better with me ramming my dick in that ass of yours”

before you could react or say anything, he slaps you on the ass

this causes you to backhand him in the face

the only thing you felt was his strong jawline

and when you looked up, the only thing you felt was fluttering in your chest

despite of how incredibly handsome he was, you couldn’t deny the fact that you were extremely taken back by his actions and words

“you definitely hit harder than the bouncer of my club.. I guess you really can’t judge a book by it’s cover, can you, sweet pea?”

(his club?) your thoughts echoed as you pieced together that this man in front of you was the head of a well-known mafia

he was completely unfazed at your actions but he was completely infatuated with you

“I-I’m sorry..” you didn’t want to be involved than you already were, you had suspicious people staring at you

but he held you back and pulled you into his toned abdomen

he’d use his godly features into his favor

you didn’t want to flutter.. but your body had other thing in mind

“the only apology I’ll accept from you will be in a form of kiss.. would you be a dear and apologize to me one more time?”

YUNHO

(type: appearance? dom, personality? masochist)

there was a eerily and deathly moment that you had ever experience in your life

it had occurred to you that you had just use your full strength to backhand the owner of this club that you were at

aka the head of a known mafia

he bore holes through your entire body

his dominating aura was present and it was oozing

you didn’t want to back down but you felt your confidence slipping with every second that passed by

he chuckled before grabbing the wrist of the hand you slapped him with

he couldn’t believe this luck of his

rarely, Yunho was able to find a lady like yourself who had a little more rough around the edges

he wanted to prove himself that you were THAT lady

Yunho pulls it up to his face to caress it

then he uses your nails to firmly and slowly drag it down his body until it got to his LV belt

“that rough hand could be doing more important things”

you just stood there in shock

you thought he would be more rough with you but it was the biggest reversal of the century

he closed the space between you two, brought your hand through his hair and made you tug on it for dear life

he hisses through his smile, “time starts now”

he would buck against the hard material of your outfit

every movement was a grunt of satisfaction

as you found some sort of dominance over this big hotshot of a guy

YEOSANG

(type: prince charming)

he thought you were some other girl when he swung his hand onto your ass

like any other girls reaction, you slapped him back on the face

you held a strong eye contact with him; letting him know that you were not the one to mess around with

but your friends pulled you back

murmuring things along the line of how important the man before you was and that you all should leave asap

but in the midst of all of that, how could he ever mistake you for someone else?

you were the most beautiful creature he’s ever come across

he was completely captivated; like one of the rarest edition of drones that he has yet to attain

this was his chance to use his one of many charms

he wraps his arms around you and offers you an “apology” drink

his actions seemed like it did a whole 180 degree turn right before your eyes

Yeosang instantly became the sweetest guy you’ve ever met

you would be the only person he would be paying attention to from then on

giving you the royal treatment; every girl’s dreams

wouldn’t be EXTREMELY aggressive but he would know how to lead you like a gentleman

Yeosang was both a prince and a mafia leader

SAN

(type: psychopathic yandere)

San always gets what he wants

no one could ever go against that

until you decide to be the only person that shined brightly in such a dimly-lit club

San fell for you at first sight

he wanted to make sure that people knew NOT to even approach you

he wanted to make you his; right there, right then

the sound of San’s hand against your ass resonated throughout the whole club and over the sound of the music

you yelped in pain

you had turn to try to slap him in the face

“WHO ARE YOU T-”

but he was faster than you

he caught your movement by grabbing your wrist and leaning in for a makeout sess

as if the ass smacking wasn’t obvious enough, San really wanted people to know that you were one to be reckoned with

although his hair was in his face, you knew that face from anywhere and you gave into fear and let San rummage your body like fine china

he left the softest kiss on your forehead before shifting all of his weight on his back leg; taking all the view of you in

the soft kiss was the complete opposite of what dangerously, reckless things he was known for

now you were stuck between flight or fight

“you will be mine.. and what’s mine lasts forever..”

in fear, you nodded in agreement

little did you know, you signed up for something that you didn’t want to be apart of

because you knew what would happen if you even denied him once

MINGI

(type: the dom/scheming rascal)

you definitely felt someone smack your ass; hard

you could barely stand

but in a crowded club setting, you couldn’t find the culprit

your friends were scattered and you couldn’t move from your spot

every nudge, shift, or movement made you want to accuse them of smacking your ass

which is still stinging at this moment

Mingi watched you the whole time

he didn’t think he’d like to see your reactions this much

he finally shows himself

“what’s wrong are you okay? you seem like you’re on edge..”

you sighed; finally you can lean on someone who didn’t seem so threatening

“someone smacked my butt earlier and I’m feeling pretty unsafe..” you spoke to him with doe-like eyes

he wanted rile you up like you riled him up

“like this?”

he smacked the other side of your ass just as hard maybe even harder

at this point your legs completely gave on, you had no choice but to lean on him

to your surprise, you felt an uneasy yet welcoming warmth pool in between your legs

“j-just like that..” you mumbled for only himself to hear

Mingi, a mafia leader, who probably has a bounty on him, who also owns this club, was completely smitten by your not-so-innocent whines

WOOYOUNG

(type: sheep in wolf’s clothing)

although Wooyoung was an infamous mafia, ruling the underground kingdom, he wanted nothing more but to be in love

he wanted to be in love with someone who was the complete opposite of him

he wants an unattainable spice in his life

no one ever satisfied him

that was what he thought until you came into his club; his territory

he did what he knew

that was to be rough

that’s his style; his brand; his signature

he made his way to you as if the only people that were in the room was you and him

he raised his hand high to strike his hand down onto your ass

feeling confident, he would try to say something snarky

but he was interrupted by the back of your hand smacking against his chiseled face

this was a new feeling; girls would fall to his feet and lick his shoes without asking but you were the difference he needed in his life

not only were you were on another level of beauty; you were on another level of spice that he never had before

he couldn’t handle your spice and he loved it

he pulled your face in to feed his craving but you pushed him away

you knew who he was and you were scared but you couldn’t let him treat you like all the other girls

Wooyoung shifts his face backs to you as he smears your lipstick that was on his lips

“I’m gonna make you fall for me..” he challenges

“bite me” you barked back as you leaned in to show that you weren’t all that afraid of him

but that slightly changed when he hoisted you up onto his shoulder

you couldn’t fight against his strength as he makes his way to his “room”

“my. fucking. pleasure.”

he was already planning cute little dates he wanted to have with you but he’ll never be able off of his brand; out of habit

JONGHO

(type: sugar daddy who’s looking for a mama)

he was the YOUNGEST mafia leaders ever known

and he’s become quite successful

but he was tired of playing with younger girls

they were predictable

he laid eyes on you when he saw you

you had a different aura about you

you weren’t looking to be taken care of

you were definitely a boss lady; a dragon lady

you had already shooed away 3 guys since you just walked into the club in which he owned

you sat at the bars and ordered The Oldfashioned

which was Jongho’s favorite drink

before you slipped the bartender your black card

Jongho took it from you and nodded at the bartender as he nodded and left to attend another customer

you gave Jongho a side glance before taking a sensual sip

you turned your body to him as you crossed your legs and reached for your card before he teases you with it

never breaking your calm, you huffed, “whatever, it’s not like I need that card anyways”

you downed the drink and left

Jongho smirked as he mumbled, “playing hard to get, huh?”

he came up behind you and smack you in the ass

the moment he smacked you, you turned around to confirm that it was him before slapping him back in the face

Jongho’s face only slightly tilted to the side from your relatively strong slap that would send most guys on the ground; but Jongho wasn’t any guy

he pushes you up against the wall, “bet you never had a man treat you this roughly..”

you being unable to say anything, fed him into his dominance over a sexy, older lady like you

“you’re nothing but a little princess in a queen’s crown.. I’m gonna show you what little princesses like you get treated like”

~end

[bestfriendforhire]

Children of BFFH, Entry 91

 “Duck!” exclaimed Luce as a wicked-looking axe swung out from the wall at Layla’s head.

 The rest of us were dodging as well.  Though we had decided to take things slowly, none of us actually took any skills for our characters that involved the discovery and disablement of traps.  This latest one appeared in the form of a pressure plate disguised as regular flooring, which triggered those axes from over thirty feet back in the hallway to swing out in quick succession all the way to another twenty feet ahead of us.

 “This game is crazy!  That almost took off my head!” exclaimed Layla, panting rapidly as if she had just been running.

 “Really is different when you’re using your character’s body, isn’t it!?” exclaimed Rona excitedly.  She was actually doing fairly well at this, using her magic to block off opponents with wall spells and help destroy large groups quickly.

 “It is.” I agreed, not feeling too comfortable with VR myself.  I didn’t have much experience with the VR rigs due to largely focusing on Ancient Tribes of Earth when I was allowed.  My biggest advantage with my current character was the many hours spent under Momma Cosette’s tutelage last week.  We had spent a number of hours covering the basics of sword fighting, moved to more advanced techniques, and then started covering more while shapeshifting.  There were reasons I had chosen a samurai-style character, given that Japanese swordsmanship was covered in my lessons and I’d be expected to utilize magic in our upcoming training.

 One of the disconcerting sensations while in the VR rig was how slowly my character could react.  I still had an advantage in being able to recognize what was happening more quickly than a human, but I didn’t always time my response well to the much slower body.

 “Anyone need healing?” questioned Layla, holding her bow at her side.  One of her interesting character choices was an ability that allowed her to imbue healing magic into her arrows.  The arrow merely needed to hit our armor to heal us, but Rona wasn’t using an armored character this time around.  A little healing had been wasted several times as the magic forced the arrow back out of the wound.

 “Let’s keep moving.” insisted Luce, leading the way in her tall, steel-clad character.  Her character wasn’t really the size of an adult, but she was taller than the rest of us, more likely to take traps to the upper chest than to the head.

 When Luce cautiously opened the doorway—standing to the side as she forced it open with her sword—the rest of us prepared to attack, but nothing jumped out at us.

 “A bedroom?” questioned Luce, sounding surprised.

 The room was covered in dust and cobwebs, but would have been very nice in its time.  The canopied bed was large enough for three people to rest comfortably and appeared to be in the best shape of everything here.  The door of the armoire looked to have fallen off years ago, the dresser was obviously ruined by the damp seeping in through the stone, and the large mirror had shattered when something had knocked it over.

 “Let’s at least look for treasure.” encouraged Rona, grinning as she looked around.  “I wish my room was this big.  Unlike you people, I live in a normal house.”

 “My house is perfectly normal too.” insisted Layla.

 “Yeah-yeah.  We’re weirdos.” stated Luce teasingly as she cautiously stepped into the room.  “Something is off here.”

 I pulled my sword in agreement, following close behind her.  When a sheet from the bed lurched for her, I met it with a slash from my sword as she stabbed up through it.  The whole bed writhed, its form twisting as more sections of the now ooze-like creature shot out at us, taking the forms of different blades.

 Luce stepped between the bed-creature and our casters, allowing me to step up closer to our enemy, meeting its attacks with my sword.  Rona used some sort of cold magic that shot into the creature in a thin line, but quickly spread, slowing the creature down.  Where my sword met the frozen body, that part of the body shattered quite satisfyingly.  The fight was over fairly quickly from that point.

 “I’m so glad that wasn’t the type of ooze that isn’t affected by cold!” exclaimed Rona happily as we carefully poked around the room.

 “There are actually several types immune to cold, and this was a mimic, not an ooze.” stated Luce as she lifted a sheet with her sword.

 “But it’s body was oozing.” pointed out Rona as she gave Luce a frown.

 Luce shrugged a little, letting the sheet fall.  “True, but mimics are typically intelligent where oozes usually aren’t.  Furthermore, no one knows what the natural form of a mimic looks like, since they’re always taking on other shapes, even after death.  ‘Mimic’ might be a broad category for numerous types of creatures, each with its own preferred shape.” she suggested.

 “I’m just glad they can’t mimic people.  Fighting a Luce would be terrifying.” stated Rona with an exaggerated shudder.

 Layla laughed.  “Yeah.  I’d just surrender.”

 “No!  Even in the shape of Luce, a mimic would still want to eat us.” I insisted, becoming more and more certain that Luce actually could bite through someone.  She was very strong and equally durable.

 Luce lifted the front of her helmet, giving each of us a frown.  Then she said, “Gross.  No offense, but I doubt any of you taste good.  Mimics might lack taste buds to find any of us palatable.”

 I made a noise as if I was clearing my throat.  “Vampire in the room.  I would suggest that their taste buds are perfectly fine for a mimic, but when eating a person, send signals to their brain similar to what yours do when you’re eating something you enjoy, like ice cream.”

 “Do vampires like ice cream?” questioned Layla, seeming genuinely curious.

 “The good ones do!” I insisted, feeling a lack of ice cream was certainly a failing of my old life.

 “Woo!  Jackpot!” exclaimed Rona excitedly.  When she had tried opening the lower left drawer of the ruined dresser, the side fell off, which I had taken for a sign of decay.  Instead, there was a hidden compartment filled with jewelry.

