#shoving him in a legion locker

[robot-roadtrip-rants]

AU where Erda sticks around and raises the primarchs with Emps and Malc, but Angron still turns out Like That because he's the designated mediator of this whole dysfunctional mess masquerading as a family.

Leman shoving Magnus into lockers again? Angron has to talk him down. Perturabo sieging Dorn's room again? Angron has to convince him to take down the trebuchets. Konrad and/or Sanguinius sobbing in terror over the freaky future visions inflicted upon them by their parents? Angron is the one who dries their tears. Emps and Erda having a screaming fight at Space Thanksgiving over the future of their children? Angron is the one who hustles the rest of the family out of the room and calms them down.

Finally he snaps and just takes off for the Ghoul Stars with his legion and their supporting crews. The Heresy starts five years later.

[brainr0t-landfill]

Coda

Ghostface x Dwight Fairfield x The Legion (Joey)

t.w:abuse, suicidal main character, rape, canon typical violence, non perma death, dead dove do not eat

"Bodies tell you stories, miracles and pain,bodies got your number, the lottery to play, bodies don't make deals,with devils, gods, or saints" - A.S Valentino, Bodies

İt was a stupid idea.

Dwight knew it was a stupid idea to try and vault over a pallet when he can hear his pursuer's leather crease right behind him so when he is grabbed by the back of the neck and slammed down onto the splintering, wothering wood he has no one but himself to blame.

He never really does anyways.

"Hello Dewey!"

He doesn't respond, he's sick, sick of Ghostfaces voice, sick of his mask, sick of bleeding, dying, coming back rinse and repeat.

It wrings him out each and every time,he can feel himself going dry.

He waits to be lifted onto his shoulder, to wiggle uselessly untill he feels the sharp, rusted metal of the hook find home in him again.

İnstead he hears a belt buckle, shit.

Ghostface is crude as he fixes the leather belt around his wrists, he tries to feel at it to tell whether it's faux or genuine it's neither of course, nothing here is ever really real.

"You're gonna meet a friend of mine!"

Danny hisses happily in his ear, shoving him on his feet and giving him a shove towards the Mount Ormonds cottage.

"Be a good boy, Dewey. God you don't know how sweet it is that your name is Dwight! God you really don't know! İt's so poetic! A refreshing take on the cult classic, then again you're going stale pretty boy!"

He ignores the rushed ramblings of his executioner as he marches towards the building, hollowed out and broken into just like everything else here, he wonders what it used to look like before the entity sunk it's claws into it, everything is a crude mockery here.

It gets less and less infurating as time goes on, that doesn't scare him anymore.

All the while Danny's hand stays firm on his nape, he feels no warmth through the gloves he can smell his sweat, the blood of his teammates. 

The generators buzz all around him, a silent audience to the repeated loss of his dignity, he's done this song and dance before.

But when the choices are between whatever keeps him human here and his body, all's fair to stay.

He's being lead in by the door near the desolate bar when he sees him, 5'5 in a shitty paper mask and a leather jacket that he's sure reeks of axe.

"Didn't know you were in the business of making friends with kids-"

That earns him a sharp smack to the back of the head, he bites his tounge, he'll lose enough tonight could've at least kept his silence.

"Really? You got fucking Dwight? I thought you said something fun dude! What you fakl trying to cop someone actually worth fucking!?"

The Legion, this one's Joey, he's heard the others speak about him.

"Oh quiet, ol' Dewey here is a good boy"

"Yeah! I know! Everyone knows, goody two shoes ain't my type, man!"

"Should've caught your own then."

Dwight lets himself be led by the fireplace in the chalet and doesn't struggle when Danny bends him over the armrest and sits infront of him.

"There we go, glad I don't have to hold you down anymore."

There are no deals or bargains between prey and hunter but occasionally there are mutually beneficial compromises, this isn't that, Dwight observes.

He always knew the occasional deals he made with Danny for the hatch or the exit gate didn't amount to anything and despite himself he finds solace in the bare hand that carts through his sweaty hair.

Danny sets up the camera nearby as Joey grabs his hips, gives him a firm grab.

"Hey-! You can't just-"

"Shut. Up. Fucking, fuck meat! Talking back to me, when'd this dork get a mouth huh?! Didn't know that thing worked besides moaning in lockers!"

He grabs his face and he sees those eyes, cold blue behind the mask he glares back as the young man's fingernails dig into his cheeks,he can smell the damp bandages around his knuckles. 

He knows even Joey can see it, he's young, he's new here,but like all of them he's well aware what's coming for Dwight.

He knows one of these days he'll lift one of them into the wet metal of the hook then he'll never see them again.

Danny looms back over them.

"We talked about this, Joey"

"I know, I know,I don't break your toy untill you say so."

"No, only I get to kill him, if I'm here then he's my kill."

He lets go with a huff and focuses on stripping Dwight of his pants. Danny goes right back to his cruel cheeriness.

"Smile Dewey! You're on camera!"

He chuckles as he settles back down and unzips his pants to give himself a few good strokes through his underwear, behind him he can hear Joey's pants drop, he knows what's coming, he always does.

He makes a point of not wincing or making a sound when Joey pulls his underwear down and shoves two fingers in him, no regard to his comfort, but he never expected any.

"Oh Dewey, don't be a bad boy now."

Danny coos, grabbing Dewey's face in his bare hands.

His skin burns, tears burn his eyelids, his ass burns from the callous scissoring.

"C'mon, open your eyes for me or you'll ruin the shot."

Dwigt turns his face away bile rising at the back of his throat, he knows he won't puke, there's nothing in him anymore.

"I said open your eyes, Dwight! God you piece of shit, I let your sorry ass crawl away a few times and you get cheeky on me?!"

The smack that rings out in his cheek is so firm, so strong the whiplash is almost welcome.

Joey chuckles behind him as he adds another finger.

"Looks like your boy isn't as well trained as you promised me"

"Shut up, Joey, he's just shy."

He looks down at him, the black, deathless holes of the father death mask staring into his soul.

Danny is obsessed with Dwight being present, he can't tell if it's sadism orif he's trying to see how far Dwight's slipped.

"You're a good boy"

He presses, to himself, to Joey and to Dwight. He grabs his penis taps it against Dwight's lips, he makes a point of holding his breath of keeping his eyes on the blasted, tacky mask.

"Aren't you, Dewey?"

All he wants is to be good, all he wants is to be of use a few more times, just a few more.

He opens his mouth silently and swallows before Danny slides himself in, he doesn't gag this time around, too lethargic, too experienced.

He has nothing to count but small victories, to keep safe between his ribs so neither The Entity nor they can touch his treasures, sweet and rare as baby teeth.

"Oh there we go, see? He's well behaved!"

"I suppose, can I go now?"

Danny looks down at him again, they both know it'll hurt, it always does.

"I feel teeth-"

He says and presses the familiar blade against the colum of his throat.

"You feel steel, baby"

He closes his eyes and focuses on his breathing. 

Desperate for something, anything.

İs he really such a degenerate for preffering this?

Did the birds he used to see, rotten, chewed and left whole on the side of the road, wish they were eaten instead?

Joey pushes inside with a sharp gasp, the pain tears a moan past his lips.

 He cranes his neck, looking up at Danny despite himself he reveals in the way the other man reaches down to gently pluck his ruined glasses off his face.

İt feels like hours untill Joey's bottomed out, his pelvis pressing against Dwight's ass.

İt burns, the stretch never stops being excruciating.

"And?"

"Fuck man, you were right, this bitch is fucking tight!"

Danny laughs in response, and gives his cheek a few pats he keeps thrusting his cock in and out of Dwight's throat.

"Of course he is, it's in the rules man, the nerdy ones are always the best!"

"I don't remember that rule-"

"That's because it took you coming here to touch a tit for the first time."

They banter above him as he rocks over the armrest, back, forth, back, forth.

He really does like this better, he decides.

İt's misery either way, it's loss of something he considered so sacred either way at least this way he doesn't have to feel his body disintegrate as the entity pierces through him, each time he loses himself, he knows.

He's not as scared as he used to be, pain isn't as white and hot as it used to be.

He doesn't search for hope in Jake's eyes anymore, doesn't delight in Nea's practiced saves, he doesn't look for Meg around every corner and Claud in every bush.

He doesn't know how much he has left in him, till the entity drains him out and tossed him into nothingness.

So he'll takes this instead.

Joey grunts as he ruts into him, his hands trying to grabe a handfuls of his ass.

He's meat between them and they're animals above him, all he wants is to be useful, all he wants is to feel full of something even for a little while, all he wants of them is to make sure nothing of him go to waste.

"Where are you ,Dewey?"

Danny's asks brushing a hand over his cheek, he can only give a choked sob around the other man's cock.

İt's all so much, and yet not enough Joey, Danny, his broken nose, the stab wound at his side, his waining interest in his own survival.

He feels there's a black hole in his chest, everything spirals down like a flush, spinning, spinning.

Another harsh smack brings him back to reality.

"Fuck, you're rough with him. Gonna break him before I do, Ghost."

"Nah, we have a few more good uses in him yet."

Dwight conjures up grief in the other man's voice, forces a twinge of pain into his unseen stare. 

He knows he won't be missed, his absence won't even be noticed, death is constant in the realm no one knows if you'll come back so they eventually stop caring if you do,but he takes his victories where he can.

They continue, but it's rushed, of course it is. He reveals in the fact that he's soured their fun.

When Joey comes inside of him, it's unceremonious, wet, squishy, clammy.

He wonders if he could've enjoyed this if he had been a lot more ongoing before being swallowed up by this hellscape, he both laments and relishes in the fact that he didn't, it's too late now.

Just like the two beasts hovering over him he's too far gone.

Danny pulls out without finishing, tucks himself into his pants quickly and brings the camera over, the costume rises and falls with his laboured breathing.

"Smile, baby. Cmon show me those pearly whites."

Despite himself he does, he just wants to be useful, he's all teeth and ache, all pre cum and blood.

And when the expected blade is at his throat again he does nothing but savor the fact that he's been devoured whole, bones picked clean.

It's a sharp pain then a stinging emptiness as he bleeds and he's back Infront of the campfire.

The others don't look at him, they know what happened, some sixth sense bestowed upon them by the cruel god of this realm.

He silently hopes they're at least glad he has a little bit more time here, in the cold orange light and the companionable silence.

[aceviscontiswife]

I'm really new to Dead by Daylight and I'm really enjoying your fics. So, story prompt:

Reader is a survivor who was just gifted a new outfit by the entity that, unknown to reader includes a pair of remote control vibrating panties. Then reader shows up in a trial with the killer who reader has been flirting with and secretly crushing on and killer (who flirts right back and also has a crush on reader) finds a mysterious remote in their pocket.

I'd love Danny and Frank (separately, please) and anyone else you feel like writing.)

Survivor!Reader wearing remote controlled vibrating panties in a trial

Killers: Danny (Ghostface), Frank (Legion), Wesker.

Afab!Reader. Warnings: petnames such as dollface, babygirl, babe, and dearest. Vibrating panties (that reader was not aware of), masturbation, Wesker’s a bit of an ass at first.

•When you wake up in the cornfields of Coldwind, you don’t suspect anything at first. You were loving your new outfit, it fit you perfectly and showed off your assets. You were hoping to see Ghostface this trial, since you knew this outfit would probably send him into overdrive.

•Its only when you begin to work on a generator when you feel a light vibration against your womanhood. It sends a tingle down your spine and straight to your core. Your thighs press together in an attempt to conceal the steadily growing arousal, but it only seems to make it stronger. You had no idea what was causing this, but it had to be some cruel prank of the entity’s.

•Danny was a little confused when he found the small remote in his pocket, and after a few seconds of staring down at the remote in his hand, he pressed one of the buttons.

•It didn’t take Danny very long to find you, all by yourself, wearing the sexiest clothes Danny’s ever seen. That alone was enough to get him hard, but what he saw next nearly sent him insane. You slapped a hand over your mouth, your thighs squirming against each other as you moan against your hand. You could barely even work on the generator… That’s when Danny put two and two together, and oh man, you were in for a treat.

