#square headed ugly ass rat

[oikasugayama]

uuuhhmmm fyodor when??????????????????????

Fyodor was literally character 1 in part 1 PLEASE fjfjfkdksks

[mars-mystic]

In case ur looking for some good ol’ F1 crack fic, I present to you: this fuckin thing. Based on several text conversations I’ve had with a friend at increasingly late hours of the night

Presented without context or disclaimers, when really it should have about ten of each. Names are changed for internet reasons (my friend, not the drivers lmao)

Niki Lauda’s death was very sad. FOR ME. But also for the thousands of people who loved and respected him (Like ME. And George Russell).

His funeral was very sad too. As they lowered him into the ground, they played the Dutch National Anthem instead of the Austrian one, because that was all they had available after the 2023 season. Then they realized that RedBull was Austrian, so they played that one too. Somehow, Max Verstappen received a trophy.

Someone pointed out that it was weird that we were having a funeral for him in 2024 when he died in 2019. This was disregarded for plot purposes.

George Russell was openly weeping. So was I. So was everybody. Except that one bitch, Rachel, who was openly NOT weeping.

Instead, she’d wrapped herself around Carlos, saying, “Oh Carlos you’re so hot and Sexy and like Chris Hemsworth and you look nothing like that ugly rat.”

At this, George Russell gasped. He turned around and T-posed on her, so Rachel and Carlos ran away scared and crying into the distance to do who knows what. I didn’t ask.

That’s when George Russell spotted me, the sexy bitch with the Hat. I’d knitted this hat just for me, to support him in these trying times. But we locked eyes, and I knew he only wanted one thing from me. And it wasn’t what ur thinking. It was the Hat.

That’s when Carmen appeared mysteriously from the other side of the tombstone.

“Careful George,” she said, advising him to be careful. “She might think you’re a lesbian.”

“Why would she think that?” George asked, staring enviously at my hat.

“Because you look like a lesbian, you lesbian-lookin owl faced ass bitch,” Carmen replied calmly.

George appeared to be mildly offended at worst, and somewhat motivated at best.

That was how I spotted his weakness. Carmen was only with him because he looked like a lesbian. Because SHE was a lesbian. In an unhappy relationship with an owl faced bitch, no less. I had cracked the case. Now all that was left was for me to save this poor woman.

“George,” I said, sexily removing my knitted toque from my head (said no Canadian ever. Lance Stroll appeared and laughed at me). “Please hold my hat while I speak with the lady.”

George fell instantly in love with the hat, and also with me, because my Mom said so. But more in love with the hat. While those two had their moment, I spoke to Carmen.

“Let’s be lesbians together,” I said.

“I’m not a lesbian,” she said.

“Then why are you dating a lesbian-lookin owl faced ass bitch?” I asked calmly.

“Good point,” she said, and then we kissed, and George kissed the hat, or whatever it is that owls do.

Meanwhile, Oscar Piastri was having a perfectly normal day. He’d decided not to go to Niki’s funeral because he's never given a shit about anything in his life, and he’s not about to start now. Instead, he spent his day staring at a poster of Kimi while practicing his blank, emotionless stare and shit-giving-less attitude.

This made Lily very sad. She wanted Oscar to care about her being pescatarian but Lando said it was a red flag and since Oscar refused to form his own opinions (too much effort), he just used Lando’s opinions instead now. So Lily decided to break up with him and become a lesbian.

She made a post on the F1 WAG lesbian throuple platform, which had never been used but somehow already existed and contained every WAG to ever WAG. And also Max Fewtrell.

Carmen and I immediately responded and invited her to become a throuple with us. Lily and Alex also responded but we challenged them to a rap battle, which we won based on the argument that Alex wasn’t a lesbian. Although we almost lost them to the argument of Lily squared. And also because Alex punched Carmed in the face. Maybe he has some pent up jealousy against her or something. Idk, that’s not my problem.

But she’s my girlfriend now, so me and Lily had to take Carmen to the hospital to get her face fixed. Thankfully it was fixed just fine and she was all better the next day.

Also the next day, George Russell made a post on the Sad F1 Driver Who Just Got Broken Up With But Also Found This Cool Hat platform, which somehow ALSO already existed. And contained every driver to ever drive. And also Max Fewtrell.

Nobody cool responded to him, but Lance did offer to push him into a wall. Unclear if the offer was for on or off track, but either way, it was none of my business.

Oscar thought about responding, but since he hadn’t found any cool hats, he just made a post in the regular Sad F1 Driver Who Just Got Broken Up With group chat and called it a day. This group chat was actually quite active, though it was plagued with constant debates of if you could post there if you were the one who did the breaking up. The obvious answer was No, but somehow Carlos seemed to think the rules didn’t apply to him.

Brenna made a post in Sad Girls Abandoned In Cave By Sexy F1 Driver. This group chat ONLY contained Max Fewtrell, and he left her on read.

Meanwhile, Carmen and Lily had fallen in love, but I was just starting my journey of self discovery. By the end of the day, I had finished my journey of self discovery, and I’d decided that I was no longer in love with them.

I prepared for a very sad, tearful conversation with my girlfriends of less than 24 hours, but they said it was fine and they didn’t want me anyway. This was fine by me, so I made them both friendship bracelets and went on my way.

I decided to revisit Niki Lauda’s grave, even though I’d just been there for his funeral yesterday, because I wanted him to know that I was not like the other girls. And because he was my first love and I would never get over him.

I didn’t bring flowers, because that’s what the other girls would do. Instead I placed a Pirelli Tire on his grave and carved my name into it, so that I would be forever in-GRAINED in his heart. Get it? Hahahahahahahahhaahahha.

Oscar Piastri was watching me from a distance with an emotionless, unfeeling gaze. But deep inside his heart he felt something for the first time: disgust.

But then he realized that I’m not like the other girls, because none of them made him feel anything at all and he fell madly in love with me.

He walked over to me and placed his Pirelli Tire on top of mine. He turned to me and gave me a smaller Pirelli Tire, like the size of the pole position tire but smaller. He knelt down and slid it on my finger. It immediately slid off again because it was way too big bc it’s a fucking tire, but it’s the thought that counts.

“I don’t give a shit about Niki Lauda,” he said, still kneeling down, “but I give a shit about you, which is a first for me. Will you marry me?”

Obviously I said yes.

We held our wedding 17 minutes later in the parking lot where Carmen and I had rap-battled for Lily. George was there, crying. Lily (Muni He) was also there, looking smug. Carmen and other Lily appeared to be unsuccessful giving Alex advice on how to cope with the situation.

Charles Leclerc was also there bc you know that boy would just eat up a wedding. And also someone had told him Alex was there and he’d thought they meant his girlfriend. Names are hard.

At the altar, Oscar gave me an even smaller Pirelli Tire, which was even smaller than the pole position tire, but still larger than a Lego F1 tire. But also larger than any decently sized ring. I gave him a cute hat.

George Russell stood up to object to our wedding but when he saw the cute hat I was giving Oscar he died instantly. We decided to leave him there until the end of the ceremony because this wasn’t about him. Dramatic bitch.

Oscar and I lived happily ever after.

Rachel died alone in a cave.

THE END.

[emachinescat]

So I've been wanting to write this since 5x10, but just now got the chance. This is a look at the ending scene from Murdoc's creepy, possessive obsession with Mac, and it plays with the idea of what might have happened if Bozer hadn't done the trick with the static (sorry Boze for taking away your moment of glory, but creepy Murdoc trumps hero time). Anyway, I hope you enjoy my twist on this episode. It was fun to write. Murdoc is fun to write. What does that say about me? ;)

Title: Murdoc + MacGyver - Everyone Else | Fandom: MacGyver 2016

Summary: AU ending to 5x10. Murdoc never planned on killing MacGyver in that skyscraper. Certainly not for the likes of Andrews. Or, in which Bozer doesn't do his trick with the comms and Murdoc sends a very clear message to all of Codex that MacGyver is HIS.

Characters | Pairings: Murdoc, Mac, Andrews, Riley, Desi

Words: 2,594

TW: Murdoc being creepier than usual, I guess

AO3 Tags: Murdoc Is Obsessed with MacGyver, Obsessive Murdoc, Possessive Murdoc, Angus MacGyver (MacGyver TV 2016) Whump. Hurt Angus Macgyver (Macgyver 2016), Season/Series 05, 5x10, 5x10 au, Implied MacRiley, Manhandling, Creepy Murdoc (MacGyver TV 2016), Obsessive Behavior, TW Creepy Obsession, Diamond + Quake + Carbon + Comms + Tower, Murdoc POV

Full story here or on AO3!

It was adorable, really, Murdoc thought as he lowered the improvised cutting torch slowly, steadily, agonizingly closer to MacGyver’s bruised and bloody face, that Eric Andrews thought that Murdoc was going to go through with this.  The general was a ridiculous man, the kind that Murdoc most enjoyed killing.  Arrogant and pretentious,yet stupid enough to believe he could manipulate, even control, Murdoc, he was a man who would look lovely with Murdoc’s gun pressed squarely between his eyes.

Yet despite his faults, he had been useful.  He’d helped Murdoc escape from the blacksite, and in return, Murdoc had vowed to help him set a trap for MacGyver.  Andrews wanted to broadcast Angus’s death to the heads of a terror cell.  It was his way of “interviewing” to become the head of the organization.  And what would Murdoc get out of this arrangement?  Other than his freedom, he would be given the opportunity to play with MacGyver before Andrews dealt the final blow.

So Murdoc used Andrews to escape the blacksite, and together they set this ingenious little trap for the genius himself.  He’d used Andrews and his resources as a means of playing his newest game.  He smiled and nodded when Andrews spouted his rhetoric, adjusted his plans as Andrews directed, and valiantly kept from gutting the egocentric wackadoodle – somehow – during the course of their time together.  He’d almost snapped and killed the guy, once.

He hated the way that Andrews spoke about his Angus MacGyver, gloated about how cathartic it would be to see the light go out of those blue eyes.  How he relished the notion of feeling MacGyver’s life sleep away, how he fantasized about wrapping his chains around that smooth, pale neck and squeezing , slowly and intimately, with all of Codex watching – after Murdoc had had his fun with him, of course.

Murdoc’s profession had always allowed him to maintain a rather fluid lifestyle, and until MacGyver had come onto the scene, the killer had moved from one job to the next without distraction.  He had never been one to get caught up or fixated on any one thing – as a killer, he understood the impermanence of life in a way few others could.

That is, until Angus “Boy Wonder” MacGyer.  Suddenly, Murdoc had a muse, a partner in his games, a worthy opponent, his very own Sherlock to his Moriarty.  And the thought of anyone – especially Andrews, that self-important crackpot who was so empty all he could do was spout the words of people who’d come before him – looking at Angus MacGyver with that kind of fire in their eyes, that kind of hatred, that dark intent, stirred something primal and angry deep within the hollow, twisted remnants of Murdoc’s soul.  Even worse was hearing that obnoxious, pedantic voice boasting about all the ways he planned to hurt MacGyver, all the ways he planned to kill him in front of a live studio audience.  A foregin, almost protective rush had overcome Murdoc.  The things that Andrews described, the torture, the killing itself – those were things that no one except for Murdoc himself could do to Angus MacGyver.

Murdoc could have snapped and killed him, then.  He almost had.  The trap had been set, MacGyver would soon be on his way.  Murdoc could take out Andrews in one surprise hit and wait for his BFF to arrive.  They might even get some time alone together before the rest of the love triangle showed up.  But he had stayed his hand.  He needed Andrews to contact Codex.  He had a message he needed to send.

And so he’d resisted the drumbeats of death so loud they blocked out his thoughts, and hadn’t put a bullet between Andrews’s eyes.

And now, here he was, in the moment of truth.  It had been a bold move, out of character, if you will, for Murdoc to take on MacGyver in hand-to-hand combat.  Normally, Murdoc avoided using brute force, not because it wasn’t fun – because, boy howdy, was it fun – but because his tools were much more precise than fists, and could cause more pain with less chance of unintended damage.

But this was a special occasion, and he allowed himself to indulge.  And it was a truly delicious situation, made all the more exhilarating with the knowledge that so many people were watching him work.  Not Codex – he hadn’t given a rat’s ass about Codex in that moment – but Phoenix, whom Murdoc had just manipulated and played with like a puppet master with his creepy little mannequins.  He kept an eye on the girls, and chills ran down his body as he saw the fear and desperation in their eyes, the way they strained helplessly against their bonds to get to their friend who was himself completely at Murdoc’s mercy.  He couldn’t see Matilda or Bozer or Taylor, but he could hear the fear in their voices when they spoke, and his mind’s eye conjured a splendid picture of their terrified eyes fixated on the screen, forced to watch as their golden boy was beaten and eventually murdered in front of them.  It was glorious .  Murdoc wished that moment could go on forever.

He truly had relished every hit he’d landed on MacGyver.  Bless him, he tried to fight back, but he was just a spy trained in field comat.  Murdoc was a killer.  Just because he didn’t use his fists that much anymore, it didn’t mean he didn’t know how to.  He was quick, and stronger than his lithe frame would suggest.  Beneath the long-sleeved shirts and black leather jackets, lean, deadly muscles lurked like a snake in the grass, always ready to strike – and strike fast.  Every kick, every hit, every punch to the face sent bolts of electricity up Murdoc’s arms.  He saw the moment when MacGyver’s cheek split open, watched the blood slowly trickle down as he wound up for another hit.  After about three hits directly to the face, MacGyver couldn’t hold himself up anymore and he made weak, desperate grabs for Murdoc’s jacket.  Murdoc felt the tug on the fabric, relished the feeling of MacGyver needing him in that moment.  When he threw MacGyver against the heavy metal support, he felt like a god.

Now here we was, with his greatest foe having literally just been under his boot.  His left hand was wrapped around MacGyver’s right wrist, pinning it down, his knee pressed against the half-conscious agent’s chest to keep him in place.  In his hands he held a tool that, as he had said moments ago, would be the most poetic end to MacGyver he could have concocted – finally silenced by one of his own fancy little inventions.  For a moment, Murdoc was tempted to plow ahead, not to kill, but to play, to hurt , to watch the dazed fear in his muse’s eyes turn to pain and sheer terror… but he had more important things to do.  Maybe he would take this toy with him when he left, and save it to use on MacGyver another day.

He leaned in close, his knee pressing harder into MacGyver’s sternum, and the boy wonder grunted in pain, gasped for breath.  Murdoc leaned closer, his face inches from his prey’s, and watched MacGyver’s concussed eyes go wide at the close proximity.  Murdoc noted with satisfaction that he’d really done a number on his blue-eyed buddy this time – the pupils were unequal, one dilated and the other not.  Murdoc whispered in Mac’s ear, “Don’t worry, friend, I would never let a pig like Andrews kill you.  I’ve got your back.”  He pulled back and winked conspiratorially.  Then, in one fluid motion, he dropped the torch, drew his gun, and shot Eric Andrews one, two, three times, right in his smug, ugly face.  The general didn’t even have time to be surprised by the betrayal.  He was already dead.

From across the room, Murdoc could hear one of the girls – probably the loud, bossy girlfriend – yelling something, but he didn’t pay attention.  Instead, he gripped MacGyver by the front of his jacket, hauled him to his feet (sort of; MacGyver slumped in Murdoc’s arms, unable to stand on his own, but Murdoc had no problem with that at all), and stood there facing the drone.  He could feel MacGyver trembling in pain, and it nearly sickened him that he was going to cut this meeting short.  Still, once he took care of this pesky Codex visit, he could look forward to plenty more games with his adversarial soulmate in the future.

Glaring up at the camera, Murdoc gave Mac’s weak, beaten form a little shake.  “See this guy?” he demanded, not waiting for an answer.  In the second of dead space between his question and answer, he did notice that Desiree had stopped yelling.  No one at the Phoenix was speaking.  Everyone was waiting, he knew, with bated breath, to see how this would turn out.  “Angus MacGyver, here, is mine. ”  He felt MacGyver stir weakly in his arms, protesting Murdoc’s claim even when concussed and barely cognizant.  “Hush, now, Angus,” Murdoc hissed.  “I’m trying to save your life.”

To Codex, he continued, “I love a good murder as much as the next guy.  Hell, more than the next guy.  Way more than him, actually.  So much more that I’ll kill the next guy just to scratch that itch.”  He grinned his most feral grin.  “But MacGyver is not on the market, you hear me?  The only one who is allowed to murder him is me .  Your Andrews was pathetic, a great brute who pretended at being a scholar because it made him feel important.  I meant what I said earlier, fellas – and ladies – this guy is so smart.  Way too smart for the likes of you.  Too smart for Andrews.”

He bared his teeth, shaking MacGyver once more to emphasize his point.  “Angus is my muse.  He’s my dance partner in this crazy murder-tango we’ve been doing for the past few years.  You thought I was being dramatic when I started reminiscing about the good old days earlier?”  He paused, thought, then amended, “Okay, so I was being dramatic, but I meant. Every. Word.  And it all boils down to this: The only one who’s going to end his life is me .”

A voice from the speakers, a female’s, cold and dead, offered, “Then kill him now.  Perhaps we can find a place in Codex for one as ruthless as you.”

Murdoc laughed out loud, throwing his head back.  His body trembled with giggles, and he heard MacGyver emit a grunt of pain at the motion.  “Whoops, sorry, buddy,” he apologized giddily, then shook him a bit more, this time for fun.  MacGyver stayed steadfastly quiet this time – bor -ing!

Murdoc sobered in an instant, letting every ounce of hatred, death, and chaos flood his gaze as his lips set into a thin line and he tightened his grip on MacGyver, who pushed feebly against his arms.  “You really think I want to be a part of your girl scout troop?  Please.  Codex before Angus MacGyver happened to it, maybe.  But now?  You all are ridiculous, dethroned kings who scrabble hungrily for any crumb left to you in your moldering ruins.  You aren’t powerful.  You aren’t smart.  That Leland was the only good thing you had going for you, and now he’s gone.”  He all but purred his next words: “And with what, a shot to the chest?  Precisely aimed, almost like a hit man had taken him out?  Hmmm….”

“ You are claiming responsibility for Leland’s death?”

Murdoc shrugged.  He finally, reluctantly released his grip on MacGyver, and the blonde tumbled to the floor.  Murdoc watched from the corner of his eye as he immediately began to drag himself slowly, agonizingly, away from Murdoc and toward his gal pals.  Murdoc rolled his eyes and clamped his boot down on MacGyver’s bruised back once more, effectively pinning him in place.  Too easy.  He peered into the camera again, rolled his shoulders, cracked his neck, and hissed, “Believe what you want about Leland’s death.  But do you really want to mess with the bastard who killed this great paragon of new wave terrorism?  Not saying it was me, but damn.  Whoever this guy is must be one tough cookie.  And I would advise you, friends ,” – never had that word held so much derision – “to not play with his toys.”  He ground his heel into MacGyver’s back a little deeper.  “The TL;DR?  MacGyver is off-limits.  If you kill him, I kill you, ten times more slowly and painfully than I plan to kill him.  Got it?”

Without giving the council a chance to respond, he raised his gun and shot the drone out of the air.  He tossed the gun aside, sighed, and stepped off of a weakly moving MacGyver.  He grabbed the genius under the armpits and dragged him to the opposite side of the room from the girls.  Producing another zip tie, Murdoc secured MacGyver to the nearest piece of equipment and stood back to observe his handiwork.  Paying no mind to the sorry state he was in, Angus was already stubbornly pulling himself up to a sitting position, bloody face set in pain and determination.  “You,” he panted, lifting his eyes up to meet Murdoc’s, “are insane.”

Murdoc laughed.  “I thought we’d already established that long ago, dear.”

“Don’t call me,” MacGyver wheezed, “dear.  Despite your… delusions, I do not … belong to you.  Or to anybody.”

“Expect maybe Miss Davis?” Murdoc mocked.  “And please , Angus.  Can’t you see that I was just putting on a show for the ‘evil Zoom meeting’?”  He hadn’t been, and he could tell that MacGyver was seeing straight through his lie.  “Look,” Murdoc said, “I hate it when we fight.  How about we both take some time and pick this back up when we’ve had a little time to heal and reflect?”

Through gritted teeth, MacGyver growled, “How about you go away and never come back?”

“Tsk, tsk, Angus .  That isn’t any way to treat your rescuer.  But you are concussed, so I’ll let it slide.  Actually, I need to motor.  Now that the situation’s neutralized, the authorities will be all over this place.  I really don’t fancy going back to that blacksite, so I’ll leave you here to wait for your buddies.”  He bent down, patted MacGyver on the face, grinned when his adversary jerked his head away from the touch.  “‘Til next time, Mac .”  He made a face.  “Actually, scratch that.  My calling you Mac is almost as unsettling as Taylor calling Miss Davis Riles .”  He heard an indigent noise from over the comm – he’d almost forgotten Phoenix was listening in, they’d been so quiet.  He chuckled, relishing how fun Russ Taylor was to annoy.  “Anway, I’ll see you soon, Angus.”

Murdoc removed the comm and crushed it under his boot, then backed away and sauntered from the room, whistling his slow, eerie funeral dirge, “Home on the Range.”

He knew that even while injured and concussed, MacGyver would be out of the zipties and releasing his friends before the polícia arrived.  He’d then be whisked away to a hospital, and all of Phoenix would have to deal with the fallout of the secrets that had been revealed.  He wondered if MacGyver would choose Desiree or Riley.  In the end, though, he knew that it wouldn’t matter who MacGyver chose.  He could deny it all he wanted, but in the end, there would be Murdoc.

There would always be Murdoc.