 “But what do we even do with jewels and such?  Is there a vendor in the dungeon?” asked Layla, who couldn’t be too against the find with how she lifted one of the necklaces up and smiled appreciatively.

 “We’ll divide up the loot before we quit, and then these characters will have money for purchasing better equipment in the loading room, assuming we end up playing them again.” explained Luce.

 “Do you think I’d be allowed to come visit fairly often?” asked Layla worriedly as she caressed the necklace she had picked up.

 Rona laughed and said, “They let me come back often, and I’m not even a relation.”

 Luce nodded in agreement.  “You’re our friend, so you’re stuck with us now.”

 I smiled and impulsively hugged Luce.  She smirked but still hugged me back.  In my old life, I didn’t really have friends.  Now, I wasn’t certain what I’d do without them with me.

[angrycowboy]

Okay, time for coffee and rewatch!

I did a rewatch last night after watching it live and flailed at @haloud​, because this episode was everything I wanted for the premiere and getting the show back. It made me hurt and it made me happy and it made me excited for all the things to come.

After I’m done with this, it’s off to find a decent download and start giffing!

- I love the little Echo flashback. I mean, I think it’s interesting to include Max mentioning the Alighting and the whole “savior” thing. Though, I wonder if it’s going to come into play more than just the mentions in this episode that allowed Liz to connect the dots about Max. But I am heart eyes at this cute Echo moment.

- Liz’s “you smell like rain” comment is also interesting. I am just gonna sit here and think about Maria’s comment about Michael smelling like a river now and what is up with these aliens.

-Jeez, Liz and Rosa. Oh my god, Rosa. And Liz, with tears on her face, needing to switch into crisis mode. 

- Graffitti! Omg Rosa’s artwork. “We don’t believe in humans” Omg I love it.

-This is an Arturo Ortecho appreciation blog. He’s adorable being so proud of Liz. I just smile at this scene so hard. It’s perfect.

- “I reject good-bye” I love Maria DeLuca, y’all. 

- So in my happy place headcanon, Michael did just get some sort of flash about Max’s death, left the Pony, and basically has been avoiding Maria ever since. Simplest explanation and I can live with it. 

- BUT as always, my biggest gripe with the show, it’s been two weeks and no one has talked to one another. Though I kinda understand Liz avoiding everyone while she’s trying to deal with Rosa. 

-”Came to vent about Michael Guerin ghosting me” Yeah, I mean, I’m glad that the show established this right off the bat. Especially after this fucking hellatus this fandom decided to go through in regards to Miluca. I’m actually happy about this. But see ya’ll? Fucking overreaction central.

- “And now just one more Roswell good time before I hit the road.” The delivery on this, and the look on Liz’s face. Fuck, Jeanine just nailed every scene in this episode.

- Michael Guerin, Resident PigPen and Disaster Bi, stumbling int the church and shoving his way into a filled pew. Oh, Michael, you are a mess and I love you so much.

- Oh, Isobel. Also, I love the overacting in the beginning when Isobel is trying to talk about Noah vs how she changes when she starts speaking about Max instead. I love that use of Noah’s funeral to publicly mourn Max. It’s so good. 

- Fuck, this flashback to the cave. To Isobel seeing Max dead. OUCH.

- Oh my god, the staple of every funeral and wake - people bringing way too much food and it’s all the same fucking thing. ISOBEL GIRL, I FEEL YOU.

- “Mrs. Evans! That’s a phenomenal cape.” Listen y’all, have I mentioned how much I love this sad disaster alien cowboy? Cuz I do. A lot. He is a MESS.

- I really love this shot of Alex watching Michael at the wake. Just that little bit of concern - it’s so Alex and I love him so much. And I operate under the “if Alex knows, Kyle knows” and vice versa, which means that Alex isn’t watching Michael like this because he knows Michael is spiraling because of Caulfield and Max, he thinks Michael is only spiraling because of Caulfield. 

- Kyle being all practical and realistic about dealing with Jesse, and Alex is just like YOLO LET HIM DIE. Like I kinda love how Alex just kinda doesn’t want to deal with Jesse.

- “I’m not a murderer.” “No, you’re not. But he is.” Also, are we gonna talk about Alex’s little eyebrow raise and the look in his eyes, and how he’s still possibily talking about himself? Cuz, oh my god. I have feelings. Alex Manes, you stubborn bastard, I love you so much. (cc: @ober-affen-geil)

- “Seemed like a kiss at least worthy of a text back.” Oh Maria, my darling. You keep holding onto the hope you have for him, because girl, you are gonna need it with this massive spiral of his. 

- “Regulars shouldn’t drink alone when they’re grieving.” Oof. The fact that Maria thinks Michael is acting like this because of Noah is dead kinda yikes, and really just makes me desperately want her in on everything else that is going on, because it just makes it so obvious how little she knows. But I also like that line because he comforted her in 1x07, no questions asked, and in a way she’s doing the same back for him. She’s telling him she’s there if he needs someone.

- SHERIFF VALENTI WITH HER HAIR DOWN. I LOVE IT.

- Also her and Ann. “Graffiti is an early indicator of gang violence.” Ann Evans is the epitome of suburban white mom. I love Michelle Valenti just nodding along, like yeah, I’ll get right on that and not looking into this suspicious shit surrounding your son and your son-in-law.

- Lol @ this little public display of anger between Liz and Isobel.

- Oh shit, the fact that Liz hasn’t told Rosa about the cover-up is interesting, because that means that’s definitely coming. And oh my god, I cannot wait. 

- ALSO I CANNOT BELIEVE WE WERE ROBBED OF THIS HUG.

- “a glowing ooze filled egg coffin from outer space” Listen, if that’s not the most accurate outsider description of the pods ever. (Also creepy Noah scenes are creepy.)

- Liz talking about burying Max, y’all that shit HURTS. Like, obviously we know that isn’t gonna happen but the fact that Liz and Rosa are sitting talking about it as a finite ending in that moment is just... OUCH.

- “...where’s my hole t-shirt?” um... as of 1x04 it was in the backpack that Fredrico returned! What’cha doing with it, Liz?

- God, Liz and Rosa is just so perfect. “I never thought we’d get to have this stupid fight again.” I LOVE THEM SO MUCH.

- Isobel, darling. What are those pajamas. They’re wild.

- “I meant to call - I heard you and Evans broke up” So that does establish that Kyle was too preoccupied dealing with Jesse, and Liz has been singularly focused on Rosa that they haven’t talked in the two weeks. Cool cool cool.

- “Lemme guess? Alien thing?” Kyle is so tired of this shit.

- Omg Maria beating people at pool. I love it. I love her. More of that please! Also this outfit she wears is super cute. FIGHT ME.

- Mimi and more alien movie references!

- “It’s been ten years since [Rosa] died.” “Not always.” I love love love the roundabout ways Mimi is telling the truth about the things she knows. When you don’t have all the facts, of course it would sound like she’s not making sense, and of course it would appear to present as dementia. But what does she know that she’s even talking in this kinda code at all? And why? And what’s up with the wandering?

- This scene with Kyle and Rosa is fabulous. “Ten years and my half-brother is still pining for my sister. Cool cool cool.”

- Hahaha “What’s your drug of choice?” “Why quarterback, you wanna party?” I LOVE THIS ENTIRE SCENE SO MUCH IT’S HILARIOUS AND FANTASTIC.

- Upon rewatching, it’s much more obvious about the hows and whys of Kyle not knowing Max was dead. Because I missed all of that the first time around, and thought it came out of left field, but it really actually doesn’t.

- Rosa is clearly like, “when the hell did Kyle fucking Valenti get so smart?”

- this continued implication that Alex shows up at the Airstream and just basically invites himself in will never not completely fuck me up about them

- A FUCKING GUITAR LIKE HOW DARE THIS SHOW

- Okay first off, where the fuck is Alex? Is this his new house? Why does Michael know where to find him? Is this Jesse’s house and Alex is housesitting while he’s in a coma? It’s also the same place as this shot Carina posted over the summer that we all died over. Can’t wait to maybe get an definite answer to that (and also, what happened to the cabin). Just the fact that Michael knows exactly where to find Alex when all through S1 Alex always came to the Airstream is again, more shit about them that just fucks me up.

- Michael mentioning Alex had said he was getting out of the Air Force to make music... um, question. Where? When? I am going to handwave this because I can handle it may have gotten cut, and Alex did talk about fighting his own battles and not his fathers in 1x13. And I can see them having talked a bit about it during their junkyard talk in 1x10 too.

- “came back the next morning after clearer heads had prevailed - wanted to show you something.” Okay, Alex, honey, We need to talk about this. Michael just saw and felt his mother die, giving him a folder with that information, with that photo, is not how you should be going about this. I get it - Alex operates on having as much information as possible. If it exists, he wants it to make the informed decision. But that’s not Michael. And Alex pushes just a bit too hard, and Michael snaps. And I love this scene because Michael says things that needed to be said between them. Michael needed to say them, and Alex needed to hear them.

-ugh that photo... but if there’s prop consistency, then it’s interesting that it took a year after the crash for Michael’s mom to end up a prisoner at Caulfield. It really makes me excited for the flashbacks, because if she wasn’t caught in the initial melee after the crash, how did it happen?

- Alex’s little “hey” when MIchael pushes the folder back into him. Just. Fuck me up, okay? I’ll be here, in the middle of the floor, sobbing. It’s just, it makes it so obvious they’re no where near being on the same page. And Alex’s asking if he left, and if Michael would come with him - it really reads like a hail mary attempt on his part. Because he’s still thinking in that moment, that Michael will say yes, like Michael always says yes. Alex doesn’t really know what it’s like for Michael to say ���no” to him.

- “I wanna be good for somebody.” (and with the fucking Malex theme playing over them what the fuuuuuuuck) 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭

- Hahaha Isobel using the good crystal to practice - THAT’S MY GIRL

- Handprint talk! Also lol @ Liz mentioning the handprint Max gave her in 1x13 during sexytimes and Kyle, not knowing what she’s talking about immediately just assuming she’s talking about the one from the pilot. Though it’s interesting that neither Liz nor Michael had residual physical handprints show up, but we know Liz was able to still feel Max die in 1x13

- “exorcising demons” Yoooo, I am here for this Isobel. She is determined, and she wants her life back and she is going to take it by force if necessary. Also, that’s a fantastic use for that good crystal.

- But it also breaks my heart a bit because she clearly is in this huge denial about Max. She really believes that she can bring him back if she tries hard enough, if she focuses and learns. And the way Michael is just... so resigned to this whole thing. His hope is just... gone.

- “Max’s heart was weakened before he decided to lasso lightning” Michael really does get some great lines. But omg he’s so angry, and he’s so determined to get Isobel to see reason.

- Ahhh Liz and Rosa. Also, Liz in the bathroom. Breaking down because she’s got that moment to herself to finally break. That scene in the shower. It always just fucks me up. It’s fucked me up since the first time I saw it at NYCC, and it still fucks me up now.

- These nightmares are creepy as fuck. 

- ‘Don’t treat me like the little sister.” OH SNAP, LIZ ORTECHO.

- I adore messy flirty disaster Michael. And smiling through a punch? Oh, Michael.

- The way Liz’s mind works, just bouncing and making those connections and conclusions and realizing how there might still be hope for Max. Woo boy, I need to take some time to process that (and don’t get me started on Michael’s loss of hope).

- “So she wants to use Noah’s heart? He’s the actual devil.” TOO RIGHT YOU ARE, ALEX.

- Also, this is @el-gilliath‘s fault but Alex brings up that when cremated, the aliens give off toxic fumes - so what does that mean for Caulfield? All those aliens would have been burned alive someone somewhere would have noticed then, right?

 - Alex is so soft looking in this scene. 

- Which is hilarious cuz the next scene is him throwing the morgue doctor agains the wall.

- “I thought he was you.” Oh boy. Let’s not even begin to unpack that.

- Aaaaah this scene. Okay first off, fuck Flint. I hate him. “There’s a chain of command in this family.” Oooooh boy, so we’re gonna see that this season, right? Cuz I am so curious about the other two brothers and their involvement as well.

- “there’s a sealed incinerator at area 51, can’t exactly storm the place” I’VE GOT NEWS FOR YOU, ALEX. But it’s nice to see confirmation that Liz knows that Alex knows about everything too. Woo hoo, communication!

- “Flint was the Manes in my grade. He was always such a dick.” YESSSSSSSS.

- Michael’s speech about hope. Shit. He is just. “Hope screws people up. Hoping that your family will come and save you from the system. Hoping that anyone can be saved at all.” And poor Maria, she doesn’t know anything. Did she know about how Michael grew up? Because even Alex only knew he was living out of his truck as a rumor, and didn’t know the full extent until the junkyard talk in 1x10. So maybe Michael did have that hope for a moment in 1x13, that he went to the Pony thinking things could be different. But then Max died, and it reminded him that hoping just means more of the same shit.

- Also, Maria. Honey. Taking Michael’s keys doesn’t really mean anything. He’s a mechanic and a telekinetic alien.

- “Need help moving a body.” “If I had a dollar for every time I heard that.” LOL!