“Oh, dollface…” You whip around to face where the voice—Danny’s voice came from. He was standing behind you, leaning against a stack of crates with a small remote in his hand. You begin to speak, but your words are taken from you and replaced with a gasp as Danny presses one of the remotes buttons, the vibrating sensation in your panties growing even stronger. Danny laughed at the sight, pushing himself off of the crates and taking a step towards you. “Looks like the entity gave us both a gift, hmm?” Danny watches you grab onto the generator to support yourself, a strangled moan escaping your lips as he cranks up the vibrations to their highest setting. “I say we enjoy our treat.”

•When Frank found a small remote in his pocket, he immediately did what anyone would’ve done—he pressed the buttons. All of them.

•Needless to say, you were caught off guard when a there sudden strong vibrating sensation in your panties. It was a lot, also very confusing. After a few seconds, you had grown used to the sensations. It didn’t take long until you were rendered into a hazy, pleasure-filled state of bliss.

•You barely managed to get yourself to the killer shack, leaning against one of the lockers and biting down on your hand to keep quiet. Your free hand was shoved up your shirt, teasing your breasts through your bra.

•That’s how Frank found you, his eyes going wide behind the mask and his cock twitching in his pants as he watched you touch yourself. Your hips were grinding up into the air, and it was only when Frank heard a faint buzzing did he realize what was going on. It was like a flip of a switch, Frank went from shocked and a little confused to very turned on and very aware of what he was doing to you. Trial be damned, Frank was going to enjoy this alot more than killing some idiotic survivors.

“Fuck, babygirl… You couldn’t wait till the trial was over, could you?” You stop in your tracks when you hear Frank, your eyes snapping open to be met with the sight of Frank leaning against shacks doorway, remote in hand. He shakes his head when you stop, pressing one of the buttons on the remote and amplifying the vibrations in your panties. “Didn’t say you could stop, did I?” Frank groans when you begin to touch yourself again, the masked killer reaching down to rub his cock through his jeans. “Good girl… You want me to make it feel even better? I can make you feel amazing, babe.”

•At first, Wesker ignored the small remote in his pocket. He had a job to do, after all. The only distraction he allowed was you, anything else was simply not important to him. It was soon becoming hard to ignore, however, and Wesker angrily admits to himself that he needed to see what this remote did. Maybe it was a gift from the entity? Something to help him out in trials? Wesker was one of the entity’s strongest and smartest killers, he’s earned himself a reward.

•When Wesker eventually presses one of the buttons and nothing happens, he’s a… little upset. How dare the entity give him some useless piece of garbage? He was Albert Wesker, the Mastermind, not one of the Legion’s immature teenagers!

•If only he could’ve seen how you almost folded in on yourself when a surprising, strong feeling of vibrations began to surge through your panties. A gasp escapes your lips, ultimately catching the attention of your concerned teammates. You lie, telling them ‘You thought you saw the killer.’

•You’re barely able to complete the generator with your team, quickly coming up with some excuse to separate from your team, sneaking off to a secluded area of the map to deal with yourself.

•Wesker could hear faint moaning and panting coming from the Garden of Joy’s dark bedroom, and believing it to be an injured survivor, he quickly makes his way to the bedroom. What he saw inside the room wasn’t an injured survivor, it was you. Oh… that’s what the remote does? Wesker was quick to realize what was going on when he saw you on the rundown bed, hands covering your mouth and your hips jerking up into the air. He laughs, catching your attention.

“So this is what you do instead of helping your team? Tsk, so predictable.” You couldn’t stop the shameless moan that left you, as well as the breathless pleads for Wesker to help you out. He was enjoying this more than he’d admit… the sight of you like this was something Wesker had wanted to see for some while now, and it only made him even more aroused to know that he was the cause of your overwhelming pleasure. “Already so overstimulated and you haven’t even been touched…” Wesker laughs, shaking his head and taking a step towards you. “Come here, dearest… This is only the beginning.”

***

I actually had a lot of fun writing this! It was new for me, and I honestly loved it :) Hope you enjoy, love ya! ❤️

[apomaro-mellow]

I wanted to write somethin where Eddie’s friends were basically supportive minions and it kinda turned into an urban fantasy too

Eddie ran his tongue over his fangs while looking over the letter in his hands. Then he pursed his lips.

“You don’t think it’s too much? It’s a lot of flowery language.”

“I thought we agreed flowery would keep him from finding out its you”, Jeff said.

Eddie paced around while holding out the love letter. It was addressed to Steve. His own name was nowhere to be seen. He’d be signing it as a secret admirer. 

“Eddie, are we sure Steve isn’t using his powers on you?”, Gareth asked.

The vamp in question rolled his eyes but didn’t blame them. As far as incubi went, Steve was a pretty powerful one. But his abilities didn’t work on vampires, who had their own powers of compulsion. It was how Eddie knew the tender feelings in his unbeating heart were real.

“I’m sure. Now are we sure about this?”, Eddie presented the poem again, practically shoving it in their faces. “It doesn’t really feel like me.”

“It has enough you in it”, Jeff reasoned. “If you put too much of yourself, he’ll realize its you.”

With that decided, Eddie put the letter in Steve’s locker and waited. He was leaning as casually against the wall as he could and hoped he wasn’t imagining the blush on Steve’s face as he read it that morning.

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

The first letter went over so well, Eddie sent in more. He thought he was doing pretty well on the whole ‘secret admirer’ thing until Steve walked right up to him and thanked him for the latest letter.

“How did you-?! I mean, I’ve got better things to do than write you sonnets.”

“Right, because there’s other vampires in this school who would compare me to an awesome riff that makes their fingers tingle.”

Well if he was caught, he might as well go all in. And the next step in the courtship handbook was to give him flowers. The question was what kind, which was how Jeff and Gareth found themselves in a flower shop bright and early on a Saturday.

“Duuude, it was a full moon last night, you gotta give me more warning”, Gareth complained as the floral scents assaulted his nose.

“You’ll live. Now what color should I get?”, Eddie asked.

Jeff looked around the shop. “Isn’t the type of flower more important?”

“Yeah”, Gareth agreed. “An incubus would know all about flower language.”

Despite the idea of getting a certain type of flower to communicate his feelings, it ended up being an argument between Jeff and Gareth over a blue flower vs a yellow one.

“He wears blue all the time. That’s gotta be his favorite color.”

“If you paid attention to the millions of times Eddie obsessed over him, you’d know yellow is his best color.”

It amused Eddie to no end to see his little minions help him decide on a bouquet for Steve. Eventually a decision was made. And he handed them off to Steve while picking him up for their first date.

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

“I’ve heard of elder vamps who have legions serving under them”, Steve mentioned one night as they smoked atop Eddie’s trailer.

“I just got the little lambs that follow me right now”, Eddie said.

Steve hummed in response. “But between you and me, with our powers, we could have an entire horde of minions.”

“You’re so sexy when you talk about talking over the world.”

Eddie swallowed the smoke Steve blew in his face, then pressed their lips together. He had to make this man his forever.

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

Gareth had procured the precious metals. Jeff had kept the fires burning. They both agreed that a blue gem was the way to go, with a dark band. Eddie had procured some of Steve’s blood.

Over the molten metal, he poured it, murmuring a spell under his breath like a prayer. Then he drew his own blood from his wrist and let it mingle with his love’s. After the forging, it was bathed under the moon’s glow for three nights. After, Eddie looked at it was a scrutinizing gaze.

“You don’t think a promise ring is too much?”

“At least 40% of people at our school would cream their pants if they got one”, Gareth said.

Jeff gave him a friendly elbow. “Steve’s gonna love it, man.”

Eddie smiled at the ring in his fingers. Such a little thing. And yet it held so much weight.

“And if he doesn’t Jeff can curse him”, Gareth supplied.

“I can”, the other nodded. “In a heartbeat if he breaks yours.”

“Don’t count Stevie out so soon boys. I’m thinkin’ this one is forever. You’re gonna have to start callin’ King Steve ‘my lord�� pretty soon.”

[imtooscaredforthis]

Antagonist

Chapter Eighteen: Lost

Mentions of: Drug use, Arguments, Fighting, Mild Violence, and Slight Homicidal Tendencies, etc.

A/N: Lots of drama in this chapter…Enjoy!!

Tags: @vandeaad @dead-bxxxtch-walking @mama-miya @moonshineinasippycup @prettycutebunny

You stood in the closet, frozen, while the rest of the legion stared at you. They stared at you for a long couple of seconds that felt like an eternity, before Julie finally moved. She turned to face Frank, glaring at him. “What is she doing here?”

“I have no idea. I don’t even know who that is.” He played dumb, only making things worse. “Bullshit.”

She hissed, grabbing you by the hem of your tank top and pulling you out from the closet. She leaned over and sniffed you, before shoving you away, causing you to stumble backwards slightly.

“You’ve been smoking with her. What the fuck, Frank?” She snapped.

“What’s the big deal? I’m an adult, Jules. I can hang out with whoever I want. And if you’re concerned about cheating or whatever, we’re hardly even friends.”

For some reason, you felt a slight sting at his words. You don’t know why. You’re the one that insisted that you weren’t friends..so why does it hurt? Why do you even care?

She rolled her eyes, groaning to herself. “We’ll talk about this later.” Then she turned to you. “I thought Susie made it clear that we don’t want anything to do with you, you dumb bitch. Stay the fuck away and mind your own buisness.”

You should just agree with her. It would make things so much easier, and maybe you could even get out of here alive..but your anger and pride got in the way.

“I wasn’t even trying to get into your business. Frank was the one who wanted to hang out with me in the first place. And you know what? I don’t blame him. If I was stuck with a psychotic controlling bitch, I’d want to get away too.”

It was quiet for a moment, nothing to be heard but Joey swearing under his breath in fear. Both boys knew that what happened next couldn’t be good, but neither wanted to get in the middle of it. She slapped you across the face, so hard that your cheek turned red. And that was when you decided that this bitch needed to be put down.

You’ve gotten into plenty of fights, no thanks to your awful temper. Most of the time, you’re fighting a guy. Sometimes you win, depending on their physicality. You’ve fought plenty of girls too, so much that it’s practically become second nature.

You shoved her against the wall, punching her jaw and her stomach, making her double over. She was only down for a few seconds, before she stood back up, even more enraged. You moved to hit her, but she grabbed your wrist, digging her nails into your skin, and drawing blood.

“Fucking psycho!” You seethed, tearing your arm from her grip. She grabbed your hair, slamming your head against the wall. “Stay away from my boyfriend and my friends, you stupid slut! Or I’ll fucking kill you!”

She continued smacking and scratching at you, the blows causing your lip to bleed. You tackled her to the ground, straddling her, hitting her hard. You continued punching, and punching, until your knuckles were bloodied, and her face was bruised.

You wanted her to stop. You wanted her to leave you alone. You hated her. You wanted her to die.

The next thing you knew, Frank and Joey were pulling you off of her, shouting at you, asking you what your problem was. “Did you not see what just happened? She attacked me! Fuck you, Frank. Fuck you for putting me in the middle of this. I can’t believe I thought I could trust you. I can’t believe I thought we could be friends.”

You shoved him away and stormed out, your body shaking from the adrenaline. You trudged out to a nearby locker, outside the lodge, taking a seat against it. You panted softly, your hands trembling, and your head throbbing in pain. To your surprise, someone had followed you.

“_______?” It was Susie. Her voice was quiet and concerned. You gazed up at the pinkette. “If you want to yell at me for hurting Julie, get it over with. But your other friends covered it pretty well.”

“I wasn’t going to do that. I…I brought you some ice.” She handed you the pack, letting you press it against your bruised and scratched face.

“Why are you being nice to me? I thought you hated me. And I just tried to kill your friend. I wanted to kill her..Fuck, what’s wrong with me?” You groaned.

“You were just defending yourself. I know Frank and Julie can be manipulative assholes, and I was a jerk too. So, I’m sorry. I’ve been wanting to apologize for a while, I just haven’t known how to say it.”

