#the crossover we didn’t ask for and absolutely didn’t need

[allioaro]

Some days I stop dead in my tracks and remember Idia and Razor have the same voice actor….today was one of those days lol

[feeder86]

Feeder 86: The Top Ten

Can you believe that the Feeder86 ‘Orginal Gainer Stories’ blog will soon be posting the two hundredth story? I thought of many ways to celebrate. But then I stopped and realised that I would probably be best using the time to address one of the questions I get asked about most frequently. Which of the stories do I personally like the most?

This was not an easy list to make as I very rarely go back to re-read my own work after I have finished editing and posting them. This is not because I do not like them, but because I always see bits that I want to change. Nevertheless, this project was the perfect opportunity to revisit a few oldies that I remember being very proud of at the time. 

Hopefully you will see this list for what it is: a glimpse into how I write, my motivations and drive; rather than just a self indulgent pat on the back for myself. Yuck!

So, with that being said, let us begin...

#10 The Feeders’ Formula: This tale certainly had to be placed into the list. After all, it is the one that kicked off ‘Original Gainer Stories’ all those years ago. There are many amazing examples of instant body weight transformation stories out there. I felt that I needed to write this one as my contribution to the genre. It went down well at the time. I swiftly wrote a Part Two, then followed it up with others (The Feeders’ Formation, The Feeders’ Formalities, The Feeders’ Foreclosure, The Feeders’ Forecast, The Feeders’ Former Years), becoming something of an ongoing saga in recent years; focusing on the different Feeders from that very first meeting. As a writer who sometimes struggles to find the ending, these are wonderful to write as they all have the same inevitable conclusion. There is also so much freedom to be had when you’re working with characters who are pretty much pure evil. I know so much more about the Feeders than I’ve ever written down, so it is great to tease out those little details with each new installment. The newest of these tales (The Feeders’ Foreplay) was the darkest yet, but seems to have provoked a very favourable reaction from many. Who knows what the Feeders may get up to next? I do! And you can find out too, once we start a whole new sweeps season of stories this April! Come with me into The Feeders' Fortress!

#9 Only One: Where do I start? Only One has my absolute favourite type of feeder. Ben is big, sexy and very in control. He’s one of those rare types of guys who always stays on top and is a step ahead of absoultely everyone he meets. Who wouldn’t fall for him? I certainly did! In fact, I loved him so much that I wrote an entire prequel for him (and none of you even noticed!) Check out Rewire if you want to see how Ben became the man we know and love.

#8 The Wright Boys: The idea of a weight gain that cannot be stopped or controlled is a tempting one for many. How much easier would it be if you didn’t have to second guess your choices or face the pressure to lose weight? This was the first tale of what I see as ‘The Curses’ saga that eventually bled into many other stories (including another one on this list!) and culminated in Wright vs Beckett. However, this story remains my personal favourite of these. If you’re a fan of looking for crossovers between my stories, these are some of the most explicitly linked. I followed it up with a spin-off tale (The Wright Boys: DNA), but continue to have ideas about how I could go back to these boys in the future. Watch this space.

#7 Making Monsters: The title of this story really does give away how I felt about it at the time. This is quite the saga, spread over into not just two, but three parts! It began as a story that was very similar to Blackmailed; a tale that I had written previously about a guy voyeristically enjoying seeing his friend fatten up her boyfriend. However, this story evolved even further for me, with Tommy’s love of eating and gaining weight being both his greatest love, and his biggest shame. His denial only heightened the tension for me, and, when he does eventually give in, the gains feel all the more satisfying as a result.

#6 The Pig Feed: It’s not easy to write a gainer story where there isn’t another character spurring the events along and encouraging things. In this tale however, that role is given to a very tasty and surprisingly addictive pig feed mixture that Steve gets himself hooked on. It’s a story that I really enjoyed writing and still feel very happy with. I have considered writing more stories around this interesting feed. However, I am yet to do so; deciding (for now at least) that things are perhaps best left as they are. But, feel free to let me know your thoughts on this.

#5 Farm Boy: Whether you grew up in a big city, or a small rural community, like Hayden in this story, we can all relate to having desires and attractions that those around us don’t understand. And, thanks to how well connected we are these days, we now know what it’s like to realise that you’re not actually alone, and the whirlwind of excited emotions that follow. I enjoyed writing this story because I, quite simply, fell completely in love with Hayden. As kinky as he was, he still retained that fresh faced innocence throughout. If any of my characters were destined to be together forever, I imagine that these two would be my top choice.

#4 Keeping a Crush: This is one of those stories that I wrote in a matter of hours, and I was so pleased with it when I was done. Getting the train to go to work is not necessarily something that many Americans have to do, and so the location had to be switched to the UK (quite refreshing, I thought!). For me, it’s one of those really rare instances where placing very solid restrictions on the structure of a story (In this case, having it all take place during the commute to and from work) and finding that it actually elevates the sexual tension and mood. All scenes take place in public settings. All conversations could, in theory, be overheard. These days, so many people meet online and flirt for weeks by messaging back and forth, before they even see each other for the first time. Nowadays, for better or for worse, the actual, real fantasy is finding a connection with someone you just see in the real world; perhaps with a person you literally just met on the way to work...