- No Kyle, your life is never going to be normal again. Nope.

- “The last thing Isobel needs is to get her hopes up.” Lots and lots of talk of hope this episode.

- “I always thought it was synthetic but if it’s organic” YOU MEAN LIKE HOW LIZ HYPOTHESIZED IN 1x08? Cool cool cool. I also love how their brains work, speaking of that callback. Liz is a biomedical engineer, this is her jam. Michael seems to lean more towards mechanical engineering, especially in 1x08 how he talked about the pods being “tech” and having a seam. But I am super curious about this idea that the alien organs can be fixed in a way, essentially being in line with Liz’s chosen field of study and her career path.

- It’s so cute how Michael gets a bit squeamish before he’s just totally in awe, like he’s probably never really gotten the chance to actually know anything about his own biology, and how it differs from humans - especially not before working with Liz in S1 to develop the serum antidote.

- Liz and Rosa, omg I love them so much. This conflict Liz is dealing with, she’s so happy to have Rosa back, but she’s so angry and so mad and so upset over losing Max at the same time. i LOVE LIZ ORTECHO.

- “I’m gonna fix it” GODDAMNIT Y’ALL LIZ ORTECHO. JUST... LIZ FUCKING ORTECHO.

- I am so looking forward to figuring out what’s up with Mimi and this wandering and why she had Rosa’s bracelet from the roadside memorial.

- Poor Isobel. This is gonna be an interesting story arc to see play out. Knowing what Carina said about it, I am much more interested in letting it play out before making any decisions on it. I’m not crazy about a pregnancy story line, but who knows what Carina has in store with it.

- Zombie!Max I think it’s interesting he says, “you’re the only one I can reach” and how that ties in with Liz’s earlier remarks about the handprints. Why was Rosa the only one to get a handprint? Is it because she was the most recent one Max healed? In the pilot, Max did say, “the mark could show up” so he knew there was a possibility it wouldn’t. But what does that mean? There’s definitely something more there, and I am excited to find out.

[theladylovingcrow]

New Places, Friendly Faces Part 2 (Sanny)

Author (As known on Various sites): Lady Lover- Rockfic, Luluthechoosingcrow - AO3, theladylovingcrow - Deviantart and Wattpad, @sammy_bluebells - Instagram, @imacrowcawcaw - main Tumblr, @theladylovingcrow - writing/art Tumblr, @insannywestan - Sanny shipping Tumblr

Fandom: Greta Van Fleet

Pairing: Sam Kiszka/Danny Wagner (Sanny), lil bit of Danny/Ronnie but he's quickly swept away with Sam

Length: about 2.7k

Warnings/Tags: Alternate Universe, Diner AU, No band AU, fluff, some angst, awkwardness, first dates, hand holding, flirting, Sanny

Summary: Danny was nervous; he had been building up the courage for weeks to arrange a date, and now.... He wasn't quite sure what to think of the situation he found himself in. The night certainly wasn't going as he had expected it to - and his emotions had never ridden a roller coaster this fast. Hell, the beautiful angel holding his hand wasn't even the one he had arranged to meet 2 hours ago.

Author's Notes: Here's the next part, it picks up right where the last left off! I'm hoping that I can update on a weekly basis - every Monday - but I'm not sure if I'll be able to punch out the next part quick enough, since I'm having a hectic week back home with all of my family. But I'll try!

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"Hey, I've got your pie. Mind if I sit and eat mine with you?"

Danny was startled into full consciousness again by that slightly raspy, warm voice he had been imagining calling his name. He looked up, wide eyed and probably gaping like a love struck fool at the super smart supermodel himself standing over his booth, a plate of pie in each hand.

He must have taken Danny's silence, or maybe the awed stare, as assent, because Sam sat down opposite him and set one of the plates of pie in front of Danny.

He cautiously picked up his fork and speared a bite of pastry, keeping a wary eye on Sam while doing so. Daydreaming about holding someone's hand and actually having them sit - uninvited, he might add - across from you were two very different things. Who knew what Sam was actually like, or what Danny would let slip out of his mouth if he got too comfortable?

Sam was already digging into his slice, gathering up a big forkful of flaky crusts and filling to shove into his mouth. Danny was honestly a little worried: he ate like he hadn't seen food in days, and he kind of looked it, too.

"Mmph, man, Stephen makes the best damn pie I've ever had. Just don't tell my grandma I said that," Sam confided in him with a wink, making Danny turn red. God, when had he *ever* been this flustered around someone? He wasn't making a very good impression sitting there mute and acting stupid, he was sure.

"Uhh, Sam... why did you come sit with me?"

Sam looked up at him, his brow quirked.

"How do you know my name? Are you one of Jake's friends?"

'Shit!'

"No, I heard it earlier from-" he was about to say Beiber, but luckily stopped himself, "From one of your brothers, the one with the straight hair. Which one is Jake?"

"Oh, that's him, and Josh is on his left, talking to Kyle. Micah and Jeremy are the ones having a fight with the butter knives by the way, they're the twins' best friends. Huh, I really thought you knew them, you look like the kind of guy that hangs out with us."

Danny wasn't sure if that was a compliment or not. He figured it would be best to stay silent and let Sam continue talking, lest he embarrass himself somehow.

"What are you- God, I seriously can't get enough of this pie. What are you doing here all by yourself? Trying to get away from your chores or something?" Sam asked, mouth full.

"What? No," Danny said, brow furrowing a bit. He was a good boy, he always did his chores - the least he could do to help his mom out, really.

"Hmm, maybe you're running away? No, I got it! You're actually a health inspector disguised as a regular customer, and you're gonna crack down on the roaches in the kitchen!"

Danny shook his head, reluctantly enjoying the little guessing game Sam had decided to start playing - he wouldn't want the real reason to come out. Or would he? Would that give him a shot with Sam?

'Get real, he's too pretty for you. And he's probably straight, and thinks you're straight, too.'

"Sam! You KNOW there are no roaches here, stop trying to scare away my customers!"

Ronnie came up, smacking him on the back of the head with her hand and smiling at Danny, as if to say 'Don't mind him.'

Danny smiled shyly back at her, commenting on how good the pie was. In truth, he hadn't even taken the single bite he'd put on his fork yet, but it was somehow less awkward to talk to her than to look at Sam.

She said she was glad he was enjoying it and went back to the kitchen to fetch him more coffee. He watched her go, wanting to ask her to stay but knowing that would be incredibly weird; Sam just made him so nervous, he would have felt better with Ronnie's calm demeanor and sweet smile there to help him breath.

"Oh! You're here for Ronnie!" Sam whispered, looking enlightened and possibly a little crestfallen (but Danny was pretty sure that was just wishful thinking).

"No, no, I'm not. She's just nice that's, all. I'm not after her, man," Danny said.

Even though he did find Ronnie very attractive - and he could admit he had a desire to spend more time with her - he wasn't staying solely because of her, and he certainly didn't want Sam to get upset with the thought that Danny was trying to hit it with his sister.

"Dude, it's alright, I'm not gonna kick your ass or anything. Unless you hurt her..." Sam trailed off, looking suddenly so menacing that Danny was actually a bit afraid.

"I- I'm really not."

It looks like Danny's mouth had chosen trying his luck with Sam over Ronnie and, honestly, he wasn't upset by that. Sam was absolutely gorgeous and incredibly interesting: bold, humorous, intelligent, pretty, everything that Danny ever wanted. If only Danny was in his ballpark.

"Oh, c'mon! You're just sitting here by yourself, obviously waiting for someone. And Ronnie's been smiling at you so much, always coming over to your table. Her shift's over in half an hour, where are you taking her?"

'Fuck! He's really not getting it!'

"Ronnie is beautiful, but I'm not here for her. I'm- I *was* on a date, but I'm pretty sure she stood me up, and now I'm only still here because you are."

Danny's face was bright red and probably kind of sweaty, he could tell by his reflection in the spoon on the table. He couldn't bear to look Sam in the face, instead choosing to focus on his slice of pie oozing cinnamon-apple filling onto the plate.

Ronnie came back and filled up his cup, setting down a few more pods of creamer next to it. Maybe she sensed the tension, because she didn't say anything to him, and Danny didn't offer any more than a small smile this time. Now that he had made up his mind about which sibling to go for, he felt a tad awkward around her - but, then again, Sam was making him feel pretty funny, too.

Sam had been silent since his admittance, and it was making Danny nervous as fuck. He opened a creamer and dumped it into his mug, stirring it and taking a testing sip, then finally trying a bite of the pie.

'God, Sam was right - this pie was *good*.'

And fuck, did he not want this to be the last time he could have pie with Sam. As much as the guy was making Danny feel like he was about to give a public speech - and Danny could not stress enough how nervous he was - he was desperate to not let this be the end of their short lived interaction.

'It's been, what? 15 minutes since he came in, 5 since he sat down, and 2 since I started ignoring him - pathetic. If I want any chance at getting a date, this isn't the way to do it.'

Danny had made up his mind: he was going to look up, make it very clear that he meant what he had said, and ask Sam if he was interested in going to a different diner with him, when Sam spoke up.

"I'm sorry that your date stood you up, but I'm glad you're still here. I was honestly gonna leave the guys and go home, but then I saw you in the window and I decided to come in; so, I guess, you could say I'm still here because of you, too."

"I- really?"

'What?!' Danny couldn't keep the grin off of his face. Sam was here for him, because he had seen him in the window, had specifically come in because Danny looked... fuck, what could he have possibly looked other than hopeless and awkward? The grin quickly morphed into a frown.

"I don't need the pity. I appreciate that you're trying to keep me company, but I should probably just go home, I've been here long enough."

Danny got up and started putting his coat on, leaving behind his nearly uneaten pie and cup of Joe. All he knew was that he had to get out of this humiliating situation and never, ever, see this beautiful, amazing asshole ever again.

Sam sighed and caught his arm, wrapping a surprisingly strong hand around Danny's wrist. Danny froze where he was, stopped in his tracks with half a coat on for the second time this night by Sam.

"I don't feel pity for you. I can emphasize with being dumped or stood up-" Danny snorted because, really, who the fuck would pass on a date with Sam? "But I came over here because I thought you looked like an interesting person to talk to and you're honestly super hot."

He had no clue what to say to that so he didn't do anything, just stood there, unmoving, with his limp hand still in Sam's.

Suddenly, Sam breathed out harshly and stood up, too.

"Fuck, I'm sorry if I read this wrong, or gave you the wrong impression, or something. You clearly don't want me hanging onto you. Sorry, I'll go now," he said, hurriedly dropping Danny's wrist and starting to walk away.

"Sam!" Danny called, putting his hand on the boy's shoulder.

Sam stopped but didn't turn. Beyond him, Danny could see that they had drawn the attention of Sam's brothers and friends, all of them turned to look at them having a little fight - and his traitorous brain immediately referred to it as a lover's spat - in the middle of the restaurant.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to get so defensive. I don't mind having you sit with me at all, so, please, come back and sit down with me."

They both slowly sat down again, Danny setting his coat to the side on the booth's leather bench. Sam balled up a napkin and Danny took a bite of pie, neither of them sure of what to say next, it seemed.

Finally, Danny figured he'd better elaborate a bit more. "'M sorry I accused you of pitying me, I just- I just don't know what else you could see other than some nerdy, lonely guy sitting in a booth by himself and watching your sister."

"Hey, I thought you said you weren't going after Ronnie," Sam immediately looked up and smiled at him, making Danny's heart flutter. He shrugged, conveying a non-verbal agreeance and admittance all at once.

"It's alright," Sam told him softly, causing Danny's breath to catch when he saw a slim hand tuck a strand of hair behind Sam's ear - possibly a sign if Sam's own nerves? "I honestly don't know why you've been putting up with me planting myself at your table and talking over you, so it's all good."

Danny wanted to protest, but Sam kept talking (perhaps there was some truth to what he had said). It seemed like, now that he had started, Sam wanted to get out all of whatever he had to say. Danny was perfectly okay with that.

"As I said, I saw you in the window when we were walking up and I just couldn't believe how attractive you were. Like, you're fucking gorgeous, and I just wanted to talk to you so bad and see what you were like. I may have intercepted Ronnie's pie delivery so I could have a reason to come up to you," Sam admitted.

Danny laughed, all of the air rushing out of him in a bout of relieved giggles. He took another bite of pie, making Sam beam back at him, showing he understood Danny's appreciation, of both the gesture and the food.

"Wow, I can't believe *you* find *me* attractive, but I'm not going to debate you on that. And I feel the same, man - like, have you seen yourself? As soon as you walked in, I was just completely in awe of you."

Sam was blushing now, too, and that made Danny's heart thump extra hard, a base drum pounding from his chest. He was grinning at Sam, and Sam was smiling back at him, both of them red and squirming in their seats but refusing to look away.

Danny saw Sam's hand reaching towards his on the table. His heart quickened and he held very still, as if trying not to frighten a scared animal by moving.