“I’m sorry too. I know you aren’t my sister. You just…you remind me of her so much. I shouldn’t have treated you like that. You’re your own person, and you make your own choices. You choose who you hang out with. You have your own life, and it’s none of my business. I just wanted to look out for you, that’s all.” You admitted.

You were both quiet for a moment, before you spoke again. “So, we’re all good?”

“Yeah, we’re good. You probably shouldn’t come back here again, though.” She remarked, making you laugh. “Yeah, you don’t have to worry about that.”

Suddenly, Joey called out to Susie, making her freeze and curse under her breath. “I have to go. Do you think you’ll be okay by yourself?”

“I’ll be fine.” You reassured her. While you were mildly disoriented, and pretty sure you had a concussion, you’ve had much worse than this. You would be fine. You needed the time alone to think, anyways.

So, after you said your goodbyes, you headed off to the woods, and back to the campfire. While it was nice to have Susie back, you were still determined to get out of here, and you were going to do it, with or without Frank’s help.

–

You were watching the flames from the campfire flicked hypnotically, deep in thought, when someone approached you. “Are you alright?”

It was Leon, a concerned look dawned upon his handsome features. “Oh, uh, yeah, I’m fine. Just got back from a shitty trial, heh.”

“I can help patch you up, if you’d like.” He offered. “Oh, um, sure. Thanks.”

He popped open a medkit, disinfecting your scratches and putting bandaids on them. He even helped patch up your lip. “So, who was your killer?”

“The legion.” You replied. He let out a huff of empathy and irritation. “They suck.”

“Yeah, they really do.”

“Leon, I need to talk to you.” One of his friends called him. You think his name is Chris? He’s new, but he knows Leon. You heard that they worked together, or something like that.

Chris gave you a small nod, and Leon flashed you an apologetic smile, before moving away. You watched as the two left, before letting out a long sigh. You really do have a lot to think about.

[symbioticsimplicity]

Unable to escape the thought of Billy filling in on drums for Corroded Coffin. (Gareth broke his foot in probably the funniest yo-yo accident any of them has ever seen, but he does get benched from his set for a while which is less funny)

Billy hadn't been planning on it, he'd just happened to be getting the mail when a certain curly haired brunette rushed up to him, all big eyes and frenetic hand gestures. He explained that they needed a drummer for a session or four, and Billy looked like the kind of dude who knew how to play. (He does but hes never been called out on it before.)

He was about to refuse when Munson sweetened the deal by throwing in lunch and a smoke out. Billy could bang on some drums for a while for that.

Its weird meeting the rest of the group. Billy is pretty damn sure he's shoved at least one of them into a locker before. Not that he's not done his fair share of changing, but people tend to hold grudges. Though, he supposed Steve hadn't really been much better and he'd been at Munson's place every other night.

Eddy introduced him while he was lost in his head, although there was really no need. They knew who he was, everyone did.

Billy raised a hand in greeting, though he didn't smile.

He made his way to the drumset and the nerd legion parted for him like he was acidic or something. Not unexpected but still irritating. It made him feel bigger and sharper than he knew his was, the edges of his body undefined and jagged.

Eddie, evidently didn't share his friend's trepidation. He trapezed right on over to Billy to offer him the smoke he'd promised. He got much closer than he really needed to, like it never occurred to him to keep his distance.

Billy found himself liking it, despite the awkward newness of it, so he didn't correct him.

Fifteen minutes later they started actually practicing, once they were all baked enough to lose themselves in the music.

They weren't bad, he had to say. Jeff wasn't as ridiculously skilled as Eddie was, but he kept the rhythm just fine, playing around a little when he got a chance. The bassist, Billy could never remember what the fuck the kid's name was, was decent, if a little basic. And Eddie... he was actually way too good for a garage band.

Billy found himself struck by how smoothly Eddie's fingers ran up and down the fretboard, like he’d been made just to create music. His voice was lower than Billy would have expected, growlier too. It wasn't an unpleasant surprise, but it was distracting. If they'd been playing anything with more than a rocksteady beat, he'd have embarrassed himself.

If he wasn’t seeing things, Eddie had seemed a little distracted too.

One way to test his theory.

In the pause between songs, he shucked his shirt. He was sweating through it anyway, but it also gave him a chance to watch Eddie's reaction.

Munson was as subtle as ever.

He looked like he'd just seen a bomb go off, eyes wide and pupils blown, plump lower lip bit between his teeth while he tried to pretend like he wasn't staring. He was doing a terrible job, but honestly it was kind of cute. Billy didn't run into earnestness like that a lot, especially when it came to himself.

To his surprise, Munson made it a whole 'nother song before he decided to call the parctice due to a "sore throat". Billy almost smirked at that, but he kept it under wraps.

He made like he was going to head home, with absolutely zero intention to do that. He did smirk this time, when Eddie caught a hold of his forearm.

He muttered a "Can I talk to you real quick?" and it was all Billy could do to keep the smug grin from off his face.

Eddie's bandmates cleared out without much fuss, though Garreth did give Bill a look as he went.

They made it about five seconds into their talk before "talk" became "kiss" and about fifteen minutes before "kiss" became "aggressive make-out session".

[plasma-packin-mama]

Liveposting my new playthru (sparingly don't worry)

Just got to nipton. Some thoughts:

First off, as someone who has never done a legion playthru or come anywhere close (so I may be lacking some context)

Y'all are hilarious with the way you like vulples inculta HAHAHA bro his snively little voice I want to shove him into a locker he's such a loser!! He's really the poster child for the "legion is a bunch of LARPers" joke. Somehow when he says "Profligates" it sounds 100% lamer than anyone else doing it. And it's already lame when everyone else does it. I do not get the appeal of this man at all. That's not a moral critique of anyone who likes him though, I'm glad you're having fun with your dogboy I think it's really hilarious.

Anyway, I'd really like to say that Delilah shoots vulpes on the spot after he finishes his awful little self righteous speech.... But goddamn, remembering how I felt the first (and second... And third) time I got to this scene... I felt sick to my stomach. and I just know Delilah would be so overwhelmed and sickened, they'd be WAAAY too in shock to actually do anything cool and heroic like that. They're not that desensitized to the legion's dramatic crimes against humanity yet. The legions little trick works on them this time, they're scared.

(this is making me think though... Maybe they have a specific vendetta against vulpes now. Maybe after the shock wears off, they want to go after him to make him pay..... Maybe.)

Anyway god I really want to shoot him just bc I can but I'm trying to do a canon compliant playthru for del. Shame.

[darkblueboxs]

The Words that Cut

AKA "nine times Andrew was called pretty and hated it + one time he didnt"

Read here or on AO3

Summary:            

“I used to think it would have been easier,” Andrew says. The words cost him more than Neil can know, but Bee says it’s important to get better at these things. If he wants to keep Neil, anyway. “If I looked different.”

There's a lot he leaves out of that sentence.

“Just look at him! Isn’t he precious?!” The stranger’s hand comes out of nowhere, pinching Andrew’s cheek and tugging. Be on your best behaviour, his case worker had warned him. And maybe this time it’ll stick. Andrew isn’t sure he wants it to. He keeps his gaze fixed on his scuffed sneakers, shoelaces trailing because he still hasn’t gotten the hang of the knots. Until the hand pinching his face forces him to look up.

“And gosh, look at those eyes!” The latest in Andrew’s never-ending line of foster parents doesn’t look so different from the rest. Her face is too close, and Andrew can smell her breath when she speaks, sharply tinged with tobacco. He wrinkles his nose, and she frowns. “Now, now, none of that. We don’t want to spoil that pretty little face, do we?” And she punctuates the question with another hard pinch to his cheek. Andrew bares his teeth, and she smiles. “Much better. Don’t you look beautiful!”

Then Andrew sinks his teeth into her hand, and she starts to scream instead.

*

…and this is Andrew! He’s going to be staying with us for a while. You’ll make sure your new foster brother feels very welcome, won’t you? Now both of you stand together, I want to take a photograph of my two handsome boys…

*

Andrew’s hook-up tucks himself back into his grey prison-standard joggers, panting heavily.

“Fuck,” he says, which just about sums it up.

Andrew wipes his hand off, keeping his eyes fixed on the grey expanse of wall behind the other boy’s head.

“That was hot,” he continues, as though Andrew cares. He got what he wanted from the encounter: now all he wants to be is alone.

“Go away.”

He flicks a significant look downwards, smirking. “C’mon, you really want me to leave you like this?”

Andrew grabs him by the neck and shoves him back against the wall, forcing his gaze away from his body. “I said go away.”

Instead of showing any sign of fear, his pupils dilate as he leans into the pressure of Andrew’s hand around his neck. “Fuck, you’re hot.” He reaches for Andrew, and Andrew’s mind goes black with rage.

He does not lay a hand on Andrew again.

*

“Look. Over there, by the lockers. No, no, don’t make it obvious!”

“No way! He looks just like Aaron. But also kind of cuter?”

“Are you crazy? They have the same face!”

“Yeah, but he’s got like, a bad-boy mystique. You heard he just got out of prison, right? Think he has a girlfriend yet?”

“Ew, Tracy.”

“Ask him for me. Please? I’ll do your math homework for the rest of the week.”

A girl with curly brown hair and freckles appears at Andrew’s shoulder as he slams his locker shut.

“My friend thinks you’re cute.”

Andrew doesn’t even bother with a perfunctory glance in the girl’s direction. “Your friend can fuck off.”

She looks affronted for all of a second before her lips curl downwards. “Whatever, jackass.”

Andrew isn’t quite out of earshot by the time she returns to her friend.

“Forget about it, Tracy. His brother is hotter anyway.”

Andrew’s hands clench into fists of their own accord. When they try to approach Aaron after practice, Andrew makes it clear what happens to anyone who shows interest in his brother.

*

Andrew hears his cousin’s screams before he even rounds the corner to see him splayed on the cobblestones, his nightclub attire torn and muddied with boot prints. Men circle him like vultures, teeth bared, eyes shining with mad hunger. Andrew has seen that look before too many times. Nicky’s attackers smirk as Andrew approaches, but the slouch of their shoulders says they don’t see him as a threat. It’s the last mistake they’ll ever make.

“Andrew, run,” Nicky says, words thickened by puffy, bleeding lips. His face has been beaten so badly it’s not even clear where the blood is coming from.

One of the men laughs. “Who is this, your boyfriend? Come on, baby, we can make you look just as pretty as your bitch over there.”

Andrew steps forward, knife in hand.

*

“Huh,” says Nicky on Andrew’s first night home with meds swirling through his system. “You actually have a really cute smile, Andrew.”

Grinning, Andrew puts his fist through a wall, and nothing more is said on the matter.

*

“The Foxes’ deadliest investment.” The journalist thrusts a microphone so close to Andrew’s face he practically inhales it. “And certainly one of their cutest! Andrew Minyard, do you have anything to say to your growing legion of fans? I’m sure all the girls want a piece of you, and I can’t say I blame them!”

Andrew bares his teeth. False laughter bubbles up within him, and he clenches his jaw to keep it in his throat. “How do my fans feel about disembowelment?”

The journalist is less eager to take his picture after that.

*

“C’mon, Renee, you can tell us. Are you really just fighting down there? Or are you getting another kind of action, if you catch my drift?”

“Allison…”

“Don’t answer her, Renee, she’s just trying to win her bet.”

“Can’t I just be interested? I mean, can you imagine it? I mean, sure, Minyard’s pretty in his own psychotic way, but the height. It’s gotta be an issue, right? Unless you’re really into small-”

“ALLISON!”

Andrew knocks at the door, saving his ears from any more of their gossiping. “Renee.”

“Coming!” Renee picks up her water bottle, relief washing her features while Dan and Allison choke on their laughter behind her.

*

Hello, handsome, says an impossible voice at his ear. It’s been a while, hasn’t it?

Oh, Luther, Andrew thinks as the bottle collides with the side of his head. I’m going to kill you.

*

He catches Neil poking at his scars in the bathroom mirror, digging his fingers into the darkened patches hard enough to scratch half-moons into the healing skin. His eyes meet Andrew’s in the reflection. All Andrew has to do is raise an eyebrow, and it’s as though Neil hears the question before he even has to formulate it.