If you’ve not read this one, I really would highly recommend it.

#3 To the Max: Stories with a magical element to them are either loved or hated. However, I find that this tale walks that line very successfully. Ned gets his hands on a love potion and makes straight guy, Max, fall for him. I’m sure we’ve all been there with that fantasy! However, it is in the consequences of inviting someone into your life, someone that you actually know very little about, that the entire eroticism of this story is based. I won’t spoil it for those who have not read it, but believe me when I say that things soon start getting very interesting indeed…

#2 Tommy’s Two Hundred. Don’t recognise this one? Well, that's because none of you have read it yet. 

Now, I’m not just saying this because I want you all to come back for the two hundreth story, but this is genuinely one of my absolute favourites. For my big milestone stories in the past, I have written something specifically for that event (Wright vs Beckett, The Seven Feeders of Finn). However, this is just a tale that I adored writing and decided to hold back for you all, especially for this occasion. It’s a story of domination and submission within a fairly open, but very kinky, relationship. Strapping Hunter plays the part of a very controlling feeder, making me break many of my own rules and stretching my boundaries to the absolute limits. You’ll either love him, or you’ll hate him. That’s all I’m going to say…

Also, this story is going to be the first Feeder86 story that will be fully illustrated. It’s all thanks to the amazing talents of Spellwell9 who was given an advanced copy and asked to imagine the characters in four different scenes. I cannot wait for you to see this!

Put it in your diary. All will be revealed from Friday 5th April…

#1 F80 Control: This is perhaps a controvercial choice (especially as my #1). I have previously admitted that this story strays a little from its purpose of being a gainer story. In other words, I get very caught up in the background story that is being told. However, I feel that the science fiction genre is surprisingly underused in tales of weight gain. Yet, the combination of Aritificial Intelligence and submission seemed, to me, to be the perfect blend. It really is a beast of a story if you can follow it all the way through to its conclusion. 

With the advent of improved artificial intelligence software in recent years, I felt the time was right to develop the world further, with the addition of F80 Ctrl Alt Del; a spin-off tale set slightly before the main story. Then, unable to help myself, I followed this up again with another companion story, F80: Kidnap and Control. 

The reason I chose this universe as my favourite is because this is where I am happiest writing. With AI, I don’t need to consider the morality or motivations - I know exactly what their aims are and I can see multiple ways in which it will cause conflict with humanity (and their waistlines!) I would also love to write more for this world one day, and I even left a little unused subplot in the last story that I think would provide the perfect starting-off point for another chapter. Will I ever write it? Well, we’ll have to wait and see…

So, there you have it! The the complete list!

This was a much harder exercise than I expected when I first embarked upon it. Stories like: Jiggle the Jock, Meticulous, Rule Number One, Freaks, Leftovers I and II, Ethan: The Secret Feeder and, not fogetting The Consequences I, II and III all crept in and out of the list, unfortunatley missing out on the final cut. There are many, many others, of course. But this list cannot go on forever...

So, why not tell me which ones were your favourites? Feel free to write in the comments and post a link to any other stories that you have enjoyed from myself, or from other authors. Hopefully, if we all work together, this could become a great resource for people in the future, filled with signposts and reccommendations.  

Also, don’t forget the Feeder86 Contents page where you can find links and descriptions of all the 200 stories posted so far (as well as plot outlines for upcoming tales as well). Please continue to enjoy the vast catalogue of stories, and even have a go yourself! I love supporting the many new gainer fiction writers who contact me. So please do get in touch if you need advice, or to talk through your ideas. Let’s all encourage a whole new generation of people to get typing away! I’m sure you will cheer them on just as much as I will.

Thank you to everyone who supports the stories blog here on Tumblr. Keep checking in every Friday througout April for a whole new sweeps season to celebrate this milestone. Stories will include: Tommy's Two Hundred, Train for a Gain, The Feeders' Fortress and The 1% (a companion story to The 5%). For now, I thank you all for taking time out to sit and read the very bizarre tales that sprout from my mind. You are all wonderful.

Happy 200 stories!

Feeder86

[asterias-record-shop]

Okay, but Stiles finally spoiling you with a date night after weeks of working himself to the bone on his current FBI case 😭❤️👏🏻 Maybe he gets a call in the middle of the date with someone trying to interrupt (unintentionally), but tonight is all about you?

no because this is so cute!! probably going to make a pt 2 :) also, Dylan O’Brien as Thomas?? omfg

—𓆩[honey, honey]𓆪—

𓆩[main masterlist]𓆪 𓆩[request/ask me something!]𓆪

𓆩♡𓆪 CHARACTER - FBI Agent! Stiles Stilinski x Fem! Fiancée! Reader

𓆩♡𓆪 TYPE - fluff

𓆩♡𓆪 WORD COUNT - 1.3K

𓆩♡𓆪 SUMMARY - It’s been a long fucking week, and Stiles has finally caught a break to spend time with you… until he gets a call right in the middle about the case he’s working on, but tonight is about you and nothing is going to change that.