[jornthur]

Jail Time

John Marston x Abigail Marston, Low Honor 🐺

(Thanks to my friend @liars-and-cheats​ for helping me with this idea!)

Summary: John is in a terrible mood and finds himself in jail, what’s he going to do to release his frustrations?

(Warning: Smut ahead, hanging sentence if you read)

•••••

John sat on the hard bench inside the jail cell he currently occupied, silently fuming as he stared down at the trail dust covering his worn boots. He let out a hard sigh, lifting a hand to take off his hat. Lowering it to his lap, he stared at one of the last reminders he had of his old friend.

He knew he'd gotten drunk last night at the saloon, but he could barely remember a damn thing. All he could recall was that he’d been in a dark mood, some moron had talked shit to him, a fight had ensued, and now here he was.

Oh, he was definitely still angry alright, and he was going to make sure everyone else that ran into him knew it, including that piece of shit deputy.

He lifted his gaze from Arthur’s hat, looking up through the iron bars at the deputy who was leaning back in his chair across the room. The man was piggish, and there was no doubt the dumbass had an inbred lineage, his own features giving off his overbearing ugliness and stupidity.

Those small eyes glittered when the man realized John was looking at him, his lips twisting into a sneer. “Oh, they gon’ hang you for sure, amigo!” He lowered his eyes, “I already called dibs on dem boots a’yers.”

John said nothing, his eyes narrowing into slits. He wanted more than anything to take this bastard out here and now with one of his guns, but considering they were hanging on a wall opposite the room at this very moment, he willed the boiling venom inside him to a simmer.

He stroked the brim of the hat, trying to calm himself down.

“Dat’s one ugly-ass hat ya got theres,” The deputy taunted, “When yer hanged, I’m takin’ all yer stuff, but I’m gon’ burn that old rat trash.”

The venom came back to a raging boil, but John absolutely refused to give the idiot any sort of satisfaction. He couldn’t wait to get out of this cell so he could strangle the ugly man with his bare hands. There was so much anger built up inside of him, and he knew he needed to release it, really soon.

Discreetly, he scanned his surroundings, seeing if there was anything he could use to his advantage.

Suddenly, the front door of the jail burst open, and in charged an angry, beautiful woman.

His wife.

Abigail looked absolutely livid. “Where is he?!” She spotted him and stomped over in his direction. “I’m gettin’ real damn tired of dealin’ with your shit, Milton!”

The deputy stood up from his chair, and John noticed how the fat man was staring at his wife, lust clear in those small beady eyes of his.

“Well, hey ther', beauty.” The man said in a low voice as he made his way over. He was clearly making a desperate attempt to make himself look good in front of John’s woman, but it was a vain attempt. The man rested a hand on his belt as he got closer, “Don’ you worry none, he’ll be hangin’ soon ’nough.”

Abigail noticed how the deputy was looking at her, and she decided to use that to her advantage. Recalling her old skills, she began to seduce the man. “Well, you seem like a tough man that takes care of his own.” She could feel John’s dark eyes on her as she made her move.

Those cracked lips stretched into a self-satisfied smile. “Oh, I can take good care a’ ya, beauty,” he said in a low voice.

“Is that right?” She got up close to the man, moving her body in a way that kept the man distracted. “I’d like to see that.”

Just as the man was close enough and about to touch her, she reached out and snatched the gun from his holster and aimed it at his head. The deputy froze, lifting his hands. “Open the cell,” she snapped, her tone completely flat now.

The man narrowed his eyes, “You dumb whore, I ain’t doin’ shit — ”

She swung the butt of the gun through the air, hitting him square on the head and knocking him out cold. The deputy collapsed to the ground with a hard thud.

“Serves the bastard right,” she snarled under her breath. Leaning down, she snatched the keys from the deputy’s belt and made her way over to the cell as John approached the locked door.

“Hey there, sweetheart.” John teased.

“Oh, shuttup, Marston, I’ve about had it with you.” She snapped, placing the key into the lock. With a loud clank, the thing gave way, and she opened the cell door. “Now c’mon, let’s get you out of here.”

He followed behind her as they walked over to the wall where his weapons were stored. As he put his equipment back on, he bore the brunt of his wife’s harsh words the entire time, all the while his frustration continuing to build. The fact that the man had looked at his wife the way he had, it was all he could do to barely control himself.

Abigail sighed, “What am I gonna do with you, John?”

With that, she turned away as if to walk out of the jail. But before she could take a single step, John reached out and grabbed her wrist. She looked back at him over her shoulder, her eyes narrowed in confusion. “What’s wrong?”

The next few seconds happened in a flash then. Before she could blink, John had her pressed up against one of the cells, his hard body pressed up against her small frame.

Abigail’s eyes widened at her husband’s unexpected actions, “John, what the hell are you d— ”

Those dry lips of his interrupted her next words. His breathing was hard, hot air hitting her cheek as he breathed through his nose and parted her lips with his warm tongue. She moaned, the familiar taste of coffee and him combined more than welcome, to hell with the situations. She closed her eyes, relishing the heat of him through the fabric of their clothes. How long had it been since she’d felt him like this? Too long, she knew, but — but now wasn’t the time. Her rational mind kicked in, and she pulled away in an effort to reason with him once more, “John, we can’t do this here.”

“Shuttup, darlin’,” he growled, and with that he pushed his lips back to hers, and she lost herself in his rough touch. She had no idea what was going on, but it was clear he was tense. He needed a release, and she couldn’t bring herself to deny him.

John groaned, running his hands up the sides of her body, relishing in the feeling of her soft curves. It had been too damned long, he thought. He’d missed this, the feeling of her, the wild and heated sensations. He tilted his head for a better angle, deepening the kiss further as he pressed himself against her even harder.

Abigail groaned, and John instantly pulled away looking worried, “Did I hurt you, sweetheart?”

She let out a short laugh, looking up at him, “It’s these damn bars, they ain’t quite that comfortable, John.”

He let out a deep chuckle, and she gasped as he suddenly lifted her in his arms, carrying her over to the desk across the room. He sat her down on the edge of the hard wooden surface, and without wasting another second he picked up where they left off.

She lifted her arms and wrapped them around his neck as he leaned down and continued to kiss her. She would never get used to the sweet overwhelming feeling of being so close to him, this beautiful idiot man she loved with all of her heart.

He pulled away and began placing quick warm kisses on her cheek, and she leaned her head back with a sigh as he made his way down her neck, leaving a wet trail behind. As soon as he reached the hem of her blouse, he traced his way back up with his tongue, groaning at the taste of her skin.

Grabbing her hips, he pulling her towards the edge of the desk and pushed her skirt up until the fabric was pooled around her waist, then he pulled her hips flush with his and began to thrust his hips into her. “Oh, damn,” He groaned, grunting as he gripped both of her thighs and spread her legs further apart to give himself more room. Shit, she felt so damn good, their bodies fitting together perfectly. The tension inside him was at a breaking point, and he needed to be inside of her soon.

Abigail gasped as she felt the heat of him through his ranch pants, unable to help but notice the unmistakable arousal he had for her. He was so hard, so hot that she almost lost herself completely.

John pulled away and began yanking at her drawers, his fingers merciless as the fabric began to tear away. Cold air hit her center as soon as she was finally bare to him, and she looked up to see those brown eyes of his staring down at her most private area, looking completely lost at the sight.

“Abigail … ” his gravelly voice was so low, almost feral. It would’ve terrified her had she not known that he would never hurt her.

A silent moment passed between them, and she couldn’t help but give him a small smile. Reaching up, she grabbed the brim of his hat and placed it on the desk behind her, using her other hand to grab the back of his neck and pull him into another deep kiss.

He let out a deep moan, and without pulling away he brought his hands down between them, working at the fly of his pants until they were undone. Once his cock was released, he looked down and gripped it with one hand, placing the hot tip of himself to her wet core. Another hard breath passed his parted lips, and he looked back up to meet her gaze, as if he were waiting for something from her.

Without a word, she wrapped her hands around his neck, laying a single kiss to his cheek. John growled, and with that he moved his hips forward, slamming himself into her with a single thrust until he was buried inside her to the hilt. They both gasped, and Abigail threw her head back, digging her nails into the rough material of John’s gunslinger vest.

John lowered his head, nearly losing himself in the warm embrace of the woman he loved more than the world. He took in the feeling, the heat, the hold she had on him in more ways than one.

Finally, he began to move, pumping himself into her. Slowly at first, pulling his hips back and bringing them forward again and again. John bared his teeth in a hiss, “Damn, you’re tight, woman. I ain’t — I ain’t too sure about this.”

Abigail let out a short laugh, and his heart nearly skipped a beat at the soft sound. “Well, I can say the same about your size, Mr. Marston,” she teased.

He grinned at that, he so loved this woman. “I suppose you could, Mrs. Marston,” he teased back.

They both laughed, and John continued to thrust his hips back and forth, closing his eyes as he allowed himself to relish in the warmth of her, her soft sheath to his hard shaft.

After a while of slow love-making, he started to pick up the momentum.

Soon their bodies started to sweat from the heat they created, and before too long, he was hammering her into the desk, the heavy piece of furniture creating scraping sounds as the thing inched across the floor with each of his thrusts.

The sex then became furious. It was wild now, and John was no longer holding himself back, pumping himself in and out of his wife’s soft core, releasing everything that had been pent up inside of him over the past several hours. Abigail had to keep her legs wrapped around his waist to keep from being pushed off the desk.

He was getting so close to release now. Everything felt so damn good in this moment that he didn’t care about anything else but her. “You’re mine, Abigail,” John growled into her ear, rocking his hips forward hard to emphasize his point.

Abigail gasped and nodded, “Yours,” she agreed.

John grinned, and continued his relentless hammering, grunting with each push as he plunged his cock deeper and deeper into her heat. A white hot fire slowly began to grow in his gut, a familiar burn he knew all too well. He sped up his thrusts, ready for the explosion to come.

Suddenly, there was a low groan coming from across the room. Halting his hips, John looked over to see the deputy’s head moving around, realizing that the man was slowly coming back to reality.

To hell with that.

Snatching his gun from its holster, Marston shot a single bullet into the ugly man’s skull.

Without being bothered, John went straight back to what he’d been doing, the heat building up once more inside his body. Abigail gasped at his actions, but she was unable to care at that moment in time, completely overwhelmed with the hot pleasure coursing through her entire body.

John gripped her hair in one hand, using the other to keep her hips in place as he thrust into her harder and harder, the slapping of flesh on flesh the only sound in the room next to the moans of pleasure coming from the both of them.

At last, John threw his head back and let out a loud, long groan, like a wolf howling at the moon. Abigail felt his release shooting into her as she came at the same time, hot rays of pleasure shooting from her core to every single part of her body.

Finally, he collapsed onto her, his head going limp as they both panted hard.

“Oh, John,” she sighed, closing her eyes as he lowered his head into the crook of her neck. His hot breath tickled her skin, and she reached up to run her fingers through his long black hair.

She said something under her breath, and John lifted his head to gaze into her eyes. “What’d you say?” He asked.

She let out a small laugh as she smiled, reaching over to his hat and placing it back on his head, “You’re my sexy wolf-man.”

•••••

The End

(*This was my very first smut entry, I hope y’all enjoyed. Please lemme know what you guys thought!*)

[holyfuckthisfishcandrive]

Shots and Guilt

First, Previous(Chap. 23), Ao3

Word count: 3610

Warnings: Gun, Blood and Injury, (kinda) Torture, Knives, Bloodlust, Smoking, Underage Drinking, Drinking and Driving, Gore, Skipping a Meal, Alcohol (even more of it), Guilt, Choking, Mention of Past Murder, Panic Attack, Self Harm

This really isn't a nice chapter. If anyone needs it I can make a summary of it. Just leave a comment or send me an ask if that's the case. Stay safe.

Virgil listened to the sound of the rain pattering against the car and the radio woman report what had happened in Aunt Lian's block earlier this night.

Glitch monsters.

He dug around the glove compartment until he found Uncle Remy's cigarettes, hidden under the ammunition, lit one and took a drag. He watched the smoke curl and opened the window just by an inch to release it into the night.

Destroyed street lights.

He glanced at the Seven11 Remy had disappeared in about half an hour ago and lit his lighter again, watching the tiny flame dance in the stale light of the car lamp.

Messed up electronics.

A shadowy figure stood next to his window and Virgil glanced over at them. They were holding a knife. Good for them.

"Fuck off," Virgil mumbled tiredly and took another drag.

"Open the car door if you know what's good for you, kid," the guy demanded.

Virgil couldn't help but chuckle at that. He took his feet off the headboard and sat up slowly.

"If I know what's good for myself? If you know what's good for yourself you're going to fucking piss off now!"

"Kid-!" he thrust the knife at the window gap and Virgil kicked open the door hitting them square on the chest. They stumbled back and growled. "I'm going to fucking kill you, brat!"

Vigil stepped out of the car, taking the butterfly knife and the colt from the glove compartment with him.

"No, you're not," he stepped on his cigarette to put it out.

The robber was big. About twice as tall and five times as wide as Virgil, all muscles and heavy bones.

But at the sight of the gun, he froze. An uneasy smile took the place of the angry grimace.

They were in a lonely and dark parking lot. Nobody would look out of the window if they heard a gunshot or scream.

"Kid, don't do anything you're gonna regret. I'm part of the Trulow family. They're gonna hunt you down if you shoot me. No ones gonna find you're body! I bet yer mother's gonna get worried sick if her kid doesn't come home!"

Again Virgil laughed humourlessly.

The rain was cold on his skin and his hair stuck to his face and neck but he couldn't care less. There was that feeling in his chest again that he knew Papa knew well, even if he never wanted to talk about it, the feeling he couldn't imagine living without even after being told a thousand times that it wasn't normal, that he wasn't supposed to talk about with people outside of the family. That intoxicating feeling - better than any liquor, pills or joint but no less dangerous. "It's what makes our kind what we are," Uncle Emile had once said. The man across from him knew it too. Virgil could tell. Otherwise, he wouldn't flinch back. Wouldn't be able to see it in Virgil's smile and his every movement like a bloody red threat.

The bloodlust felt like a promise in his lungs.

"Jokes on you," he slowly walked towards the man. "My mothers dead. And if you're really a Trulow, how come I've never seen you on the Christmas card? I'm sure I'd remember a face as ugly as yours."

"What-?" the man stumbled backwards.

"If you want to make it in this city you really ought to learn who to threaten and who's out of your league. You're just another sewer rat. I'm like a motherfucking prince to you."

The man fell back on his ass, crawling backwards.

"Run along now, rat. Wouldn't want mommy to worry, would we?"

The man scrambled to his feet and turned to run.

Virgil raised the gun, aimed and fired.

A scream cut through the air as the man crashed into the concrete.

He sobbed and whimpered, staring at the blood sprayed over the ground as if he couldn't believe it was his. As if the realisation that there was now a hole where his foot connected to his leg hadn't quite made its way into his thick head yet.

"Sorry," Virgil said as he got closer and knelt down next to him. "Couldn't resist. You better not tell my Pa about this."

He dug his hand into the wound until his fingers found the bullet, ignoring the pained screams.

"He hates when I use guns. Which I honestly don't get. I mean, he uses them all the time! Bloody double standards," he inspected the bloody bullet in his hand.

"Who- Who the fuck are you?" the man sobbed.

Virgil grinned. "Have you ever heard those rumours? About Professor Logic having a child?"

The man's eyes widened in terror.

Virgil heard the doors of the Seven11 slide open and stood up.

Remy raised an eyebrow as he got closer.

"Jesus, can't I leave you alone for five minutes?" he asked.

"That was half an hour. And he started it. He wanted to rob the car or something. I only used one bullet if that's what you're worried about," Virgil tossed the gun over to him and Remy caught it in his free hand.

"Whatever. Just get in the car, hon. I got slushies and alcohol. We can stop at Crispy Creme if you want to."

"Sure," Virgil picked up the knife the would-be robber had dropped and jogged back to the car. "I hope they have warm doughnuts."

"They better. Oh, and there should be some baby wipes in the glove compartment. I'm not letting you eat with that guy's blood on your hands. Who knows what's been in that-? Wait, did you steal one of my cigs?"

"...No," Virgil claimed and was suddenly very interested in cleaning every crevice of his hand.

"Don't fucking lie to me. Just don't smoke in the car next time and ask before you take one. Emile doesn't like when the car smells," Remy handed him one of the slushies.

"Sorry," Virgil took a long sip until the pain of bain freeze bloomed behind his forehead before digging around in Remy's bag until he found the alcohol..

"Pour me some in too, would ya?"

"Sure," Virgil unscrewed the cap and poured some in his own then a bit more in Remy's cup. "More or is this good?"

Remy glanced over at him.

"Who the fuck do you think I am?"

"More it is."

"Exactly."

"I swear you're that "Two shots of vodka" vine," Virgil shook his head.

Remy chuckled. "I take zero offence to that. Also, I gotta make sure you don't drink too much. You have school tomorrow."

"You're literally drinking and driving. And I'm going to school trollied tomorrow whether you like it or not."

"I think this is why your father hates me."

"He doesn't hate you. He can't. You and Uncle Emile are like his only friends."

"Doesn't he also have that flower boy?" Remy pulled into the Crispy Creme's parking lot.

"That's his boyfriend," Virgil corrected and took another sip. Slowly he felt the alcohol kick in.

"You mean your new father, then?"

"I guess. Not officially yet but hopefully soon. He's nice. On the other hand, if he moves in I'll have to hide my skull collection."

Virgil followed Remy out of the car and into the shop.

The sugary sweet smell of warm doughnuts filled the air.

Remy bought a box, tipped a twenty and pulled Virgil back out with him.

"I'm not letting you drink any more," he decided. "You're not going to school drunk, kid."

"Yes, I am. Fuck off and give me a doughnut."

"Either you stop drinking or you don't get any doughnuts."

Virgil glared at him and took a doughnut.

"Fine."

---

He still had a headache when he went to math class later.

He wasn't sure if it was just the hungover or also something else.

Not that it mattered. He had already learned the shit, the man, whose name he couldn't remember, was explaining incredibly badly at the blackboard.

Instead of paying attention he stared blankly out of the window.

Slowly the sleep deprivation was also starting to catch up with him, making his eyes heavy.

Janus had texted him that they wouldn't be coming to school for the day, which made it even more dull than usual.

He should have stayed drunk.

Then it at least would've been somewhat interesting.

Virgil woke up again to the sound of the school bell. He blinked a few times, trying to reorient himself and sighed.

At least math was over.

His next lesson was English, then Chemistry.

Or maybe he should just skip.

It wouldn't make a difference.

Maybe he could find a nice spot for the graffiti design he'd come up with based on the last body he'd found in the sewers.

The rats had eaten the fuckers stomach out and Virgil had set the eyebrows or rather what had been left of the eyebrows, on fire before taking a few pictures for reference.

He'd just have to come up with something for when Janus asked where he'd gotten the idea.

Virgil left the classroom and ducked into the nearest bathroom, locking the stall door behind himself before climbing out of the window. He wondered briefly how long it'd stay locked before someone noticed that it wasn't occupied at all. Probably at least until the toilets were cleaned. Whenever that'd be.

A sports teacher was preparing a lesson by the tracks but she was too focused on the task at hand to notice Virgil sneak to the fence and climb over it. He gave the school a middle finger over his shoulder as he walked away. For all he cared, every single person in there could go fuck themselves. Especially the principal.

Papa was working - at the university today - so Virgil went home to drop off his backpack and picked up his graffiti bag, headphones and the sketchbook he'd drawn the design in..

He strolled through the streets of downtown, avoided a few coppers and took an underground to take him wherever. As long as there were big empty walls there he didn't care.

He got out at the sixth stop.

Virgil didn't make a habit of spending time uptown.

Occasionally maybe, for family celebrations or when he and Janus planned heists but other than that he stayed in the part of town he had been raised in.

But that didn't mean that he didn't know the streets and alleyways, the shops, public buildings and skyscrapers made of glass, like towers out of a fairy tale. Papa was of the firm opinion that knowledge was power and he'd made sure that Virgil knew everything he needed about Woethough.

It didn't take him long to find a good wall.

The back of the main police station was just painfully boring.

Virgil pulled the half mask he used for vigilante business over his face, partly to avoid someone seeing his face and partly because of the fumes. Then he opened the sketch book and pulled two spray cans out of his bag, shaking them.

This'd be fun.

He worked far slower than usual, the anxiety over being spotted by the damned pigs making him pack up the cans he wasn't using immediately, so he'd be able to make a quick escape, and check for witnesses every five minutes.

By some miracle no one came by. For a while, he had the insistent feeling of being watched but couldn't find anyone.

He watched the flames, body and rats take shape with every colour he added until he got to the point where more would only make it worse.

Virgil took a few steps back and grinned. He signed it with his usual spider and took a photo to send Janus. They weren't online so he didn't bother waiting for a reply and packed up his stuff.

It was around noon now and he was getting hungry but ignored the feeling. He could eat later.

Instead he walked around some more, pickpocketed a businessman he recognized from TV - Mr Grimm or something like that - and bought a few new markers from the stolen money, before climbing onto the roof of a library to test them out.

At eight he took a train back to downtown.

It was already dark thanks to autumn finally taking over properly and most other teens were probably either suicidal, gang members or at home.

This was the beauty of the city.

As soon as the sun went down the few laws that were actually followed became meaningless.

Now the city belonged to the street rats and the lawless. They were all animals. From the racoons and possums, over the henchmen and thieves up to the mafia and his family.

All animals.

Hungry for blood.

Greedy and destructive.

Virgil absolutely loved it.