Sam's fingers found him, lightly running over the back of his hand and down to his knuckles. Danny let him explore for a time, then turned his hand over to *hold hands with Sam holy shit.*

A loud cheer of hoots and whistles sounded from across the diner. Danny looked up, startled, and Sam turned around in his seat, looking over at his table where all the other boys were apparently celebrating.

The curly haired twin - Josh, he was pretty sure (he hadn't paid overly much attention, focusing instead on Sam) - gave him a big grin and a thumbs up that could have been directed at him or Sam, he wasn't sure. Jake was the one whistling and howling, giving an almost predatory grin at Danny. Their other friends weren't as overt, but they certainly seemed happy that Sam had made up with the random guy in their sister's diner.

It made him a bit uncomfortable, but Danny was glad that Sam's siblings were okay with this - apparently they knew Sam was, in fact, into guys. Danny hoped that his family would be just as receptive, if he got that far with Sam.

'God, I hope I do.'

Sam was looking like he wasn't sure whether he should scold them or go over and high five Jake, but he didn't let go of Danny's hand. Danny found it endearing how happy he was, and how happy they all were, that Sam was over here with him - it made him feel good, like he was actually wanted and desired (in both platonic and romantic ways).

"They kinda convinced me to bring you the pie. Jake's been rooting for me to get a boyfriend for a while now, and he said you're perfect. I think I agree with him."

His blush, if somehow possible, got even darker. Sam was so hot, and such a nice person, it seemed - and he thought Danny was boyfriend material?! Danny's brain was having a riot on every single neurotransmitter simultaneously.

He had no clue how to eloquently respond to that in a way the conveyed his absolute joy, so he just stuck with a simple, "I agree too, I'd love to be your boyfriend."

Sam tightened his grip on Danny's hand, and Danny could feel how clammy his palms were. The knowledge that Sam was just as nervous, attracted, and happy as he was - it was blowing his mind.

Ronnie came over with his bill for the coffee and set it down right next to their linked fingers. She was beaming, looking back and forth between their hands and faces, clearly also in on the plot to get him and Danny together.

'*What the hell*, I don't even know any of these people.'

'Whatever, I don't care. SAM IS HOLDING MY HAND AND HE THINKS I'M HOT!'

"Rons, are you kicking us out?" Sam asked, gasping for dramatic affect, when he saw the bill.

'Shit, he's sassy, too.' Danny wasn't sure how he was going to handle such a personality-strong beauty, but fuck was he going to try.

"No, Sammy, you can take my car tonight and I'll ride home with Jakey and Josh." Ronnie replied, dropping a sey of keys onto the table. "But, if you have sex in there, *I am going to murder you*."

"No worries, I've got some standards. I mean, not that I don't want to or anything, but..." Sam trailed off, looking at Danny. He was going for provocative but it was mostly awkward; Danny bit his lip to stifle his laughter.

"Right... well, I'm officially off duty once I ring you up, so why don't you two get out of here and have some fun."

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

@satans-helper

@okietrish

@lazingonsunday

@bigthighsandstupidguys

@karrotkate

@oblvions

@lantern-inthenight

@mountainofthesunn

@ryetheruler

[padfootagain]

Welcome To Hell (III)

Part 3 : The Appointment

 I'm coming back with a new chapter for this series for Logan! I haven't updated it in ages, but I still like this AU.

I hope you all like this. It's the last fic for my 3.6k followers event!! I do hope you've enjoyed the event and the stories I have written for it.

Gif not mine

Word Count : 1951

There is an hour, right before dusk, when San Francisco and its bay are particularly quiet. People are still lost in a deep slumber, cars have quietened and no honks ring through the city. In the harbour and through the bay, the boats have stopped their engines, and even the sails are folded to rest. The sky, though still dark, is slowly becoming a little more luminous, the stars disappearing as the ink turns into greyish shades. This moment is undoubtedly the favourite for demons and angels to relax and meet up.

After all, they are similar creatures, who merely have lived different lives before their deaths, that drove them towards the side of light or darkness. But they are similar in more ways than they are different, and thus, they get along very well. After all, both demons and angels – or at least the agents that meet up at this hour of the night – are struggling with their jobs and to keep their status. Which means they are struggling not to be destroyed forever. Or well, that was the case for demons, angels merely got to no longer be able to visit Earth and instead of being burnt for eternity, got to drink pina colladas for the rest of time while watching constellations move through the nothingness of space. It was much less dramatic a fate indeed.

There is a bar on Broadway, in the Financial District, right at the corner leading to the bay and the embarcadero. It had once been made of wood, then rebuilt a couple of times when after being destroyed by earthquakes or simply to fit better in the district as the building materials changed. It was now made of red bricks. No one in town could actually decide on a date to fix the opening of the Grey Wings. Some historians place it right at the foundation of the city, others after the Second World War. If there is one thing they all agree on though is that it is a perfectly regular establishment that probably does not deserve its extreme longevity. But they come to this conclusion solely because they don't know about the second floor.

On the second floor of the Grey Wings, there is a second bar, that only angelic and demonic creatures have access to. The door to the staircase leading upstairs can only appear to creatures who have died, thus ensuring that only angels and demons have access, as all know that the zombies and other ridiculous creatures of the kind are not real.

Logan was one of the customers at the Grey Wings that night, like most nights since his assignment to San Francisco, actually. He was emptying his third glass of whiskey when a middle-aged woman came to sit next to him.

"Are my eyes deceiving me? Are you drinking alone?" Martha asked him with a playful smile, ordering a glass of whiskey as well to the impassable barman.

"So… you've learnt about my mission, huh?"

"Why do you say that?"

"I know I'm not your type."

Martha couldn't refrain a laugh.

"I know you're targeting Y/N Y/L/N, yes. But I can hardly see why though. She's one of the good ones. You don't stand a chance."

"That's what you think."

"Do you really have to do this one? I mean… there is no point in wasting both our time on people who are so fully on one side of the balance."

"I wouldn't be so confident if I were you. I'm going to make her turn."

"You will not, Logan. Don't be stupid."

"I'm going to destroy her world, and she'll be so desperate, she will be ready to do anything to get it back."

She rolled her eyes.

"Right, I guess we're doing this then."

"So… you'll be the one I have to fight against for the soul of a mortal…"

"You make it sound way more dramatic than it is. I didn't see your colleague though. Two against one is hardly a fair fight."

"Since when demons are supposed to play fair?"

"You have a point."

"Besides, Natasha is just a pun, I'm the one who will do most of the work."

"You know, one day, playing with the heart of people is going to get you into trouble."

"Only the good kind I hope."

"The kind that will break your heart too one day. One day, it'll backfire, and you'll be the heartbroken one."

"Don't you know, Martha? The heart is torn out of demons' chest when they're recruited. Hard to break something that isn't there."

She shook her head, taking her drink with her as she began to move away.

"We don't love with the pomp in our chest, Logan. We love with our brains, no matter what people say. And you still have a brain, don't you?"

Logan didn't reply. Out of habit, he ran his hand across his shirt, tracing the long scar that coloured his chest under the soft fabric. He barely noticed the absence of a beating in his ribcage these days. Only when he focused on what he should be feeling did he notice that there was nothing in his chest to feel. He drank up another gulp of whiskey.

Angels were ridiculous sometimes. Like all demons, Logan had lost his ability to love a long time ago, and the absence of a beating heart in his chest, well… it was a way for his boss to always remind him he was not human anymore.

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

 You were getting ready for your appointment with Natasha about her wedding. Ahlem was rearranging the roses on one side of the shop, while you waited for the couple to arrive. You loved taking care of weddings. They oozed happiness and there was nothing quite like the thought of participating in making such a happy day for two people even better.

The sun was hot and bright on California that day, but a fresh breeze was climbing up the busy streets of San Francisco to bring a little bit of salty scent up from the sea. A truck selling ice-creams passed before your shop. You smiled, it was a good day.

Natasha finally arrived, opening the door with a smile, her eyes hidden behind her pair of Ray-bans. And you welcomed her with a warm smile…

… until you recognized the man behind her.

"Hello, Y/N."

You couldn't hide the shock on your face as you recognized Paul stepping in your shop.

It couldn't be happening… very obviously, you were dreaming, or had been drugged, or had hit your head at one point and were now hallucinating…

Your ex-fiancé could not be coming to your shop to prepare his wedding with another… that… that couldn't be happening to you…

"Paul told me you knew each other well, it was obvious we had to come to you for our wedding," Natasha grinned a toothy smile.

"Yeah… we… do know each other very well," you slowly nodded. "Did he tell you how we met?"

"Oh, you mean… that you're his ex? Of course, he did! But it doesn't matter. I know it's important for him to close this chapter of his life."

Paul and Natasha exchanged a smile that made you feel a little sick. It was too sweet to be true.

"She really understands how I feel. She understands me so well," he added, with a look towards you that seemed a little accusatory.

You chose to ignore his behaviour.

"Well, I hope I can help you with your happy project," you replied with a neutral tone.

You let them sit down around the counter and started to talk about their wedding.

Wedding… your ex… after two months of relationship…

The two of you had broken up three months before and he had spent a month begging you to give him a second chance and make your life hell when you said no. And then one day it had stopped. Now, you knew why he had suddenly disappeared.

"So… do you have any ideas already? Where are you getting married?"

"Oh, we would like some white flowers. Roses, and also lilies," Natasha answered. "Nothing too extraordinary, but elegant and simple, you see."

"Sure," you nodded, taking notes. "Anything else?"

"We're getting married in three weeks, is that a problem for you?"

"No, not at all."

Natasha continued to describe the flowers she wanted. And what started with a couple of simple flowers ended up with a complicated description of a lot of bouquets. You reckoned that it would require a lot of work from you. A few sleepless nights awaited ahead.

You thought all had been said, and Natasha stood up to leave, but Paul asked for a moment alone with you. And Natasha didn't protest at all. On the contrary, she thanked you again and left the shop to wait outside. Your colleague was out of the room as well, you weren't sure if she was in the backroom or outside though.

"I meant to tell you about it myself, that's why I came to the shop the other day," Paul explained.

"Ahlem told me you came."

"You didn't call me back or anything."

"I didn't think it would do us any good."

"We don't have to be enemies."

"We're not. Not to me. But after what happened when we broke up, I can't imagine we can be friends either."

Paul looked down at his feet, before watching you carefully again. He seemed to be looking for the right words for a moment, and when he spoke again, he wore a soft voice.

"No, no, I guess we can't be just friends."

"I'm glad you've found someone else though. She seems nice."

Before you could push him away, he was reaching for your hands.

"Y/N… It doesn't have to be that way. We could still change it all…"

You snatched your hands away, taking a step back and shaking your head.

"Paul, don't be stupid. Don't say things like that."

"Don't tell me you didn't feel anything when you saw me walking in with her. I saw the look on your face."

"I was surprised, that's all! And I'm pretty sure you can understand why! Wouldn't you be shocked if you learnt I was engaged just three months after we broke up?!"

A thought formed in your mind, and you narrowed your eyes at him.

"You didn't get engaged and come here just in attempt for us to get back together, did you? To make me jealous or something."

"Of course not!" Paul defended himself, but you were not fully convinced. "Natasha is amazing."

"Then, how could you offer me something like this?"

"She's not you."

"Why are you marrying her then?"

"Apparently, I can't have you."

You heaved a sigh.

"You can't say things like that, Paul. It doesn't work between us."

"Because you didn't want to make it work. But we can both make some changes and it'll work."

"I don't want to make changes in my life, Paul. I love it."

"We could try…"

"No, we can't. I've told you, many times already."

"So, you don't care about that fact that I'm getting married to someone else?"

You chose to not reply. It was useless. He wouldn't listen to you anyway.

"Paul, you should go now."

He slowly nodded, his jaw clenched, and something in his eyes told you that if he yielded for now, to him the conversation was far from over. He left anyway, and you saw him and Natasha walk away from the shop hand in hand. You let yourself fall back on your stool.

What the hell was happening in your life right now? 

******************************************************

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[timelordthirteen]

Killing Time 15/?

Detective Weaver/Belle French, Explicit

Summary: A Woven Beauty Law & Order-ish AU. Written for Writer’s Month 2019.

Chapter Summary: The team tests a theory on the Branson brothers, with not so great results, and Weaver and Belle find themselves with a new puzzle to solve.

Notes: Sorry this chapter is so lame and short, much like the last one. I’m bridging to the later case and story stuff. For the Writers Month prompt #29: height difference.

Warnings: Please see AO3 for complete warnings and tags.The only updated tags are for the smut.

[AO3]  Previous: [1] [2] [3] [4] [5] [6] [7] [8] [9] [10] [11] [12] [13] [14]

“They look…weirdly alike.”

Belle tilted her head, eyeing the CCTV screen where they were observing Nick and Jack Branson sitting in holding cells opposite each other. It was Weaver’s idea. Rogers was getting nowhere with either of them in a regular interrogation, so they thought perhaps putting the brothers together would illicit some kind of response. Of course the men knew they were being watched, everything was watched in a prison or a police station, but that didn’t mean they wouldn’t give something away.

Weaver exhaled through his nose and frowned. “Yeah, there’s definitely a family resemblance.”