“They’re distinctive,” he says by way of an answer.

“So?”

“Not exactly anonymous,” Neil huffs.

Andrew steps forward until he is lined up along Neil’s back, glaring at his reflection over his shoulder. “You have no need for anonymity.”

“I know,” Neil says, still glaring at his reflection. “And I’m glad I don’t look like my father anymore, but…”

“Vanity doesn’t suit you, Josten.”

Neil sighs. “Easy for you to say.”

Andrew’s hands, which have come to rest on Neil’s waist, stop. He wills them not to clench. “What does that mean?”

The tips of Neil’s ears redden. “You know.”

“I don’t.”

“I mean, it’s not like you have anything to worry about. Not when you’re so-”

“No.” There’s no inflection in his tone, but Neil hears the urgency anyway.

“Did I say something wrong?”

Andrew lets his hands fall back to his sides, flexing the tremors from them.

“I used to think it would have been easier,” Andrew says. The words cost him more than Neil can know, but Bee says it’s important to get better at these things. If he wants to keep Neil, anyway. “If I looked different.”

There’s a lot he leaves out of that sentence. The burning after-effect of hands pinching his cheeks, pretty boy, pretty boy, pretty boy, over and over like a mantra that dug itself into his chest and festered there. The days where even the prickle of someone’s eyes on him made him want to vomit. The nights he considered turning the blades on his face instead of his arms in the hope of making himself too ugly to stomach.

He doesn’t say it, but the subtle shift in Neil’s gaze says that he doesn’t have to.

“Probably not,” Neil says. It isn’t offered as a consolation – Neil knows better where Andrew is concerned – but from understanding. “It’s never because of us. It’s because of them.”

Andrew leans into Neil once more, letting his chin come to rest on his shoulder. Their eyes meet in the reflection. “Probably not,” Andrew echoes, and Neil’s lips twitch. Something that has been tied up in Andrew’s chest for far too long pulls and untangles. “Distinctive isn’t necessarily a bad thing.”

Neil’s lips twitch again, the movement blossoming into a lobsided half-smile that does terrible things to Andrew’s self-control. “Are you calling me pretty?”

“Don’t ask questions you already know the answer to.”

“Oh.” Neil leans his head to the side so that it bumps against Andrew’s. “Well. You too.”

And, because it’s here and now and most importantly Neil, this time the words don’t cut. Andrew swallows them with a curt nod and leans into the kiss that follows, and everything that comes after. *

[mixtvpes]

— BREEZY LOCKERS ARENT FOR HIDING

info;

- words: 1371 words or something like that

- description: the newest survivor has just been summoned to face their first trial in Ormond, a cold snowy place often with snow storms and high winds. Ormond is home to the killers The Legion. their leader shall appear in efforts to get close to the newest survivor. however, none of them knew how turning the situation would become.

- ship: frank morrison x reader (gender neutral)

ع˖⁺ ☁⋆ ୭ 🕊.⋆｡⋆༶⋆˙⊹

you took a big inhale of the cold winded air and tried calming yourself down. being it your first trial you were scared out of your mind. what happens if you die? is that it forever? will marks be left on your body? do you even have the skills to make it out alive? so many thoughts in such a short amount of time. thankfully, you were next to your teammate David King. the tall brute like man was for the most part calm and silent but kept a very protective feeling close to him. he signaled you over to a generator he was working on, though you were very hesitant on joining him on it, he assured you that you’d do fine and all you needed to do was really focus. you trusted him and started working on the generator. over time it started getting easier to repair. David finished it and quickly told you to get out of the area. he split off from you and ran the opposite way. you didn’t understand why he left but figured this is your time to really get an idea of how these trials are. now you were completely alone and in a windy snow storm.

꘎♡━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━♡꘎

the winds really started to pick up after the first generator was fixed. the air became very crisp and cold from the snow, the ground becoming crunchier the more you walk on it. however you had spotted a wooden cottage that looked like a good place to possibly hide in and at least it will get you out of the snow storm. you wrapped your sweater around your body and mouth as the weather declined in warmth quicker and quicker. you decided to start running to help boost the warmth back in your body and allow yourself to get to the cottage faster. when you got to the cottage, you suddenly felt a presence behind you and heard rapid breathing. “ We need to get in here come on!” the unfamiliar voice said before shoving you into the cottage. “h-hey!” you said back to the mysterious person as they continued to shove you. “the killers coming this way we need to hide in this locker! let’s go or we both die” he said in an assertive tone. you really didn’t have a choice here, you could either stay out in the cottage and get murdered or you could get in this locker with this random person. you figured it must’ve been another survivor you just missed meeting before hand. you got into the locker after the other survivor entered. “so what exactly are we doi-“ “shhhh shh shh” you were quickly cut off with a shush and a finger to your lips. “do you hear that?” instead of hearing the whisping wind blowing all you could hear was an enormously loud heartbeat. you got closer to the survivor incredibly fearful, hoping the rumors of killers being able to smell your fear weren’t true. you closed your eyes and just hoped the heartbeat would soon leave. in quick time it surely faded away and you let out a sigh. “is it gone?” you asked, looking towards the survivor, unable to see the whole survivors face. “yeah i think so.” through the lined of the locker, little light peaked in only visible enough to paint a picture of the mouth of this other survivor. “so, what’s your name? you look new” “oh um my name is (x), i am very new to all of this. i actually thought you may be new as well since i don’t think we’ve been properly introduced yet.” you saw a smile creep onto the survivors face. “you know i dont think we have been properly introduced, the names Frank.” you couldn’t tell if the breeze was actually getting chillier or if it was this dudes creepy grin. “(x), do us a favor and peak out the locker to see if the killers really gone” he was still smiling when he requested this which struck you as very odd but maybe he was just a weird guy. you faced the locker and peaked out and saw nothing. “i don’t see it, i’m gonna open the door” “good idea” as you were slightly opening the door you were once again pushed, this time landing on the floor. “what the hell!” you slowly turn your back to face the locker once more only now the survivor who was previously not visable now had a bloody smiling mask on. that’s when the heartbeat came back.

꘎♡━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━♡꘎

“o-oh my god...” you whispered as you tried crawling backwards away from the killer. “well now we’ve been properly introduced! time to decide, do you wanna reeeeaaallly piss me off and make me kill you for fighting back or do you wanna make this easy peasy and let me just kill you without the pissed off part?” he turned his head looking at you, bloodied smile still cheerful as ever. in panic you turned back around to try and get yourself up quickly since there was a pallet behind you. as you attempted to getup however, frank decided to grab your leg, tripping you as a result of you staying down. he started walking towards you saying all kinds of wicked things. it was his way of riling himself up as well as provoking your fear so his high would last. as you attempted for your second time to get up he once again tripped you. bending down to you and getting ready to stick his knife in your back. “jesus christ do you not learn? so fucking stupid” he said to you. “get the fuck off me!” you kicked his stomach pushing him off you but in the process skinning your leg across his knife.”heh” he scuffed, getting back up and seeing your blood on his knife. the blood does things to killers and puts them in a fury, or better for frank’s case, a frenzy. as you got up you started running away trying your best to make it over to the pallet fast, frank was already in frenzy mode. his speed increased and he was out for more blood. he caught up so close to you and when he went to go swing his knife, you smacked him out of frenzy by a pallet. “fucking BITCH” frank called out. he destroyed the pallet as you ran away, losing track of your blood. to your fortune there was a survivor close by that was able to heal you up. she said her name was Claudette and how she was a studious botanist and was trained to help heal. when you asked her how much more the team has to do in order to escape she gave you a brief puzzled face. “we’ve already completed mostly everything, i think the last two are finishing the last generator up. how did you not notice, were you being chased or just not doing anything?” you coughed up at the direct question and said “yeah i guess you could say it was a chase, i didn’t realize it had lasted for that long though.” all of a sudden the last generator was popped and a loud noise ran across through the whole map. “come on let’s go open an exit gate and get out, this place is too cold” she says. you follower her along to go and find the exit gate.

꘎♡━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━♡꘎

there was one last attempt made by frank to try and get more of (x’s) blood. it seemed far richer and more exciting than anyone else’s blood, the fear you also held close to him was mesmerizing. never had he met a survivor to drive him this crazy. however all the survivors had left before frank could stick his knife into any. from that day forward though frank made it his new goal that if he ever saw (x) in another trial, he would really commit to the chase and not let you go. you became the thing he thought of most and he was perfectly fine with that. however next time, he’ll find every opportunity to get you alone into a trap again. you have become his prey, and shall the predator hunt once more.

꘎♡━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━♡꘎

AN:/ hi hi so this is my first writing piece 👉👈 i’m kinda proud of it but i hope you all like it and if you have any requests feel free to send some :)

[crystal-soba]

Dbd x pregnant reader

Killers:

Hillbilly:

.He didn't know why you always held your stomach so tightly. He never understood what pregnancy was or what it did to a person.

.You did everything you could to protect the unborn child growing in you. You would run until you there up or hide in a looker for what felt like hours.

.Now you were hiding from him, you hoped he would glance over you and not notice you. But the killer was curious especially about you. He looked everywhere for you, in lockers, cars, around the buildings. He glanced at a pile of tiers, as he limped towards you he could here sniffles. When he looked down at you you were again, holding your stomach. He picked you up, you screamed, cried, and kicked every second. He put you down on a box while scratching his head.

.He pointed towards your stomach while giving you a confused gurgle. You glanced back to him and your baby. Did he not know what a child is. You wanted to explain to him but how? You pointed at your stomach again, "There's a baby in there." Maybe not that way, he looked even more confused. You grabbed his hand and shoved it onto your stomach red faced. "There like a mini me in there growing.

.It all klicked for him within seconds. He made faces you never seen on him. He looked at you and the bump. He suddenly got flooded with emotions, what if it got hurt? Would you ever hurt it? Why do you have a baby? How did you get the baby? He didn't know why but he felt the need to protect you and the kid.

.He started panicking, you hushed him. "Hey, hey. It's okay. It's just fragile. They can't get hurt or else." He nodded, picking you up. This time you didn't fight back, you wanted to see where he was taking you. He sat you on top of the hatch. You looked up at him smiling. "Thank you." You mouthed. You leaned towards him and kisses him. He put one last hand on your stomach before leaving. You sat there, stress leaving you knowing you'd be safe with him. You rubbed your stomach trying to think of some names.

The shape:

.He didn't know the motives of the entitey as it brought a very pregnant person to the equivalent of hell. You were scared, clutching your stomach trying to calm yourself. He watched you every round some reason wanting to know more.

.You didn't know him or anything about him, except that he murders sacrifices people to some sort of 'spirt'. You tried your best to remain calm trying to settle down your child. Before you got up you felt yourself getting lifted off of the ground. You wiggled trying to break free. The strange man pinned you to the wall. This was it, the last few moments.

.You hadn't expected him to put a cold hand on your stomach. The child kicked when they felt the sudden movement. The stranger was fascinated by this, so was the baby. It somehow felt like a connection, a bond between you three. He slowly let go of you, but you didn't move. The hand stayed there for a few minutes. The baby still kicking.

.you let out a bit off a pained groan as you crunched into a ball on the ground. This upset him, maybe he hurt you. He knelt down in a bit of a panic. You held yourself together after you felt a contraction. "Were fine, just a bit of a cramp." He let a sigh of relief.

.Why was he happy watching you from a far? He never laid a rough hand on you, only soft touches. You started catching on when he was stalking you, you would let him catch up to you. He was like your protector, he wouldn't let anyone touch you or the child. The baby would get excited anytime they felt his touch. He started talking to you, starting with small grunts and nodding to one word conversations.

.You felt happy to have someone to check on you and protect the child. You didn't know why you felt the need to put your lips on his but it happened, he held you in his arms protecting you both no matter what.

Legion:

. The first to find out was Susie, she over heard your conversation with Claudette. A child? Here? She couldn't hurt you, she became your secret guard. She had to tell the others.

When Julie was told the news she was as shocked as Susie. They both agreed to help you, they would leave small things around the map in an obvious spot. Usually things they found in the cabin like blankets or cups.