He passed a few of Uncle Jeremy's men beating up a cop with a crowbar in an alleyway, greeting him as he passed, watched a woman smash a chair over the head some guy who had tried to grope her, dishevelled and angry, and grinned at the raven and racoon, which were fighting viciously over some small animal one of them had killed.

There was a light burning in the living room when he got home. Not the ceiling light - it was far too muted for that.

He unlocked the front door and shut it behind himself. It was warm in here.

"I'm home!" he called, taking off his shoes and jacket.

No reply.

"Papa?"

Still no reply.

Virgil frowned, waiting for a moment longer and went into the living room.

Papa was slumped on the couch, fingers tracing an empty glass. Next to it on the table was an empty bottle of whiskey, that Virgil knew had been more than half full just this morning. He'd opened it after all.

Slowly Papa looked up as if only noticing him standing in the doorway now.

"...V'gil," he slurred.

"How much did you drink?" Virgil asked with a frown. He couldn't remember ever having seen Papa drunk.

He blinked at the bottle and gestured vaguely with one hand. "J'st a little."

Virgil sighed.

"Well, you clearly had enough. You're fucking trollied. Let's get you to bed, shall we? You'll hate yourself for this tomorrow, you know?"

"Already do," Papa mumbled as Virgil put his arm over his shoulder to support him.

Papa leaned on him heavily and Virgil staggered under the weight slightly but managed to bring him to the stairs, where Papa could also hold onto the bannister, taking some of the weight of his shoulders.

"You look so much like your mother," Papa suddenly said, just as they reached the second floor and Virgil almost let him fall in surprise.

Papa didn't talk about her.

He never did.

"She had her hair like that for a while too," Papa continued. "Then she grew it out longer. She looked so beautiful. Like an angel."

Virgil kicked open the door to Papa's room.

He didn't say anything, almost forgetting how to breathe. Papa was actually talking about her.

Carefully Virgil let him slide onto the bed and ducked to take off his shoes.

"I didn't mean to kill her," Papa said, anguish in his voice as he began combing through Virgil's hair with one hand. "I really didn't. I  just- I just wanted to scare her."

His hand slid over Virgil's cheek slowly and even though Papa was looking at him Virgil had the feeling that he wasn't seeing him.

No.

Papa was seeing her.

"I didn't think it'd be that fragile," Papa's hand slid down further and settled on Virgil's neck. A jolt of panic shot through him. "I didn't think it'd break that easily."

Papa began to squeeze.

"I just grabbed her and pressed down."

His grip began to hurt and Virgil tried to gasp for breath, clawing at the hand on his throat.

"And then she was dead. Just like that."

Blackspots appeared in Virgil's vision and he swung out wildly.

His fist hit Papa on the temple and he collapsed onto the bed.

Virgil gasped and coughed, stumbling back towards the door and slammed it as soon as he was on the hallway.

He still couldn't breathe.

Why the fuck couldn't he breathe?!

His vision swam, from tears this time instead of lack of oxygen.

Was this how she had felt?

In her last moments, getting choked by the man she had loved and trusted?

He didn't want this. This panic in his chest keeping him from breathing and making the world around him blur. At least not because of Papa. Not him. Never because of Papa. Papa was supposed to be safe. Papa protected him. Papa helped him calm down.

Papa had just tried to kill him.

Virgil sobbed.

Papa had tried to kill him the same way he'd killed her.

Virgil barely remembered to grab his jacket as he ran out, slamming the front door and running down the dark street.

He stopped at the North Bridge and collapsed against the railing.

The air was now so cold it almost burned in his lungs as he finally managed to take a breath. His throat hurt. He carefully wrapped his hand around it. It'd bruise.

 "You look so much like your mother."

Virgil stumbled on through the streets. His reflection in a dark shop window caught his attention and made him stop.

His cheeks were streaked with black.  His eyes were covered almost completely by messy black hair.

So she had had shoulder-long hair at one point.

Virgil grabbed a hand full of hair and pulled at it until a few strands ripped off.

He stared down at them.

He didn't want Papa to see her in his place.

The lights of another store, also reflecting in the shop window he was standing in front of caught his attention.

Did they have bleach there?

He crossed the street.

The shop was empty and Virgil was barely aware of the song playing over the speakers, so quiet that it was drowned out by his mind.

He grabbed two cartons.

Bleach and the first hair dye his hand touched. He didn't care. He had no idea what colour her hair had been. He just didn't want black.

He didn't bother to wait for his change as he handed the cashier a twenty and fled the store.

Back at home, Virgil locked himself in the bathroom and ripped open the bleach carton, barely skimming the instructions.

The chemical smell filled the room as he spread it over his hair and when he was done he had to open a window to breathe.

He set a timer on his phone and busied himself with washing off his make up while he let it set.

Once he was done with that he began pulling at the skin of his arms and digging his nails into the scars to keep his thoughts from spiralling again.

The timer went off and he rinsed his hair out.

It was almost white now.

He ripped open the secong carton.

Purple.

For fucks sake.

He spread it over his hair, careful to get it everywhere.

If he was going to look stupid he might as well make sure it wasn't splotchy.

He wasn't hungry anymore but he still went into the kitchen and warmed up some soup, forcing himself to eat, despite the gag reflex that kicked in a few times.

Then he washed his hair again.

He didn't bother looking at the result before he grabbed the razor and scissors. Once he was done he pulled on a turtle neck to hide the forming bruise, poured a glass of water and grabbed an aspirin.

For a few minutes he stood in front of Papa's door, frozen until he managed to go in, put both items on the nightstand and immediately flee again.

Then he once again grabbed his jacket and left, locking the door behind himself.

He wouldn't be able to sleep tonight. At least not if he stayed here.

---

A knock on the window snapped Janus out of the half-asleep half-awake state they'd been in for hours.

Slowly they stood up, the floor cold against their bare feet, and frowned at the figure in the window.

They grabbed a glass water bottle as a weapon and cautiously opened it.

The figure slid inside.

"Virgil?" Janus frowned and set down the bottle. "The fuck are you doing here?!"

"You owe me," Virgil rasped. "Five nights. From that bet."

Janus blinked, their brain catching up slowly.

"The one we made for my parent's wedding?"

Virgil nodded.

He was upset. Even in the dark Janus could tell.

They closed the window, cutting off the cold draft, and Virgil took off his shoes.

For a moment they contemplated what to say.

They were sure that something had happened.

They just didn't know what.

"I won't ask," they finally said, "but if you want to talk... I'm here for you, okay?"

Virgil nodded.

"Thanks."

He didn't say anything else. His voice was hoarse.

Janus led him over to their bed and climbed in, letting him follow.

He'd cut his hair.

It also looked lighter than usual, though they couldn't be sure in the bad lighting.

Janus had almost fallen asleep again when they hear a muffled sob.

They looked over at Virgil again.

He was crying.

So something bad had happened.

For a moment they hesitated before they wrapped their arms around Virgil and pulled him against their chest.

"It'll be okay," they promised.

Virgil just latched onto them and buried his face in their shirt.

Next

Taglist:

@patton-cake , @isabelle-stars

[steebharringt0n]

cat’s in the cradle

infant | toddler | child | teenager | young adult

a 5-part story exploring the relationship between billy hargrove and his first-born son, adam

pairing: billy hargrove x you

rating: t

a/n: thank you all for the feedback, this has been super fun to write so far and i’m so happy to see it receive so much love, if you’ve missed a part, I have linked them up top! enjoy!

---

part 3 - child

“Ma! I can’t find my baseball glove!”

“Mommy, mommy, mommy!”

“MA! MY GLOVE!”

“MOMMY!”

Your head was going to explode if your children would not shut up.

The Hargrove household was in it’s usual chaos mode. Backpacks and shoes had a permanent place by the front door, the living room wall was adorned with pictures of the kids, pictures of you and Billy, pictures of you, Billy and the kids, and a couple with Max and your parents in them. It was Saturday morning and Adam had his championship little league game. The Sunset Cliff Tigers were on a hot streak and as usual, the four of you were running late because your husband just loved to take his sweet time showering. You were in the kitchen quickly stuffing snacks and drinks for the team, it was your job as the coach’s wife to always bring after game snacks - plus you always brought the best snacks.

10-year old Adam came rushing into the kitchen, his square glasses adorning his face as he frantically searched around the area for his lucky baseball mitt. His blond hair had darkened out as he got older, turning into a dirty blond that matched Billy’s hair. All dressed up in his yellow and white striped uniform, you heard the loud clacking of his baseball cleats roam around the kitchen.

“Adam, you left it in the laundry room” you casually told him, zipping up the large snack bag.

Adam blinked blankly, then quickly turned on his heels and ran over to the laundry room. You heard small puttering steps come into the kitchen, accompanied by a mischievous giggle you knew too well.

“Mommy, mommy, mommy!”

Ah, yes, Ava.

5-year old Ava Grace Hargrove was a carbon copy of you - minus the blue eyes. She had the same hair, same smile, same nose, and she even laughed the same way you did. 

But my god, was she nothing like you. She was everything Billy, and it terrified you.

The mere thought of her turning into an angry, rebellious teenager gave you nightmares. She was nothing like your sweet boy, in fact they were the complete opposite of each other. Ava threw tantrums, Ava hated eating her vegetables, and oh man, don’t even think about reading her a bedtime story - she found them incredibly boring. She was loud, rebellious, and had a knack for getting into trouble.

She got along swimmingly with her Auntie Max.

But she knew how to work her way around you and Billy. She had a look - pretty much the same look that Billy would give to charm his way through situations. She would hang her lower lip in a pout, bat her long eyelashes and suddenly you and Billy were turned into goo.

Billy more than you. She had him wrapped around his finger, she was always able to weasel her way out of getting into trouble when Billy was around. His little princess could do no wrong in his eyes. He was there for every boo-boo, every cold, every flu. He was incredibly protective of her, more than he was with you in high school, and that’s saying something.

With a loud sigh escaping your lips, you turned to face your daughter, “Yes baby?”

Standing barefoot, with her long barbie pajamas, she gave you a grin, “I want my cheerios”

You quickly whipped out a sandwich bag, shoving handful of cheerios and zipping it close.

Being a full time mom, and teacher had its perks. You were a master multi-tasker, simultaneously grading papers, cooking dinner, doing laundry, putting your kids to bed and still find time with your husband? You were like Wonder Woman in Billy’s eyes. 

You approached Ava, crouching down to her size. The bag of cheerios dangled in your hand, Ava went and tried to get a grab at it but you swiped it away before she could. She let out a angry grumble,

“You’ll get your cheerios when you go get dressed - we’re already late Ava Grace, I laid out your clothes for you on your bed, go change.” you ordered, your head gesturing towards her bedroom. Ava nodded at you, letting out a giggle before she scampered upstairs to her lilac colored room.

You scanned around the kitchen, making sure you didn’t forget anything else to pack. You had snacks, drinks, first-aid, sunscreen (yes, you were THAT mom). You heard the thundering footsteps of Billy come down the stairs, “Let’s go! We’re already late!” he shouted.

He poked his head into the kitchen flashing you a smile that still, at 30 years old, made you weak in the knees. “Ready momma?”

He donned on a yellow baseball cap, the words coach written in white, bold letter words. When Adam had expressed interest in little league, Billy jumped at the chance to coach his team. It was pretty much the only thing they had in common. Adam had no interest in cars, no interest in his dad’s lame old music, no interest in surfing, they had nothing in common.

Except for their love of baseball.

Billy and Adam held season passes to the San Diego Padres. They wouldn’t miss a game if their life depended on it. Hell, Billy even closed shop early one day in order to catch a game.

It was their thing, their little club, and your heart would swell when the two of them would come bursting into the house, their hands sticky from eating popcorn, their shirts stained with mustard from the hot-dogs, with large smiles on their faces, drunk on all the fun they had at the game.

Although they both couldn’t be any different, their love for baseball is what kept their bond tight.

“I’m waiting for our little hellraiser to get dressed” you told him, leaning forward on the kitchen island.

“My little Ava? My little princess who can do no wrong?” he dramatically feigned hurt, his hand placed over his heart.

He leaned over the kitchen island, meeting you halfway. Your noses grazed one another as you felt his minty breath on your face.

“What do I get when we win today?” he huskily spoke. After being together for over 10 years, you both were still crazy in love with each other since the first time he laid eyes on you when he walked into Hawkins High. Albeit you both were older, but his features had become more defined, his jaw more chiseled, his shoulders more broad - he still had that ugly tattoo on his shoulder (which both Adam and Ava marveled over) but he was still as sexy as ever.

“Hmm ... I dunno, maybe you’ll get to first base, maybe a little bit of second base ... not sure if you’ll hit a homerun though ... “ you playfully teased.

Billy’s raised an eyebrow, “Is that a challenge, Hargrove?”

“You bet your ass Hargrove”

“Ew, what are you guys doing?”

You quickly placed a peck on his lips as Adam’s voice broke the conversation between the two of you.

You smiled sweetly at your son who was now wearing a matching yellow baseball cap, walking over to him, “Nothing, did you find your glove?”

He pulled his old, ratted glove from under his arm, waving it in the air. “Got it right here, Ava! Let’s go!” he shouted at the stairs.

“I’m coming!” she shouted back, running from out of her room, her [Y/H/C] hair all wild as she carefully walked down the steps. All dressed up in her yellow overalls to match the team color, and white shoes, she looked absolutely adorable and for a second you forgot how much a little spitfire she could be.

“Daddy, daddy, I wore yellow for you!” she exclaimed happily, pushing her hair out of her face as she proudly showed off her yellow overalls. Billy scooped up his daughter, planting kisses all over her cheeks. He rested her on his hip, “I have my own cheerleader, whaddya know!”

You walked over to Billy and Ava and handed her the ziplock bag, she eagerly took it from your hands, and immediately started to shove the cheerios in her mouth.

The four of you quickly ushered out of the house, piling into Billy’s top of the line 1997 Honda CR-V, or as commonly known as, the family car. Billy’s poor old camero was collecting dust in the garage. He rarely had time to drive it around, but he knew one day he would pass on his first baby to Adam.

The drive to the baseball field was quick, but the crowds were already getting large. The Sunset Cliffs Tigers were going up against the Hillcrest Sharks - this was turning out to be a big game. Adam knew how difficult this team would be, but he wouldn’t let it effect his game. He didn’t want to let his father down.

Billy pulled the car into park, and Ava quickly jumped out of her booster seat, running towards the concession stand where you promised to buy her ice cream if she behaved well. You gave both your boys a good luck kiss (and a swat to Billy’s ass for good measure) as they headed down towards the coach’s box to huddle up with the team.

You caught up with Ava, who was having a hard time deciding on whether to choose chocolate or vanilla ice cream. Ultimately she ended up going with both. The two of you then found a spot on the bleachers, right behind the coach’s box as the game started to get underway.

The Tigers started out with a strong lead, hitting home runs left and right, but it was up until the 5th inning that the Sharks were quickly catching up to them. By the time the 9th inning rolled around the game was tied, 5-5, and it was a nail-biter.

Adam was on third base, he was so close to home base that he could feel it under his cleats. He pushed his glasses up, his neck turning towards you and Ava as you happily waved and gave him a thumbs up.

“You got this baby!” you shouted, Ava’s sticky hands that were covered in soft serve ice cream clapped along with you.

Suddenly, Adam got nervous. The crowds, the expectation, it all hit him at once.

He looked up at his father who could clearly read his nerves, and Billy called a time-out.

Adam jogged his way over to the coach’s box, a panicked expression on his face.

“Dad, I can’t do it, I can’t slide”

Billy crouched down to Adam’s height, placing a reassuring hand on his shoulder, “Hey, hey, where did this come from?”

Adam shook his head, “I don’t wanna mess up, I don’t wanna lose.” Adam paused, sucking in a breath, “I don’t want to disappoint you”

Billy’s heart clenched at those words. It was like staring at a mirror when he gazed over at a nervous Adam. The painful memory of Neil berating him for not sliding properly at his own little league game suddenly entered his mind. He remember how terrified he was when Neil grabbed his arm, shaking him violently for not listening - for disappointing him.

For being a pussy.

But Billy isn’t Neil. He is nothing like Neil.

Billy placed both hands on Adam’s shoulder as he hung his head low. Billy lifted his son’s chin up, adjusting his glasses, and sweeping his sweaty hair out of his face.

“Win or lose, slide or not, I am proud of you no matter the outcome. You will never disappoint me Adam.”

Adam’s bottom lip trembled as he nodded at his father. Billy then stood up and engulfed his son in a tight hug. Billy pulled away, adjusting Adam’s yellow baseball cap. With a watery smile on his face, Adam jogged back to third base, a new wave of confidence instilled in him.

Jacob Richardson was up to bat, and as soon as the pitcher threw the ball, Jacob swung with all his might, the loud clack of the ball hitting the bat echoed throughout the field. All eyes were on Adam as he started to run towards home base. His cleats digging in the dirt, his arms woosh-ing by his side. He didn’t have time to think, but he went ahead and took the leap. 

He threw himself onto the ground, feeling the rocks pierce his skin, the dirt burning his arm as he slid towards the base. His glasses were complete dirty, obstructing his vision. He outstretched his arms until the felt the home base plate under him.

“SAFE!”

The crowd roared with excitement. Adam jumped up, swiping his glasses off his face to see his teammates rush towards him. Lifting him up on their shoulders and parading him around. You and Ava ran out to the field, running over to Billy who was being handed the championship trophy. You placed a big sloppy kiss on his mouth, he was grinning from ear to ear as you pulled away from him. Billy then ran out to his team, handing Adam the championship trophy as his teammates placed him on the ground.

“I did it dad! I slid!” Adam beamed, his entire face caked with dirt.

Billy swept Adam in a hug, “You did! and I am so, so proud you”

You and Ava ran out to the field, and as soon as Billy let Adam go from his hug, you pulled your baby boy and held him tight against your chest.

“Oh my baby boy is a little league champion! I am so proud of you!” you exclaimed.

“Ma .. you’re embarrassing me ...” he muttered as you started to clean away at his face. No son of yours was going to look dirty for the championship photo. You felt tears prick your eyes as you stared down at your boy, the pride you felt for him made you feel overwhelmed, and you had a take a second to calm yourself down.

You probably snapped a million pictures of the whole team, but the favorite picture you took was of the three people who you loved the most. Billy holding Ava in his arms, Adam standing right beside them with the championship trophy in his hands, showing it off with a proud smile.

After a long celebration with the team (with lots of cake and pizza) the four of you headed back towards the car. Ava being Ava, consumed way too much cake and had a sugar crash. She ended up passed out on Billy’s shoulder, crumbs of chocolate cake decorated her lips as small snores escaped from her mouth. Billy had his other arm wrapped around your shoulder, Adam walking right beside you with the trophy in his hands.

“So am I getting scoring a home-run tonight?” he cockily spoke in your ear, his eyebrows wiggling suggestively.

“Wait you guys are playing baseball tonight? Can I play?!” Adam suddenly interjected. Billy was apparently not a good whisperer.

Ava suddenly awoke from her slumber, her eyes wide and alert, “I wanna play too! I wanna play baseball! I wanna score homeruns!” she whined.

Billy’s eyes almost bulged out of his head, and you almost choked, “Ava you are never scoring a homerun” Billy managed to utter out.

This in turn caused Ava to start whining even more, and for Adam beg, to plead to play baseball with his parents.

Luckily they were too young to realize the sexual euphemism that Billy had tried on you.

You jabbed Billy on his side, throwing him a look, “Real smooth Casanova, real smooth”

---

tag list: @the-first-breath-of-autumn-air @justabeautiful-letdown @fab-notfat @tarahell @noodlenerd101 @crazylittlethingcalledobsession @letdecemberburninflames @kake-babe @barbarasbae @delqcour @wearewiththebands @oogachuggaoogaoogachugga

[intothestarkerverse]

hi, so I would like to request a starker prompt where its about the mummy au! where peter is eve, tony is rick, scott is jonathan (why not) the mummy is thanos, anu-san-mun is death. I just love the mummy and the avengers.

Summary:  So I have chosen to go for the trifecta here!  What follows is a Mummy AU for my lovely Nonnie...a Non Powered AU for @starkerweek, and a Protective!Tony Bingo Square fill for @starkerbingo . 

Non Powered AU  - Starker Week (Day Two)

Protective!Tony - Starker Bingo

1.

The only downside to all of this was that he wasn’t going to get to see Howard’s face when he heard the news.

Well…actually, there were multiple downsides to this, like dying and the rat that was trying to chew through what remained of his shoe leather…but really, it was the whole Howard thing he was most concerned with at the moment.  He’d been livid when Tony turned his back on the family fortune and his bright future to join the French Foreign Legion.  Tony’d lied when he said he was out for adventure.  Oh no, primarily, he was out to piss off Howard and possibly stumble into enough treasure to be able to return home wealthier than his old man…because honestly, that would feel good.

Being hanged in an Egyptian prison wasn’t actually one of the ways he thought this was going to end, but in retrospect, he probably should have realized it was a distinct possibility given his life choices.

Tony rested his forehead on his knees and tried to ignore the sweltering heat, the bugs skittering over his hands on the ground, the loud arguments erupting around the prison beyond his cell door, all of them in loudly spoken Arabic that he could only barely comprehend.  His head was splitting.  It was a shame the prison guards weren’t more sympathetic to a man’s hangover.  He needed water.  Or better yet, a little hair of the dog.  The likelihood of him getting either one was…well, it was slim to say the least.