“I didn’t get a good look at Jack when he -” Belle trailed off and shrugged away the flash of memory of Jack’s face in the oven door.

Weaver glanced at her sideways. “You okay with this?”

She turned her head and looked up at him, her flat shoes making their minimal height difference even more apparent. He was so used to her in heels lately that it startled him how small she seemed right now, how easily her fight with Jack could have gone differently.

“Yeah,” she shrugged. Then she leaned towards Weaver, bumping his arm with her shoulder. “When do you think we’ll get the fireworks?”

Just then Rogers opened the door to the room and came in with a cup of coffee. “I don’t think we’re going to get any fireworks,” he said. “Those two have been holding the world’s most boring staring contest for the past forty minutes.”

Weaver huffed again. “We have to give it time. They know there’s cameras everywhere, so let them sit there for so long that they think we can’t possibly be paying that much attention to them.”

Rogers’ raised an eyebrow. “So you want me to stare at these screens for what? Ten, twelve hours?”

Weaver threw Rogers a look. “What? You have plans for the next three days?”

Belle snorted and shook her head. “Maybe we give it until the top of the hour, and then James can take Nick into a room for a bit.”

“You think that Jack will think his brother’s gonna narc on him?”

Weaver’s expression was dubious, and she rolled her eyes. “Well, it’s better than watching this paint dry that we’re doing now.”

“What if Ian does it?” Rogers asked after a long moment. He glanced back and forth between them, and shrugged.

“I’d love to,” Weaver said, smirking slightly and throwing a quick glare at the CCTV. “But the Captain said I was banned from this building until further notice.”

“And yet, here we are…” Belle commented absently.

She bit her lip and looked back and forth between the two screens, Jack on the left and Nick on the right. They had to break the stalemate and get something. The easy way out for the Branson brothers was to point the finger at each other and get a fucking hung jury, or worse reasonable doubt and a not guilty verdict.

“I think you should do it,” she said finally. “Let’s talk to Graham. It’s about appearances right? We need Jack to see you come in, see that you’re involved, and we need Nick to get a little bit scared.”

“You think he’s the weaker one?” Rogers asked. “Isn’t that a bit of a stereotype? The little brother?”

“Maybe.” She exhaled and folded her arms. “I guess we’ll find out.”

Rogers nodded and pulled out his phone, and a few minutes later Captain Graham Humbert was staring at all of them with narrowed eyes and a frown.

“Well, if all three of you think this is a good idea, I know it must be fucking insane.” Then he sighed. “But I agree, it might be the only way to at least get some kind of…something, out of them.”

Weaver and Rogers exchanged a look, and Belle let her head drop. She hoped this didn’t backfire horribly.

Weaver hissed as Belle dabbed at his knuckles.

The chill of the antiseptic quickly turned to a stinging pain, and he flexed his hand.

“Stay still,” she muttered, dropping the cotton ball in the trash before she picked up the box of band-aids.

He frowned. “It hurts.”

“Yeah.” She pulled open the band-aid and spread it over the back of his hand where a bloody scrape was still oozing blood, though much slower than it had been, smoothing it out over his skin. He winced slightly as the pressure sent a tiny shock of pain through his hand, and sat back in the chair.

It went without saying that the interrogation backfired. Nick had been calm and collected, and no matter what Weaver did, there was barely more than a raised eyebrow. At the very end, just as he’d given up on getting anything useful, Branson made a comment about what his brother had done to Belle.

“Ow!” He groused again, nearly pulling his hand away.

“That happens, I believe,” she said, giving Weaver a stern look, “when one punches a fucking wall.”

“Maybe I just wanted you to nurse me back to health.” She rolled her eyes, and he sighed. “You heard what he said. I couldn’t let that go.”

Belle took his hand and bent her head, pressing her lips to the edge of the bandage, softly. “I appreciate you trying to defend me, but that piece of shit isn’t worth it. And now he knows how easy it is to get a rise out of you.”

Weaver blew out a breath. “Yeah. Fuck.”

“Fuck, indeed,” said Rogers as he moved into the office. He sat on the corner of his desk and gave Weaver a withered look. “That is the last time I listen to either of you.”

Weaver raised his hands and then let them drop, slapping his palms against his thighs. “Fine. But it wasn’t even my idea.”

“I’m aware of that,” Humbert said, fixing Rogers with a glare as he stepped into the doorway. “I trust everyone in this room is done with half-baked ideas to interrogate Nick and or Jack Branson, and that the remaining walls of my station will remain dent free?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Rogers mumbled, as Weaver nodded beside him and flexed his injured hand. “Well, the boys are back in their cages, and we are back at square fucking zero.”

“Maybe not,” Humbert said, leaning against the door jam. “We have Eloise Gardner.”

Belle shook her head and made a face. “And a dead woman helps us how?”

Weaver raised his eyebrows at her. “Well, she doesn’t hurt us. Obviously, Nick knew where she was, and probably Jack did too. For all we know, she found out what they were up to and they killed her.”

“Yeah, but she’s clearly been dead for a while,” Rogers said, swallowing hard and trying not to think about what he saw in the garbage bag. “She might have even been dead before they ever started on the others. She could have been their first.”

“But what if she wasn’t?” Humbert asked, his lips curving slightly as he looked between Belle and Weaver. “We don’t know, and we need to find out.”

“What are you saying, Captain?” Weaver asked, leaning back in the chair. “We’re off the case. By your orders.”

“You’re off the Branson case,” he said. “Eloise Gardner is her own case as far as the department is concerned. We don’t know that she’s officially connected, and if she is, in what way.” Belle looked at Weaver at the same time he looked at her, and Captain Humbert cleared his throat.

“I’ve spoken with Midas,” he continued. “Since we can’t officially prove that Eloise has anything to do with the existing cases, we’ve agreed that you two can look into it.”

Belle let out a short laugh, and glanced at Weaver, who had started to grin. “Right…so?”

Weaver stood up and nudged her shoulder. “So…looks like we’re back on the case.”

[rowdywarrior85]

STRANGER THINGS PRESENTS: 8/11, PART 3 (ISSUE 2)

(Mike starts to see how Hopper felt about him and El, as Nancy drives off to the Holloways. Once there, they discover the house is freezing, cleaning products devoured, the dining room a complete mess. Nancy and Jonathan piece together what happened, the gang then find out where the Flayed’s hideout is. Will suggested they locate Mrs. Driscoll at the hospital so she can lead them to the hideout. Once they get there, Nancy and Jonathan head up to check on her, Mileven and Lumax reconncet, while Will heads for the bathroom. He goes to the cubicle to take a piss, once he finishes, he flushes and opens the door to find Kali waiting outside.)

KALI: Yes, I’m really here.

(Will is stunned to see her in the men’s room but was by her to wash his hands.)

KALI: Oh, come now, Will The Wise, I’m hear to talk.

WILL: Can you please not call me that anymore, please?

KALI: Of course, William.

WILL: You just like complicating things, don’t you?

KALI: Oh, true right you. You could loosen up too, you know.

(She grabs some paper towels for Will.)

Come on, admit it, you are fascinated by me, aren’t you?

WILL: (takes the paper towels) Occasionally, yes.

(He turns to Kali.)

When you’re not acting so dangerous.

KALI: Dangerous? DANGEROUS?

(moans) I’d take that as a compliment, really.

WILL: Please don’t.

KALI: Don’t what?

WILL: You know what? We’ve been through this, I’m too damaged.

KALI: So what? I’m damaged too, William. What are you so afraid of?

WILL: Afraid? Of what, you?

KALI: You’re trembling.

(Both Will and Kali are face to face, with Kali inching ever closers to Will.)

WILL: I’m not trembling.

KALI: (low tone) You’re into me because I’m dangerous. There aren’t enough dangerous girls in your life, are they William?

WILL: I like good girls.

KALI: I can be a good girl for you.

WILL: No you’re not, you’re…

(A caressing kiss meets their lips, slowly becoming passionate.)

WILL: Is this really happening?

KALI: Oh, I think we wanted this to happen since we met, and it looks like you needed this for a long time.

WILL: What if somebody walks in.

KALI: I already locked the door.

WILL: Oh, what the hell.

(Both of them barge into a empty cubicle. Kali pushes Will to sit down on a toilet, takes off her vest, hangs it up, straddles Will then locks lips with him while placing her sword on the back end of the toilet. As the two couple caress each other in close embrace, up on the 4th floor, Nancy and Jonathan find themselves battling Tom and Bruce who appear to be flayed. After a tense fight, Jancy manage to defeat them, but unknowingly unleashed their true forms. Kali notices the lights start flickering as Will kisses her neckline.)

KALI: Uh, Will?

(She looks down to Will, who seems to be copping a feel.)

Um, Will.

WILL: Hmm. OH, SH…

(Will takes his hand off her breast.)

Sorry.

KALI: Are the lights suppose to be doing that.

(Kalium recovers from each other and stand up. Kali mounts her sword on the back of her belt, and Will feels the back of his neck which only means one thing.)

KALI: What’s wrong, William? It’s here, isn’t it.

WILL: Jonathan, Nancy.

KALI: (dons her vest) Shall we?

(Both of them exit the cubicle.)

And William, not bad for your first go.

(Kali strokes his cheek and makes for the door.)

WILL: (smiles) Thanks.

(Out in the waiting room, the Party notice the flickering lights. At that moment…)

EL: Where is Kali?

MIKE: Where’s Will?

(Men’s room door flies open, Kali and Will run out to the elevator.)

KALI: Let’s go.

WILL: 4th floor, stairs.

MIKE: You wanna explain what you two were doing in the bathroom FOR 10 MINUTES?

KALI & WILL: (looking back at Mike) SHUT THE FUCK UP AND GET IN!!!

MAX: Told you.

(The Party race up the stairs.)

KALI: (panting) Once we get there, Jane and I will take point.

(Upstairs, Tom and Bruce’s bodies break down to regular sized blobs of flesh, blood, muscle and bone. They combine to form a TomBruce Flayed hybrid. The beast chases after Nancy into a room under construction. Nancy closes the door, but the TomBruce hybrid oozes its way inside through the crack and vent of the door. All seems lost for Nancy, but El blasts through the door and takes TomBruce for a ride across the room before throwing it out the window, down to the parking lot. TomBruce escapes through the sewers to join the B.M.F.)

Well, there’s something you don’t see everyday.

(July 4th, Hawkins gears up the Independence Day celebration. Meanwhile, the Party regroup at Hopper’s cabin. El tries to locate the Flayed in the Void, much to Mike’s dismay. Nancy, Jonathan and Will try to find the Flayed through the yellow pages, with Kali listening in. Then…)

MAX: OK, can you guys settle an argument for us? Who do you think should decide El’s limits? Mike or Eleven?

MIKE: The way you frame that is such bullshit.

(Kali’s obviously had enough of Mike’s bullshit. So she flings out her sword and threateningly puts it to Mike’s throat, prompting him to shut the fuck up. Everybody backs up, except Will who’s obviously calm around her.)

KALI: STEADY, EVERYBODY!!!

(She then looks to Mike, Mike nervously looks to her.)

Bullshit? You don’t see it, do you, Michael? That’s the same aggressive yet possessive ‘tude that lost you Jane in the first place.

MIKE: And for the last goddamn time, Kali, her name is El.

KALI: Like I give a fuck.

NANCY: El dumped you?

KALI: Royally, I might add.

MIKE: El dumped me because these two high and mighty bitches conspired her against me. They’re corrupting her.

KALI: See? You’re doing it now, and you don’t even realize it.

MAX: For the record, we’ve been enlightening her. The fact is, she’s not yours. She’s her own person, fully capable of making her own decisions.

MIKE: She’s risking her like for no reason.

NANCY: For no reason? Mike, the Flayed are out there doing God knows what.

LUCAS: Killing, flaying…

WILL: Transforming into monsters.

NANCY: And El’s not stupid. She knows her abilities better than any of us.

MAX: Exactly, thank you.

NANCY: And she is her own person.

KALI: Too right, you.

NANCY: With her own free will.

MAX: Exactly. El has saved the world twice, and Mike still doesn’t trust her.

MIKE: You want to talk about trust, really? After Kali took her around Chicago on her Government killing spree.

(Kali raises an eyebrow at Mike.)

She told me.

KALI: Of course, she did.

MIKE: (to Max) Not to mention you making her spying on us.

LUCAS: Wait, what?

MIKE: Oh, she didn’t tell you this? Your girlfriend used El’s powers to spy on us.

MAX: No, no, no, I did not make her. It was her idea. And why are even talking about this, seriously?

WILL: Yeah, who cares?

LUCAS: I care.

MIKE: Yeah. I guess girlfriends don’t lie, they spy. Yours, too, Will.

KALI: Now your just being mean.

MAX: We were just joking around.

MIKE: Wouldn’t it been so funny if I was taking a massive shit or something?

(Will and Kali smile at each other.)

MAX: You weren’t.

MIKE: But what if I was?

MAX: Then, gross.

KALI: When are you going to learn, Michael? It’s not always going to be about you and what you want.