𓆩♡𓆪 STORY WARNINGS - totally made you a spoiled princess in this, Stiles loves you too much to say no || FBI office based off of the BAU from Criminal Minds and like a little crossover || cursing I think? ||

“How’s the case coming along, Stilinski?” Agent Morrison asks, a sigh coming from Stiles’ mouth as he stares down at the stack of files on his desk.

He grins up at the man. “Absolutely delightful, Agent Morrison.”

“Oh yeah?” He laughs, looking down at his watch. “Gonna tell the missus you’re going to be home late?”

Stiles looks at the wedding band he didn’t stop playing with, sighing. “No, I’m going to go home early, actually. It’s date night.”

Agent Morrison laughs. “Date night! Date nights are good, don’t stop having those,” he looks down at his ring, sighing. “Makes the spark dim.”

Stiles sits there awkwardly for a minute. “Not too late to start them up again?”

Agent Morrison nods slightly. “You’re right. Well, your new partner is supposed to be coming in any minute, he was supposed to be here-”

“I’m here! I’m here!” A voice yells, quickly running in as they panted. “I’m here, I missed the bus.”

Stiles stares for a minute, jaw slack. “Dude, are you okay?”

“Yes! Yes I’m fine!” He walked forward. “I’m Dr. Spencer Reid, I work with the BAU at Quantico, I’m here for Mieczyslaw-”

“Stiles,” the said man stands quickly, shaking his head. “Everyone calls me Stiles.”

Reid paused. “Stiles… Stiles Stilinski?”

“That’s what I said,” Agent Morrison stands, sighing. “Well, you both have fun. If you need anything, don’t call me.”

“We will call you as soon as we have a problem, Morrison!” Stiles yells as Morrison goes up the stairs.

“Don’t do that!”

“I’m positive I will, Morrison!”

“You do that, I’ll kill you!”

“Calling you right now sir!” Stiles smiles when he hears the door slam shut, another man stepping into the office. “That your bodyguard?”

Reid looks back and he shakes his head. “Oh no, that’s Morgan! Derek Morgan.”

Stiles hums, waiting for the other man to come to his substitute desk while he waits for everyone to clean his office.

The taller man walks over, a bright smile on his face. “You must be M-”

“Stiles!” Morrison yells out, opening his door. “Your offices are clean and Y/N is here!”

His brows furrow, it wasn’t that late was it? He opened the drawer with his phone, it was only 2:30 and he wasn’t supposed to get off until at least 5:00. “Uhm, I’m sorry, give me one second.”

When his phone rings again, he quickly answers it. “Hey honey-”

“I brought you lunch.”

He looks up, smiling when he sees you holding up a bag of food making him hang up, quickly excusing himself from his new partners. He jogs over to you, smiles wide as he leaned down to press a soft kiss to your head. “Hey.”

You giggled, handing him the bag. “Hey. Made some of your favorite, just thought I’d bring it by.”

He nods, wrapping his arms around your waist to pull you in for a soft kiss. “You’re fucking amazing, honey.”

“I know,” you laughed as you pressed another kiss to his lips. “I’ll see you later?”

He basically pouts. “You can’t stay a bit longer?”

You shake your head, softly brushing your hand against his cheek. “Last time I stayed we fucked in your office.”

He grins mischievously. “Well my office is almost clean-”

“Behave, Stiles!” Two voices say, both yours and Morrison’s whose door was now open.

“Yeah, okay!” He yelled back, looking down at you. “He won’t know.”

You laughed, shaking your head. “No, I still have to get back home and finish making our food for tonight.”

He really does pout this time. “You’re no fun.”

You hum. “I’ll remember that, Stilinski.” He groans dramatically before you press a soft kiss to his lips. “I love you. See you later.”

He nods, smiling. “I love you too.”

It doesn’t take long for Stiles to get off, giving his number to his new partners before making his way home where you already made dinner, and for fucks sake it was delicious.

You both settled on the couch, a movie you both really weren’t paying attention to as you sat on Stiles’ lap, his hands on your hips as you leaned back into him.

He laughs as he holds your chin, pulling you back just enough for a soft kiss. “You know, I was thinking-”

“Oh well that doesn’t sound good,” you teased, making him roll his eyes playfully. “What about?”

He shrugs, leaning into the crook of your neck. “Just… you know, I get my bonus soon.”

“Right,” you say, looking back just enough to look at his eyes. “What’s up?”

“We should take a trip, or something,” he says, shrugging. “I have some paid time off, you work for yourself… what do you think?”