The sound of footsteps stopping at his cell door surprised him.  Was it time to die already?  He hadn’t even fully finished imagining Howard’s reaction to the news!  “Hey, boys, I guess it’s true what they say about time flying…”  His words were interrupted as he was forced to his feet and dragged out of his cell.  Not towards the gallows, though.  Towards the visiting cells? Who was visiting him?

God, had Howard found him?  Was he about to be rescued by his bastard of a father and taken home to New York, because if he was…he’d rather hang, to be frank.

He was cast without ceremony onto a patch of ground surrounded by iron bars.  Pulling himself up with a grimace, his gaze settled on two figures that did not appear to belong at an Egyptian prison.  Men.  English men if he could hazard a guess based on their wardrobe and the rather stuffy way in which they carried themselves.  English men always had posture like someone had rammed a rod up their ass.

Speaking of ramming something up someone’s ass…

The little one was pretty damn cute.  Soft chestnut curls just visible beneath his sun hat, tiny wire rimmed glasses perched on a pert little nose, plump pink lips that he kept wetting with the tip of his tongue as he stared, wide eyed at Tony through the bars.  He was pretty.  Prettier than the girls back home in New York.  Prettier even than the woman he’d taken to bed the night before…the one who had him facing his death in what was likely a very short time.  Hell, if he’d met this pretty little thing last night instead of the thieving piece of shit accompanying him, Tony would have probably given him the trinket and still be back at his room in the boarding house taking the boy apart instead of swinging from the end of a rope.  The boy seemed to shake himself out of his stupor and stepped forward with a nervous smile.  “Oh, hello, pardon me, I don’t mean to be rude.  You just…you are not what I was expecting at all.”

The little one had a soft tone and a proper English accent that made Tony want to live long enough to hear that gentile voice reduced to a rasping, cursing wail of pure desire…

“Is it true that you know the way to Hamunaptra?”

Wait.  What?  “Hamun…I should have known.” He was never lucky enough to have a piece of ass that fine thrown his way without some kind of caveat.  “Yeah, baby, I can take you to the City of the Dead.  But I might beat you there since I’m about to be hanged…you get me out of here, I’ll take you anywhere you want to go.”

Hopefully down on him was going to be at least one stop before their final destination.

The boy looked alarmed, turning to cast a look at the man who had accompanied him, hopefully not a lover…though given the look of the guy, he’d be no competition for Tony anyway.  “Well, I…I don’t know.  That does seem to be quite a predicament…”

Tony laughed, “Yeah, you could say that. But I promise you’ll like me better alive than dead, sweetheart.”  Reaching through the bars he grabbed a handful of that starched white shirt and tugged the boy closer until he could just reach his lips through the bars.  He was a little up tight, but he was English.  Tony had been anticipating that.  He tasted like honey and lemon and after a moment’s hesitation seemed to relax into the kiss, letting Tony tease his lips apart with his tongue and delve deep into the moist recesses before he pulled away with a growl.  

Flushed pink, lips swollen, the boy straightened his cravat and cleared his throat.  “I…um…I’ll see what I can do, shall I?”

2.

“Ugh, to think I ever found that scoundrel attractive!”  Peter grimaced at his own reflection, dropping the fingers he’d had pressed to  his lips.  He really had been stupid to think that the kiss meant anything to the American.  Tony was a dying man desperate to live and he had done anything necessary to prolong his miserable life.

Like a fool, Peter had fallen right into his trap.

“You are far too intelligent for this, Peter.  Chin up, old chap.  You can ignore that American pig long enough to find the Book of Amun-Ra and then you never have to see him again.”

So what if he was rakishly good looking?  Peter hadn’t thought so in prison, but Tony’s hair had been long and his beard had been unkempt and he’d smelled of wet camel and alcohol.  When they had met at the docks later and Tony had presented himself with cleaned and trimmed hair and a goatee so masterfully groomed that Peter was half tempted to ask if he’d found a barber to have it professionally done, Peter had to admit that the man was perhaps the most handsome one he had ever set eyes on.  The kiss…the kiss had been positively sinful, but apparently that devil hadn’t felt the same way.

Well.  Peter didn’t need him anyway.  He was an academic!  He had books and brains and that ruffian was probably going to wind up swinging from another rope the moment they parted company.  Best not to lose sleep over him.

One moment Peter was dressing for bed and the next he was facing the end of a pistol in the hand of a strange man in desert garb with facial tattoos that Peter could almost just begin to decipher.  “Oh dear!  Can I help you? I think you have the wrong room…”

“Where is the map?”

Peter grimaced as the barrel of the gun was pushed into his chest.  “Over on the desk.”

“And the key?”

“Key?  I don’t have a key…”  Peter’s confusion was interrupted by the sound of his door splintering.  There, standing in the rubble of the ruined entry was the very scoundrel he had been disavowing only a moment prior.  He looked resplendent with a gun in either hand, a look of determination on the chiseled features of his too handsome face and his once carefully coiffed dark hair falling in haphazard strands across his forehead.  

“Let the kid go.”

Peter’s gaze was ripped from his rescuer only long enough to glimpse the second attacker attempting to enter through the porthole.  Apparently, Tony too saw that figure and released a volley of bullets.  Really, Peter had never seen anything quite as inherently masculine and impressive as Tony Stark facing off against his attackers.  Never mind that now the boat was on fire and there seemed to be a great many more of the men in black than just the two that had been attempting to infiltrate his cabin.   He didn’t even have a thought to spare for his brother, to wonder where on earth Scott was and if he had gotten free of the ship.

At least, not until they had dragged themselves up onto the shore of the Nile and Peter was watching everything on the ship burn.  He shivered in the night air and bemoaned the loss of his clothes, his books, his tools…although, he didn’t mind the look that Tony was giving him as the American’s dark eyes raked over the thin, wet night clothes that clung to his skin…

3.

“What was that about nothing bad ever coming from reading a book?”

Peter cast the man a weary look.  “Well, there’s a first time for everything, isn’t there?”

Tony just snorted and grabbed Peter’s arm, jerking him sideways down an alley and a steep but short descent of stairs.  “Okay, so he’s whole and he’s got the book and we’re basically screwed.  We gotta keep you away from him.”

“That is a plan I do rather like, I have to admit.”  Peter let a little whoosh of breath as he was knocked backward into a wall and pressed firmly there by Tony’s rock solid form.  Eyebrows raised, he opened his mouth to question the move, but a hand was pressed against his lips and Peter followed Tony’s gaze to the mouth of the alley where a mass of entranced slaves were beginning to trickle by.  Peter’s eyes widened, but he didn’t make a sound.

As the final stragglers in the crowd edged by, Peter and Tony left the safety of the alley and attempted to race across the square to the next thoroughfare on their way out of the city.  They were stopped by the undulating mass of insects that descended from the sky and formed a living, writhing curtain in front of them.

Peter gulped audibly, following the voice to face the now regenerated and empowered Thanos.  He was large and frightening and ugly.  The boy could not help but grimace, hands trembling slightly at his side.

“Leave the kid alone.”  Tony stepped in front of him.  Dear, sweet, brave Tony.  He had underestimated the American.  He wasn’t a scoundrel.  He was a hero.  A true hero like one from novels and fairy stories.  Peter had no doubt that he would die to protect him from Thanos if that was what it took, but he really didn’t want to see that exquisite example of the human condition die because of him.  It seemed such a waste.  He was, after all, just a librarian and it did not seem that his feelings for the man were at all reciprocated.

Breaking away, Peter moved to join Thanos, his gaze meeting Tony’s for a moment as he passed him.  They were outnumbered.  Thanos had the upper hand.  They couldn’t fight him and succeed.  Not here.  They needed the book of Amun-Ra and one of them had to be alive and free in order to fetch it.  “I have to do this…but…I’m not saying you can’t rescue me if you’d like.  In fact I’d much prefer that actually…if you feel up to it, that is.”

The last thing Peter saw as he was spirited away by the resurrected Thanos was the look of sheer determination on Tony’s face.

Maybe he did have feelings for Peter after all…

4.

It took extreme physical effort on Tony’s part to hold himself back, to formulate some kind of a plan…even a half-assed one, as he took in the sight of Peter chained to a platform alongside a female mummy that had to be the ugly guy’s girlfriend.  Great.  Just great.

Scott had the book.  Scott had been behind him a moment ago but had either been detained or was too cowardly to enter the antechamber with Thanos and the brunt of his legion.

Well, Scott might be a coward, but there was no way in hell that Tony was going to let Thanos sacrifice Peter to bring his girlfriend the rest of the way back from the dead. So, he didn’t have guns.  He’d ran out of ammunition and lost the pistols themselves several mummy hordes ago.  All he had, in fact, was a sword he’d taken from a statue and his own stubborn will to reclaim the boy whose body he hadn’t even gotten to taste yet.

The kid could not die a virgin.  He was way too pretty to die a virgin, and he had to be a virgin.  Stuffy British boy like that…his kiss at the jail had probably been his first one.

Okay, enough planning.  Sometimes, you just had to wing it.

With a yell, he raced from the shadows with the sword held high, swinging wildly at the undead who swarmed towards him, breaking through enough to snap the chain on one of Peter’s wrists before he was pulled back into battle once more.  He wished his movements were a little more refined.  Maybe if he’d taken fencing like his father had wanted.  As it was, he was chopping at the dessicated figures sloppily, watching as pieces of mummy rained down around them and tried to rejoin the fray with whatever means they possessed.  A few disembodied feet were wiggling in the sand, hands crawling like spiders in search of something useful, heads chomping at the empty air.

A scream tore Tony’s attention away from his foes to the dais and the still semi-restrained figure of Peter.  The boy was desperately trying to pull his free arm loose of the chains while the female mummy crawled up his body with a dagger in her hand.

“Leave.  My.  Boy.  Alone.”  Tony broke away from the pack, racing the distance between himself and the Englishman who had stolen his heart.  He dived for the mummy, his head connecting with her chest and throwing them both over the side into the sand as he swung the sword against that last bit of chain to free Peter’s other hand.

“So I’m your boy, now, am I?  I don’t recall having agreed to that…”

“Are we really going to argue semantics now, baby?”  Tony dodged a strike from the mummy and her blade.  “Get that golden book of yours from your cowardly brother in the other room and let’s end this before they end us, hm?  Then I can show you why you really do want to be my boy, Peter.  By the time I’m done, you’ll be begging me…”

“I.  Do.  Not.  Beg.”

“We’ll see.”

“Hmph, we do have to survive this first, you know.”

“Right, so go get the book already!”

“So bossy,”  Peter turned up his nose at the man but still raced back towards the entrance, dodging the writhing parts of fallen mummies as he went.

Tony was just reaching the end of his rope.  There were far too many of these dried out defenders of Thanos and it didn’t help that even when he thought he’d killed them…some part of them came back with a vengeance.  The girl was another problem all together.  If he looked away from her for even a moment, she tried to follow after Peter and he had to charge after her.  “How many times I gotta tell you, lady, the boy is mine?”

He was losing steam.  He didn’t know how long he was going to be able to keep this up.  Truthfully, he might have given up a couple dozen foes ago were it not for the the stodgy little English rose he was trying so desperately to save.

“I’ve got it!  I’ve got it!”  Peter’s voice shouted from the entry and Tony cursed as he dived for the girl again, grabbing her heal and jerking her off of her feet before she could race at Peter and bury the dagger in his chest.  Tony hit the ground hard, breath knocked out of him and suddenly surrounded by a swarm of the disembodied parts of the mummies he had slain.

“Read it, Peter, for God’s sake, read it!”

“Oh, right, yes…”  He slammed the book against the wall, hefting it’s heavy cover open and began searching the golden pages for the proper inscription.

Thanos waved the mummy parts away from Tony with a motion of his hand.  He’d found another one of those daggers like his girlfriend.  He was holding it tightly in his fist and looking at Tony in a way that reminded him way too much of Howard.  Disapproval and disappointment.  His two best friends.  Tony’s fingers closed around the hilt of his sword on the sand, determined to go out fighting for Peter if not for himself.

Peter’s voice rang out loud and clear through the chamber.  Thanos seemed to pause, real fear in his eyes as a  phantasm of ghostly light passed over the room.  But when it was gone, Thanos was still there and he still looked prepared to kill Tony.

“Peter…that didn’t work.”

“It should have worked!”

“It didn’t work.”  Tony grimaced at the figure as he bent over him, dagger poised to strike.  

“Tony?  Tony…no…”

Peter’s strangled cry of alarm was enough to snap Tony’s focus back into place.  He lashed out, kicking the figure with both legs and attacking with his sword.  It was only when the blade had buried itself in the other man’s gut and Tony was covered in blood and thicker, more nauseating things, that he called out a choked.  “Yeah, no, I was wrong.  It totally worked…”

5.

How many people got to lose their virginity in the Egyptian city of the dead to a man who had nearly died to save him?  Not many, Peter would wager.

“Does this I mean I get to keep you…or am I just one in a long line of conquests?”

Tony propped himself up on an arm to regard the boy with a playful smirk.  “You really think I’d go to this much trouble for a conquest?  You’re real pretty, Peter Parker, and the sounds you make when I fuck you are a thing of beauty…but I’d have never gone this far to save someone unless I intended to ‘keep them’.”

“Oh, well that really is too bad, Tony, because as I recall…if anyone is to be property and possessor in this relationship, I do believe that I am to be the one keeping you.”

Tony rolled his eyes but leaned down to peck Peter’s lips once, twice, three times.  “You know what, Kid, that’s just fine by me.”

“Splendid!  Have you ever been to South America, Tony?  I have heard from other scholars that they have mummies there too…”

Tony covered Peter’s mouth with a hand and propped himself up again.  “Scott!  Scott!  I know you’re somewhere around here. Scott, come take your brother back.  I’ve changed my mind.  I want to give him back…”

Squirming free of Tony’s hold, Peter let out an exasperated sigh.  “Oh you!”

[incorrectsmashbrosquotes]

The Beginning... Episode 1 Part 3

Game 1

Ganondorf: Alright, alright alright! It’s finally time fro our first game of Volley-Bomb! Representing the Crying Goombas is Link, Leaf, Red, Joker, and Rosalina! Representing the Ugly Koopas is Samus, Roy, Pit, Lucina, and Erdrick!

-

In the Confessional

Samus: I had high hopes going into the first round. I mean, Leaf and Red can barely be qualified as teens. They’re tiny. Then again we’ve got Pit... but the kid’s an angel! And he’s beaten Dark Lords and Evil Gods without any Pokemon.

-

Ganondorf: The rules are simple... don’t kill each other! Oh, and stay on your side of the court. Aside from that? Go nuts!

Joker: Wait, seriously? No rules?

Ganondorf: People don’t want to see a fair fight! They’re here for blood, guts, and the occasional booty shots. *to the camera crew* Make sure to get Link’s moneymaker. Apparently fangirls like it.

Link: *covers his butt with his hands*

Ganondorf: And, without further ado... BEGIN!

*Link serves the bomb, throwing it over to the other side. To counter it, Erdrick draws his sword and uses it like a baseball bat, sending the bomb flying back to Link’s side.*

Link: Oh, so that’s how you want to play?! *draws the Master Sword* I’m the sword Ping-Pong champion!

-

In the Confessional

Link: Finally! That Final Boss sequence in Ocarina of Time pays off! Never thought I’d be thanking Ganondorf for something.

-

*Link charges up and unleashes a Great Spin sending the bomb back over with the force of a comet. It hits Lucina and the subsequent explosion sends her flying out of the arena*

Ganondorf: Point, Goombas!

Lucina, legs sticking out of the sand like a reverse ostrich: Sorry guys.

-

In the Confessional

Samus: I may have spoken too soon.

-

*the game begins again. This time Samus serves and sends it over to the other side. Rosalina catches it with her wand and whips it around her head like a sling*

Rosalina: Let me drop THIS bomb on you!

Everyone: ... *crickets chirping in background*

Rosalina: What, I thought it was a good one. *sighs* Oh well. *hurls the bomb back to Samus’ side*

*Roy intercepts the bomb and ripostes, countering and sending it back at Link’s team.*

Samus: Nice one flame-brain!

Joker: Oh yeah? How about this! *dramatically rips mask off, summoning Arsene* ARSENE! FIRE YOUR- *as he is preparing his epic anime-style attack the bomb hits him square in the chest sending him flying and dispelling the Persona* Oww.... my everything.

Ganondorf: And the Koopas even the score!

Link: Okay, no more screwing around! *picks up a new bomb* Just call me Marcellus Wallace, ‘cause I’m going Medieval on your ass!

-

In the Confessional

Rosalina: Oh, so when Link does a one-liner it’s cool! How is that one different from mine? Puns make great one-liners!

-

*Link tosses the bomb in the air and draws his bow and arrow. He lines up a shot and send the arrow flying. It hits the bomb and sends it over at Samus’ team.*

Pit: Oh yeah? Well two can play at that game! *Pit fires Palutena’s bow and sends the bomb right back at Link*

Link: Grr! *fire his bow again, hitting the bomb and repeating the process.*

Samus: I don’t think so pretty boy! *Samus summons up her Power Armor and Z-Jumps into the air. She fires her Zero Cannon, blasting the bomb down with such force it takes out both Link and Rosalina*

Ganondorf: Oh, snap! That’s  two-fer! Way to play for keeps Samus!

-

In the Confessional

Link, bruised and bloodied: Okay, not gonna lie... that was pretty hot.

-

Samus, her Power Armor flaling away: I play to win.

Ganondorf: Damn! Guess it’s down to just Redie Freddie and Leafy Green for the Goombas. How are they gonna get outta this one?

Red: Welp, guess it’s time for Plan P.

Pit: Plan P?

Leaf: Plan Pokemon!

*Leaf and Red throw their Pokeballs, summoning Charizard, Squirtle, and Bulbasaur.*

Roy: Wait what?! They can do that?!

Ganondorf: Nothing says they can’t.

Erdrick: That’s totally cheating!

Ganondorf: Guess who doesn’t give a shit ya Goku rip-off.

-

Confessional

Erdrick: It’s not my fault I was designed by Akira Toriyama!

-

Leaf: Bulbasaur! Use Vine-Whip!

Bulbasaur: ‘Saur! *grabs the Bomb with their vines and throws it into the air*

Red: Charizard! Use Flamethrower!

Charizard: ‘Zard! *Blasts fire at the bomb sending it at Pit with the force of a meteor*

Pit: Oh, applesauce. *Gets blasted out of the court*

Ganondorf: Oooh! And that’s another one for the Goombas!

Samus: Alright, that’s it! *turns to Erdrick and Roy* Morons! Swords out!

*Erdrick and Roy draw their weapons. Samus nods and spikes the bomb over the net.*

Leaf: Bulbasaur use Vine-Whip! *Bulbasaur grabs the bomb out of the air and tosses it high*

Red: Squirtle, use Hydropump! Charizard, use Flamethrower at the same time!

Charizard: 'Zard!

Squirtle: Squirtle!

*Squirtle and Charizard use their attacks at the same time. The resulting blast on the Koopas side blasts Samus, Roy, and Erdrick off the court*

Ganondorf: Holy Jompin' Gibblets! Red and Leaf win the first Game with an abolutely EXPLOSIVE VICTORY!

Red: Boo yeah!

Leaf: Pokemon Power! *they high five*

*The others of their team come and crowd surf them while Koopa Team picks themselves up and dust themselves off*

Samus: Well, that was the most humiliating thing ever.

Erdrick: My three favorite Pokemon just beat me up! This is a dream come true!

Samus: Lucina, hit Erdrick for me. I'm too tired.

Lucina: *whacks Erdrick upside the head.*

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

Game 2

Ganondorf: After that explosive display, it's time for Round 2 of VOLLEY-BOMB! Both teams gave a great effort and, frankly, both deserved to win... is what I'd say if I were a LOSER! The Koopas sucked harder than a Hoover vaccum making sweet, sweet love to a Roomba!

Peach: Well... there's another image to repress with alcohol.

Ganondorf: The Koopas are going to need this win just to tie it all up. This time we've got Daisy, Ike, Corrine, Marth, and Bonny Janet representing the Goombas! Opposing them is Zelda, Dark Pit, Robyn, Peach, and Captain Falcon!

Captain Falcon: Aw yeah baby! Let's get this party started!

Dark Pit: I hate everything.

Peach: Uhh... Dark Pit? How are you not sweating.

Dark Pit: I'm an emo. Emos don't sweat. We simmer along with our burning hatred for all things bright and happy.

-

Confessional

Pit: Pittoo scares me sometimes. But I know that deep down he's a big old ball of sunshine! He's my brother after all. How bad can he be.

-

Confessional

Dark Pit, stabbing a voodoo doll of Pit: Why! Won't! You! DIE!

-

Bonny Janet: Ai'ght ya bleedin' coonts! Time ta show these hootin' tootin' flea-ridden, sheep-humpin', rat-faaced, doo-lillies tha' the Goombas ain't ta be messed with!

Corrine: Yeah! ...I think. Was that supposed to be inspirational?

Ike: Yeah.

Marth: How can you tell?

Daisy: The adorable Scot is right! LET'S FUCK 'EM UP!

Peach: Umm... Daisy darling? I'm right here.

Daisy: THERE ARE NO BREAKS ON THE ASS-KICKING TRAIN!

-

Confessional

Daisy: Yeah... did I mention I can get kind of competitive?

-

*Peach pulls down Captain Falcon by the arm and whispers in his ear*

Peach: Take Daisy out first. She's good. Too good, you get me?

Captain Falcon: *nods*

Ganondorf: Alright my funky-fresh friends! Let's get ready to ruuuuummmmmmmmbbbbbllleee!

*The battle is joined. Captain Falcon serves the bomb, sending it flying at Daisy. Daisy whacks the bomb with her baseball bat and sends it back over.