MIKE: I’m just trying to demonstrate how careless Max is with El’s powers. In fact, how careless all of you are. Especially you, Kali. You’re treating her like some kind of machine when she’s not a machine, and I don’t want her to die looking for the Flayed when they obviously vanished off the face of the Earth. So can we please just come up with a new plan, because I love her and I CAN’T LOSE HER AGAIN!!!

(The Party are godsmacked at Mike’s closing remark, especially Kali.)

KALI: Well, shit, mate.

(Kali withdraws her sword, and sheathes it.)

That’s all you had to say.

MIKE: Oh, shut up, Kali.

(El opens her room door.)

EL: What’s going on?

KALI: Oh, nothing, Jane. Just clearing up a few things here and there. Any luck?

EL: I found him.

(The Party stand by while El searches for Billy in the Void. El removes her blindfold, informing the others that Billy sitting in his room. At to which time, they formulate a plan, while El and Kali are in the kitchen recuperating. Suddenly, El spots the Lucky Charms box, more specifically the rainbow on the box. She remembers finding Kali using what was left of her Mom’s memories. She then relays the plan to the others.)

MIKE: El, I know you think you have to do this, but you don’t. It’s just you only done this before once. And your Mom, she loved you, and wanted you to know what happened. And Billy’s mind is… is sick, diseased. The Mind Flayer is in him.

EL: He can’t hurt me, not in there.

MIKE: We don’t know that.

EL: Mike, I need you to trust me.

(Mike looks to Max, then back to El.)

MIKE: Yeah. Just… be careful.

KALI: She will. Because I’m going into the Void with her.

EL: No, I can’t ask that of you.

KALI: Jane, what have I always said to you?

EL: Mother brought us together for a reason.

KALI: And Funshine said that one day, we would need each other before the end. Today is that day.

(El nods in understanding. Both girls sit closely across from each other. They grasp left hands, covering their numbers, then grasp their right hands.)

Boys, blind us.

(Mike and Will grab blindfolds and stand behind their significant others.)

MIKE: No matter what happens, Kali, stay with her.

(Mike blindfolds El.)

KALI: I intend to.

(Will blindfolds Kali. Both boys sit with the Party, as the sisters prepare to enter the Void. In the Void, they find Billy sitting on his bed. They approach him with extreme caution. El walks up to Billy, with Kali right behind her. El then takes Billy’s hand.)

EL: Billy. Can you hear me? I want to see, I want to see what happened.

(Billy looks up to El, while Kali looks with intent. Suddenly, Billy take both hands to El’s arm. Kali frantically tries to break his grip.)

EL: Stop! NO! NO! NO! NO!

KALI: JANE! FUCK OFF!!

(Kali then drop kicks him in the face, breaking his grip. The sisters fall backwards, landing on a beach, surrounded by seagulls. The sisters relay what they see. They’re on a beach, where they see a woman. She’s cheering on a boy who rode a 7ft wave, she calls him Billy. They realize the boy in the vision is Billy as a boy, the woman was his mom, and the beach is in California. They’ve successfully entered his mind. El then sees the source, a red storm down the coast. El and Kali stare down this hurricane of anger and violence, the wind blowing at them from the right.)

Well, we didn’t come all this way for nothing.

EL: No.

KALI: Take my hand, Jane. Don’t ever let go.

EL: OK.

(The sisters continue their way to the storm. As they make their way to the center, they see Billy’s descent into anger and violence. They see his father berating Billy’s performance in Little League, the domestic abuse Neil unleashed on Billy’s mom which drove her to leave Billy with his father, the fights, and of course integrating Max for the first time. Finally, they made it to the eye of the storm, which is the Brimborn Steelworks. The sisters try to escape, but find themselves back to the cabin, without the Party.)

EL: Mike?

KALI: Michael? William?

EL: Mike?

KALI: Maxie? Lucas?

EL: Mike?!

KALI: Nancy? Jonathan?

EL: MIKE!?!

BILLY: (deep resonating voice) They can’t hear you.

(The sisters turn around. Kali draws her sword, ready for anything. They see Billy stepping out of Hopper’s room, putting out his cigarette).

KALI: Well, shit.

BILLY: You shouldn’t have looked for me. Because, now I see you. Now we can all see you.

(The Mind Flayer is speaking through Billy, as the girls try to keep their distance from him.)

You let us in. And now, you are going to have to let us stay.

(El looks to him in horror, as Kali keeps a straight face.)

Don’t you see? All this time, we’ve been building it.

(El starts sobbing, as Kali points her sword at Billy, trying to keep him away.)

We’ve been building it for you.

KALI: Billy, I know you can here me.

BILLY: All that work, all that pain, all of it… for you.

KALI: Listen to me. The Mind Flayer is using you for your anger just to get what he wants. When it’s all over, he will destroy you. Please Billy, you have to fight it.

(Kali conjures up a wall of flames to separate Billy from her and El.)

Fight the darkness inside you.

(Billy starts chuckling.)

BILLY: Your illusions won’t save you. Or her.

(Billy walks through the flames, much to the girls’ disbelief.)

KALI: Fuck me.

BILLY: And now, the time has come. Time to end it. And we are going to end the both of you. And with you out of the way, we are going to end your friends. And then, we are going to end… EVERYONE.

KALI: (lowers her sword) Not if we can we can help it, you unearthly motherfucker.

(Billy growls, then roars. El throws up her hands.)

EL: GET AWAY!!!

(El throws Billy across the cabin. The sisters bail out of Void, El screaming in fear, Kali trying to calm her down.)

KALI: JANE!! LOOK AT ME!! LOOK AT ME!! Look at me. Look at me. It’s OK. We’re alright.

(As the fireworks go off in the background, El and Kali explain to the Party what they saw in the Void. Kali messaging El’s shoulders to calm her down.)

EL: He said that he was building something. That it was all for me.

MAX: Building something. Is he talking about the Flayed?

NANCY: He must be.

LUCAS: So, he’s building an army, just like we thought.

MIKE: Yeah, but he’s building his army to spread.

WILL: He’s building it to stop Eleven.

MIKE: Last year, El closed the gate on him. I have a feeling that really pissed him off.

LUCAS: Like, royally.

MIKE: And the Mind Flayer now knows that she’s the only thing that can stop him. But if she’s out of the way…

KALI: Game over, for all mankind.

EL: He also said he was gonna kill all of you.

MAX: Yeah, well, that’s nice.

KALI: You weren’t there, Maxie. You didn’t see what we saw in the Void. We saw it vividly. A single tear falling on his face. It was like he was trapped deep inside this monster, and he couldn’t get out.

(Suddenly, they hear a faint screeching noise outside. Nancy moves to the noise.)

NANCY: Do you guys hear that?

JONATHAN: It’s just the fireworks.

NANCY: Billy…

(Nancy turns to the sisters.)

When he told you this, it was here, in this room?

(The sisters nod. The screeching was followed by heavy thudding. Will starts feeling the back of his neck.)

KALI: William?

WILL: He knows we’re here.

(The gang dart outside, where they see thee B.M.F. storming its way toward their location.)

KALI: Everybody inside, batten the fuckin’ hatches, and arm yourselves.

(Nancy grabs a pump-action shotgun out of the shed and starts loading it. Jonathan grabs an ax outside. The others cover the windows and bar the doors with whatever’s in the cabin. Kali finds Kentucky Bourbon in the liquor cabinet, and a matchbox.)

NANCY: Hey, get away from the windows.

(The Party gather up in the center of the cabin. They wait anxiously as the B.M.F. approaches, its thudding shaking the ground.)

WILL: It’s close.

KALI: Jane, back to back now.

(El and Kali go back to back, Kali draws her sword, ready for anything.)

(Japanese) Death before dishonor.

(All is quiet. Then, a single tentacle bursts into the cabin, reaching for El. Nancy and Jonathan try to stop it, but to no avail. The tentacle prepares to kill Nancy, but El stops it. Kali takes note, and lops its tip off, forcing the tentacle to retreat. Two more burst in, El stops them.)

(English) On your left.

(Kali lops the tip off the tentacle on her left, El snaps the tip of the one on her left, forcing them to retreat as well.)

IS THAT ALL YOU GOT, MOTHERFUCKER!?!

(B.M.F. answers with a tentacle from the roof, biting her leg and reeling her in. Mike nabs her in time, the others join in, trying to keep El from being eaten by the B.M.F. Nancy reloads the shotgun and tries to slow it down, but to no avail. Kali eyes the bottle of Kentucky Bourbon on the counter, and goes for it.)

NANCY: You’re picking now for a drink?

KALI: Not exactly.

(Kali lops the top of the bottle, takes a swig, and spits the Bourbon onto the blade. She then lights a match.)

LUCAS!!!

(She ignites the alcohol-soaked blade, the sword is ablazed in fire.)

BOOST ME!!!

(Kali runs to Lucas at fill speed, as Lucas preps his hands for a boost. Her foot connects with his hands, sending Kali flipping with a half-gainer towards the B.M.F., lopping off the tentacle with her flaming sword special. The Party finally gets El back, with the tentacle head still embedded in El’s leg.)

Don’t move.

(Kali takes her flaming sword and stabs the tentacle head, forcing it to let go of El, and flings it back at the B.M.F. She holds the flaming sword at the B.M.F., as El recovers and proceeds to rip its head apart, immobilizing it momentarily. Kali then sheathes her sword, putting out the flame.)

LET’S MOVE!!!

(The Party breaks for the Station Wagon and race away from the temporarily weakened B.M.F. They later break into a convenience store to tend to El’s leg wound and of course gather ammo at the fireworks stand for the B.M.F. Suddenly, Mike hears Dustin on the walkie-talkie. Dustin tries to warn Mike and the gang about the Russians invading Hawkins, but the battery in his walkie-talkie was dying. So, El has to go into the Void to locate Dustin, who’s at the movie theater in the Starcourt with Erica tending to a drugged Steve and Robin. Dustin, Steve, Erica and Robin are being chased through the mall by Russian guards. One of the guards believe they’re hiding behind an ORANGE JULIUS, which they are. Before the Russians engage, the car alarm on the Chrysler goes off, and starts floating. They looks up and see El is moving the Chrysler with Kali at her side, the Party behind them.)

(Russian) Need a lift, comrades?

(El sends the car flying, killing the Russians, and saving Dustin and his crew. Both parties reunite, exchange intel, including the Russians invading Hawkins.)

(English) Hang about. You said Russians in this mall.

DUSTIN: Yup. This mall is a front for a secret Russian base.

KALI: My God.

MAX: What’s up, Kali?

KALI: When I was hiding out in LA, this Russian agent I tortured told me about a secret Russian base here. I thought he was dicking with me, but it’s true. Bloody Hell, it’s all true.

DUSTIN: I’m sorry, who the Hell are you again?

MIKE: Dustin, this is Kali. El’s sister from the lab.

DUSTIN: Holy shit, El has a cool sister. Please to meet ya.

(Dustin and Kali shake hands.)

KALI: Oh, likewise, Dustin.

LUCAS: And she’s also Will’s new girlfriend.

WILL: GUYS, SHUT UP!

DUSTIN: Shut the fuck up, Will. You’re hitting that?

WILL: Well…

DUSTIN: NICE!!! It’s about time for you, Will. So, Kali. You got any cool, kick-ass powers like El?

(Kali looks to Dustin. Just then, Dustin hears a guttural growling behind him. He turns around and is delighted to see his Demo-Dog pet, Dart. He kneels toward him to pet him, but his hand passes through him. He turns to Kali in delight of her illusion skills. Just then, she notices El falling to the ground.)

JANE!!!

(Kali slides to her side, followed by Mike and the gang. El starts complaining about her leg, which is infected by the B.M.F.’s bite. Now, a part of the M.F. is squirming inside El. Jonathan rushes to the Teriyaki stand kitchen in the food court, grabs a butcher knife to heat up, a wooden spoon and plastic gloves. He brings them over to help cut out the Flayed piece inside her. She bites down on the wooden spoon, as Jonathan dons the gloves then cuts into El’s leg. He then reaches his plastic covered hand in her leg to try and reach for the Flayed piece. El starts screaming.)

EL: NO! STOP IT! STOP! STOP! I can do it, I can do it. Kali, help me up.

KALI: Right. Jane, listen to me.

(El attempts to get the Flayed piece out.)

Remember all that I taught you. Use the one memory that truly angers you, let it fill you up. Then, let it right out.

(El struggles with the Flayed piece.)

[satire-please]

Take a Sad Song and Make it Better - Final Part

Day 7 - Your Idea of Choice = What tropes or things would you like to see?

Bed sharing. I love bed sharing. Whether it’s platonic or romantic, get my favorite characters in the same bed.

If an Alfred knows you’re not sleeping, then you better leave the country.

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6

Tim wants so little. Really.

He just wants to makes his plans, follow his plans, and have no wrenches thrown at his plan.

Is that too much to ask?

Example, when he makes a plan to help with his sleep debt, okay when he’s forced to. Yesterday Alfred cornered him, loomed over him listing every medical study on how the efficiency of the human mind decreases without adequate rest.

It ends up being a pathetic exchange.