You smiled widely, nodding. “I think that sounds fucking amazing.”

He smiled, pressing a soft kiss to your lips again. “Perfect. And how’s our wedding coming along?”

Stiles left you in charge of pretty much everything, all he was doing was paying for it.

“Oh, good! I’m going dress shopping soon,” you say with a wide smile. “I’m super excited. Have a feeling this one will be great.”

You both had been engaged for a while, but you both wanted everything to be perfect before actually tying the knot, and Stiles wasn’t going to let you walk down the aisle in a dress you didn’t love.

He smiled, his hands sneaking around your waist as he kissed the back of your neck. “I know it will be, love. You liked that dress we saw in Mexico, right? You want to go dress shopping there?”

You gasp, quickly turning around in his lap. “You’d do that?”

He laughs. “Well, of course I will. But we need to bring an extra suitcase to make sure it fits.”

You pull him in for a firm kiss, humming. “You’re fucking amazing.”

He smiles before his phone starts to ring, pulling you closer before you finally pull away. “What if it’s important?”

He shook his head, pulling you back down. “Nothings more important than you.”

He pulled you back down for another kiss, your hands pushing into the back of his shirt before his phone continued to ring. You pulled away, sighing as you grabbed his phone and handed it to him. “Don't worry, I’ll be okay for the five minutes it takes you to talk to them.”

He rolled his eyes playfully. “What if I’m not?”

You answer the phone, making him straighten. “This is Stilinski.”

“Hi Agent Stilinski, this is Dr. Spencer Reid, we met today, I’m your new partner along with Derek Morgan, but he isn’t here right now…” Reid continues to mutter, making Stiles raise a brow.

“Dr. Reid, is there a… point to this call?”

“Oh, yes! Sorry, I was wondering if you were busy right now? I found something big.”

He looks at you, your slightly sad smile as you pressed a soft kiss to his temple. “We can finish the movie later.”

“Y/N, honey-” he sighs as you go into the kitchen, rubbing the center of his forehead. “I’m sorry, Dr. Reid, do you mind if we talk about it tomorrow? I’m with my fiancée right now.”

Reid exclaims. “Oh, right! Sorry, talk to you tomorrow bye!” Reid hangs up quickly, Stiles smiling as he goes into the kitchen.

He comes behind you, arms wrapping around your waist and kissing against your temple. “Moved plans to tomorrow. We got all night, honey.”

You giggled, turning around. “I already looked at tickets to Mexico. What week are we thinking?”

“Any week you want, darling. This week is all about you.”

Taglist: 𓆩[@lem0ns77]𓆪 𓆩[@cecepop15]𓆪 𓆩[@memeorydotcom]𓆪 𓆩[@your-favorite-god]𓆪

© asterias-record-shop

[enbycrip]

I need people to stop telling trans binary and nonbinary people who vent about their family forgetting or not using their pronouns or chosen names to “just cut them out of their lives if they can’t respect who you are”.

*Lots* of us are disabled. I really depend on help from my folks to manage my life when things are bad.

But, frankly, even if I didn’t - I’m not going to cut my folks, or the rest of my family, out of my life, because things they do hurt me. Because they do, sometimes right to the heart for things I don’t think they realise mean a lot to me, but that *doesn’t* stop me loving them. Nor them loving me. My folks are also right at the limit of their capacity caring for three people to different extents, and that doesn’t give them a lot of capacity to spare for learning or processing stuff they don’t necessarily see as all that important.

Trans folk, and disabled folk, which have a big crossover in the middle of the Venn Diagram there, are socially marginalised and isolated. Lots of trans and disabled people are literally cut out by their families for being who they are, and that is a big, big cause of marginalisation and isolation.

The idea that the rest of us should just do that to ourselves when people we love hurt us by not understanding who we are - and this stuff *isn’t* actually that easy to learn for people outside the queer, disabled or queer disabled communities if they’re not incredibly motivated to do so - is incredibly fucking damaging and, to be absolutely honest, a complete cop-out by people who are not willing to put up with the emotional labour of understanding that most lives are not simple, and marginalised people have to constantly deal with trade-offs in most areas.

I don’t remotely mean that people should put up with abuse if they have the capacity to leave that situation. But people need to expand their understanding to a) behaviour that hurts us is not necessarily the same as abuse, and b) marginalised people *are* frequently stuck in abusive situations, and this sort of absolute “leave or shut up” attitude people are so keen to put out online further traps and isolates marginalised people who are stuck, instead of giving them emotional support and, hopefully, physical and informational support too.

The idea that we can simply and easily withdraw from parts of our social network without it costing us something vital is incredibly privileged, and incredibly dangerous.

We talk so much in environmental and social movements about building community. We always talk about it in this purely positive light. I need people to start engaging with the fact that real, as opposed to idealised, community, is a multifaceted thing, and all the more so for people who are intersectionally marginalised - anywhere at the crossover point of queer, disabled, BIPOC, trans, neurodivergent, migrant, and other things. We are communal creatures by nature, but, frankly, capitalism has done a *lot* to break that up, and to prevent us from learning the skills of negotiation and existing in community as equitably as possible. And that includes in small communities like families.