.When Joey was told about the baby he hid his emotions pretty well, shrugging and walking away from the girls. Really on the inside he was squealing. He found you to be cute, he made Sure you didn't get hurt accidentally. When you fell he would come out of nowhere and pick you up. This always surprised you that he didn't take the opportunity to get you. Then he'd walk away, just to confirm you were fine he'd check on you every now and then.

Frank felt torn, at one half he secretly liked you. At the other he knew that you were scared if him. He wanted to befriend you, but you would run away. He never knew the reason was because of a baby, now that he knew he changed his entire plan. He would slowly show you he wasn't a threat. He used his knife to carve a wooden animals. You were surprised when he gave it to you, you took it as a peace treaty. A true sign of safety. He didn't expect you to immediately like him, when you tackled him into a hug he giggled. You were on top of him, slowly he lifted his head and gave you a peck before running off.

[misfireanon]

59

As the door slid open, Desolas wished fervently that the voices belonged to the plumbers.

They did not.

The man wore white and blue and black. The symbol on his cowl matched the one on the skycar downstairs. He was kneeling, and he had his back to Desolas. He had a tiny vial between his talons. A complex-looking machine sat on the ground nearby.

The woman wore the same colours, but her face was bare. In one hand she held what appeared to be a thermometer, and in the other, Saren’s wrist.

“You’re a precocious thing, but you should listen to her,” the man said. “Patience is key, remember.”

“The recommended exercises are all on the handbook,” the woman said gently, pocketing her instrument so she could clasp Saren’s hand in both her own. The scales on her right thumb were a different colour from the rest. “I’ve updated the community caretakers and systems with your new access level. Be a good soldier. Don’t make me revoke it.” She winked.

“I won’t.” Saren hesitated, and slowly winked back.

The door started to close. Desolas kicked it, forcing it to retract properly. All three people in the room turned to him.

“Who are you?” He asked, though he knew the answer. 

The man tapped a shiny card on his chest. “I’m Dr. Triden from C5 Arcology General Hospital, and this is--”

“I know, but you’re early.” His mandibles clacked.

The man and woman looked at each other. “Yes, traffic was light today,” the doctor said.

“We’ll be out of your fringe in just a moment.” The officer activated her omni-tool and began to type. She must have had implants that let her use the haptic interface without gloves. Saren was staring at her fingers, as if trying to see where the incisions had been made. For a moment, Desolas also tried to find them, tilting his head to see past the broad-shouldered doctor. He pulled back quickly. It was a standard procedure. He could look it up on the extranet, later.

The doctor hummed as he packed up his machine, secreting the vial somewhere deep in its innards. He folded up a stool he had been ignoring, and gestured for the officer’s seat. She passed it to him by the handle, sliding to a crouch in a single fluid motion, still engrossed in her screen. Saren tried to sneak a peek. The officer raised an exaggerated brow, and he shrank back.

When the doctor stood to clip the stools to an aluminum frame, he paused. The single beam of sunlight seemed to ignite the sterile white plastic in his hands. He turned to Desolas, squinting, and asked: “Why don’t you come in, then?”

Desolas kicked the door again, smiling apologetically -- or so he hoped. “I’m fine holding the door. Don’t rush on my behalf.”

It took both people to lift the machine in its cradle. He could almost see the nylon rope emerging from the padded handles stretch and fray, melting in the afternoon heat of late spring. As the doctor passed by, he transferred the weight to one hand and tapped the sigil on Desolas’s shoulder. “Five bars already? The future’s looking bright.”

“Yes,” he answered stiffly, caught unawares. “Seems that way.”

“The legions will be glad to have you, especially out there near the Traverse. See if you can sign on to one. Standards are high, but they won’t say no. You’ll both make great contributions to the Hierarchy.” The doctor patted the machine. “I have it on good authority.”

“What he means,” the officer said as she followed him out, “is to not worry. The Cabals can be generous with opportunities.”

“Thank you,” he said, and locked the door behind them. He dropped his shopping bag on the ground. 

Saren spun on his toes, staring at the shrink-wrapped sausages rolling across the floor, his tiny mandibles pinched to his jaw. “I can’t come over. I’m not supposed to move too much for the next eight minutes.”

“Yeah,” Desolas sighed, shoving his jacket into the locker. This time last year, Saren hadn’t even been able to reach the kitchen counter. “Ok.”

[velociwrangler]

server promptfest: joey/kate

SO I’M BACK ON MY MEDS AND TRYING TO CRAWL BACK ONTO THE WRITING WAGON

I did a little prompt fest in the Dead by Baelight server! I don’t think they’re really good enough to throw up on AO3 but I am  fond enough of them to share. please be prepared for their short and  rough form, as it was an exercise in low-pressure writing :)

dead by daylight, kate/m!killer, anonymity & lockers, for @obscurefrost​

this one was heeeavily inspired by @crit-afterdark​‘s gorgeous Joey art here. most of the promptfest fics were around 500 words, and this one was more like 1600 LOL. please go and gaze upon her work

Some people just don't learn. That's one of the things that keeps Kate sane in this place. That no matter what they suffer, no matter how often it turns foul, there will be people lunging for the rescue, fighting for each other. She loves them for it, these strangers. What else can you do?

The thunder of the heartbeat in her ears just won't die. The world is pulsing and red around her and Kate shoves her elbow into the splintery surface of the door, legs shaking, and closes her eyes. She's fighting to keep herself upright. Running out of time, she thinks. Running out of time, running - just leave damnit - But it stays and it stays and she's afraid of the creak of the hinges, grimacing tautly against the pain. Just a little longer, she tells herself, but it's not up to her. The heartbeat dies, abruptly. Kate grabs for the door, pushes her shoulder against it. If she can mend, if she can press her wounds together the strange fevered sickness of death's door that Legion's masked members inflict will - Too late, too little time. Her legs fold under her and she crashes to the floor, teeth grating together. The air of the basement is thick and torpid, and she feels every inch of her bruised body. If she starts to crawl up the stairs, will she find a silhouette waiting, returning to find her? She tries to swallow her cries of pain, muffling them with bitten lips, cramming the back of her fingers against her hands. No one is coming for her. She can sense them, far corners of the trial grounds, hiding or bent to their tasks. Tonight's trial had not been a forgiving one. The heartbeat suddenly blooms again and she stiffens. She doesn't want to bleed out, but that logical thought doesn't keep the surge of adrenaline and terror from happening, doesn't prevent her heart from thumping like a rabbit's against her ribs. Come on, she tells herself, trying to summon the aggressively cheerful voice she'd summon to drag herself back out on the road, to promise one more hour before a motel, let's just fucking get this over with and have a little peace and quiet, folks. And then she sees a silhouette, the soft tread of a boot. A light build, but bigger than Nea or Ace. Her vision is swimming and uncertain. "What are you doing?" she slurs, feeling a surge of affection and impatience at once. "Run. You have to run." His head cocks to one side and he comes closer. Cautious, as if his ear is perked for a killer's footstep above. "At least hide," she says. Her voice sounds far away to her own ears, sleepy and scolding. "Don't be a martyr." Closer he comes, weaving around the edge of the wall and crouching down beside her. Kate still has her medkit clutched in her hand, more from a reflexive unthinking stiffness of her fingers than from any real strength of grip. She sighs, half-laughing. "Okay, sugar," she breathes. "If you want to play hero, give me a shot?" Some people just don't learn. That's one of the things that keeps Kate sane in this place. That no matter what they suffer, no matter how often it turns foul, there will be people lunging for the rescue, fighting for each other. She loves them for it, these strangers. What else can you do? Her mind snaps back to the present. He reaches down and methodically works her fingers free of the handle. She slurs, "oh, sorry," and he pauses, then finishes. Her hand drops to the floor, fingers curling. A split second hesitation. The heartbeat is still loud and insistent in their ears. The killer must be patrolling close, determined to find her. Her unknown companion pops the medkit open and looks over its contents. "Syringe," she says dreamily, "I'll be right as rain...I dreamed of it and it gave me something nice this time, right? Instead of just air freshener." She hopes her voice is quieter than it sounds in her own ears. She seems to have lost the knack of whispering. He finds it, lifts it up, and then brushes her hair back. She sighs, feeling gloved fingers brush her throat, The briefest sting in the curve of her bared shoulder. "Now you run," she mumbles. "Or he'll find you." The man stays crouched, easy and relaxed on his haunches, waiting for her. She wishes she could see his face; she's met survivors just about this bold before, devil may care after living too long in this place, but she can't place him. "At least hide," she says. Strange moments like these in trials are odd spots of macabre fascination, always. When the urgency gives way to light-hearted fatalism, when all you have are each other. "Get in the locker." She shivers on the ground, feeling a prickling wave travel from head to toe. Whatever is in the syringe - no matter what material it mimics, no matter what shape the Fog gives it to be crudely recognizable - it's as natural and recognizable as the Fog itself. But as long as it does its job, she'll take it. "Get in the...." She reaches out and tries to grasp his pant leg. Her fingernails scrape and slip off. "Sugar," she says again, that strange giddy mix of endearment and annoyance bubbling in her veins, "stop being a dumbass." When he moves, she slumps against the ground in relief and closes her eyes. But then she feels his hands on her again, and he picks her up off the ground, cradling her against his chest. She murmurs something incoherent, confused, and then hears the locker door open: his grip shifts on her, keeping her pinned to his chest by the waist as he walks them inside. The door closes behind them. She slumps against his chest, obliging, and they are squeezed together from shoulder to hip. His legs fit between hers, the coarse fabric of his pants brushing her inner thighs, and he keeps her on her feet with the pressure of his body alone. Which is. A problem. Just until the syringe finishes, she thinks. Just until - But the syringe working moves over her in a prickling wave. Her body feels hot and tender. Whatever it's doing to her, whatever strange machinations it performs inside her body, it makes her shiver and flood with sensation, nerves on overdrive. The warm weight of his body against hers is secure, persistent. His pelvis presses the crease of her shorts against her and she shivers. A little sound escapes her, involuntary and high-pitched, and he lifts on gloved fingers. It grazes both of their mouths, they're so close, when he presses it to his lips and whispers, "shhhh." The first time he's spoken, she realizes, but it doesn't give her many clues. Still no clue as to who he is. Is he a new survivor, or will she be real embarrassed when they stagger out of the basement together? "Sorry," she tries to whisper back. It probably comes out too loud. Her face is flushed, and the cool damp air of the basement is banished by their bodies together in such a close space. His breath, soft and steady, grazes her mouth. "Sorry," she repeats, "I'm..." "Hn?" he says. Has he never used the syringe before? She tries to hold still and not rock against him, tries not to rut pleadingly against the line of his body. Her fingers curl into the loose sweatshirt around his frame and a vivid image flashes through her mind: of pushing her fingers under it, smoothing her hand across his lower stomach and dipping her fingers under the hem. It's an absurd thought, especially because the heartbeat hasn't eased. Has the killer really fixated on this one down, or is he chasing someone else? She tries to remember if a generator has gone off while she's been bleeding out. "Feels like - " she gasps, and then he presses against her, rocks his hips slowly and deliberately inward, and she realizes she's been squirming without meaning to, and her fingers in his sweatshirt having been giving weak little tugs. She moans and tries to cover her mouth, but it's hard to maneuver her hand up. He kisses her. Presses his mouth to hers to silence her and she feels a rasp of fabric. From far, far away, distant alarm bells begin to sound in the back of her head. But she's still woozy, and the effects of the syringe haven't worn off yet. If anything they've gotten worse, because neither of them are helping her calm down. He presses even closer, which she didn't think was possible, and one gloved hand rucks up her shirt and settles on her waist, flexing against her skin. "He'll find us," she protests muzzily, and he gives a huff of laughter against her lips. She's still holding onto his sweatshirt anyway, tugging and guiding his body against hers desperately. He's settled into a slow, hard rhythm, grinding against her through both of their clothes. If she could cant her hips, wrap her legs around his waist, guide him where she really wants it - she'd probably have come already. But instead it's pressure, flares of just right there yes god and then rocking away, a tease that disintegrates the last fragments of her reservations. She sinks her teeth into her lower lip and shoves both hands up under his shirt, moulding them against the lines of his back, feeling his muscles move with the rhythm of his hips even in this confined space that cramps their bodies together. "Please," she whimpers, "oh, fuck - " He lowers his head and puts his mouth on the wound that downed her, the red slash that gouges down over her shoulder and upper chest, just as the syringe kicks in and it closes. The bright, violent burst of pain as his tongue strokes over it crashes her headfirst into orgasm, even as, in this last moment, the alarm bells in the back of her head go klaxon-loud and she realizes -

[fandom-go-round]

can I get some slasher smut. head cannon or small scenarios are ok. But please include Brahms, Michael, and Frank from DbD. thank you!