Daisy: GO LEGALLY BRAIN-DEAD BY CHOCKING ON MY ENTIRE ASS!

Zelda: Well that's just uncalled for! *Zelda summons up her armor to whack the bomb back over*

Ike: AETHER! *Ike swings Rangell, the sword wreather in blue flame. The bomb flies over... and out of the court entirely*

Ganondorf: Ooh, tough luck! Ike is out!

Corrine: What?! You didn't say anything about that!

Ganondorf: It's one of the basic rules of Volleyball Corrine, get with the fucking program girl.

Corrine: But this is Volley-Bomb!

Ganondorf: Look, I'm the host and I say that Ike's out.

Marth: Corrine, please just drop it.

Corrine: But he's just pulling this out of his ass! What we can use our powers but we can't knock the ball out of the court?!

Ganondorf: Okay, you know what?! You're out to missy. Grab Hunk of Burning Love over there and get off my court.

Corrine: WHAT!?

*Ganondorf Warlock-Punches her off the Court*

Ganondorf: ANYONE ELSE WANT SOME!? *turns to Ike* HOW ABOUT YOU MUSCLES!? YOU WANT SOME

Ike: Nope! No. Nuh-uh. *leaves and collects a delirious Corrine*

Ganondorf, cheerful again: Alrighty then! The Goombas are down two players. Can they make a comeback? Let's find out!

-

Confessional

Corrine: Okay, arguing with the Man-Child of Evil may not have been my best move. But I don't like assholes doing whatever they like! Such a prick.

-

Bonny Janet: A'ighty then... we're fooked ain't we?

Daisy: No we aren't! No yet! Come on guys! We can still win this. If Red the Twig and Leaf the... well Leaf the Leaf can pull off a win against all odds then we can too! So let's roll up our sleeves, grease those elbows, and WIN! THAT-

Captain Falcon: Falcon PAWNCH! *The bomb, struck by the Falcon Punch, hits both Marth and Bonny Janet, koncking them out of the arena*

Daisy: Game... Fuck.

Captain Falcon: FALCON PAWNCH! *Falcon knocks Daisy out of the arena with another bomb*

Ganondorf: AND LIKE THAT THE SECOND GAME IS OVER! THE KOOPAS TAKE AN ABSOLUTELY EXPLOSIVE VICTORY! Not losing a single player and absolutely DOMINATING the Goombas!

Captain Falcon: Oh yeah! High fives all around!

Ganondorf: And with that, the score is all tied up. You know what that means. It's time... FOR A TIEBREAKER!

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

Tiebreaker

*The entire cast has assembled, including those nursing injuries.*

Ganondorf: The rules of the Tiebreaker are simple. Each team will select one, I repeat: ONE, champion each. These two champions will play each other in a 1 v. 1 game of Volley-Bomb. But this time, instead of ten player and one bomb... it's ten bombs and one player each!

Marth: Well, I'm out.

Robyn: Me too.

Red: Cowards.

Marth and Robyn: Yup.

Ganondorf: So, select your champions and let's get to this Sudden Death Elimination!

-

With the Goombas

Link: Okay, so since most of us are nursing injuries and they're probably going to be sending out Captain Falcon... who should we choose?

Bonny Janet: Oh ho? So now yer askin' our opinions?!

Link, fed up: Bonny, shut up! I don't know what crawled up your ass and died but shut up and let me talk!

*there is a long moment of silence as Bonny Janet glares at Link... but remains silent*

Link: Thank you.

Corrine: I can't go. I'm still working through that concussion.

Leaf: You all look pretty banged up.

Red: And they'll probably be planning for our Pokemon. We won't be able to pull that trick again.

Daisy: I'll go.

*They all look at her*

Marth: Daisy-

Daisy: No. I owe it to the team to try. Besides, I owe Falcon a little bit of payback.

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

*The battle lines are drawn. Captain Falcon representing the Koopas and Daisy representing the Goombas. Ganondorf  grins evilly and throws all ten bombs into the arena, ten to Daisy and ten to Falcon*

Ganondorf: Lights! Camera! SLAUGHTER!

Daisy: Oh yeah! *Daisy catches four of the bombs and delivers a massive kick upwards, sending the last one into the atmosphere. Daisy*

Catpain Falcon: You're going down girlie! *Falcon catches one, two, three of his bombs* Falcon KICK! *Falcon kick's one of the remaining bombs at Daisy.* Falcon KICK! *Falcon sends the other one at Daisy

Daisy: Sorry Falcon, but this flower's got thorns!

-

Confessional

Rosalian: And now Daisy's doing one-liners two?! Ugh.

-

*Daisy catches both bombs and sends one sailing at Falcon. Falcon dodges as the bomb hits the ground. Daisy throws the second one, but Falcon dodges again.*

Falcon: Hah!

Daisy: Sorry Cappy... I'm not done. *Daisy prepares to throw her remaining four bombs.*

Captain Falcon: Aww crap.

*Daisy throws three of her bombs. In a panic, Falcon responds. The bombs crash into each other, exploding on contact with each other. Falcon is officially out of bombs and Daisy has one left*

Daisy: Dodge this Falcon Dick! *Daisy throws the final bomb*

*Captain Falcon front flips over it. The bomb hits the ground where he had been standing moments prior.*

Captain Falcon: Wait a minute... we're out of bombs. What now?

Daisy: Oh... are we?

*Captain Falcon frowns, not understanding. Daisy smirks and points up. Falcon looks up and sees the final bomb. The one Daisy launched skyward, hurtling right towards his face.*

Captain Falcon: Aw, fu-

*the bomb explodes in his face, launching Falcon out of the arena. Daisy has won!*

Ugly Koopas: NOOOO!

Crying Goombas: BOO YEAH!

*The Goombas race forward, wrapping Daisy in a massive group hug*

Ganondorf: Well Holy Hell! That was one awesome tiebreaker! How're ya feeling Falcon?!

Captain Falcon, from the CF shaped hole in the nearby cliff face: No mommy... I don't wanna wear the pink bow...

Ganondorf: Eh, he'll be fine. Goombas! *The winning team stands at attention* I promised you a reward and now I'll deliver! You win invincibility, you cannot be voted off this island tonight. In addition, your team has earned... a beach party!

Crying Goombas: WOO HOO!

Ganondorf: There'll be good food, fine drinks, and all the volleyball you can play! … The none explosive kind, of course.

-

Confessional

Daisy: Wow! So this is what it's like to be the hero? To be the one who saves the day?! It *sniff* It feels good.

-

Ganondorf: Koopas. I'll be seeing you at the bonfire site, where you will vote off one member of your team. *evil grin* See you there.

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

The Bonfire Ceremony

*As the lights of the Goombas' beach party blaze in the distance the Koopas sit in front of a massive bonfire in sullen silence. Most are nursing injuries and glaring daggers at the team bellow them on the beach. Peach sits with Pit and Zelda on either side of her*

-

Confessional

Peach: I was confident that I wouldn't get voted off, especially after the poor showing of Samus and Falcon. Then again both are pretty powerful. I'm not sure if their failures today will be enough to get them voted off. Samus is more tolerable company, and she didn't fail as spectacularly as Falcon did. Still...

-

*Ganondorf walks around the fire to face the Koopas, carrying a tray of One-Up Mushrooms*

Ganondorf: Welcome, losers, to your first bonfire ceremony! I have on my plate, nine One-Up Mushrooms. These one-ups represent immunity and safety for the coming week. If you fail to receive a marshmallow, you will walk the Dock of Fools, board the Boat of Failures, and be taken away from the Camp forever. And, lose your chance to ear the twenty million dollar reward.

*the Koopas shift around nervously*

Ganondorf: When I call your name, I'll throw your mushroom. The first goes too... Peach. Ganondorf throws it at Peach* Next up... Erdrick. *The Hero gratefully catches the mushroom.* Zelda. *Zelda catches hers* Roy. *Roy spear his mushroom as it flies at him* Pit and Pittoo.

Dark Pit: THAT'S DARK PIT!

Ganondorf: Shut up and eat your mushroom! *Pit happily eats his One-Up as Dark Pit begrudgingly chews on his* Next is... Robyn. *Robyn sighs in relief and eats her One-up* The second to last Mushroom goes to... … … Samus.

-

Confessional

Samus: I was actually scared that I would be voted off first episode. Whew! I'd of never lived that one down.

-

Ganondorf: I have, on this platter, the last One-Up Mushroom. Falcon, you let your team down when they needed you the most. And Lucina? You got knocked out before anyone else, pretty pathetic.

Lucina: Fuck off.

Ganondorf: Prettier girls than you have tried sweetie.

Lucina: Hmpph.

Ganondorf: And the last mushroom... goes too... … … … … … … Lucina!

Captain Falcon: What!?

-

Confessional

Peach: Sure, Falcon's strong, but Lucina is by far the better thinker. Strong can be replaced. Thinkers can't.

-

Confessional

Dark Pit: He's the one person on my team more annoying than Pit.

-

Confessional

Roy: Call it a Fire Emblem bias... but Lucina should stay.

-

Captain Falcon: This... this can't be happening!

Zelda: Sorry Falcon... I wish it didn't have to-

Falcon: This is bullshit! I-

Ganondorf: Cram it buddy! *Ganondorf grabs Falcon by the scruff of his neck and hurls him to the Dock of Fools* And that's your first episode of Total Drama Smash Bros! Falcon is the first to go, but have we seen the last of him? And what will become of the new teams? Find out next week, on Total, Drama, SMASH BROS!

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

And that’s a wrap on episode 1! I’m so excited for this series you guys. I’m going to have so much fun with it!

I really hesitated to put Falcon down as the first off, but he was one of the few characters I didn’t have long term plans for. Sorry if you wanted him to stay.

Also, for a bit of extra fun, submit your own ideas for challenges! It will definitely help get my creative juices flowing.

Be good people!

[feral-anarchy]

Mornin’ had this cool dream.

Which I always have the best dreams if I wake up then go back to sleep.

But it was me (except I was a blue eyed raven haired hot guy) and a bunch of friends. We were on a cruise and an accident happened half way through and the ship pulled a titanic minus the iceberg.

My group of friends got washed away from the rest of the ship which saved us because everyone else aboard got sucked under and killed.

We ended up washing up on this island that was really weird that no one knew was even there and for a long while we just panicked and tried to figure things out. I don’t remember if we found natives first or this magic stone in a cave that turned us all into crazy strong awesome looking creatures that resembled the natives (I was still hot with black hair and blue eyes but I looked like this guy from this YouTube video: https://youtu.be/r0s0E_WsqvQ ) but whichever happened first it happened right after finding a odd looking skeleton on the beach.

We found the natives at this “bar” where they clustered about and were told that we washed up on this ancient island that has existed hidden from the rest of the world and we had slipped into their dimention bubble- and we werent the only ones who have done so.

Turns out when the island needed new guardians it would “summon” them. Of course we asked about that and was told that the previous guardians were killed not to long ago and the (insert name cuz I don’t remember) race kept coming onto their island via their oen dimention rip and trying to take over and murder everyone and if they got to the stone they could destroy the entire world and get into the human world where they could feast.

They were three times as large or larger than us and resembled dinosaurs but in thick clunky square-ish shapes like blocks on blocks. They could speak too but it was more gutteral.

They were cruel monsters. Well my group left the bar and fought amongst are selves because 1: we didnt ask for this 2: we shouldn’t have to fight 3: if we dont fight the world could end and everyone we love 4: we had to find a way home 5: could we ever go home? 6: fighting monsters!? Probably dying horribly like that skeleton we found?? 7: we were monsters now too! Could we ever be human again? Needless to say there was a LOT of arguing and a blond girl (we changed but not that much) decided to not fight and leave the group. She ended up betraying us in the end and got eaten in a horrible way because of it. But that was at the very end.

The first time we see the monsters was terrifying and it was like the horizon along the beach split. Harsh light blinded us and the ocean receded. We had no idea how to fight or control our new skills.

Two of our friends got slaughtered and we all got terribly hurt. The monsters retreated though cackling- this was fun for them! They had just been playing with us. Of course the group freaked out and we all faught again.

We decided to look for a way home and in the meantime we would fight. To protect our dimention and ourselves.

So we learned to fight- and quickly.

We learned of the island and of legends about two children and these eggs that could save everything for all eternity rendering guardians useless. But it was only a legend and had never come true or even looked like it might come true at any time. Especially considering the children- human children- would have come from the bad guys dimention. And all the humans on their dimention were dead and eaten eons ago.

We got our asses kicked so much. But we won each fight none the less. There was this one short and stout very blocky shaped big bad who was yellowish who developed this last relationship with me (they often retreated in fights and we found out who were the leaders and head soldiers because we couldn’t kill them. They’d just retreat at the end of a battle)

It was this playful, nasty, sadistic and sexual relationship that was COMPLETELY one sided. Remember, im a raven haired blue eyed hot guy with a tail.

I recall he had a fondness for spines. He groped and licked my face with a giant gross tongue before injuring me with a hard blow to the gut or a kick thatd send be skipping across the ground like a rock. We got the hell beat out of us all the time.

It was right after a big battle when we thought they were coming back. Light split the sky and the waves drew back. We waited, terrified and defiant but it was no monsters that appeared but two tiny silhouettes that got bigger until we saw that it was a young boy and an older girl. Maybe 7 and 10? They were tattered brown gross long shirts and looked like they had been through hell. The girl was blond with freckles and the boy was dark tan (like Ezran from TDP) with brown hair. They were carrying a round wicker basket. We raced to them as they were followee by some lower monsters.

We killed the monsters and brought the kids back to our natives. It was revealed that these kids were the prophecy! And in the basket they had- eggs! Some were crushed and their yolks ran but some where still good. They all looked like colorful cool looking rocks.

Of course the big bads figured out their humans had escaped along with their eggs because of the blond traitor who ratted us out when they raided the “bar” with the natives in it and told them our weaknesses in exchange for her own life, and launched their biggest assault weeks later. Bit we had healed and were ready to die like the guardians before us.

We found out she betrayed us because she was with them when they showed up all calm and in formation. Erie and smug. The big bad leader had her on his shoulder and told us of her betrayal in exchange for her life before snatching her with his giant hand and tore her apart and devoured her sloppily before our eyes.

My enemy across the front lines was across from me, he caught me attention and sexually licked his lips looking me up and down and I glared in return, a growl rumbling in my chest and my lip twitching to a snarl.

Then suddenly thr battle began! Some of the natives who knew how to fight were with us this time because this was the fight to end all fights!

The “bar” is where my personal battle endes up with my monster as the battle as a whole spread quite far. We were a large group to begin with and even moreso with the natives but the big bads brought their whole force.

I recall being grabbed by the face after being stunned by a gut shot them tossed into the ajr3 where I was met with a huge knee in the gut that sent me flying straight up and slamming my spine across the top of a doorframe bending me backwards. Teeth bared in pain I fell and the door frame crumbled around me. I lay there for a moment then groaned, rolled my eyes exasperated and rolled myself over to get up to continue the fight.

Elsewhere the children raced to get to the magic stone with the eggs, which kept getting broken which redered them useless but there were still a few left.

We didn’t know the finer details of what they needed to do but they did. Together they needed to break an egg over the stone using the stone to crack it, then together needed to grasp the stone with the yolk, fingers laced together with the others hands until a light shone from the stone. This would take the childrens lives in exchange for protection.

I was able to get away to help protect the kids as they ran to get to the stone. My monster followed but one of my companions were right on our tails!

As my monster had me on my back, me holding him off by the throat with my staff, his tongue lolling and dripping bit fat stinking globs of saliva on me I shouted to my companion to “Keep going! Protect the kids!!! Ive got this..”

I kicked my enemy off and we continued to battle.

Back on the beach it was an absolute bloodbath and it seemed the enemy was winning. Injured and exhausted the group and what remained of the natives continued to withdraw to the center of the island as our enemy pushed on.

Back to me and my monster. He was telling me all of the disgusting sexual things he was going to do to me before and as he was killing me. I tried to block him out best I can, rage filling me when he mentioned what he would do to my friends once he was done with me and I lost it when he smirked and began to comment on what he was going to do to the children after as I had grown attached to them and loved them at this point.

With a ferocious roar, teeth so bared you could see gums I lept, caught my monster off guard and slammed my staff through his ugly mouth and pinned him to the ground, finally ending it.

Moments after as I was staggering, gripping my bloodied arm trying to head to the stone to protect the kids a mighty light shone from the middle of the island. The children had done it! They were finishing the spell! They had one last egg to use and they did it!!!

A giant wave of power and light swept through the island, bent the trees and kicked up sand at the beach where the main battle was.

Everyone paused, the big bads looking horrified as one by one they started to disintegrate. They tried to run back to their portal but many didn’t make it, especially the leaders and our personal enemies.

I could have collapsed then and there but I had to get to the children.

As i was about to enter the mouth of the cave a native came out looking joyful but sad. She had been there to protect the children as a last effort though she was old and weak- i think she was the healer and still had a tiny bit if magic.

She told me not to go in for I would find nothing but starlight dust. The children were no more, they had given their lives for us all.

Tears ran down my cheeks without shame and the healer and I began to make our way back to the beach.

On the way I found my friend who I had told to keep going to protect the children- he didn’t make it.

We kept going until we got back to everyone. We were so happy! But… Could we go home now? Did we even want to? Were the world’s sealed for good now?

Exhausted we collapsed and were wrapped in bandages.

That night a great celebration was had! A feast, bonfire, the whole 9. I was leaning back against a log by a fire, a drink in my hand and my friends around me. I placed the drink down, my eyes begining to droop.

Someone was doing a silly impersonation of our battle and I chuckled at them, a smile on my face and one arm draped over my bandaged stomach, hiding the pool of blood that was slowly seeping out of me.

My friends, the cruise, getting turned into guardians, the battles, how long we had been here. The fight of our lives- the children who gave theirs.

It was all so much and so amazing. Smiling I quietly chuckled again at the dancers antics, my friends around me.

Still smiling my head lolled to the side, I heard one of my friends ask my name in quiet concern, my vision went dark…

And then I woke up.

[silverdrecms]

“Any last words?” cas n kerry

the office sentence starters —  ( accepting )

it’s boiling HOT, unsurprising given the heatwave rolling through the midwest, and it leaves kerry and the group with limited options; one of them being to invade cas and jun’s pool to cool off — free of charge, maintaining a low electricity bill means using the air conditioning sparingly and they’d all like to keep it that way. the six roommates have since settled into the contrasting cool waters, though it took ker a few minutes to get down from the ladder until daehyun nudged her in, which leads to her splashing them in retaliation. though they soon aren’t the only ones present as the girl gang joins shortly after, yeseul immediately struggling to keep her mouth  S H U T — “ so, hwang, do we get to see you flaunt your dick a second time ? or is skinny-dipping only a more public habit of yours ? ” thus ensues some wittling patience on others’ parts, as well as a strip tease from the local succubus that sees chimlin mocking her antics. and getting a camisole tossed at her head in response. for the most part, it’s a relaxed afternoon with kerry’s mediocre swimming abilities being put to the test and her arms braced around rin’s torso at one point in the water; meanwhile, seulie takes to wedging herself between her two other housemates — when she’s not trying to toy with cas, the long-standing lust still being greater than her perpetual annoyance, and ultimately, jeremy in doing so. 

does she take pride in contributing to the love octagon between the remaining single neighbours ? yes, very much.

however, they all exit the pool eventually, water no longer as cooling as it had been at first, and kerry takes pleasure in the air hitting her despite the jitters it induces. seul enters the grandiose home of their hosts to change in the meantime, and leaves her bikini to dry in the bathroom while she slyly circumnavigates to make herself a cocktail in the kitchen. she’d fucking need it now that there’s not as much of a reason for everyone to split off; as she mixes said beverage, the bright idea of a water balloon fight somehow comes to life among the group and before anyone knows it, the rubber contraptions are filled and ready to go in a couple of stray buckets around the yard. like with any other activity, it becomes something of a competition to a select few, which turns it into one for all and sees the picking off of each other one by one; ker manages to duck to avoid the couple hurled at her and takes off around the yard with a laugh at the responses and antics of the others, tossing one at jeremy only to successfully strike him ( much to her delight ) and leaving herself unarmed. eventually, it comes down to her and cas — to the surprise of anyone, honestly — seul as well if she ever would make an appearance, which has the younger woman backing away slowly as he advances, the gap between them not having lessened. it’s only when she sees that she’s essentially cornered that the two seem to mirror each other, as kerry moves left only for his water balloon to be raised again and he her… at least until she takes an opportunity and TOSSES it. only for it to miss cas completely, flying over his shoulder to hit jaesung’s.

her response is immediate, a hand clasped over her mouth in surprise and embarrassment, before it serves the purpose of concealing her laughter. “ sorry sungie, ” she winces, eyes still on him before she remembers why it had been thrown to begin with and glances back to the tall man slowly. he’s still holding the weapon up, to which she grimaces, and proceeds to pose a question which seals her fate. no, she doesn’t, in fact, have any last words, but she does find a distraction in the form of han yeseul in a crop top and denim shorts, hair still damp from her previous dip in the pool and a boisterous laugh escaping her at the ‘ wet rat ’ standing just a few feet away. this is perhaps the quickest, not to mention the first time, that the younger brunette would ever betray her. “ … there’s seulie, get her instead — i’m too young to die. ” to which the elder woman yells back, “ oh, fuck off, bambi, ” as she makes a speedy exit to the side of the house. a couple of seconds pass before a SPLASH is heard, the distinct laughs of jeremy and dylan provoking ker to peer out and see yeseul’s clothing soaking wet… and her breaking into a sprint to kick cas’ ass. “ you can’t dodge me, you long-necked bastard ! ” she’s too immersed in the spectacle to register someone behind her until it’s too late, screaming bloody murder as the frigid burst of water makes contact with her once again, heated skin; jaewon runs past with a laugh, and ker remains standing in her tense state. “ JAE ! ” she whines, shaking off the droplets cascading down to her fingertips and jogging up to gently tackle him, while a masculine yell and a feminine grunt follow from the other side of the yard.

jesus, let everyone see her tits why doesn’t he — not that half of the group hasn’t already, but like fuck are kerry’s ( and cas’ ) ugly suitor and bak jaesung about to take a peek ! yeseul continues to sprint after the aforementioned, lanky fuck on the grass, flipping off a cackling chimlin and trying to think of her best course of action in getting his ass BACK… until she sees a couple of balloons left in a nearby bucket. clearly, she missed out on the start of the group’s childish antics, and had she not been attacked, she wouldn’t be grabbing them before continuing her pursuit. a yelp shatters the relatively quiet chase as the first balloon is thrown and lands square on cas’ back, seul herself letting out a victorious guffaw as she catches up to him. “  it’s not fun, is it ? ” she chides with a smirk, the two almost mimicking his and kerry’s prior dance while she clasps the balloon firmly in her right hand, “ so let’s count that as revenge for almost making my outfit see-through. ” she looms closer, raising her arm just to get a reaction of some sort albeit failing, before scoffing and tossing the object in hand, hitting his abdomen while she dons an insincere wince and sucks air in between her teeth. she scans him, up and down, as she begins to lean in ever so slightly so only he’s to hear. “ and that’s for always being a fucking TEASE, ” she mutters, sauntering over to a shivering kerry, a towel wrapped around her form, with a huff. another towel is snatched off of a hook nearby, which seul drapes over herself with a blank look, head turning towards the younger girl. “ sell me out to a man again, i dare you. ” the wince adorning the fashion merchandising major’s face speaks volumes, or it at least says enough for the elder as she returns her gaze to the rest of their messy clique.