Part of that, frankly, *is* letting people have vent spaces. Without necessarily jumping in to problem solve unless people *ask* for that. Venting is literally one of the ways that people move towards problem solving themselves - it not only lets them express emotion they may not have the space to express properly in the situation that’s causing it, but it starts letting them lay a situation out and put it in perspective. And online venting is great, tbh. It stops individual people from becoming sole venting spaces, the emotional labour of which falls disproportionately on women and femme-read people. And it means that, if you don’t have the spoons to hold that space for people, you can scroll by.

I absolutely do *not* find this stuff easy. At all. I am *way* too autistic for that. That’s why I work *hard* at this stuff.

We *need* communities. We are communal primates. It’s what we are and what we do. And, frankly, we need to get better at being in community with each other to build the future we need to survive. Capitalism and oligarchy has been far too fucking effective at pushing a narrative of individualism which ignores our responsibilities as humans - to each other and to the planet we live on. We need to learn to see the costs of isolation and being isolated, and learn the skills of supporting each other and negotiating with each other.

And, absolutely honestly, if someone *is* in a situation where they do need to walk away from a relationship (of any kind), they will be *so* much better able to do so if they have a community of genuine support from others around them.

[mx-mongoose]

Crossover prompt, Casey and Casey Junior centric

So when meeting Casey Junior, the 2012 gang is just AWESTRUCK on how different Casey is in this universe. He’s nice, calm, considerate, well mannered, respectful- you get the point. Everything 12!Casey ISN’T. And most of the 2012 gang absolutely likes him. It feels nice to have a Casey that doesn’t constantly push their buttons and feel like they can have a mature or calm conversation with.

Leonardo spars with him and is shocked by how formally trained he is.

Since Junior grew up with Rise Donnie, he tries to help Donnie with projects when he allows him to and is actually good company for Donnie!

Junior is the only one who can stomach Mikey’s cooking since he survived on roadkill and scraps most of his life so maple syrup and tuna pizza tastes like Gordan Ramsey to him,

April is just appreciative to have a meaningful conversation with another human for once.

Raphael is the only one on the fence about Junior for a reason stated later.

As for 12!Casey, he absolutely HATES Junior’s guts. Mainly out of jealousy. He’s jealous of how his team trusts him and how they’re not generally annoyed to be around him, hell he’s even jealous of how sick his weapons are! I mean a chainsaw hockeystick fusion and a grappling hook?! No-one would trust him with those but apparently these guys do. There’s also this thing where Junior is just so… Bland?! (In his eyes) He can’t understand why anyone likes him, universal cosmo law or not that wasn’t Casey Jones and he’s not gonna share his title to the equivalent of white bread.

So it sparks this one-sided rivalry and Junior doesn’t understand any of it. Like Casey will start random competitions, will pick on him, purposely make him mess up on missions, hell he’ll even try and make Junior physically fight him a couple times before someone will have to tear Casey off of the poor boy. (It doesn’t help that 12 Donnie constantly calls Junior the “better Casey”)

Eventually the two of them talk and they make a truce then they become friends (i have no idea how, just imagine some emotional conversation between them)

Then they’re walking and they go up to one of the Donnies and ask

Casey Jr: Hey Dona- i mean Donatellos, my counterpart wants a replica of my weapon if that isn’t any trouble

Casey: What my good looking bro is trying to say is- Dude I NEED a hockey stick chainsaw

Rise Donnie: Okay two things, one-

2012 Donnie: No way in hell that i’m giving YOU a chainsaw

Rise Donnie: And two, who said you guys were counterparts?

Then there’s this long silence and Casey asks

Casey: how we are not counterparts? We share the same name, we share the same handsome face and both play hockey??

Rise Donatello: That’s because he’s the counterpart of your would-be-son Casey Jones Junior. Your counterpart is our friend Cassandra Jones, you guys haven’t met because she doesn’t visit much-

Casey: JUNIOR?! CASE, WHY DIDN’T YOU MENTION THE JUNIOR PART OR YOUR MOM.

Casey Jr: It never came up! But i guess that makes sense, you do remind me a lot of my mom.

Rise Donatello: It also explains why when I asked Donnie over here how his Casey was sent to the past without mystic energy he looked at me like I was crazy

2012 Donnie: To be honest, I was more shocked that a Casey was put in charge of saving the world. Now I can sleep easy at least

Casey: YOU’RE FROM THE FUTURE?!

Rise Donatello: You didn’t tell this guy anything did you???

After that, Casey loves to pull the “Technically i’m your dad, so you have to listen to me” and teasingly calls him “son”. Of course this is all out of earshot of Cassandra. But this also is a weight off Casey’s chest that this is indeed a separate person and of all things his son! Hell it kinda gives him an ego boost (not that he needs one) that someone as crazy as him can raise someone like Junior.