Something like, “Master Tim, do you even know the last time you have had six hours of sleep?”

Tim had opened his mouth to argue, he’s got this, finger raised and ready–

“In a row?”

Tim’s mouth snapped closed, his body deflating faster than a balloon.

“Why, it’s been weeks. How completely unacceptable.” Then Alfred patted his hand, gave him that patient, expectant look and helpfully rearranged his schedule.

Deleting everything on his itinerary.

Tattle-telling him to Tam. Informing the Teen Titans of Red Robin’s condition and need. Coercing him to hand over his case files, all of them, to be locked down for the next 24 hours. It’s not fair.

It leaves him no options but to concede. So he makes a plan. A sleep plan.

Get at least seven hours, ugh dammit Alfred, nine hours of sleep this Saturday. Therefore appeasing the demon butler of Gotham so he can get back to his vigilante, crime-fighting ways.

He’s graciously allowed to choose his sleeping arrangements, even though when he picks the Perch, a furrow appears on the older man’s forehead. But there he has the best mattress a rich CEO can buy. Tam ordered it for him because every now and again she likes to remind him to get some sleep before she kills him.

There’s a reason she and Alfred get along so well.

It’s a giant thing. A California King that he can starfish out in any direction with a foot or two of extra space to spare. It’s the most seductive siren Tim has ever encountered. It’s allure stronger than the deluxe coffee shop in downtown Gotham that refuses to sell their company to Tim Drake Wayne. No matter how much Tim begs. Honestly, Tim feels like he’s having an torrid affair on the things he loves when he sits down on the mattress and sinks.

So the Perch is ideal because of one, the perfect bed. Two, he’s isolated from distractions that could hinder his ‘rest.’ And lastly, he’s blessedly alone.

It’s perfect conditions for a nap.

Until Dick Grayson taps twice on his bedroom window at three o’clock in the morning.

It wakes him up immediately.

Boom, a wrench in his plan.

Groggily, Tim crawls across the bed to the window. He cracks it open an itch. “What do you want, Dick?” Maybe he can convince Dick that this is not the time and to go away.   

“Can I sleep with you tonight?” Is murmured softly in the dark. He can’t see his face, but whatever sharp retort Tim was going to say melts away. That’s not Dick’s regular voice.

“I’m sorry...Please?”

It’s a voice that needs. A voice that pleads. Where the word cracks a smidge in the middle and Tim has never said no to that voice before...he doesn’t plan to start now.

So instead of reminding Dick that he’s a grown-ass man, he sighs, cracks the window large enough for Dick to slide his gloves under and pull. The older vigilante oozes through the opening to slump on the bed with Tim.

“You’re not wearing the suit to bed. No boots on the covers, Dick.” It’s the only demand Tim gives that night. Hurriedly Nightwing strips down to the undersuit, kicking off the boots and tossing the gauntlets to finish the messy pile on the floor.

“Thanks, Timmy,” Dick whispers getting under the covers. He’s shaking. Tim doesn’t bother to ask. He’s a detective. They all have demons of their own, shadows they jump at and bad nights.

If this is how he can help Dick through one of his?

He’ll do it.

“Just go to sleep.”

Dick hums and throws an arm over Tim’s shoulders to pull him in. Dick’s addicted to being the big spoon. Tim grumbles but allows it. He’s forgetting something. What is he forgetting? Yet, the heat pressing on his back is nice, his head finds a new pillow on his brother’s arm and Dick’s breathing gets low and even. It puts Tim straight back to sleep.

They forgot the window.

It is a mistake.

At 5:00 am, Tim hears a new noise.

Weighted footsteps that pace towards his bed. He jerks, his arm sliding under the pillow to grab the shuriken there. Steady….steady

“Drake, do you perhaps know of Grayson’s location? Father has been looking everywhere for him, ah–There he is.”

“No.”

“What do you mean no? He is obviously right behind you, do you think my eyes are dysfunctional?”

“Your face is dysfunctional,” Tim says under his breath. He’s tired. The weight of his eyelids are angry with him. “No, I mean no as in I want to deny your existence in my room, in my Perch. Like now, when I’m trying to sleep. What’s next? Jason kicking down my door? Cass taking my couch?”

“Cassandra is already on your couch.”

Tim jerks up, but Dick’s arm is solid around his waist so he’s unable to get up and check.

“Cass?” He calls. “Are you there?”

Muffled through the door, barely heard is, “Sleep now, talk later.”

“Figures. Just figures.” Tim fumes but when Dick whines at him in his asleep, he slumps back into the bedding and glares at a smug Damian.

“I need to move to another safe house.”

“We know the locations of all your safe houses.”

“Then I will make a new one.”

“Try your hand, but Grayson is very talented at tracking down those that do not wish to be found.”

Tim scrunches up his face, eyeing Dick out of the corner of his eye. He knows that fact already.

“I see I have no other choice.” Damian presses a hand to his com, “Batman, Nightwing is here as you expected.”

“Expected?” Tim can feel one of his red eyes twitch.

“He is apparently enforcing Agent A’s desire to reduce the sleep deprivation of one of our other members.”

“Yeah, which none of you are helping with by the way.” Tim hisses, poking at Dick’s arm, Dick throws his leg over his in retaliation.

“Yes, Batman. I know.” Damian bites his lip, listening to the response over the com, “Yes, I shall take measures to rest as well. We will report to you in the morning.”

“We?”

Damian clicks the com off and pulls it out of his ear.

“Damian. Damian, what is this ‘we’ you speak of?”

But the younger boy ignores him, just sits on the bed and unlaces his boots. It’s when Damian has shrugged out of the tunic that Tim finally gets the memo.

“Oh come on! Really? No.”

Damian sets a neatly folded pile of gear next to Dick’s haphazard spread.

“Something...affected Grayson poorly tonight.” He says before Tim can argue more. “Perhaps in the abuse case, we stopped tonight. The male victim...had been roughly traumatized by his partner. At the end of patrol, he sent me ahead towards the manor...yet I do not wish to be far from him. Besides, taking watch ensures the livelihood of one’s allies.”

“You are so weird.” Just say you’re worried and that you care gremlin.

“Likewise,” something shifts in his expression, going carefully blank. “Therefore can you agree to stay on your side of Grayson?”

“Oh. My. Gosh. On my side of—are you serious? I can’t believe—“ Tim stops and inhaled slowly through his nose, counting to ten, to fifteen. You know what? Screw it. He could argue more, but every second spend bickering is another second not sleeping which is the point of his Saturday, sleeping. And no one is going to take that away from him, especially not one ninja troll.

“I suppose however...if the proximity bothers you, perhaps Cassandra may be willing to share the sofa…”

“Fine. Just fine. Get in bed. If you kick me in your sleep know that I’ll kick you right back.”

Damian sniffs haughtily, any tentativeness leaving his figure. “Very well. Now continue your guard on Grayson’s front–”

“Guard, Damian? I’ve been reduced to a bony stuffed animal. Dick is crushing me so hard that I can’t move.”

“–While I protect his back.” He climbs over their entangled limbs to flop behind Dick. The covers rustle as the boy gets comfortable. “Now be silent, Drake. Or my report to Father and Pennyworth will not be in your favor.”

“...Brat.”

“Idiot.”

Surprisingly, even when he’s in bed with the would-be-assassin child, you know the one that almost killed him, it’s only moments before Tim is–

Out.

There’s an irritating clicking noise. Tim wrinkles his nose. Maybe it will stop? Click. Click. His closed eyelids tell him it’s less dark than it used to be. Still, if he can just squeeze them shut and–

Click.

It takes a minute to place it, his brain not all functional, but it’s definitely the shutter of a phone camera. Tim squeezes whatever is in his arms and buries his face in spikes of soft hair. Wait.

“Oh my gosh, you guys are so cute. I need a hundred of these, no a thousand! Alfred is going to love seeing this. I can’t wait to show him!”

“Dick? Dick wha–” Tim blearily groans. He lets one eye slit open a sliver, there’s Dick kneeling next to the bed. His eyes sparkling as he holds his phone up for another angle. There’s a weak murmur as someone nuzzles his collarbone. Tim’s whole body freezes immediately. Eyes now wide open, brain completely on, panic is the best wake up alarm after all.

Tim gulps and slowly turns his head to the bedside clock. Do not make any sudden movements. He realizes he’s gotten not nine, but twelve hours of sleep.

“Oh, I wish you guys were always like this!”

He winces when Damian’s arms become a vice around his waist at the volume Dick’s voice. Squeezing, then relaxing. Tight, release. Asleep for now, but Tim begs with his eyes for Dick to shut up before the demon wakes.

“Stop taking pictures Dick, and help me. This is serious.”

He hopes Alfred is satisfied with the overall outcome. Sure he’s gotten his rest, but now Tim’s in mortal peril. It’s the most dangerous situation he’s ever been in his life.

Being in Damian’s arms like this.

Alfred better be happy.

He better be.

[poppyknitt]

You Sure It’s Not A Dog?- A JSE Egos Fanfic

Recap: Schneep has inadvertently adopted a small horseshoe bat (which is a kind of fruit bat), as a result of it smashing through his window and breaking one of its wings, rendering it entirely useless. Chase seemed to be extremely fascinated by the little creature, and upon discovering that he (the bat) had no name, despite having been around for ages, opted to call him “Nectar”, for his and the rest of his species’ love of nectar. Oh, also, Jackie has a Peregrine Falcon for a sidekick, and Marvin accidentally created two sentient, carnivorous plants, one free-roaming and snake-like in build but cat-like in nature (named “thorn”), and the other (named “chomp”) too large and mouthy to be allowed anything other than confinement to a pot.

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[April 11th, 2017, our time]

Henrik hurried to the vet’s, his bat friend on his shoulder, as he cradled a cat meowing in pain, with slightly bloody bandages poorly wrapped around its head. He had found it stumbling clumsily around an alleyway, blood slowly oozing from where its eyes should’ve been, clearly having just lost them in a fight a few hours beforehand. The poor thing was obviously getting a bit lightheaded, and the fuzz around its eyes was stained with half-dried, old, and new blood, presumably each from when it had its head in different positions during a rest.

As soon as he stepped through the door to the clinic, the clerk was calling for one of the veterinarians, and several of the other medical staff worked the cat out of his arms and started asking questions.

“How did this happen?!”

“I am afraid I do not know. I found him stumbling out of an alleyway with his eyes like this, so I dropped everything, wrapped them up, and took him here straight away.”

By this point, Dr. Lewis was quickly rushing the cat to a room he could not see.

“Do you know how much blood he’s lost?!” The nurse continued to ask questions, clearly worried.

“Enough to make him dizzy, but in terms of cat, I am unaware of how much that actually is. They are not as big as humans, so it could be anything from eight of a liter to a full liter, and I would not know.”

“He may have to stay here for a night or so. Is that alright?”

“Yes, is fine! Just get the poor thing’s eyes fixed or something, I do not care how long it will take.”

“Okay. Thank you for bringing him so soon, and for being so patient. We’ll update you on his condition as soon as we know he is stable enough to be left for a few minutes.”

“Is no problem. Is alright if I wait in clinic until then?”

“Yes. Yes, it’s fine.” The nurse smiled thankfully at him, and quickly went to assist in the care of the poor ball of fluff he’d just brought in.

Schneep walked over to a chair that was placed by the wall, and slumped down into it, running a hand through his hair. He was very well aware of several people who were either looking around with wide eyes, or staring either at him or in the direction the nurses ran with the highly bloodied cat.

After about thirty minutes had gone by, he felt his phone buzz. It was Jackie, whom was worried, because he was over 45 minutes late, which almost never happened. He sighed, and opened up his messenger app, responding fairly quickly to his brother.

I am fine. Ran into severely wounded animal. Is no big deal. Will be home before tomorrow morning, hopefully.

The response was just as worried as he’d thought it would be.

What? Wounded animal?! Where?! Did you go straight to the vet’s office or something?!

He rolled his eyes, laughing softly in amusement at his brother’s immediate change of focus.

Yes. Cat was bleeding from the eyes, and acting like it had just finished its fifth bottle of vodka. Had no time to waste.

Jackie’s worry could almost be heard through the messages, even as the subject changed,

Well, uh, in other news... We’ve, uh, got a new ego. ‘S name is Chase. He’s a vlogger, I think. Uh, mind if I share your number with him?

He tsked in amusement as he responded.

No. Does not matter to me. He will get it some way or another, so is probably best he gets it now.

Jackie thanked him, and his phone went quiet for a few minutes. Then, a text from an unknown number buzzed in.

Hey bro! I assume you’re the doctor guy?

He took a moment, not sure how to respond to it.

Yes. You are Chase, correct?

You betcha! So... What’s the story with the cat?

Very long. Not ended yet. Will elaborate more when we meet face-to-face.

That’s understandable. You do you, my man.