 Warnings: Non Con, Rape, Forced Sex, Forced Blow Jobs, Bondage, Blood, Death, Torture, Mentioned Stalking

Thank you for letting me indulge in my boyfriend being tortured. I love David King and I love making him cry.

Michael Myers:

           You were trying not to breathe, fingers shaking as you stuffed yourself into a locker. You could hear David yelling in the distance, trying to distract the killer away from you. The two of you were the only one’s left and your generator was almost done. This didn’t deter the Shape from chasing you away at every opportunity.

           You bit your lip to keep from whimpering, exiting the locker and going back over to generator. You couldn’t feel the heart beat yet and focused on getting the generator finished. The bright ‘ding’ above you washed out your quiet cheer and you stood quickly, turning to run to an exit.

           “Run!” You turned to see David turn the corner, Michael right behind him. You shrieked as Michael grabbed him by the throat, knife sinking into him over and over. The mask didn’t move as David was thrown onto the ground, your cries making Michael turn to you.

           You didn’t get very far, swearing as he yanked you back by your hair. Both of you knew your struggles weren’t going to work but that didn’t stop you from try to escape. Michael slammed you into a tree, your cries turning into gurgles as he cut off your air.

           “M-Michael-“ The mask didn’t move, eye holes staring at you. You screamed, Michael’s knife sinking into your shoulder. He shoved you to the ground, the hand in your hair tugging your head up. You blinked, trying to clear the tears from your eyes as he straddled your chest.

           Your heart was pounding and your ears were filled with white noise. Throbbing pain radiated from your shoulder and you couldn’t stop the whimpers that came from your throat. Michael’s head slowly tilted, the hand on your hair tightening and the other reaching for his overalls.

           “No!” Your struggles started up again but you couldn’t break free; Michael was immoveable. He tugged his overalls down and lifted his shirt up, cock falling free. He was rock hard and leaking precum and you scowled, mouth firmly closed. This didn’t seem to deter him, one hand pinching your nose closed.

           You held out as long as you could, vision blurring around the edges before you gasped. Your eyes were shut as he pushed into you, your body shaking from pain and humiliation. Fingers began to poke at your eyes and you opened them as they got more insistent. You saw the mask staring back at you, fingers tightening in your hair as you looked up. You didn’t move but he seemed alright with that, rocking against you. You couldn’t look away and you knew by the grip in your hair that you weren’t looking away any time soon.

 Brahms Heelshire:

           You screamed behind the gag, arms yanking on rope but body not moving. Brahms had gotten the jump on you after coming from the walls, everything that had been happening in the house suddenly making sense. You had seen the doll after you moved in but hadn’t equated the two until it was too late. Now you were tied to the wall and couldn’t see anything inside the house.

           A gentle knock sounded by your ear and you jumped, head slamming into the wall behind you. High pitched giggles came from behind the wall and you whimpered; he had tied you up and left you here.

           “You look good like this.” The voice was muffled but distinctly male, the same voice as the man with the mask who had tried to talk to you. It had been going fine until he had gotten too close, hands wrapping around your throat.

           “Mummy said that I could have whoever watches me.” You shrieked as fingers brushed between your legs, your hips jerking from the sensation. A half glance down showed that you were naked from the waist down and you wailed, more laughter coming from behind the wall.

           “You’ll be mine, won’t you?” You couldn’t see from your angle against the wall but you felt something brush against you that wasn’t hands. You begged and pleaded but Brahms didn’t stop, dragging himself through your folds but not pushing in. Your heels hit the wall as you tried to break free but you were tied too tight.

           Your shriek mixed with Brahms’ groan as he filled you with one thrust. You sobbed, almost choking on tears as he began to pound into it. It burned with no prep and all you could focus on was the deep, snarling voice chanting ‘mine’ behind the wall.

 Frank Morrison:

           “Put ‘er down ya son o’ a bitch!” You shrieked and slammed your fists into the mask above you, the twisted smile not budging. Legion grabbed your arms and pinned them to the ground, hips holding you in place. David swore from the hook, trying to yank himself off with no luck. The twisted vines of the Entity began to curl from the sky and you whimpered, trying to get away from Frank.

           “She is down.” Frank’s voice had a twisted sort of glee in it, mask turning from you to David. He twirled the knife on the edge of your vision and moved it every time your eyes flickered to it. The man above you laughed harder and leaned close, cold metal pushing into your stomach.

           This trial had been bad to say the least. Feng and Ace were already dead and Frank had been chasing David and you for what seemed like forever. You had tried to get him off the hook but Frank was waiting. Now, instead of ending it he was going to torture you.

           “Hey, pretty thing. I’ll make you a deal.” The tip of the knife tapped against your cheek and your gaze moved from David to the killer above you. You could hear the grin on his face, not flinching when he dragged the tip against your skin.

           “W-What?” You voice cracked as you looked up at him. Frank hummed and cut your shirt open with one clean movement. Your yell matched David’s before he swore and began to struggle. You turned to see him fighting off the Entity’s claws and Frank’s knife brought you back. You froze at the roll of his hips, feeling his cock press against you.

           “You get me off before he gets taken and I’ll let you save him.” David yelled in the background and Frank chuckled, cutting a thin line on your stomach. “Better hurry up or I’ll make the decision for you.”

[demigodsanswer]

Hazel Levesque: Into the Prophecy-verse pt. 1

Time for the prologue to an AU I’ve wanted to write for a long time and need to finally get out of my brain. Hazel is a little OOC in this, but that’s because it’s an AU where she grows up in the modern world, not the 1920s. 

Description:

Rome was a three-thousand year old empire, with two capitals - Old Rome in Italy and New Rome in America. New Rome was the powerhouse of the gods and their hero’s.

The children of the Olympian gods lived amongst mortals, the most powerful of them joining the Legion, and some even earning fame status when major prophecies thrusted one or a few of them into the spot light. 

Hazel Levesque is an unclaimed, unimportant demigod, unsuitable for the esteemed legion. And she’s about to find herself at the middle of a major prophecy. 

~*~*~*~

Alright let’s do this one last time

“My name is Jason Grace. I’m the son of Jupiter and for ten years, I’ve the one and only child of the Big Three. I’m pretty sure you know the rest: I saved a bunch of people, fell in love, saved the city, and then I saved the city again and again and again. I also did this [cut to Jason getting hit in the head with a brick]. We don’t talk about that. Look, I’m a comic book, I’m a cereal, did a Christmas album, have an excellent theme song, and a so-so popsicle. I mean, I’ve looked worse. But after everything, I still love being the hero. I mean, who wouldn’t? So no matter how many hits I take, I always find a way to come back, because the only thing standing between this city and oblivion is me. There’s only one child of the Big Three. And you’re looking at him.” 

Hazel was listening to her music too loud to hear Chiron calling her. She had her first day at some prep school for demigods, meaning she was leaving Chiron’s half-way house for unclaimed and untamable demigods. 

New Rome was overflowing with demigods who either hadn’t been claimed or had been rejected from the Legion. Lupa had deemed her and her friend Leo “too insubordinate” for the Legion. He set the wolf on fire (an accident) and she had told the wolf to eat shit (not an accident.) Demigods who didn’t fit in the Legion and couldn’t live at their home with their mortal parents (like Hazel, who’s mom had been deem “unsuitable”) or didn’t have mortal parents (like Leo) lived in one of the half-way houses. There was hundreds of them around the country, all named “Chiron’s Half-Way House,” but only the New Rome branch was actually graced by the old Greek Centaur. 

He did his best to train or rehabilitate problem kids, getting them ready for either the legion or the real world. He was the one who had insisted every demigod apply to some fancy, over-priced prep school. And Hazel was the only one of them dumb enough to be smart enough to get in.  

 “Do I have to go?” She asked Chiron, as he adjusted the collar of her uniform (which she already hated.) 

“This is a step in the right direction for you Hazel.” 

She tugged on one of her curls, pulling it straight in front of her eyes before letting it bounce back into place. Chiron led her out to the car. Leo was waiting out on the front porch. 

“Don’t forget us little people while you’re off becoming some famous hero or some shit, Levesque.” He said, smiling. 

Hazel pulled him into a hug. “Who could forget you?” 

“I’ll bust you out as soon as I can,” he whispered. 

Hazel sat, clearly angry, in the back of Chiron’s car. He couldn’t drive, being a centaur and all, so Argus, the thousand-eyed half-way house driver was behind the wheel, and Chiron lectured her about all of her opportunities. 

“I don’t care,” Hazel protested. “I don’t want to go, I’m only here because I drew some pictures.” Her scholarship was art-based, that was true. She was a good artist. Not a really notable demigod skill, though. Still, someone had to mosaic all of Jason Grace’s accomplishments. They were only one year away from some world-ending prophecy that the tabloids still had yet to leak. So it was only a matter of time before Golden Boy Supreme (as Leo had nicknamed him) added another line on his resume. And if Hazel was lucky, which she rarely was, she’d be there to sculpt the whole thing in marble. 

“You passed the entrance exam just like everyone else,” Chiron told her. “This is your opportunity, Hazel. Do you want to end up like --” 

He cut himself off, but she knew how that sentence ended. Like her mother. Her mom wasn’t perfect, but she wasn’t bad. She was actually pretty cool. The courts were just picky about who was allowed to raise demigod children. Even mega-Hero Grace grew up with a foster mom - Sally Jackson, poster mom for good demigod parenting. Literally, her picture was on the side of buses. She had her own book. She had been on The View with the nine muses. 

Her mom wasn’t Sally Jackson, for sure, but she always made sure Hazel had food, and she taught her how to draw. The court’s problem was her mom’s inability to hold down a job. The only thing she managed consistently was selling her own homemade jewelry. It was all bullshit though. If Hazel wasn’t a demigod, they never would have separated them. 

“Whatever,” Hazel said as they pulled up to the school. She grabbed her backpack and suitcase, and preyed to whatever god her father was that she would be kicked out by the end of the day. 

“Tie your shoes!” Chiron yelled after her. She ignored him. 

Hazel walked into a whirlwind. The school was huge. Most people were in their uniforms, although a few wore ancient Roman style armor over theirs. Some carried stacks of books, and other had spears and swords. Half her day was academic - Latin, literature, history, science, and math. The other half was training - weaponry, climbing, survival skills, and pegasus riding. At least they had Pegasi here. She had been trained well enough at the half way house, but there were unfortunately lacking in magic horses. Well, besides Chiron’s lower half, which Hazel wasn’t too keen on riding. 

“You’re shoe’s untied,” a stranger said, passing Hazel. 

“Yeah, I know it’s a choice.” 

The sneakers probably weren’t uniform, but she didn’t earn the label “insubordinate” for nothing. 

She found her locker, wide and tall enough for armor, weapons, and other demigod provisions, and shoved her suitcase in it. She figured she would move into her dorm later on. 

Someone opened the locker next to hers. “Oh this is so embarrassing,” Hazel said to her locker neighbor, “we are wearing the same jacket.” She laughed awkwardly, but the girl just rolled her eyes before walking away. 

Off to a good start, Hazel though before grabbing her backpack and moving on to her first class. 

Each class seemed to come with its own thousand pound textbook. And the long, winding hallways made it impossible to stop at her locker in between classes. By fifth period - history - she had four new text books and figured she was about to get one more. 

She walked in late. She hoped the darkness of the room helped cover her late arrival, but she cast a shadow in front of the projector. 