They’re close friends and I love them

[purplesigebert]

WIP Wednesday #24 - DW Crossover

Woah @impossiblekryptonitecolor wasn't kidding about that curse! Thankfully I broke it, and it only took four weeks and not a thousand and ten years!

Onto the snippet - surprise, surprise Caroline is not having a great time. Good thing she has some memories to escape into.

If it didn’t hurt so much, Caroline would give the hunter points from ingenuity.  Number 2 pencils as stakes?  That was a new one. Her hands were in agony, only second to her throat.  The droplets of vervain water that she inhaled made her feel like her esophagus was being ripped apart from the inside.  The only good thing about this whole situation was that she was safe from compulsion.   

She was just glad that Mikael 2.0 didn’t seem to know that the daylight spell wasn’t tied to a specific person.  The last thing Caroline needed was for Alaric to take her ring and put it on his finger.  Then he wouldn’t need her to lure Elena to the school - he would just stake her and rush off the Gilbert house.  The man was muttering to himself as he paced back and forth in front of his desk, only stopping to check his phone before shaking his head.  Alaric stopped in front of her and took the gag out of her mouth, wincing as he dipped it into the beaker that was on the desk next to her.  He had already repeated this process 3 times in the hour that she had been here, the pain that herb caused him not deterring him in the slightest. 

As the classroom’s clock ticked the seconds, the blonde used the sound to try and push away the pain.  Slowly, the memories of another time she was threatened by a very powerful person flooded her mind.

2008 - Year That Never Was

“Martha, we are up against a 900 year old alien with absolute zero regard for human life - except for a weird fixation for the Teletubbies!” Caroline shouted, while Martha tried to get her to lower her voice.

Caroline didn’t see why she should have to, the Valiant was miles away in the sky.  They had run for cover as soon as they had gotten their breath back, after slamming into the ground via vortex manipulator. The air was thick with smoke that had drifted towards them from the destruction in London.  The trees made breathing easier and hid them from the Toclafane.

“So you know who we should go to?” Caroline continued. “A 1000 year old being with no regard for human life - aside from the fact that he needs them if he wants to keep existing!”

“That’s not a good reason to approach him, Caroline,” the other woman scoffed.  The blonde tried not to snap at her friend even more than she had, most of Martha’s family was on the ship and they didn’t have the immunity that Caroline’s had.

“He’s got contacts that we could use and centuries of experience of being on the run!  He’s the monster that other monsters fear! We need Klaus,” Caroline stressed, this seemed like a no brainer, better to seek their chances with an Original Vampire than think they could take on the Master by themselves. 

Caroline was also convinced that Martha wouldn’t ask him for help because Shakespeare told her not to.  Martha rubbed at her temple and worried the TARDIS key turned perception filter necklace before taking a deep breath.  She looked up, resolution in her brown eyes.

“Alright. Alright, we'll ask him for help.” 

Caroline cheered. 

“If,” Ugh, so close!

“If we also ask his brother for help.  After all, two Mikaelsons are better than one, right?"

Caroline groaned. Seriously?  She had to work with Elijah Mikaelson.

"Fine, but only because the fate of the world is at stake!"

[narrans]

A Tall and Small Collection | S2.43 | & Everyone Needs A Little Hero :: Crossover :: True Colors Revealed pt. 2

He had done it. It took hours of work, but it was done. After finding it beneath the floorboards and prying it free, Soren gazed at his masterpiece in admiration. It was absolutely stunning and, best part, he knew it would fit.

Soren readjusted his hip lamp which he hanged above him to look down at the ring in his lap.

It was a beautiful silver band with several large jewels imbedded in the metal. It took a bit of polishing and work to get the stones to shine, and even longer to make sure they couldn’t wiggle free. Still, it was all worth it.

The ring had probably fallen between the floorboards or swept into the air vent years ago based on the amount of grime and dust that was in it. It was sad that it was forgotten, but it made for a good borrowing – especially for what Soren intended to do.

Soren stared at the ring and spun it around in his hands a few times. Maybe it was silly, but he hoped he was doing this right. He wanted to do all of this right at least – for Ashlynn.

Though nothing could be official in the laws of the humans, it was the gesture that mattered to him. He had chosen how he wanted to live his life, and that meant staying with Ashlynn.

A Borrower union was probably very different than a human wedding ceremony. Still, this ring was a symbol of how much Ashlynn meant to him. She would say that she didn’t need grand gestures or trinkets and so forth. Ashlynn would probably say that she just needed him and the found family they had created together.

A little bling wouldn’t hurt though.

Soren had it planned out in his head.

The boys would need to be somewhere else during dinner. Soren thought of a few places he could put it where Ashlynn would actually see it. He’d seen proposals in the movies they watched, but he wanted this experience to be special – unique.

Well… more unique than their situation already was.