He laughed softly, having a feeling he would get along well with the newcomer.

~~~

“He will live, however, I’m afraid he will not survive if left to wander the streets once his wounds heal.” The nurse from earlier explained. The tom cat was being left in a well-kept cage for the night, where he would be carefully monitored. He was sleeping in a well-padded, presumably very comfortable bed, kept inside a one-level cat tree, had an automatic feeder next to it, and on the other side of the cage, a fresh, unused litter box, situated a couple inches away from his food and water bowls.

“Are you sure you will be able to watch him all night? Surely you finish closing the clinic up and go home about an hour after new customers are not allowed in?”

“Well, yeah, but we can have a few doctors stay behind and work overtime to keep an eye on him. They’ll just get more pay at the end of the week...”

Henrik laughed a little as he spoke, “Ah, nonsense. There is no need to do that; I can just take the little one home. I work late hours at home, anyways, so caring for him would provide me an excuse to take a break every now and then.”

“Well, I’ll have to check with the doctor on that. I have no doubts that he would be fine with it, but you know how things go in the workplace.”

“Yes, yes, that is fine. I do not care if I have to wait a little longer. Is not a big deal anyhow.”

“Oh, well, thank you, again, for your patience. I’ll be with you shortly.” She smiled, and quickly hurried off. One of the other regular clients, an older woman, was smirking at him.

“Ah, do not give me that, ma’am. Our relationship is strictly professional.” She made a small laugh-like noise at that, and looked away, still smiling.

~~~~

[The next day]

Chase watched the ball of fluff that the doctor dude had brought home the night before, unsure of how to approach this tiny beast. From what he understood about cats, they were very different from dogs, in almost every way. What was more, though, was that he only had past experience dealing with dogs, so he had no idea how to approach a cat, let alone one that was recently blinded, and had its head almost entirely covered in bandages.

“Here, kitty kitty kitty... It’s okay. I just wanna pet you, alright..?” He whispered, internally thanking the cat gods when it looked at him. He slowly approached the large-looking beast that laid on the table top, a bit afraid that it might lash out at him.

“Mrrwah?” It meowed, tilting its head in curiosity, like a dog would. He paused, wondering if he’d heard it meow before. Probably not.

He slowly extended a hand out to it, making sure it could sense his presence. As soon as his hand got near its head, however, it lightly head butted him, and started purring. He smiled, happy to see that it was friendlier than what most people would want you to believe a cat could be.

“You don’t have a collar, do ya, kitty? I’m assuming that means you’re not someone’s pet already?” He asked softly, sitting down in a nearby chair.

“Prrrmrrwah.” It seemed to smile.

“I’ll take that as a no.” He grinned, “You need a name if I’m gonna call ya something other than ‘kitty’, though.”

“Mrrrwarowh.”

He laughed, “... Right... Why don’t we just leave the naming to the humans, then?”

“Awuroh.”

He started petting it, and, much to his delight, found that its luxurious, long coat was actually much softer than it looked. It was still purring, as it laid its head down onto its paws, and attempted to find a good resting position that wasn’t too uncomfortable or painful. He offered his free hand as a sort of pillow or something, and it gladly accepted it, promptly resting its head up against his hand.

“... I’m gonna call you Rogers.”

“Prrrrrrrmrrwah...”

~~

Jackie watched Chase happily interacting with the new foster, a soft smile on his face. He figured that if this one ended up in the same position as Henrik’s bat, Chase would probably be the best fit for him, which was good to know. He had a feeling that Chase would probably be quite a bit upset if he found out that the cat was going to have to leave after having spent so long with them.

~~~~

[June 17th, 2017, our time]

“No, no, is fine! I understand completely. Blind cats are not for everyone. Thank you for calling anyways. Have a great day, Sir.” Henrik finished up another phone call. They had gone through everyone who had shown an interest in adopting an animal from them, at least, after the animal’s injuries were as healed as they could get. No one wanted Rogers, and everyone seemed to have different reasons, that ranged from “Oh, I just don’t like cats”, to “Nope, too fluffy”, and/or “I don’t think I can care for a blind animal”.

Chase sighed, holding the sweet, fluffy boy in his lap, petting him softly. He didn’t want Rogers to leave, but at the same time, he hated that nobody would take such a sweet, dog-like cat. Bingsepticeye, who was sitting in a nearby chair, side glanced at Jackie, and then opened his mouth to speak, “What if we let Chase keep him? They really seem to get along well.”

“... That... is a good idea. Chase, your thoughts?” Schneep looked at him.

His face lit up in excitement as he listened to the others, “Really?! W-We can keep ‘em?!”

Schneep laughed at his excited joy, “Yes, if you really wish for him to stay.”

“Prrahwrah!” Rogers meowed, sitting up and lightly bopping his head against Chase’s chin.

“Well, I think he’s already made up his mind.” Chase laughed, and Rogers started purring very loudly.

Jackie grinned, “That settles it then! Rogers stays with us.”

——————————————————

WorldView Prologue: Part Three

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Well, now, here we have Rogers, the cat with the personality of a dog, who lost his sight in a fight with another clawed animal, presumably a cat. I think he’s my favorite of the pets so far, just because he manages to somehow be really adorable, even with the unsightly scars over his eyes and eyelids. Plus, of the more developed pets, he’s the purest, happiest bean. I just fuckin adore the lil’ guy. Oh, yeah, also I’m doing one or more fics more than usual today, bcause, 1, I’ve been working on this one for several days now, and 2, again, as i said in the most recent chapter of World Initiative, I’m lowkey kinda having a few emotional dissociation/disconnection problems today, and currently writing is the only cure. ... Benefits... of mental issues..? I guess?

@antis-loyal-puppet

@tiny-septic-puppet

@chaoticcrimsonrose

@septic-dr-schneep

@rorald-spooks

[bear-bee-dragons]

My intense Game of Thrones Dragon age Dream after drinking an oyster shot before bed

That time the Inquisitor became a god and married the black Divine

So above is the long story short, if you don't want to read the whole dream.

Holy shimmering shininigans, my friends! You would not believe the dream I had! It was like Dragon age meets game of Thrones. I woke up feeling like the sand man had slapped my subconscious with a LOTR sized epic!

So the world setting is post Trespasser.

- Liliana is the Divine

- Cassandra was her right hand, and leader of the new Seeker order.

- Vivienne was the left hand, and leader of the reformed circles. They weren't compulsory, but available for a safe place should mages chose it.

- the red Jennies and Sera continued to do their amazing thing

- BlackWall was helping rebuild the wardens

- Cullen was training a new wave of Templar who were meant to keep the good for the past, but minus the oppressive and cruel tendencies

- Bull and his charges were aiding the inquisition, making regular visits to Tivinte, to see Dorian and help him with his efforts to free slaves, particularly the elves.

- the Inquisition was made a peace keeping organization absorbed into the Divine's honour guard.

- Inquisitor Lavellan was trying to prove Solas wrong by working to restore and educate the elves, building a kingdom for them to go to and call home, with infrastructure and sovereign rights

- Lavellan is also training warriors, like the arcane warriors of old.

- she was working to transition the role of Inquisitor to Cassandra, so that she could fully dedicate her efforts to the elves.

- even when she seperated from the inquisition she was still very much a part of it and the two groups continued to help one another.

- while all this was happening, she went fade and dungeon diving, looking for a way to protect the veil, or find a way for everyone not to die if it burns down, or just bloody something- all with the help of Morrigan.

- in this one Lavellan drank the well, so Morrigan and she have been working to hear and understand the voices, learning more about ancient Magic's and the truth.

- they use this knowledge to learn from the mistakes of the ancient elvhes, but still make use of their techniques.

- All seems like it is going into a positive direction, but unfortunately, things seemed to go South when the Qunari started moving to invade. Starting with Tivinter.

This immediately starts a whole bunch of discussions. On one hand, nobody wants to ally with Tivinter, on the other hand, they don't want the Qunari to get more power before they spread to their side. Plus, most of the inquisition is sympathetic to Tivinter now that Dorian's efforts are spreading with changing the ways of sacrificial slavery to not.

The freed slaves making their way to the elvhen haven Lavellan is building.

- So as $h#+ starts to hit the fan, there is a disturbance in the veil. Lavellan finds Solas in the fade, he doesn't make himself hard to find, knowing she thinks it could be him.

He explains it is not, and is in fact some of the Evanuris trying to break through, taking advantage of the weakened veil.

He mounful admits that this could force him to speed up his plans.

Then there is a heated argument that goes something like this:(Arbelas was there, like his right hand, and I obviously made it more coherent with my waking mind)

Lavellan: "No!"

Solas: "I'm sorry, Vhenan, but I cannot let the Evanuris break through. It would mean the end of everything, and no one would succeed. It would have all been for nothing."

Lavellan: "Then we stop them!"

Solas: "It's not that simple."

Lavellan: "Some of it is. Like the part where you can't just destroy the world every time you don't know how to fix a problem!"

Solas: "I do not make this choice lightly." He insisted.

Lavellan: "It is not your choice to make. You *don't* get to decide which world lives, and which ones dies. For a man who claims not to think himself a god you have the arrogance of one."

Arbelas: "You would really choose the world of the shems over the world of your people?"

Lavellan: "My people are here, and they will rise by their own strength and perseverance, not by stepping on a foundation built by the blood of thousands and thousands of slaughtered innocence. Anyone who would, does not deserve it. And anyone who would, is not my people."

Solas looked at her with regret. His heart wanted to follow her, the administration he had for her strength of spirit-... And it was true, she had accomplished so much...

Solas: "I am sorry, but there isn't a way you could stop the Evanuris."

Lavellan: "You don't know that."

"I have lived for over 1000s of years, and know the Evanuris more than anyone-"

Lavellan: "You know nothing! You didn't know Corypheus would survive the blast, you didn't know a mere mortal could take and weild the anchor, didn't think anyone could go physically into the fade, you didn't think people could band together and set aside their differences to fight for a common cause, that those people would continue to help eachother even after the danger is passed...that people can change their natures... " She rose her head high again. "I will find a way to stop them, without destroying a world, even if it means I lose myself in the process... You can either help, stand there and watch, but if you so much as even try to break down the veil now, I chop off the grim head of yours and shove it up your fatalistic arse!"

Then she stormed off from the Dream. Before the intense emotions attracted demons.

- So after she cools down, she and Morrigan get chatting, and they inform the other of their additional problem to deal with.

- long story short, the remnants of Mythal hidden in the mirror speak to her and transfer their power to her, with extra knowledge.

This causes some big changes. She grew a magical lyrium arm, her hair bleached all glowy and magicy white, she practically oozed magical energy, much more connected to the fade, almost similar to the Titan and the dwarf who's name I can't remember, but still remains grounded.

- so the big battle comes and she uses her knew elvhen god power to shut those Evanuris back in their, with the help of the United forces and even Solas.

- but there is still the threat of the Qunari. But both Ferelden and Orlais do not want to help Tivinter, believing that the Qunari trying to take over would weaken them, making it easier to fight against them and it would get rid of Tivinter for them. The Inquisition is still finding it difficult to choose because they are a Chantry religious force and the Tivinter Imperium is quite blasphemous, and even though they don't want the innocents within to suffer, they could not justify all those who would die to protect the corrupted.

- Negotiations still take place, especially after they heard of Lavellan's new ancient elvhen magister power.

- long story short, Lavellan agreed to marry the Black Divine in exchange for the freedom of all the elvhen slaves. Her power would protect them against the Qunari.

- from here it gets extra angsty.

- Solas confronts her and is pissed. She is pissed at him too.

Solas: "You sell yourself to the very one who represents everything you claim to despise!"

Lavellan: "Do you have any idea how hypocritical you sound after all that nonsense about walking the fatal path alone. Where you would sacrifice yourself and the world, all I would do is use my own life. And in doing so, my people are free, and a new kindgom is arising."

He let out a rare burst of emotions, anger directed at the situation, at himself, pain, loss, that feeling of helplessness when you realise you don't know all the answers, and can't fix all the problems.

Lavellan: "I only wish you finally had faith in me before I lost my faith in you... But it is too late for that now. What's done, is done and we have to look to the future."

Solas: "No one has seen the power you weild since the time of the ancient elves. They already feared you when you were just the Herald, and now..." He said with earnest worry in his eyes.

Lavellan: "I know... and this will be my burden to bare."

- the Qunari attack and she goes Avatar state God mode sinking the ships using Mythal power to summon dragons and shit. Causing the remaining ships to retreat.

- after the battle even the Tivinter people she saves are shit scared of her. The Black Divine is on a power trip cause he is convinced he married a god.

- after killing all those people her face was stoic, she flew off on a dragon.

- This calmness freaked people out. Especially her friends. Bull, although Talvashoth, was shook from seeing so many of his people killed. Sera was spooked by the magical killing coldness. Etc

- and then people started spreading rumours about her using blood magic for her power and again, long story short, they mournful made a plan to kill her thinking she was taken over by an elvil elvhen god magsiter.

- she feels heartbroken, but knew it was coming. She isn't mad, but goes to her dragon tower thing.

The reason she was cold, was because she didn't want to seem weak infront of all the elf hating magisters. And ended up breaking down when she flew up to her tower.

So, that dream happened, I woke up crying my eyes out,. Vowing never again to drink oyster shots before bed.