“Ah Miss. Levesque,” her history teacher, some old guy named Mr. Quintus, paused the movie, “you’re late.” 

She shrugged, “Maybe y’all are just early.” 

A girl with black spiky hair and dark eye make up let out a stifled chuckle. Quitus and Hazel looked at her. “Sorry, it was just so quiet.” 

“Please take your seat, Miss, Levesque.” He started playing the movie again. Some history documentary. The Romans loved those. This one had some young narrator, who would have been handsome if it wasn’t for the scar down his face. With his blond hair and blue eyes, Hazel could have mistaken him for Jason Grace, if Jason were twenty-five, not fifteen. 

“The Titan Saturn, lord of Time, was overthrown by Jupiter and his other brothers and sisters, and his remains cast away.” 

Hazel was just staring to tune the whole thing out when Quintus paused the video again. “Can anyone tell me the Greek name for the Titan Saturn?” The girl next to Hazel raised her hand. “Yes, Miss. Grace?” 

“Kronos,” she offered. 

“Very good,” Quintus restarted the film. Hazel thought about leaning over and asking her if she was related to Jason, but figured she probably got that all the time. 

A week later, Quintus stopped Hazel on her way out the door. “Miss. Levesque?” 

She walked over to his desk. “What’s up?” 

Quintus showed her the score from their history quiz the day before. A red 0/100 was written across the scantron. 

“A zero?” Hazel tried to look genuinely upset. “A few more of those and you’ll probably have to kick me out of here, huh?”

“If a person wearing a blind fold took a true or false quiz at random, what score would they get?” 

“Fifty percent?” 

Quintus changed her 0 to a 100. “That’s right.” He stood and faced the bored to start erasing that day’s lecture notes. “Are you familiar with the story of Icarus, Miss. Levesque?” 

“Uh yeah, he was escaping the Labyrinth with his father with a pair of bronze wings. But he flew too close to the sun, the wax melted, and he fell into the ocean. it’s about pride, right?” 

“Correct,” he said, turning to face her, “but you left out a crucial element. Yes, Icarus was instructed by his father not to fly too high. But he was also told not too fly too low, as the sea mist could also weaken the wax.”

“Why are you telling me this?” She asked. 

“You’re trying to quit, and I won’t let you. You must remember not to let yourself fly too low, it’s just as dangerous. I’m assigning you a personal essay. Not about history, but about yourself and the kind of person who you want to be.” 

Hazel had spent an hour at her desk, trying to write anything for Quintus or for her literature essay, but her ADHD was going off the rails. She wished Leo would make good on his promise to bust her out of there. 

But she decided not to wait for Leo. 

She hadn’t seen her mom in a while. She grabbed her hoodie before making her way down the fire escape. 

[letterstolegion]

oh my god, that scenario with frank was so freaking cute!! nnn my heart just melted!! is it possible to have the same with joey??? if its not bothering you, of course,,,

aaaa you’re definitely not bothering me! i Love getting all these prompts!!

THE LEGION (JOEY) + S/O LEAVING LOVE LETTERS

It was supposed to be a normal trial, one just like the others with half-finished generators and bloodied survivors barely scraping together by the strands of ripped limbs. At least, that’s what Joey was prepared for as he clutched his knife to his palm as if using it as a sense of guidance. The boy was ready for his meeting with the survivors, but not for what came with them as he flung open the door to a locker after suspicion grabbed at him for a moment too long.

All he was met with, however, was a small paper envelope tucked behind one of the Huntress’s throwing hatchets with his name written on it. Tempted to leave it behind, something called for him to use his free hand to take the note between his fingers and examine it’s contents. Maybe it was the fact that the letter was addressed to him by name that called him to open it. There was no “Legion” written on it, just “Joey”. It wasn’t for them, it was for him.

Despite the fact that he had work to be done, he ripped open the envelope and tossed it aside, flipping open the paper to read it’s contents. As his eyes laid upon the neatly written text, he found himself having to pause at the message he was being given. What he held in his hands wasn’t your average note, it was a love letter addressed to him. 

Behind the skull of his mask, he could feel the heat rise up to his face in a sign of complete embarrassment. Not only was it cheesy for him to be getting love letters, but he was in the middle of a trial! He was supposed to be focusing on killing the survivors, not on figuring out which one supposedly had a crush on him. And even though he tried to tuck the letter away for later, it just kept coming back to him. Joey couldn’t stop thinking about the fact that someone admit they loved him… It made him feel like a normal teenager again, as opposed to a murderer.

The Entity called for the blood of anyone he came across, but the fuzziness in his head had begun to leave him distracted. C’mon, knock it off, he tried to tell himself, only find himself with a headache similar to the one that happened during his Feral Frenzy.

It took him a good while, but when he was finally able to get rid of the shock of the letter, Joey was quick to get to work. He lifted up his knife at the first sight of survivors, rushing towards one and swinging his knife to split down through their skin in a quick motion. From one onto the next, he slashed, keeping up the momentum by rushing over a window towards the next marking he could see. What he didn’t expect was for you to come running right into him, falling into his chest with a tumble. 

Groaning softly, the boy moved to sit up, staring up at you through the holes in his mask. You, in turn, stared back at him with your face glowing a bright red due to the proximity between you two, and the way you were sat upon him. Quiet settled between you both as his chest rose and fell, lifting you up just a bit before you would go down.

“Uh,” words left Joey for a moment as he stared at you, placing his hands on the grass beneath him. “A-Are you okay?”

It was a strange question to hear from the killer, but one that made you smile nonetheless as you nodded. “Yeah, I’m fine. How ‘bout you..?”

The casualness between the two of you made both of your hearts begin beating at an abnormal rate, but when you noticed the piece of paper slipping out from his jacket, he was quick to follow your gaze. Reaching for the note he had shoved in his pocket, the Legion boy held it out towards you for a moment. Looking at it made you blush, an action to which he took notice of.

“Did… Did you write this?” He asked, moving to sit up so you were placed upon his lap. 

When you could bring yourself to nod once more, the silence wrapped itself between the two of you in an uncomfortable hold. You watched him look back down to the paper for a moment before glancing at you, and from the small glance of his eyes you could see, he felt just the same as you.

“I mean... I always wanted a partner who was ballsy like you,” he muttered, only to be cut off by you lifting the fabric of his mask up and pressing your lips to his in a kiss. 

The taste of Coca-Cola played on his lips before you pulled away and stepped off him, holding out a hand with an embarrassed smile. His heart raced with the feeling of being absolutely smitten, though he pretended to keep calm as he stood beside you. It took a lot of willpower for him not to sweep your off your feet right then and there, not caring about whoever caught him in the act.

[mischiefandspirits]

Iron Legion (18/?)

Never let it be said that Tony Stark ever does things by half. He might have grown up with little family, but he wasn’t about to keep it that way.

Tony Stark was seventeen when his first child was born, and that was just the beginning.

For Masterpost, Timeline, AO3, and Fanfiction

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Arachne Mark II, Part 1

Tony Stark was forty when Spider-Man was born.

“Hey Petey, how was your first week of school?” Tony asked as Peter came into the living room.

“Great!” he chirped, dropping his backpack before flopping onto the couch next to Tony.

“That’s wonderful,” Pepper said, leaning over to press a kiss to his forehead before heading towards the elevator. “I’ll be back for dinner and then we can hear all about it.”

“Okay, Mom.”

Tony waited until he heard the elevator doors close before giving his son a look. “So, how’d it actually go?”

Peter gave him a confused look.

“Don’t give me that. You know you can’t lie to me.”

Peter groaned and set his head in Tony’s lap. “It was fine.”

“But?”

“It’s nothing, just… Everyone seems to already know each other, either from middle school or because their parents all know each other. And I’m just some weird random homeschool kid who's there on a scholarship and changes in the bathroom stalls instead of the locker room.”

If only they knew, Tony thought as he ruffled his kid’s hair. “Just give it time for that winning personality of yours to kick in. You’ll have tons of friends soon enough.”

“You think so?” Peter asked, looking unconvinced.

“Sure, maybe try joining a club or… I don’t know. I’m not the making friends type. Still not sure why Rhodey’s stuck around this long. He and Pepper would be better at this. Just make sure to be yourself. If they don’t like the real you, then they’re not worth your time. Starks don’t change themselves for anyone.” He could hear Rhodey, Happy, and Pepper calling him a hypocrite in his head, but ignored it. Being a dad was all about do as I say, not as I do.

“Alright, Dad.” Peter sat up and hugged him. “Thanks.”

“Anytime, Kiddo. Now, how about you go put your stuff away and then we test out that new drone I’m making for Wilson?”

Peter perked up. “The bird bot?”

“The bird bot.”

“Yes!”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Peter was doodling ideas for improvements on the bird bot when someone tapped his shoulder.

He flipped his notebook closed quickly and looked up to see a pretty older girl standing over him.

“You’re Peter Parker, right?” she asked.

“Uh, yeah, that’s me.”

She smiled and held out her hand. “My name’s Elizabeth Toomes, but everyone calls me Liz. It’s nice to meet you.”

“Nice to meet you,” Peter said, bemused, as he took her hand.

“Can I talk to you for a second? If you’re busy with your project, then we can do it later.”

“Oh, no, it’s fine,” he said, pushing his notebook aside. “I’m just messing around. I finished the project we’re supposed to be working on last week. My last school was a little ahead.” A lie, technically. The Tomorrow Academy hadn’t gone over what the project covered, but Dr. Banner had during one of their science sessions.

His teacher had seemed a little annoyed when he’d told her he’d finished ahead of schedule, as had some of his classmates, but Liz just seemed excited and dropped into the empty seat next to him. “I’m a member of the school’s academic decathlon team. Our captain asked me to invite a few promising freshmen to try out while he’s getting our practices ready and a couple of your teachers recommended you.”

Blushing, he ducked his head. “Th-thank you, but I don’t know anything about academic decathlons.”

She shrugged. “That’s okay, we can teach you how it works as long as you’re smart enough to compete.”

Peter wasn’t sure about the competition part, but his dad and Uncle Rhodey had both suggested he join a school club or team to try to make friends so he nodded. “Uh, sure then. How do I try out?”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Yeah, Ned, I’ll ask Nebs as soon as she gets home,” Peter was saying as he came into the workshop. “Yeah, that sounds great… Uh-huh… Okay, bye!” Peter dropped into a chair and rolled up next to Tony. “Hey, Dad! Guess what happened at school today!”

Tony adjusted the power levels and reran the simulation for the engine he was working on.

“Dad?”

“Jay, save these results.”

“Right away.”

“Dad, what’s wrong?”

“Did you hear something, Jay?”

“I believe it was Master Peter.”

“Who?”

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Peter pout. “Nebs told you.”

Tony continued to ignore him.

“She promised she wouldn’t say anything!”

“Say anything about what? You betraying the entire family?”

Peter rolled his eyes and nudged Tony’s arm. “It’s just a field trip.”

“To Oscorp,” Tony spat, putting as much disgust into the word as he could.

“The entire robotics lab is going. I’d look weird if I don’t go.”

“No, you’d look smart. Oscorp is garbage.”

“Compared to us, sure,” Peter agreed easily, leaning against Tony to see his work. “But they’re still one of the best companies in the world and it’s a big deal to the others that we’re able to tour some of their labs.”

“Osborn’s probably just trying to scrounge up some good PR to combat whatever scandal he’s apart of this time.”

“Yeah,” Peter hummed, reaching out to turn the diagram.

Tony shoved the hand away. “Uh-uh, traitors don’t get to help out in the lab.”

“Dad!”

“There you are,” Nebula said, walking in. “Why were you asking Uncle Happy when I was off?”

Peter spun his chair around to point at her. “You promised you wouldn’t tell him!”

Nebula gave him an unimpressed look. “What does it matter? It’s just some stupid field trip.”

“The triplets would never spew such blasphemy,” Tony muttered.

Nebula shook her head. “Is that all you wanted or can I -”

“Wait!” Peter called as she started to leave. “Ned wants to know if I can come over to his house tomorrow!”

“Ned?” Tony and Nebula asked together.