[film-in-my-soul]

I Can Take A Punch If It’s For You - Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier

Paring: Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier

Word Count: 2027

Warnings: Richie gets beat up but nothing graphic

Request: @brightlykaspbrak : Reddie mini fic where Eddie is being bullied by someone in school and Richie defends him, pwease

I hope you like what I wrote. I think it came out better than Short Stuff because it wasn’t done when I was half asleep XD

This turned out longer than I planned….

Requests OPEN

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

Eddie was late.

Eddie was never late.

At least not by the ten minutes that he was already.

Richie fidgeted with his handlebars, not wanting to voice his worries outwards, lest it ruin the reputation he had among his group of friends. Luckily for him, Bill was a natural worrier and did the voicing for him.

“Eddie’s s-su-sure taking a l-long time.”

“He probably couldn’t reach any of the door handles.” Richie wanted to “beep” himself and his big mouth. He’d been a smart mouth for so long he didn't know how to turn it off half of the time. Stan, who was standing beside him rolled his eyes.

“First, not funny Richie, second most of the doors are push bars so how would that even work?” Richie could tell that he'd already managed to make the other boy exasperated. Usually, he’d find more joy in getting under Stan’s skin so quickly but they both know the reason behind such an easy invasion is because Eddie wasn't where he should be.

A silence passed over The Losers Club until Richie heaved a dramatic sigh, throwing both his head and shoulders back.

“I’ll go get him.” He made a show of trudging up the stairs in front of the school.  Once the doors opened and closed behind him, however, he straightened up automatically and headed in the direction of Eddie’s locker.

Richie rounded the two corners that would take him there.

Nothing.

Okay. If not there Richie couldn’t think where -

Richie’s head snapped up, there was noise coming further in the school. It was laughter and a voice, muffled, coming from up ahead and getting fainter.

There was the sound of something scuffing against the ground.

“Guys…. Come on....”

Eddie.

Even from a distance, Richie would know that voice anywhere. Just on the side of still too high for being close to fourteen. He sounded panicked and something uncomfortable wiggled low in Richie’s gut at his friend’s tone. It made Richie hurry his pace along, close to jogging as the sounds got louder.

Since Bowers’ gang had either been mostly picked off and leaderless the rest of the middle school/high school neanderthals were constantly scrambling for the position of Derry’s Ruling Junior Douche-canoe. Unfortunately for The Loser’s club that meant it was open season and they were the rabbits.

A shriek and the sound of something thunking against lockers had Richie kicking up his speed in an attempt to round the last of the corners. Whoever built the school like they had were a bunch of bully-enabling jackasses.

“Fucking put me down!” Eddie’s tone was more hysterical than threatening and it made Richie clench his jaw as he rounded hopefully what would be the last corner.

Richie slowed down to a creeping step as he peeked around the edge of the abandoned hall. What he saw made his blood boil under his skin, it made his vision turn a fuzzy red around the edges, his nails dig into his palm and Richie bared his teeth, wanting nothing more than to shout for them to put the smaller boy back on the ground.

Eddie was being suspended a good six inches off the ground by two scrawny, rat-faced upper-class men, they had height and upper body strength but no real bulk between them. It looked like his back was digging painfully into the handles of the lockers by the grimace on his face. In front of him stood, Richie presumed, the leader.

Now he was a bigger problem.

Much bigger.

At least the size of both of the other boys combined.

He still loomed over Eddie even while he was being lifted into the air, getting in the smaller boys face to the point where Eddie had to turn his head in an attempt to get away, eyes screwed shut, an almost aborted whine crawling up his throat.

Richie squared his shoulders.

He’d faced off against a child eating clown, covered in sewer water and scared out of his fucking mind.

This. This would be easy.

At least, not as bad…

Still…

Richie really didn’t like getting punched.

The leader of the trio took a step away from Eddie and pulled his arm back.

Really Richie didn’t have a choice at that point.

He might not like being hit but the thought of Eddie being hit was worse than any kind of physical pain. The idea of it alone twisted up his stomach and had his shoulders shaking.

In the middle of the bully bringing his fist down Richie dashed out from his hiding spot and barreled right into him, thankfully taking him off guard enough to send him staggering back and onto to his rear. The goons were also caught by surprise enough to drop Eddie ungraciously to the ground.

Richie noted with relief that his friend didn’t stumble too hard and fall himself.

The bad news was now all three of the older boys had rounded on their new victim. And Eddie probably hadn’t done anything to get them to single him out. Richie, on the other hand, had just given them enough ammo to really bring the hurt.

He cast his frantic gaze to Eddie who was still standing, surprised at his sudden rescue. The circle the group had made around him was getting smaller.

“Get the fuck out of here Eds!” He yelled. Once they were done kicking his ass they’d surely move on to their original target.

Thankfully Eddie’s sense of self-preservation seemed to win out over his not wanting to let Richie take the beating that was meant for him. He took off running down the hall at a speed Richie knew would get his sorta fake asthma into a fit.

One of the two skinner punks turned to watch Eddie go, even moving so far as to take a step, thinking about giving him chase. Richie didn’t like that. So of course, he did what he does best. He opened his mouth.

“You know, you probably shouldn’t rough me up too bad, your mom doesn’t like it when -” he’s cut off by a sudden pain in his stomach, the air knocked out of his lungs, the force of the punch almost enough to send him to his knees.

He only had a couple of seconds to get ready to fight back when everything started blending into one big pile of pain.

~*~*~*~

Eddie didn't run very fast for a lot of reasons. One of the biggest reasons was that his body still thought he had asthma when he and everyone else knew that it really wasn’t the case. That being said Eddie wasn’t thinking about the impending lack of breath that was going to strike because he’d just left his best friend in the clutches of three really nasty upperclassmen who were not by any means fucking around.

Eddie, with no regard for germs or the potential of falling and breaking his arm again, threw open the front door of the school and raced down the steps to where Billy, Mike, Bev, Ben, and Stan were all waiting, alternating between checking their watches and looking up at the sky.

Eddie’s sudden and panicked appearance had them tensing.

“E-Eddie wh-wh-what -” Bill tried getting out. The shorter boy didn’t give him the chance to stutter to a finish.

“It’s Richie … he… fuck…” Eddie broke off, hands digging into his knees as he panted. “He’s about to get the shit kicked out of him.” With that, he turned around and sprinted back into the school. The sound of bikes dropping and sneakers slapping harshly on pavement following him.

Bill and Mike easily overtook his much shorter legs but they all managed to stay together in one large group, Eddie shouting directions all the way.

~*~*~*~

Richie knew he’d gotten in a couple of good shots from the way that one of the douches currently railing on him had staggered back, hands clutching his nose.

“Fuck! The little fucker got my nose.” It would have sounded comical, the way that his words were slurring together, but Richie’s own face wasn’t doing much better. He’d taken a hit to the eye and another to his lip. He could taste coppery blood on his tongue and his vision was swimming, whether it was from sweat, tears or the blows he’d taken that had knocked him back against the lockers hard, Richie really didn’t know.

New sounds filtered into Richie’s consciousness, different than his own pained grunts and the dull cracks of hands against his shoulders and torso.

All at once it seemed the assault was over. Richie watched as the rest of The Losers Club tore around the corner looking like he must have when it had been Eddie in the same position, back against the lockers, looking worse for wear.

The sheer number of them, plus the fact that Mike, strong-shouldered and easily stronger than most people, was leading the charge, thunderous rage evident in his expression.

The bullies cleared out quick, only hesitating for a moment before it became clear that they were definitely outnumbered.

Ben and Mike followed after them, only until the end of the hall to make sure that they wouldn’t double back when all their backs were turned.

Eddie was the first one to reach Richie who’d slid down the lockers, legs stretched out in front of him, arms limp in his lap, breathing labored and teeth likely covered in pink saliva mixed blood. The little hypochondriac didn’t fucking care as he shuffled up close to Richie on his knees.

Richie’s bottle cap glasses had been knocked off at some point during the brawl, they were now tucked safely in Bev’s hands, thankfully not cracked.

“Richie - Rich… Richie…” Eddie was out of breath, shoulders shaking, kneeling next to his best friend, hands fluttering around him like he didn’t know what he was supposed to address first. His mind was a complete mess, he wondered to himself if Richie had felt this sick to his stomach when he’d seen him held up against the wall, or when his arm was snapped in two and a demon clown had been slowly approaching until Bev had skewered it right in its ugly face.

Richie gave a weak attempt at a laugh.

“You should see the other guy.” Eddie wasn’t even able to laugh even though he wanted to begrudgingly do just that.

Eddie didn’t even register that he was still heaving for breath, hands shaking as he gripped Richie’s chin in his hand, moving his head to and fro in order to see the complete damage.

The rest of the Losers stood back, watching everything play out.

Standing guard for their friends.

Eddie didn’t notice that one of Richie’s hands had gone to his hip, blindly searching for his fanny pack. He only looked down when he heard the zipper over his labored wheezing. He was confused but unable to do more than watch as Richie pulled out his aspirator and with a trembling arm lifted it up to Eddie’s mouth.

Richie waited until the shorter boys lips were cupped around the mouthpiece to press down on the small aerosol can.

Richie didn’t drop his arm until he was sure that Eddie had a proper lung full and he wasn’t shaking as badly. The inhaler dropped from his slack fingers and in its place was Eddie’s hand, fingers laced together with his own, a connection that anchored them to each other and let some kind of comfortable normalcy return to their emotion wrecked brains.

There seemed to be an ease that fell around everyone. Yeah, Richie was beaten to hell and back but ultimately he was okay. And more importantly to him, so was Eddie.

[nautilusopus]

I’m feeling angry today so here are all the entries of the Compilation listed from least terrible to “Nojima and Nomura are incompetent hacks and should be fired”.

8. The Case of Denzel OVA is the most bearable entry in the Compilation, because it does what a sequel is supposed to do: expand upon the lore of the established setting while showing us more about the characters in it. It's a shame, because I think this also might be the least acknowledged entry in it, apart from maybe Before Crisis, perhaps partially because it has no official English dub. In this case, we get to see Denzel finally fleshed out beyond "the littlest geostigma patient that Cloud needs to win the big game for!" He joins up with a group of salvagers, and we see everyone trying to piece the world back together following the complete collapse of the government, the economy, their primary energy source, and the deaths of millions, where they're immediately set upon by disease and societal tensions between what used to be the "upper class" and the slum dwellers that have always had it this way, more or less. 

What the fuck, this is what Advent Children should have been entirely. Except with Cloud and his friends, and not Denzel, because screw Denzel, I wanna see what Avalanche has been up to. (We never get to see what Avalanche has been up to, and we never will.)

That being said, even Case of Denzel didn't manage to not fuck up royally, and it has a giant huge plothole in the form of forgetting to account for an entire goddamn year because it forgot Advent Children was set two years after the OG and not one. Whoops.

7. Advent Children Complete, which I'm treating as a separate entry from Advent Children -- Advent Children is a fucking mess with a nonsensical plot and wonky character motivations that, word of god, were literally just there because they figured it's how the fans wanted to be pandered to the best and not because they thought the motivations would be good or interesting (nothing like a content creator that openly states he thinks his target audience are morons!). It's slightly lower on the list than Advent Children vanilla because A) it looks slightly less ugly due to the Bluray release, B) Denzel's and Marlene's child actors got too old and they had to find younger ones for the redub, and these newer actors are actually better and significantly less obnoxious, and C) it has My Chemical Romance doing the theme song. 

These are all very shallow reasons, admittedly. You'd think it'd be lower because the added scenes help fill in some plot holes, but they were badly added scenes that meshed very poorly with the story at large, and because of that they actually created about as many new plot holes as they filled in. Shite movie. 

6. Advent Children vanilla. This is a good place to discuss why they're both on the bottom of the list, since they're pretty much the same movie. Shitty plot, characters are a sad shadow of what they used to be, and they did some weird thing with Cloud where he unlearns everything from the original game for the sake of cheap conflict and the fans try and defend it like it's actually deep and coherent. Not to mention some more bad decisions: Renu and Rude are good guys now and friends with Cloud and Tifa despite murdering their friends along with everyone else in Sector 7, Marlene is no longer Barret's daughter because ewwww, black people, and Tseng and Rufus are retconned back to life for literally no damn reason at all (they contribute nothing to the movie. Nothing. They even waste the dramatic reveal with the sheet by having him say "yeah it's me Rufus but I'm gonna wear this sheet for no reason and rip it off dramatically revealing ME, RUFUS SHINRA"). As far as I'm concerned they both just died again right after this movie. 

Basically, Advent Children was bad and stupid, but it was pointless as well, which in this case works to its advantage: we relearn the exact same lessons but in a shittier, more juvenile way, wind up at the exact same point we started at by the movie's conclusion, and get confirmation that there were, in fact, zero fucking stakes. At least it didn't take a scalpel to the franchise lore at large, like everything else on this list. 

5. The Last Order OVA is basically Square Enix frantically trying to save face after they've realised that, "Oh shit, our complete inability to proofread the first drafts of the scrips we've been running with have resulted in every single bit of VII lore introduced in these things wildly contradicting one another!" Basically, Last Order is a very pretty fight scene with Zack in it animated by Madhouse that occasionally tries to have a plot. This is the entry that began the handwave of "oh, all the entries in the Compilation are different because they're all told from a difrerent point of view! It's up to you do decide what really happened!" Lazy, bad, the beginning of the end. It looked nice, but I can't even enjoy the fight scene in the reactor properly because Zack doesn't immediately get bodied like he should've, which wouldn't have been very much fun to watch but at least would've made more sense; as well as the weird bit where they tried to imply Cloud was always infected with Jenova and mako-enhanced from birth? Somehow?

Also, the "Last Order" in question seems to be Zack telling Cloud to run. Cloud, who is in a vegetative state, and even if he weren't, can't even walk. Sure, he'll get right on that.

4. Case of Novels. These things suck and are terrible and look like they were written by a third grader. That's not just a "lol these are terrible" jab, either. I mean they literally read like they were written by a child with a very basic grasp of how to put sentences together. All of them are structured like so:

Tifa was very sad, because Cloud wasn't talking to her. Tifa thought that maybe Cloud felt sad because his friends were dead. Then Tifa thought about her adventures with her friends from Avalanche, the friends that she was best friends with two years ago. Cloud and Tifa had lots of adventures with them, but they were sad by the end of it because Aeris died, and then Tifa thought that Cloud was probably thinking about that too. Tifa felt bad about that. 

They are bad to look at, just objectively, regardless of the content in them. Case of Barret's is by far the worst in that regard, to the point where I'm not entirely certain I didn't read a bootleg fake version of it, because there is no way Square Enix would charge actual money for a product that was meant to be released to the masses and presented as canon to Final Fantasy VII. Except that they did. (I can also believe it because it further works towards the goal of erasing Barret from the story entirely, more on this later.)

As far as the actual story content, I'd probably have to say Case of Lifestream White/Black are the worst, due to some weird nonsense where Aeris just hangs out in the Lifestream and watches people like it's a spectral break room, and Sephiroth grumbles and pines over Cloud like a jilted ex-boyfriend because Nojima forgot there was anything else to his character. These, like Advent Children, are pointless, but they’re pointless to the extent that it’s absurd they even exist -- there's apparently an entire third Shinra bastard running around out there, and he has zero bearing on anything ever, and never will again. What Shinra bastard? Who? Kadaj murdered a whole town offscreen or something, but I guess it wasn’t relevant, don’t know why we brought it up.

3. Before Crisis. Japan-exclusive mobile game where Square stops even bothering trying to hide their contempt for anyone not in the "marketable niche" (i.e: all the white male characters ages 16-27) and begins writing them out of the story. It's not enough that they take his goddamn daughter away from him on the basis that he's prospecting oil, which is fucking stupid in and of itself -- this is the story that decides Avalanche, the group Barret founded in response to Shinra murdering everyone in his hometown because they didn't want any competition in the form of coal, wasn't actually even Barret's. It was some other guy's, and grrrr he was a terrorist even more terroristier than OG Avalanche was because moral ambiguity is gonna go over our audience’s heads so let’s just make it nice and cleanly black and white for them. I've ranted about this before, but it's even worse that the fans seem to have no problem incorporating these changes into everything, because who gives a rat's ass about Barret, right? There was some dumb thing about Nanaki finding a girl catdog to have those babies he has in the epilogue, and the Ravens, but it's all just more of the same introducing samefaced teeny boppers that the fans love so much at the expense of everything else.

2. SPEAKING OF WHICH, Crisis Core, the king of samefaced teeny boppers consuming the franchise. I flipflop a lot on whether this one is the worst or not, but in addition to having the same problem as Before Crisis times fifty, I consider it as bad as it was because you could tell it could have been really good, and that's honestly heartbreaking. The first hour or so kicks things off with a really good start, introducing Zack as this cocksure jackass trying to make a name for himself, and his mentor Catchphrase Man. Then around the point where Banora gets firebombed it all sort of goes downhill, and you realise a lot of the credit you were giving it wasn't actually due. Zack being a gloryhound for Shinra and believing Soldier to be a bastion of good wasn't supposed to be a character flaw like it should've. Genesis almost singlehandedly ruins the entire thing by eating all the screentime in the word with his obnoxious motivations that made zero sense, and in a flashback we see he was always a fucking tool so there's no reason to feel sorry for him in the first place. He's actually secretly responsible for the iconic Nibelheim scene, of all fucking things (GENESIS DID NIBELHEIM would make a good bumper sticker). Tifa gets thirty seconds of screentime. Cloud doesn't fare much better, which is a seriously huge problem considering he's the goddamn protagonist of the entire franchise. He gets a single 49 second cutscene of them establishing "okay he's best friends with Zack" and then nothing else, ever, unless you want to count the three emails he sends him that you could tell were supposed to lead to more bonding cutscenes that were ultimately cut for more GENESIS, YOU LOVE HIM SO MUCH RIGHT GUYS??? Aeris fares even worse than Cloud and Tifa combined, being barely in it, and Square having decided that Zack actually made all her life decisions for her. That's right -- literally everything about her character? Zack did it. Fuck you. 

It's also this high up for what it represents, I suppose -- in the fanbase, you see a whole lot of "Well, Cloud lost Zack and Aeris so now he has no friends and nothing else to live for in this world because he didn't really care about anyone else besides them". It seems everyone forgot that not only was there more to Cloud’s character than "his friends are dead so he’s sad” and his friends being dead was only a small part of it, but that there were seven other people we spent about sixty hours establishing in no uncertain terms that they loved him unconditionally and that he felt the same way. Crisis Core is what finally got people to start disregarding the rest of the main fucking cast from the OG, and it was very, very deliberate. An old unwashed man in his late thirties jaded about his future in spaceflight, a catdog with daddy issues, a black man with a character arc revolving around fatherhood, a triple agent paper-pusher that had a furry phase right in the middle of his midlife crisis, two women that are both alive and have agency of their own, and hell, even a young man with severe psychological issues that had a very strong bond with all of these people even though most of them aren't young and attractive white people and realises he can count on them all for support, are not as marketable as the cast of Crisis Core. Square knows this. You can't wring any sex appeal out of "happy supportive environment" or "female characters", since most of the fanbase tends to be straight women in their late teens and early twenties. So, everyone in both those categories gets shafted. And, as mentioned, the fans seem all to happy to run with this, given the overwhelming amount of material that seems to disregard everyone else in Cloud's life that wasn't Zack (and sometimes Aeris gets acknowledged because all she's good for anymore is a corpse to motivate Cloud) as unimportant, and not really his friends. 