With a light chuckle and feeling over the moon nervous and excited, Soren carefully put the ring into his bag and hid it under the flap with a few other borrowings. Perhaps he would do it tomorrow. He needed a little bit of time to prepare.

He hoisted his pack over his shoulders and made the trek back to his home. While his mind sparked with possibilities, he balanced across the nails and beams, ducking under wires and cables. Soren was so focused on the task before him that he almost didn’t hear his youngest brother, Rey, call out his name.

“Soren! Wait up!” called Rey. Soren heard Rey’s footsteps thumping quickly up to him. Soren paused and turned just in time for Rey to be by his side.

“Sorry, I didn’t hear you. Are you heading home?” asked Soren as he looked into his brother’s face.

“Yeah, Hero and I finished up early, and he needed to help out with dinner. It was a natural breaking point,” said Rey. Soren nodded in acknowledgement and started to lead the way once again to their home. The two of them walked in silent tandem for a few minutes before Rey piped up.

“Hey, Soren? Do you mind if I ask you something?” asked Rey. Soren had heard this phrase before, and he was never sure where the conversation was going to go when Rey asked this. Still, he nodded and focused on his youngest brother.

“Sure,” he said as he braced himself for Rey’s question.

“When we moved, not when Ashlynn came to get us but the first time with dad, did we… well… did we get thin and twitchy?” asked Rey. Soren was taken completely off-guard by the question. He hadn’t thought about that move in years.

He remembered it was cold and that they didn’t grab enough blankets to keep them warm since it would add too much extra weight. They needed to be quick, and heavy packs were a hinderance. Soren recalled the feeling of numbness as he surrendered his blankets and jackets to his younger brothers, waving away their concern by telling them he wasn’t cold when Soren knew very well he was on the verge of freezing to death.

Soren thought about their physical conditions. The boys did get a bit thinner, as did he. Their faces weren’t as full as they were when they had secure living areas and they were a bit nervous until they found Ashlynn’s home.

Despite the hardships, Soren thought hard about the question and thought that he had done a good job of keeping his brothers safe.

“Well, a little if I remember. We had to ration pretty hard and living outside made us all a little jumpy,” said Soren. Then it occurred to him. Like anything with Rey, there was probably a root cause for why he was asking this question. “Why?” Rey stopped walking for a moment as he scrunched his nose in contemplation.

“Well, I met someone new today – another Borrower,” stated Rey. Soren glanced back at his brother to see the gears practically whirring in his head. Rey was obviously replaying his interactions with the newcomer, and instantly the air around the younger brother seemed to change. “He said his name was Emile and he was really thin and tattered. He said he was scouting ahead and that he and his group had to migrate, but…”

Rey’s voice trailed off. All at once, Soren’s hair stood up on the back of his neck. Whatever Rey was feeling, Soren was beginning to pick up on it.

“But, something felt off about him?” finished Soren. Rey locked his pale blue eyes onto Soren and nodded, his youthful features stiff as he thought. “Like what?” The two brothers had stopped walking at this point and were balanced on the homestretch beam that led to their entrance through the floorboard joist into Ashlynn’s apartment.

“I don’t know. He just seemed a little too thin and a little too jittery. Okay, yeah. He’s probably been through some stuff while being out on his own, but he didn’t have good answers to some of my follow-up questions,” stated Rey. “And they were easy questions like why the whole group didn’t move together and why he didn’t bring any supplies if he was a scout.”

Soren saw the dilemma and pondered it for a moment.

“Maybe they couldn’t bring anything with them?” Soren suggested. Rey shrugged and tore his eyes away from Soren, placing his hands on his hips exasperatedly.

“I thought about that, but then why didn’t he just say that when I asked him? I don’t know, Soren. Something just feels wrong about this guy,” said Rey. Soren pulled a small smile onto his face as he stepped forward and clasped his brother’s shoulder. It struck Soren that Rey wasn’t just a little kid anymore. His instincts were developing, and he was growing into the man he would become.

“That kind of thinking is what’ll keep you safe,” complemented Soren. “My advice? Trust your instincts, but don’t discount what this Emile guy has been through. Stress and misfortune make people behave differently. Maybe he’s in the same kind of situation we were in and he’s friends with a human who brought him here and he just doesn’t know how to say it. Maybe they’ve lost people. We don’t know. What you can do is be aware and alert while also being kind. If something is wrong, and there very well could be, we want him to be able to come to us for help.”

“So, just leave everything as is? That feels so… passive. Like I’m waiting around for something bad to happen,” groaned Rey. Soren squeezed his brother’s shoulder again and smiled.

“Then tomorrow you and I should go down and have a chat with him, yeah? If they need supplies or things to help them, we should help. Then I can get a firsthand feel for this guy,” said Soren. “I mean, if they don’t have anything, they’ll need food and clothing and borrowings.”

Rey thought about this for a moment before nodding.