“He’s in AcaDec and robotics lab with me. He’s a freshman too and last practice we were talking about those old Star Wars movies. He invited me over to watch them.”

Old Star Wars movies, Tony mouthed as Nebula asked, “And why does this concern me?”

“His mom wants to talk to you to make sure it’s okay.”

Tony laughed as his daughter scowled. “You wanted to be responsible for him.”

“Please, Nebs!”

She groaned and turned to leave. “Just give her my number.”

“Thanks, Nebs! You’re the best older sister ever!” F.R.I.D.A.Y. made a sound and Peter said, “Older! You’re still the best sister altogether.”

“Thanks, Baby-Bro!”

“So you’re making friends, then?” Tony asked.

“Well, friend. It’s just Ned. At least, I think he’s my friend.”

Tony shrugged and ruffled his hair. “Barely two months and you’ve already got a maybe friend? Way better than me at your age. Knew you could do it. I’m proud of you.”

Peter beamed. “Even though I’m going on the field trip?”

Tony dropped his hand and turned away. “Jay, did you hear that? It almost sounded like someone was talking.”

Peter pressed his face into Tony’s shoulder with a whine.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Two hours into the tour and Peter was honestly just bored.

Nothing Oscorp was working on, or at least nothing they were willing to show his class, was cutting edge. His class was mostly just interested in the equipment the labs were using, but Peter had worked with better while helping his dad or Dr. Banner.

“Dad was right, I should have just bailed,” he sighed, hanging back while his classmates all crowded around the tanks of spiders Oscorp was using for a breeding experiment.

He shivered at just the idea of being that close to the arachnids, behind glass or not.

He glanced around the lab in search of something to focus on before his brain just started tuning everything out and his eyes landed on a display hidden off to the side next to a tank.

Giving the tank a wide berth, he walked over and read off the formula. It seemed to be part of the breeding experiment, but something was familiar about it.

“Please stay with your class.”

Peter jerked to the side, tripping and barely managing to catch himself on the workbench holding the tank. Blushing, he pulled himself upright and turned to see Dr. Connors, Oscorp’s lead genetic biologist. The man had been the one to give them their lecture when they’d reached the bio labs and was now staring down at Peter with a forced smile.

“S-sorry, I was just looking at this formula.”

“It’s beyond you, very advanced. Come back over with the others.”

Peter shook his head. He hated when adults looked down on him. His teachers did it, some of his classmates did it, the Avengers had done it whenever they visited Dr. Banner’s lab while he was there, even Dr. Banner had done it at first. His dad had never done it, though, and he didn’t stand for anyone doing it to Peter or his siblings.

Well, except the twins, sometimes. But only Dad was allowed to tease them, and they knew he was just joking.

“My… uncle taught me about formulas like these years ago.” He pointed at a portion of the formula as he realized what was familiar about it. “Why is Extremis incorporated here?”

Dr. Connors dropped the smile for an annoyed expression. “It isn’t.”

“But I recognize it. My uncle taught me about it.”

“Your uncle must have been mistaken.”

Peter scowled. Dr. Banner was above and beyond Dr. Connors’ level.

“Please return to your class. Now.”

Peter marched over to Ned’s side as the class began to leave for the next part of the tour.

Just as the doors closed behind him, he felt a pinch at the back of his neck. His hand slapped at it reflexively.

“You okay?” Ned asked.

“Yeah, just an itch.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Peter!” Nebula called as she strapped her gun to her hip. “You’re going to be late if you don’t get out here.” She grabbed her badge and jacket, then turned to Peter’s door. “Peter?”

A bit of worry dug at her when she didn’t get a response. She hadn’t seen Peter the night before, but his backpack was on the coat rack so she had assumed he’d gone to bed early for some reason. What if…

Nebula threw open his door and sighed when she saw the fluffy brown hair poking out from under his Iron Man comforter (a gag gift from Uncle Rhodey, Peter had made her swear not to tell Father he actually used it). “Peter?”

He groaned and peaked out of the covers. “Nebs?”

She frowned at his raspy voice, bleary eyes, and flushed face. “You okay?” she asked, coming to his side.

“Tired.” He leaned into her cold skin when she set her hand on his forehead. “Everything’s bright and loud.”

She nodded as her sensors listed a temperature. “You’re running a low fever.”

He flinched and pulled his comforter back over his head.

Considering what he’d said, she quietly moved over to the window and shut the blinds and curtains. Then she went to the bathroom and grabbed some Tylenol and earplugs out of the first aid kit. She brought them into his room with a glass of water and offered them with a small, “Here.”

He peaked out again then took the Tylenol and water.

“I’ll call your school and let them know you’re staying home. Just rest. If I can’t make it back for lunch, I’ll send someone to check on you. Call me or Father if you start feeling nauseous or if anything else starts feeling off.”

He nodded and put the earplugs in before slipping back into his chrysalis.

She gave his side a pat and left for work.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A car honked, a baby cried, someone knocked on a door, someone dropped a glass, another car honked.

So much. Too much.

Peter reached up to make sure the earplugs hadn’t fallen out while he was asleep, but they were still in. They really weren’t helping much, but he figured something was better than nothing.

He pulled his blanket down and squinted as the light hit his eyes. He wanted to tug it back up, but his stomach was killing him. Maybe Nebs would be back soon?

Sitting up a little, he reached out for his glasses so he could check the time. He paused when he spotted his glasses next to the alarm clock.

The alarm clock that he could easily read.

He looked around his room and was shocked to find he could see everything perfectly, once he pushed past how bright everything was. For so long he’d never been able to see more than a foot in front of his face, yet now everything was crystal clear. Better than, really. Even his glasses had never let him see everything with such detail.

He rubbed his eyes, but the only thing that did was help his eyes adjust to the light a little.

His stomach gave a loud gurgle and cramped, reminding him of his hunger.

Shoving aside his weird eye thing for now, he checked the time and pouted when it showed it was only half-past ten.

Hissing, he slipped out of bed. The ache throbbing through his body briefly grew in his legs as they took his weight and rippled through the rest of him. Once it dulled, he shuffled over to his desk and grabbed his sunglasses. They made everything blurry as his miraculously healed eyes tried to focus through them, but he knew the living area was going to be even brighter than his room.

Sure enough, it was blinding and he barely opened his eyes as he searched the kitchen. He ended up pulling out an orange and some leftover pasta from the fridge. He tossed the pasta into the microwave and moved to the sink to peel the orange.

However, as soon as he broke the skin, he was hit with a strong citrus smell that sent a shiver down his spine and he dropped the orange out of instinct. He stared at the fruit until the microwave timer went off. With another shiver, he carefully grabbed it by the unbroken portion and tossed it in the trash. He then washed his hands thoroughly until all he could smell on them was mixed berry hand soap.

It was only when he was back in his room, halfway through his leftovers and a party-sized bag of chips, that he realized something was up with his behavior. He stared down at his hand, lost. Why had he reacted like that? He’d never had a problem with oranges before, especially not to such an extreme. Maybe the fever was messing with his head.

Resigned to more bed rest, he finished off his food then cocooned himself back on the bed, leaving the container and bag on his desk since he didn’t want to face the bright light again. He dozed until he was woken up by Uncle Happy coming into the apartment.

“Kid, you still in bed?” he yelled, shutting the door and locking it.

“Yeah,” Peter groaned, clenching his fists around his comforter. “Not so loud, please. Why is everyone yelling today?”

“Kid?” Uncle Happy stomped down the hall and opened Peter’s door. “Peter?”

Peter shushed him.

Uncle Happy stomped up to his bed and sat down on the edge, reaching over to rub up and down his side. “How are you feeling, kid?” he asked. He wasn’t yelling anymore, but he was still a little loud.

Why couldn’t anyone whisper?

“A little better,” Peter sighed. “Still hurts and tired.”

“I see you got up to eat.”

“Mm-hm. Really hungry.”

“Clearly. You ate enough to satisfy Cap. Feeling nauseous at all?”

“No.”

“That’s good. When was the last time you took any medicine?”

“Nebs gave me some Tylenol before she left.” He considered mentioning that it hadn’t seemed to help, but kept quiet, figuring he must have just fallen asleep before it kicked in and woken up after it wore off.

“Alright. I’m going to go grab the thermometer and some more Tylenol, okay?”

“Mm-hm.”

He quickly did as he said and Peter swallowed the pills while Uncle Happy held the thermometer in his ear.

“Well, your fever’s gone down some. That’s good. Must just be a bug or something,” Uncle Happy said, rubbing his shoulder. “You need anything else?”

“‘M okay.”

“Alright. I’ll get you some more water before I leave. Give one of us a call if anything happens before Nebula gets home, alright?”

“Okay,” Peter agreed, burrowing back into his cocoon. “Can you also grab me some jerky?”

“Still hungry?”

“A little.”

“An appetite’s good, right? Yeah, probably. That it?”

“Yes, please.”

Uncle Happy ruffled his hair. “Get some rest. I’ll leave your snacks on your bedside table.”

Peter groaned and ducked further into the chrysalis.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

By the next morning, his fever was gone, but everything still seemed too loud and bright. The body pains were still there too, though they’d faded to a muted ache. And then there was his vision…

“Hey Peter, how are you feeling?” Nebs asked as he came into the -- thankfully darkened -- living area. “Why aren’t you wearing your glasses?”

“I’m okay, just a bit of a headache. I -” His nose twisted up and he took a step back. “What are you drinking?”

“Peppermint tea. Vision recommended it. Want some? It’s supposed to be good for headaches.”

He took a few more steps back when she held her mug out to him. “Pass.”

She raised an eyebrow before shrugging it off. She came up to him and he forced himself to stay in place, shivering at the smell. She placed her hand on his forehead and said, “Are you feeling up for school today? You don’t have a fever anymore.”

He shook his head, thinking about crowded halls and loud bells.

“Alright. You might as well come with me to the tower then.”

He nodded. He didn’t want to have to go outside, but it would be worth it to see Dad and hide away in his soundproof room with the windows blacked out.

“Go get dressed then. Don’t forget your glasses.”

Peter quickly dressed, but paused when he picked up his glasses. He put them on and everything went blurry.

What is going on?

“You almost done?” Nebs called.

“Yeah.” He put his glasses away and dug out the sunglasses he kept for the rare occasions he decided to wear his contacts.

He picked up his jacket and nearly jumped out of his skin when a spider fell out of the hood. Not taking his eyes off the bug, he reached back to grab a petri dish and its lid off his desk. It was only after it was safely trapped inside -- and held as far from him as possible -- that he realized the spider was dead. Relieved, he looked closer at it, curious about the bright red, blue, and black coloring. He’d never seen a spider like it before.

“Peter?”

“Coming.” He set the dish down and shook his jacket out. Once he was sure there were no more hidden spiders, he tried to put it on, only to find his hand stuck to the fabric. He shook his hand and tried to pull it off with his other hand, both to no avail.

“Peter hurry up.”

He spun around as his door opened.

His jacket fluttered to the ground.

“What are you doing?”

“Just putting on my jacket,” he chuckled nervously.

“Right,” she said, looking unconvinced. “Well, let’s go. I need to get to work.

“Yep, sorry,” he sighed as Nebs left. He glanced at his jacket on the ground, then grabbed another out of his closet. He pocketed his phone and put on his sunglasses before pausing. He glanced at the spider, then his door, before slipping some rubber bands around the dish and pocketing it as well.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

For the record, since I've gotten a comment about this, Harley is not Reed Richards. That's on the right track though.

Just finished writing down the Infinity War part of this and I've got to say, I cried while writing it. Why does Infinity War have to exist?

Also, place your bets now on who bites the bullet!

An update on something I mentioned in the past: Riri, Miles, Gwen, and Kamala won't be appearing in this story, unfortunately. I just don't have enough information on Riri and the Inhumans to include her or Kamala and Peter's just too early in his superhero gig for Alchemax to be trying to recreate him so two spider-powered-people will have to do for now. There are two kid heroes that don't show up in canon that will be appearing though. One who was already planned and I might have mentioned already, can't remember, while the other will be taking Riri's spot... and all that implies