The fact that the entire game seems to undermine the original's tone very badly almost seems like a nitpick at this point next to very intentional racism and sexism and pandering, but I'm gonna bring that up too. The new version of Zack's death scene flies directly in the face with how they were handled in the original game, and is more in line with Cait Sith's than anything else's -- that death isn't heroic, or glorious, or profound. It's just sad and fucking hurts, and it's something that happens. They made that pretty clear the first time around when he just gets gunned down on a cliff in complete silence. You can practically hear the "so it goes" in the background. Naturally, this time around they gave him an entire speech about dreams an honour and then when he dies he goes to heaven (on a planet with no heaven) and he's successfully become a hero. Fucking bravo. Or the bit where, as has been pointed out, you have a wacky scene where Zack meets a young Yuffie, and she skips off amongst the corpses of her people that Zack himself just finished making in the name of glory and imperialism (not a character flaw, though! He’s a good guy!). There's an astounding lack of self-awareness in everything the game does. 

AND IT COULD HAVE BEEN SO GOOD, and that's why I still debate whether or not it belongs in the Worst spot or not. It could have been great to see a non 49-second version of the friendship that eventually motivated Zack to die for Cloud, but then they forgot to write it, because why write that when you could have these four cutscenes with Genesis? It would've been great to see Aeris and her relationship with running from Shinra that caused her to grow up street smart and how that caused Zack to maybe question Shinra's motivations, but them they forgot to write it because HEY LOOK HERE'S SOME MORE WING SYMBOLISM WITH ANGEAL DO YOU GET IT THERE'S ONLY ONE OF THEM AND HIS NAME IS SPELLED ALMOST LIKE ANGEL, I'M WORKING WITH GENESIS NOW HIS NAME MEANS BEGINNING LOL. It could have been great to see Tifa getting her start with Avalanche, but after her obligatory cameo in Nibelheim she's swallowed into the void again because they forgot she was ever anything besides Cloud's love interest, and fuck you we gotta show you this Genesis scene in Modeoheim. It could have been great to meet a younger Barret, and wonder how at odds he would've been with Zack, a man who's been drinking the Soldier kool-aid for years, but instead we got Genesis reciting poetry. It could have been great to see the workings of Soldier before it all went to shit, but instead we got fucking goddamn Genesis. Genesis Genesis Genesis. 90% of the screentime in this game that should've gone to developing Zack's character for one fucking second, let alone other things, just gets eaten up by Genesis. God I hate Genesis.

1. Dirge of Cerberus.

I'll try and keep this brief because I can go on about Dirge of Cerberus all fucking day if you let me. 

If Crisis Core is terrible because it had the shadows of great ideas that were terribly mishandled in the name of turning a profit, Dirge is sort of its opposite, in that at no point did anything even remotely resembling a good idea come anywhere near the building this was being written in during the entirety of its production. It's bad. Thoroughly bad. There are no redeeming qualities. It's ugly, it plays badly, 90% of it is cutscenes* and the remaining 10% is invisible walls, the plot is a fucking mess by anyone's standards whether you're familiar with the franchise or not, it is the reigning fucking king of tone issues, the design choices are the worst of what Nomura has to offer by a country mile, and the characters are the worst Square has ever made in the Final Fantasy series. 

Vincent is the protagonist, and since he just wants a nap and is too cool to care that means you don't really give a rat's ass about what's going on either, which you wouldn't have anyway, because Dirge's plot isn't so much rife with plot holes as it is a giant, gaping hole, where bits of plot occasionally drift by, mangled beyond recognition by the plane crash in 1976 that claimed their lives. Did you know there was an even more secreter army living under Midgar that somehow survived the entire city being demolished with cosmic hellfire, a pandemic with no cure, and a giant sword battle dropping more debris on them? Did you know Hojo actually didn't die, he invented the internet in 30 seconds in his death throes and then invented the technology to upload minds to computers, AKA created a fucking goddamn technological singularity, and then uploaded himself in a .zip file until he could blow up the world for shits and giggles completely unrelated to anything even remotely having to do with Jenova? Did you know Lucrecia wasn't actually a terrible person that willingly carried Hojo's child and injected it with science juice for the sake of their careers, but was actually a really nice lady and is really sorry you guys, and was just an unwilling womb for Sephiroth to be birthed from, and was pretty much the Madonna? Did you know that apparently the Actual Goddamn Apocalypse wasn't enough to convince the Planet it was dying, but someone stabbing a few thousand people was? Did you know Reeve decided to call the events of the main game the "Jenova Wars" because he doesn't actually know what a war is? Did you know mako actually makes you live forever instead of giving you brain damage and killing you? Did you know the Lifestream is pretty much the same thing as the internet? Did you know Vincent was a paedophile? Did you know someone decided Genesis still needed to be fucking alive? 

Oh yeah, and also there are such stellar characters such as Red the Red, Blue the Blue, White the Clean, Black the I-Have-A-Jockstrap-Taped-Over-My-Mouth-Because-Fuck-You-Why-Not, and Orange the Clear, who is physically 9 years old but mentally 19 so it's totally not paedophilia if we have a weird romance between her and Vincent (never mind that if we're going by that logic, you now have a 19 year-old dating a 61 year-old, which is... not a whole lot better.) 

And hey, remember that one scene where Shalua completely unnecessarily died by holding a door she could've easily ducked through, and then she pissed herself upon death, and the game took the time to show the piss puddle, and Yuffie was super upset about it despite the fact that they never interacted even once but the writers forgot about that, and then after all that shit she didn't even die in her own melodramatic death scene, and then she did die anyway at the end of the game and all you can think about is the piss and god Shalua is so fucking pointless and looks so fucking stupid. Look at this hot mess: 

She’s a scientist! Or something. 

Even by Final Fantasy standards these designs are fucking ridiculous.

There is nothing redeeming about this game. It's like a gift that keeps on giving -- every time I look back at it, I discover a new plothole that I didn't catch the first time before. It's easier to hate than Crisis Core, though, which just makes me sad. At least Dirge never had anything going for it in the first place. I paid two bucks for my copy and I still feel ripped off.

* Okay, that’s an exaggeration -- 50% of it is cutscenes. Four hours out of an eight hour game is cutscenes. Do you realise how fucking many cutscenes that is? It’s a lot. (And yet not one of them has any plot in them HEYOOOO)

[shenanigans-academia]

Sports Festival Arc

Okay so I’ve just decided to talk about each episode individually since so much happens in them and I have a lot of things to say that nobody cares about ANYWAY MOVING ON here you go!

Episode 14: That’s The Idea, Ochaco

•Can we talk about how Todoroki had the prettiest animation in the intro please???

•Aizawa shows up like I LIVED BITCH we love one grumpy crippled old man (reminds me of this English teacher I had who showed up to class after breaking 3 ribs and couldn’t laugh or move and was in visible pain while teaching, Professor Saunders if you ever see this please just take a day off my dude)

•Mido: “Mineta don’t you know how important the Sports Festival is?”

Mineta: “yes but I just don’t want to get MURDERED”

...you know what he has a point

•Jirou to Kami: “most people miss their chance and end up just staying sidekicks. You know what that’s probably what’ll happen to you. You’re kinda dumb” BRUH SHE DIDNT HAVE TO MURDER DENKI LIKE THAT

•Kirishima being so excited for the Sports Festival is so cute I’m gonna cry

•Ojirou and Hagakure are so fucking ADORABLE

•Uraraka getting all pumped up/ ragey and Mineta being ✖️Mineta✖️ and Tsuyu just straight up SMACKING HIM IMMEDIATELY I LOVE HER COLD BLOODED ASS

•“YOUNG MIDORIYA!!!...do you want to eat with me?” I LOVE DADMIGHT

•Todoroki eavesdropping on Uraraka and Iida talking about Mido/All Might: Secret Child Theories activated

Episode 15: Roaring Sports Festival

•SHINSOU SNARKY PURPLE BABY BOY

•TESTUTESTU!!! loving the other classes showing up like fuck y’all 1A bitchass nerds right now honestly

•Kiri stop thirsting for Bakugou when he’s being an ass we get it, you’re gay and love an angry Pomeranian also WHY ARE YOU JUST STRAIGHT UP JUMPING OFF A BUILDING BOI WHAT IS YOU DOIIINNNNGGGGG ROCKS CAN STILL B R E A K

•Todoroki you dramatic hoe I love you but just. Take a nap. “We’Re nOt hEre To MakE FriEnDs” bitch you soft, shut up

•I’m genuinely curious what exactly is Midnight’s quirk? She’s the “R rated Pro Hero” but like...what is it? Is she just Super Sexy? Is it the pheromone thing that makes people think she’s sexy/ feeling aroused? Like what is her power exactly?

•”I just wanna say...I’m gonna win” KACCHAN HONEY WHY ARE YOU LIKE THIS

•Todoroki freezing EVERYTHING and being unimpressed by the giant robots sweetie you’re so extra

•Birth of Icy Hot Bastard nickname

•Mineta got fuckin MURKED MAN lmao at least he tried

•Mama Midoriya is Best Mom she worries so much

Episode 16: In Their Own Quirky Ways

•KIRI BREAKING THROUGH THE FUCKING ROBOT SCREAMING IM ALIVE HOLY FUCK (Also Testu bursting through too. Intro to the Hard Boi Twins)

•Lets go Sero and Tokoyami!!

•All Might’s little YES watching Mido using the robot part as a launcher for the explosion warms my heart he’s so proud of his boy

•MIDO vs. TODO vs. BAKU YES BITCH ITS THE BOYS

•”THIS JUST IN ERASURE HEAD IS A TERRIBLE TEACHER” “wait wHAT” I love 2 chaotic teachers

•Shiggy you’re gross please invest in some cortisone skin cream it majorly helps my eczema it can help you too sweetie

•”the 1st place winner is worth...10 MILLION” Everybody around Mido: Activate Instant Kill

Midoriya my boy rUN

Episode 17: Strategy, Strategy, Strategy

•”Wait, remind me of your quirks again. And your names” Bakugou I’m gonna kick your entitled ass square up babe

•Kiri we get it you want Bakugou to top you. Also I love how Bakugou’s just like let’s fucKIN GOOO SHITTY HAIR

•Iida I love your dramatic over-energetic ass so much

•”TEAM UP WITH ME PERSON IN FIRST PLACE”

“YOURE SO CLOSE TO ME WHO ARE YOU???” Hatsume please. Take a dozen chill pills

•Ah. There he is. Monoma. Rat Boi 3000. Let’s go babey

•MY FAVORITE BIRD BOYS YAMI AND DARK SHADOW COMIN IN CLUTCH

•Ah. Cue the Daddy Drama

•This game is just Kill Midoriya, huh

•Monoma is a pro monologuer and honestly? I respect that. But then again it doesn’t take much to get Bakugou riled up

Episode 18: Cavalry Battle Finale

•Shouji is a SCARY BADASS and deserves more acknowledgement

•no matter your opinion on him, Monoma is an interesting character and has a REALLY COOL QUIRK

•Endeavor? Just. Shut up

•Bakugou- I am powered by rage and nothing else

•”Has anyone seen Deku?”

Todoroki: tragic backstory time

Episode 19: The Boy Born With Everything

•Yo FUCK Endeavor lives, man

•Mido ”so why did you bring me here”

Todo ”...soooo THIS IS THE STORY ALL ABOUT WHY I’m depressed/ also are you All Might’s secret love child or something?”

•Okay but All Might asking Endeavor on how to raise a powerful child I’m cackling. But the more Enji talks, the more All Might’s just like “what the fuck are you doing to your kid??”

•Todoroki’s whole monologue is literally just him over sharing and rambling about his trauma I love it

•Bakugou why you being such a creep boo

•”He’s like a comic book character” BITCH YOU ARE TOO YOU’RE ALL LITERALLY SUPERHERO TEENAGERS JFC

•Midoriya telling his friends/rivals “I’m gonna beat you” is basically just his equivalent of “I have a crush on you” change my mind

•Kaminari. I’m disappointed in you. I expected the uniforms from Mineta but come on dude

•Ojirou is so PURE long live Tail Boi he is also too under appreciated and he is just. So good

•KIRISHIMA CRYING OVER MANLY MEN I LOVE HIM

•Kendo is best girl Class 1B

•”Uraraka? Who the hells that?” Bakugou don’t be fuKING RUDE

•SHINSOUSHINSOUSHINSOUSHINSOUUUUU

•Midoriya what did Ojirou fucking TELL YOU

EPISODE 20: Victory or Defeat

•Dadzawa activated, time to adopt a Sleepy Boy into the Hero Course

•Complete BAMF Midoriya has been UNLOCKED PEOPLE

•Poor Shinsou when he goes “im used to people thinking I’m a bad guy” I just couldn’t NOT think of Billie Eilish IM SORRY now I have Bad Guy stuck in my head YOU DID SO GOOD BABY IM PROUD OF YOU

•”Spooky IM A GHOST???” God I love All Might

•”Stop rebelling Shouto”

“It’s NoT a PhaSe DaD”

•Todoroki did you have to go so HARD BRUH WHAT THE FUCK YOU DEPRESSED SHOW OFF

Episode 21: Battle On, Challengers!

•Lmao get wrecked Denki

•Mama Kendo to the rescue come get yo kids

•Everyone at Mido, Please. Shut the fuck up and stop being CREEPY

•Midnight. Please stop lusting over your students it’s gross

•Hatsume played Iida like a fiddle and I’m crying baby boy tried so hard

•WE RESPECT OUR ALIEN QUEEN MINA ASHIDO

•Poor Momo

•KIRI vs. TESTU I LOVE HARD BOI TWINS

•Bakubabe you’re so UGLY I can’t why is your face like that

Episode 22: Bakugou VS. Uraraka

•”Pink Cheeks” Bakugou just learn your classmates names it’s not that hard

•Ochaco is so fucking STRONG

•”like I always suspected. Bakugou’s a total sadist” sometimes Mineta is just. Accurate.

•Can we please talk about how Aizawa was just like “The FUCK are y’all talking about Bakugou is doing what he’s supposed to do in these games it doesn’t matter if his opponents a girl or not y’all are DUMB” like THANK YOU AIZAWA

•Mic has no chill I miss him real talk we don’t get enough Present Mic

•”You’re wrong Kacchan” YOU TELL HIM MIDO

•Bakubitch may be a little much sometimes and I get why a lot of people don’t like him but he does understand his classmates ARE also strong and powerful and you know he respects them in his own weird way even though he’ll never admit it

•KIRI WINS THE ARM WRESTLING MATCH THATS MY FAVORITE BOY

•We love supportive parents (Ochaco’s parents. Fuck Endeavor. Just leave these kids aloonnneeeee you asshat)

•MIDO vs. TODO LETS GO BOYYSSS

•”I’m not worried about a couple of kids” you’re clearly not worried about your crusty skin either Shiggy learn some priorities

Episode 23: Shoto Todoroki: Origin

•IT’S SHOUTO TIME YALL

•All that power in one little fucking finger what the FUCK Mido also PLEASE STOP BREAKING YOUR BONES “I’ve only got 6 more chances” well there go your fucking hands my dude

•Aaaaand there goes your arm

•”You haven’t been able to put a single scratch on me yet, Todoroki” you’re doing a pretty good job of that by yourself Midoriya

•Baby Shouto kills me every time IM GONNA FIGHT ENDEAVOR

•IT’S YOURS. YOUR QUIRK NOT HIS. ITS YOUR POWER T O D O R O K I

•SHOUTOOOOOO

•Shouji grabbing Mineta by the leg so that he doesn’t fly away oh my god

•Endeavor and All Might come get y’all kids

•Midoriya’s fuckin dead rest in fucking pieces you masochist

Episode 24: Fight On, Iida

•Okay but why is Endeavor such a fucking Brick House holy fuck absolute unit of pure shit

•”In his first match he looked so sad. I was trying to figure out why...” it’s because you have a crush Mido

•And the first of many scars appears

•Recovery Girl is right and she should say it

•All Might said Quirkless Rights send tweet

•AHH TENSEI NOOOOO

•Highkey completely forgot about Stain OH WAIT THAT MEANS THE INTERNSHIPS ARE NEXT I really forgot the whole timeline wow

•Explosion Boy vs. Shitty Hair I love competitive boyfriends but Jesus Bakugou

•Testu cheering for his new friend tho? That’s the content I love to see

•Legacy Children Battle (Iida vs. Todoroki)

•”I didn’t know he couldn’t kick like that” he is ALL LEGS that’s literally his quirk Denki what do you mean

•Anybody fighting Todoroki: time to drag a Sad Bitch

•TENSEEIIIIIIII

•Bruh why did Iida tense up like that was your phone up your ass dude???

•Yo Stain is ugly as fuck

Episode 25: Todoroki VS. Bakugou

•Lmao Midoriya literally triggered Todoroki into using his Left Side

•And Todoroki triggered Bakugou by asking about his past friendship with Midoriya these boys are a MESS

•oh look it’s a Fucking Fire Gremlin

•BOOM BOOM BITCH THOUGHT YOU’D SEEN THE LAST OF ME HALF AND HALF BASTARD

•oh my GOD Endeavor shut UUPPPP

•Everyone listening to Bakugou go off at Todoroki: ...please seek some therapy

•SUPPORTIVE BOYFRIEND MIDO TO THE RESCUE

•The first time I saw this I highkey thought Bakugou actually killed Todoroki.

•Bakugou going feral for winning I can’t he literally looks like a trapped wolf

•We respect Tokoyami in this house

•About Bakugou ”Look at that face” I’d really rather not

•I’m sorry but Mineta sitting on Shouji’s shoulders is actually adorable

•Iida running through the hospital to his brother: It’s Loss

•I love the Iida Brothers so. Fucking. MUCH

•Shouto I’m so proud of you sweetheart

•Honestly I need more family stuff they’re all so interesting in their own ways and it’s a nice reminder that yes these are just kids and they have lives outside of hero school

SO that wraps up the Sports Festival Arc! I’m going to do the second half of Season 2/ The Internship Arc/ Final Exams all in one post so get ready for another long one ✌🏽

[fortey]

The Adventures of Schade and Freud

PROLOGUE:

It’s midnight in the city. Probably everywhere in the time zone, in fact.  But the city is what matters.  Shadows from the darkest alleys creep into the streets at night, looking up close to the tiny pools of yellow provided by dim and buzzing street lights.  The moon is round.  It’s so round.  I guess. There are clouds tonight and I can’t really tell.

“You’re like Shakespeare if he drank drain cleaner and cried when he masturbated.”

I do not reply to the voice because I learned long ago to not take the bait.  He wants me to get angry.  He wants me to curse him for a bastard and toss him aside like garbage. Oh, he’d just love that.  He wants to be free.  I can’t allow it.

“More like you can’t get it up.”

“Then how can I cry when I masturbate?” I ask, trapping him in an oubliette of dark logic.

“You flog your little squishy,” he replies.  He has broken free from the dark logic oubliette.  I am briefly rendered speechless as I struggle for a comeback.

“Keep fighting the good fight, fella.”

Standing in the shadows near the mouth of an alley next to a shuttered pawn shop that goes by the clever name of “Pawn Shop” I raise the cold, black steel of the  Colt Python revolver to my lips.

“Shhh…” I shush. Across the street the skinny man in the ugly purple jacket has left his apartment above a Trinidadian restaurant. His name is Greg Holcomb and goes by “Grubs” on the street.  He tends to fence stolen goods and lives the life of a man-pig.  He’s my only lead so far on a stolen diamond ring.

“Don’t you shush me. Not like Grubs over there can hear me.”

“You’re distracting me,” I reply.  There’s a snort for an answer.  It sounds bestial and disquieting, as do most of the words the voice speaks in its guttural squeaky way.  I never knew you could have guttural squeaks before.  

“You’re just unbearable, you know that?” it says to me.  I look at the gun barrel before tucking it in a side holster and slipping from the shadows, stealthily following my target down the block.

Grubs moves at an easy pace, talking on a cell phone as he passes by numerous closed shops.  He pauses briefly at a dive bar and chats with a doorman.  I stand in the shadows between an atrociously painted pea green Prius and a telephone pole.  I am a shadow.

“You’re an ass hat.”

“You’re an asshat!” I shout back.  Grubs and the doorman look in my direction and I drop like a stone.  I peep around the corner of the car after a moment and see the feet.  Grubs stands above me, gun in hand.  He presses the barrel against my nose.

“You wanna tell me who the fuck you are and why you’re following me?” he says.  I don’t, to be honest.

“Name’s Freud. Garth Freud.”

“Well la-di-fuckin-da, Garth. Who are you?”  He presses the cold barrel harder into my nose, forcing it sideways.  I try to focus on the weapon, I think it’s a 9mm Ruger but it’s hard to focus.  Good gun. Reliable.

“I’m a private eye, Greg. I’m looking into a ring that got lifted from a house in the hills.  White gold, three karat diamond solitaire surrounded by blue sapphire chips.  Sound familiar?”  Grubs adjusts his ugly purple jacket taking the gun away from my nose.

“Come on, man.  I didn’t steal that!  I got that from Scurvy fair and square, he owed me!”

“Scurvy, huh?”  I’ll have to look into that one.

“Yeah, Scurvy, man! He’s a lowlife but he gets good shit.  You can’t pin any of that on me if that shit was hot.”

“If?  Your friend Scurvy normally pay you with $60,000 diamond rings?”

Grubs’ jaw drops and a look of utter bafflement overtakes him.  Dumbass had no idea what that ring was worth, did he?  I shudder to think of what he sold it for.

“Sixty large?  Now I know you’re fucking with me.  Bendo down at the pawn shop told me it was worth five tops and would only give me two for it.”

“Sounds like Bendo screwed you pretty hard, Greg.”

Grubs raises his hands to his head, spins on his heels.

“Jesus, man! Are you for real?”

“Real as me kneeling in this gutter,” I say.

Grubs looks like he’s about to cry.  I try to move and he points the gun at me again, forcing me to raise my hands as I kneel in a puddle I hope is water.

“Are you seriously going to shoot me, Greg?  I’m just here for a ring.”

“I didn’t steal it!”

“I never said you did. You’re just a stone in the path. You got it from Scurvy, you pawned it to Bendo.  Your part is done.”

“For real?”  He looks like he wants to believe me but is afraid to. I couldn’t care less, really.  If the cops want him they’ll arrest him when I’m done.  Not my job to care, really.

“For real.  Tell me where to find Bendo and we’re square.”

“No man, I don’t rat. I ain’t selling anyone out.”

“Scurvy and Bendo, you mean? The guys whose names you already told me?”

I can see the wheels turn in his head.

“Shit!” he says loudly. I slowly get to my feet as he lowers the gun.

“See, no harm done. Just point me towards Bendo, I’ll get my client’s ring, this all goes away.”

Grubs scratches the side of his head, sighs heavily.

“I shoulda known, man. Fuckin’ Scurvy.  He said it was his grandma’s ring!  But the inscription said ‘Vellspar.’  I knew he was full of shit.”

“Well, Mrs. Vell won’t hold it against you, I’m sure,” I say, trying to sound reassuring.  Grubs pauses mid-scratch.  His eyes fix on me, wide and damp looking.

“Mrs. Vell? Olivia Vell?” he says quietly.  I arch an eyebrow.

“Yeah, why –“  I don’t hear the gun go off.  I see it in Grubs’ hand.  I feel a pressure in my chest, like the worst punch I ever got.  I tumble back under the force of it, struggling to breathe.  It’s like someone is sitting on my chest and digging a bony finger into my lungs so hard it burns.  My god, it burns.

“You’re dying.”

Am I dying?

“That’s what I said.”

I’m vaguely aware of Grubs running away into the night.  I’m laying in that puddle now.  It’s cold. I don’t want to die.

“Good riddance to you anyway.  I’ll finally be free.”

Free.  That would be nice.  But didn’t that back alley shaman say eternity?

“Come again?”

I feel myself getting cold. It’s like the puddle is spreading up into my body.  I want to curl up in a ball but I can’t move.  And yeah.  He said eternity.  Beyond death. Boundless.  I’m absolutely sure of it.

“Are you shitting me?”

I’m in too much pain to shit anyone.

“Goddamn it.  Hold on.”  

I hold on.  In the gutter next to a Ford Prius, under the light of a yellow, humming street lamp, I hold on while Schade starts muttering. Schade, the Lesser Mischief Demon, Draconarius in Hell’s 456th Legion, Originator of Ingrown Toenails and all around asshole. Schade, assistant to Mulfeasius, Hell’s Gunsmith, who was shot point blank by the very 1955 Colt Python revolver his spirit now inhabits by Mulfeasius after the demon smith created it and needed a target to test it on.  Schade, the voice in my head for as long as our souls are intertwined. Schade started muttering the fel words of an unholy incantation.  And that’s when I lost consciousness.

[redrobin-detective]

Omg writing prompt PLEASE do Billy Batson and jason bonding. That sounds soo good my 2 favorite characters together at last

Ah! Yes! I’m skipping ahead to this one because this one has been in my head since last night and I’m raring it go! Thank you!

There was something about Gotham that put Billy Batson at ease. He thinks it’s the same thing that makes pretty much every normal person feel uncomfortable. There’s this feel that Gotham has, it's something heavy and slimy that settles on your shoulders, makes you to be alert and aggressive or else you’re dead. It makes him feel that, if he had to, 12 year old Billy could probably survive in the cold, unforgiving streets of Gotham. Fawcett City isn’t half as bad, but five years of homelessness tends the make that same sorta angry paranoia needed to survive in a place like Gotham.

But Billy Batson isn’t here, not really. Cap is here for a meeting with the Bat, and though Cap and Billy are technically the same person, Cap’s got the Wisdom of Solomon and the Courage of Achilles and all sorts of other bad-ass things that make Billy’s thoughts and feelings seem dim and far away. He thinks it’s the Wizard’s magic in him that brings out Billy’s best qualities in Cap and buries all the ugly, street stuff deep inside. Buries it until Billy comes back and needs all that stuff to survive in a city all on his own.

He shakes his head, he doesn’t have time for philosophy, Bruce wouldn’t have called him to the Cave if it wasn’t urgent. B says it’s just a mission report but he could’ve given that to Cap at the Watchtower, so whatever it is, it’s gotta be like, mega-bad. If he wasn’t so distracted by the fact that Batman probably was gonna to chew him out into next week, he’d be busting a nut over how freaking awesome the Cave was. Cap’s been here before but it never stops being wicked cool. He wishes he could be Billy, just for a sec, so he could run around and look at all the cool gadgets but Cap’s got bigger things to worry about. Like whether Batman is gonna slow roast him or just skin him alive.

“Why do I have to give it to him, you called him here, you deal with him.” A whiney kid’s voice says from what sounds like the top of the long staircase leading up to Wayne Manor proper. He leans in closer even though with his enhanced hearing, he doesn’t need to. It’s not eavesdropping, it’s evidence gathering.

“I agree but the signal just went up and I’m sure it’s important. I don’t have time to give Marvel the report details.” He hears Bruce’s voice respond as he begins walking down the stairs. “You helped me organize the file information, you should be able to explain it. That’s a minimum requirement if you want to be Robin.” Cap remembers to straighten himself up and is casually whistling and examine his nails by the time they arrive in the Cave so they don’t suspect him of listening in. Inside he’s pretty shocked, the big guy keeps his private life pretty hush-hush but he didn’t know he had another kid lined up to be Robin. He makes a note to do some research next time he’s at the Fawcett City Library about any new kids Bruce Wayne has adopted recently. But the biggest shock is when B steps out of the way enough for Billy to look at the soon-to-be boy wonder. The boy pouts and uncrosses his arms long enough to swipe the file out of Bruce’s patient hand.

“Captain,” Billy straightens as the scariest dude, like ever, says his name. “I’m afraid there’s something I must attend to and I can’t give you the notes on the last mission’s report myself.” The Bat rests a light hand on the boy’s shoulder and the pinched, cautious look on the kid’s face is so familiar, it’s eerie. "This is Jason, he’s been staying with me, he’ll be giving you the details in my place. He’ll be undergoing training soon so he needs to be able to do this sort of thing. I appreciate you taking the time to come out here in person and would appreciate it further if you’d be a sounding board for Jason to test his skills out on someone other than myself.“ So Batman called him out to Gotham… so he could give his kid the chance to learn basic skills with a non-judgmental hero. The part deep inside that has vague memories of loving parents feels warm beneath the crushing feeling of jealousy and guilt. He knows a dirty, messed up street kid when he sees one, and he bets this Jason kid has no idea how good he’s got it getting someone as caring as Batman to take him in.

"Of course sir," Cap responds a second later as he tamps down all those parts of Billy inside and works on channeling his very best for the new kid. He's supposed to be the mentor in this case, he’s gotta set a good example even though the kid looks older than he is. "I’ll help out in anyway that I can, you can count on that.” Jason makes a face at Cap’s natural enthusiasm and Batman merely gives the boy a light, affectionate knock on the head.

“Behave, both of you. You’re free to leave once you’ve received the report Captain, you’re aware of how the Zeta tubes work. Jay, when done I want you to finish reading that book on basic criminology and start in on those breathing exercises I taught you. If you get that done, I’ll read you the next chapter of Alice in Wonderland before bed so you can sleep through the night.” Jason blushes and ducks his head mumbling some embarrassed curses under his breath. But Batman either doesn’t hear or is used to being called such things and walks over to the Batmobile firing up the engine. “I’ll be checking the security footage later and grading you on your report so don’t think you can skip out. Alfred’s in charge while I’m away. Captain, thank you again. I will see you at the meeting next Thursday.” With that, the door closed and the ground beneath the car turned so it was facing the tunnel exit and soon was screaming out of the Cave like, well, a bat out of hell.

He was distracted by how sick that ride was and what organs he’d give up for a  joyride through the streets when Jason was shoving the manila folder against his chest. The kid takes a deep breath, puts his shoulders back obviously trying to appear older and more mature and keeps his face perfectly neutral as he begins a detailed narration of the last mission, what was found and future plans. Billy has to admit, the kid is good. He's smart, interpreting the information not just reciting it. His vocabulary is, like, twice the size of Billy's and he’s standing there talking like an actual adult instead of the antsy kid who looks like he’s three seconds from bolting. If Billy wasn’t intimately familiar with that sensation himself, he sure he wouldn’t have noticed Jay’s absolute discomfort at being left alone with a strange older man. Cap can see why Batman picked him up.

“Alright, that’s everything, any questions?” Jay asks in a carefully stated monotone that does nothing to betray his uneasiness. Billy wonders if Batman already trained him that way or if the kid had already learned to control his fear before coming here. Maybe the streets of Gotham weren’t as kind as he thought.

“No, that was great!” Cap says eagerly, as Billy takes a casual step or two back to ease off on the kid. “Batman sure has taught you well, I just know you’re going to make an amazing Robin.” Jason’s mouth jerks vaguely upwards for a second before going back to it’s back to his neutral position.

“Has anyone else told you that you’re a bit corny?" Jay asks with an amused raise of his brow. Clearly Jay isn’t feeling very threatened by him anymore which allows Cap to relax and maybe let out a bit more of Billy. It’s not very often he gets to talk to kids his age about hero stuff, not to mention one who was in a similar position to Billy.

"All the time, it’s part of my charm but Green Lantern disagrees. I say that anyone who runs around waving his ring around advertising his favorite color doesn’t have room to talk.” Jason snorts and the two of them share a conspiratal chuckle together “You’re real lucky Bruce took you in, he’s a good guy, he acts like he’s my dad sometimes but he does it cause he cares.” Cap is shocked when the semi-smile falls off Jason’s face but Billy really isn’t.

“Right, I’m just so lucky this fancy rich boy picked me off the streets and told me I wasn’t living my life right and that he was make everything better as if a few weeks of clean sheets and a threes squares a day are gonna erase all the crap I seen, the stuff I done.” Jason says bitterly, folding in on himself as he crosses his arms over his chest. His blue-green eyes were stormy with anger and insecurity, upset at Cap’s unintended ignorance but also at himself for his fears that maybe he isn’t deserving of all the good things happening to him. Sometimes what Billy thinks and what Cap says don’t always match up, as if everything he says passes through a filter to make it as good and wholesome as possible. But Billy gets it, he got the same spiel every time he was transferred to a new foster home, before he realized none of them had what he needed and decided the streets were better for him.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to offend,” and he winces again trying to push Billy to the forefront instead of letting Cap’s, welling meaning but naïve, attitude interfere. “I just mean there are a lot of people who take in street kids ‘cause they’re nice and it’s the right thing but they don’t know how to handle them y'know? With Bruce, you got someone who gets that things aren’t always gonna be good and happy now that you’re in a proper home, who understands that bad things don’t always stay in the past. I know it’s different from being in the streets and you’re probably wondering if all this is worth it but I know Batman and I know he’s gonna do the best he can for you and not be hard on you cause you’re not the clichéd grateful foster kid.”

Jason stares at him, long and hard before humming quietly to himself and gently jerking his chin forward. It’s a sign of respect, of acknowledgement from one dirty rat to another that they understood what the other is going through. He’s not worried about Jay telling the Bat about Captain Marvel being, what he believes, a former homeless kid. Street boys don’t rat each other.

“Yeah man, it’s cool.” Jay shrugs casually after a minute, relaxing his shoulders completely for the first time since coming downstairs. “Anything else I can getcha before you head out. Alfie buys like, way too much food, you could take some if you want. I don’t think either of them would even notice.”

“I appreciate the thought,” Cap says cheerily, cause he does. It's coming up on winter and fresh food is scarce and Billy’s little supply is wearing thin awfully fast with how much he has to eat just to keep his temp up. But he promised himself from the start he wouldn’t have the Cap messing with Billy’s life, it went against his code and it just wasn’t fair to the other kids making their own living. “But I can take care of myself.” Jay smiled, a small but nice smile and Billy finds himself irrationally happy that Bruce was able to save this kid, give him the home he deserved.

“I’m sure you can," Jason holds out his small fist, "see you around? B is still keeping me kinda on the down-low for now while the papers go through. Not even the reporters know yet so I could use some company.” Cap smiles and gingerly returns the fist bump.

“You bet, I’ve never gotten an official tour of the Cave and I bet it’s got the coolest stuff around. Next time you gotta tell me the story behind the dinosaur man.” Jason laughs.

“Yeah, next time.”

Ok this one took a lot longer and I’m sorry. But this was my first Billy and so I really took my time making sure I got his voice right, that mix of genuinely good childishness mixed in with the kinda bitter street kid. I also like the dichotomy between Captain Marvel and Billy Batson and the sorta divide between them. Jay I know easy enough but I cherry picked each word of Billy’s. Also, just cause I want it known. B totally knows about Billy’s age and situation here and deliberately sets him and Jay up to meet so the two sad street kids can bond. Also Jay really did need to practice his reports.   

[abunchadorks]

Chapter Four: Gard’s Tomb

(parts one, two, three, four, five, and six here for hot recaps in your area)

Part Seven: What happened to Elyserin

She didn’t know what context to expect for the rats. She had been positive about the rats. There were not many things she could be absolutely certain of in this world, but she was sure of herself, and she knew it would have rats. What would bring them in the...the vision? Test? Whatever you could call it. Would they find themselves in a sewer? Already in the nest? Some mad torturer’s pit, the rats piled knee deep and rabid with hunger?

One really big rat?

She had not expected to be aboveground. She had not expected to be in a clean temple full of flowers, bright sunlight blasting down through rose window above and behind her. She had not expected the room to be so full of life that did not include rats. 

A flute was playing somewhere high up in the temple minstrel chambers, accompanied by two other wind instruments that created a sweet, airy harmony in a peaceful song. Lower down, the temple was crowded: smiling faces, some of them damp-cheeked, all of them as clean as the temple and dressed in their finest. Jewels glinted at the throats and ears of most of the women and many of the men, while silk shimmered over the whole congregation in a vibrant rainbow. Elyserin stared at them, stomach sinking. She recognized a good half of them, mostly the ones seated on the left-hand benches.

She, Phlirp, Mya, Sigrid, and Manatar all stood at the back of the temple, the other four behind her in a square pattern. Sigrid and Mya held between them a length of fine silvery cloth, so sheer it might as well have been spiderweb. They looked at each other, not sure how they came to be holding it, and their eyes followed the cloth down to where it pooled on the floor, then back up again to where it connected to Elyserin’s hair by a dozen pearl pins. Elyserin looked at them, then down at herself, stomach sinking even further. It turned out there was something she feared more than rats. Unfortunate.

Her gown was silver, and made of something slippery that moved like water every time she breathed, white gems at her wrists and studding the belt that hung loose around her hips. Her feet were bare, and she could taste the tang of metallic paint on her lips. Her earlobes felt heavy too, and in her hands she found that she was holding a single golden lily. She didn’t want to, but she could not stop herself from looking down the temple’s aisle to what lay at the other end.

She would rather it had been a really big rat.

The sunlight from the rose window sparkled on the aisle, which was tiled in a deep ocean blue and covered in an inch of water, as was traditional in a Gozreh temple. It sent the light everywhere, leaving no shadow to hide in, and no doubt as to who stood at the other side, beaming face almost giving off its own light. The same smiling, if bland, face she had only met once, whose owner had kissed her knuckles and told her he didn’t mind her odd markings that much. She had said nothing then, only stared at him as her eyes grew wider and wider until he became uncomfortable and had gone away. She had thought that was the end of it, but here, now…

“Elyserin,” said Phlirp quietly, “Are you getting married?”

“I--I--” she wanted to say no, of course not, I’m not marrying anyone let alone that twerp, but the words stuck in her throat as she caught sight of her parents at the front of the aisle. Her mother was openly weeping out of pure joy, her father’s chest high in pride. She wanted to tear the veil off her hair and stomp back to Skald, but seeing them here, like this…

They had neither been happy nor proud that she was their daughter before. She could not turn her back on seeing what it looked like.

She tore her gaze from them to the other people there, and saw that almost everyone her father traded with was here. Heirun from the Southern Hillside Trading Company. Kii from Grace Transport. Brea-Fang and her consort of the Tocktun mafia. Everyone who could financially ruin her father if they should receive an insult from him or his family, for example being asked to come all this way for a wedding only for the bride to bolt at the last moment. She felt like she was eleven years old again, being hauled home by the ear by a nanny while being scolded for embarrassing behavior.

“It’s not real,” she murmured to herself, just as the others had done. She couldn’t bring herself to believe it. There was no comforting sharp drag of her undershirt on scorpion carapace. She was alone.

“Honored ones, I present to you gentle Elyserin and noble Trevek!” This came from the other end of the aisle, a blue and white clad priestess of Gozreh. “Lovers, come together if you would be wed.”

Everyone rose to their feet and stood solemnly, all eyes on Elyserin and the young man. Trevek, that had been his name. He held a lily like hers. She hadn’t bothered to remember him, and now he was sliding forward, as barefoot as she was, entering the water of the pool with as little splash as he could manage on big feet. Elyserin wanted to stay where she was, but something was moving her feet for her, dragging her against her will to step gracefully into the pool as well.

“What are you doing?” hissed Mya. “Who is he?”

“I guess he’s my fiance. I can’t stop,” she whispered in reply. She resisted, and though her muscles shook with the effort, she took one step and another toward the nice young man who had kissed her knuckles, who would probably have her entertain visiting traders while he freshened up, who would father her children and lead her by the elbow when it was time to leave the party and talk over her and touch her while she pretended to sleep. Her whole future, laid out in a neat agenda, none of it written by her, none of it involving her, a gilded cage that came with a gag and blindfold.

She did, at this point, let out a sound that was not quite a sob. Whatever was holding her upright and forcing her steps, it wouldn’t let tears fall any more than it would let her turn around and run, to hell with her parents. She treasured her independence. She needed it like breath, craved it like a drug. And now it was slipping away, and there was absolutely nothing she could do about it.

A pair of thick arms wrapped around her from behind, and with one undignified splash she was flung over Manatar’s shoulder, ass in the air, head down his back, veil twisted into rope. The strange force that moved her feet wouldn’t let her fight any more than it had let her stop walking. She dangled there helpless as the barbarian roared out to the crowd, “You can’t have this woman! She’s already married!”

“What? Liar!” Came the outraged voice of her father. She couldn’t see him, or anyone for that matter, as her head only pointed straight down. She could move her chin a little, but only to lift her nose out of Manatar’s back and breathe in flower scent instead of human musk.

“Married? To who?” This was not a voice she recognized, but it was male and close, probably Trevek. He sounded thunderstruck. He sounded heartbroken. Oh get over yourself, she thought wretchedly.

“Me!” Manatar snarled. “By the Ones and the Other Ones, she’s mine!” Over his shoulder he whispered to her, “Say, ‘by the Ones and the Other Ones, he’s mine.’”

“By the Ones and the Other Ones, he’s mine,” she said, and was surprised that she could. 

“There. We’re married. Can’t have her.”

“You said she was already married.” Under her stomach she felt the big shoulder shrug.

“I lied. Not lying now. Can’t have her.”

“Priest! Put a stop to this nonsense!” Her father again. General scandalized murmuring in the crowd, not all of it against the events taking place. They must make quite an entertaining spectacle, she thought. I should burn a hole in the floor.

“As unorthodox as it may be, that’s a real ceremony he just said. The Ones and Other Ones are recognized deities among the mountain tribes. I’m sorry but Gozreh does not make allowance for multiple spouses,” said the priestess.

There was a general uproar, and both sides of the aisle all pressed in around the priestess and around Manatar, who swung her around and strode from the temple. Mya and Sigrid shouldered open the door, and Elyserin was carried over the threshold.

As soon as they set foot on the ground outside, she found she could move again. “Put me down you ugly brute,” she snapped at Manatar.

“That’s no way to talk to your husband,” he said, and she could hear him grinning. She wriggled but his grip was strong and he kept walking. At last she stopped struggling and let it happen, one hand propped under her chin.

“At least shift this side up a little higher,” she said. “Your armor is digging.” He shifted. It stopped digging. “Thank you. And Manatar--thank you.”

There was only the briefest pause before he said “You are welcome. You looked beautiful today.” Elyserin’s face warmed. The second she smiled, the temple and the soft sunlit lawn it stood on were gone.

Her scorpion was back inside her shirt, her feet were back on the ground, her hair tied back in a practical pair of braids instead of loose and decked with pearls. She was underground in a place she was forbidden to go, imminent danger on every side, and her fingers crackling with unsaid magic. Everything was as it ought to be.

She turned to the others still on the stair, but it was just as it had been on the other side of the threshold, a pair of statues that moved when you didn’t focus on them, silent. She reached out and touched the barrier, still as invisible as ever, smooth as glass. Phlirp and Mya watched her curiously.

“He liiiiikes you,” Phlirp cooed.

“Shut up.”

“He married you,” Mya said, mouth hanging open, still shocked from what they had all seen. “You married him.”

“Shut up. It wasn’t real. I don’t acknowledge it. It doesn’t count if it’s during a fear vision quest.”

On the other side of the barrier, unable to hear what they were saying, Manatar wondered how he was going to tell the tribe he’d married a Sylph.