“I… do have some inventions that could help. I just designed a wearable claw suit that they could use to defend themselves, and maybe a little offering would help him open up,” sighed Rey. Soren smiled and nodded.

“That sounds like a good start,” grinned Soren. “But, let’s worry about that tomorrow.”

Rey smiled and nodded.

“Gosh, when did you get so grown up?” muttered Soren as he suddenly drew his brother in for a headlock. Soren managed to ruffle Rey’s hair a few times before he managed to break out of the lock. Playfully, he made a few quick punches to Soren’s sides and pretended to cuff him on the ears, keeping his arms up and staying on the balls of his feet, ready to spring in any direction if Soren lunged.

“Oh! You’ve been practicing your combat I see. Well, we’ll have to put that to the test after dinner,” stated Soren, boldly rolling his shoulders and cracking his knuckles.

“Bring it on grampa,” teased Rey as he reached out and tried to cuff Soren on the ear. Soren, with his lightening reflexes, was already prepared for Rey’s maneuver and caught his loose fist in his left hand and whipping Rey around, forcing him to the ground and using his body weight against him.

“This grampa still has some spring in his step little big man. Now, let’s go. We’ll be late for dinner.”

The two of them raced back to the electrical cover by the floorboard and entered Ashlynn’s apartment. They were instantly greeted by the sounds and smells of dinner cooking and Ashlynn talking to someone, most likely Dorian, about music.

While Soren’s evening was occupied with the thoughts of his upcoming plans with Ashlynn and the ring, Rey’s mind continued to wander to the strange Borrower.

Perhaps he was just nervous.

Maybe he had lost people like Soren said.

Of all the supplies the Rafters gave to Emile, weapons were not one of them. Perhaps they would need some. At the very least, they probably needed tools and such to get started.

Perhaps this was something he could do on his own…

~~~^*^*^~~~

The evening passed way too fast, and Rey was left awake and restless. After dinner, just as Soren had promised, the two of them sparred and wrestled. Though Soren had the upper hand at being quick and bigger than his little brother, Rey was pleased that he was able to hold his own. He even managed to get Soren to tap twice.

Granted, it was a drop in the bucket compared to the amount of times he was pinned, but it still felt like an accomplishment.

This was not what was on Rey’s mind, however.

It was Emile.

The conversation played over and over in his mind. Everything Soren suggested also helped to muddy the waters.

Finally, after hours of tossing and turning, Rey had enough.

He forced himself upright, pulled on his clothes, and then attached his weapons and gadgets to his body. Rey’s emergency grapple hung by his hips while his wearable claws were attached to his shoulders. Rey had his pins as well as a pack of supplies such as blankets that he knew Ashlynn wouldn’t mind if he took. For good measure, he also strapped on his own dagger and sword.

It felt a bit excessive and clunky, but Rey had managed to downsize his gear to be flexible and durable. Spending so much extra time down with Ashlynn and the supplies she had made all the difference in the world in his designs.

With a bit of colored pencil, Rey scribbled a note on their sticky note memo board that he was going out to the ground floor to find Emile and would be back before breakfast.

So, Rey set out into the walls. It was still dark outside from what he could see. A quick glance at the clock revealed it was almost six in the morning. It would take almost that long just to get down to the ground level without using Klink’s lift, but Rey decided he could use the time to think about the best strategy going forward.

Should he say he was concerned that they didn’t have any tools?

Should he start with an apology for being so direct and uncompassionate in his questioning?

Which tools was Rey willing to part with permanently and which ones was he alright with, no pun intended, letting them borrow?

One step after the next, he descended the stairs and maneuvered himself through the walls and around bundles of electrical cord until he made it to the main staircase. He followed the path, hip lamp illuminating the way, until he reached the ground level.

Once he did, however, the hair once again stood up on the back of his neck.

There was something in the air like charged electricity. As Rey walked forward, he heard the sound of distant clanking and rustling. It sounded far away, but it was enough to put him on alert.

Rey’s hand instinctively went to his dagger once again and he extinguished his hip lamp entirely. The teenage Borrower was familiar enough with the passages down here to know where the walls were and how to not lose his way. Tiptoeing as quietly as possible, he maneuvered through the floor joists along one of the far walls.

Rey’s heart started to thump harder in his chest as he followed the suspicious sounds further and further away from the main walkway. Then, without warning, the sound stopped. The air settled into a tense silence.

Rey closed his eyes and listened as hard as he could. Nothing. Nothing was making sound nearby. Whatever was rustling had stopped, at least for now.

What was going on?

Then, up ahead, Rey noticed that there was a little bit of light. It wasn’t much, but it looked like early morning daylight. His eyes adjusted and took in the source of illumination. His heart pounded harder. He felt his insides squirm with unease. Every impulse screamed for him to turn back.

Unfortunately, his curiosity would always get the better of him. He needed to know what was ahead making those sounds and generating that light. Daylight meant that the basement and the baseboards were exposed to the outside world, which was dangerous.

Was this how Emile got inside?

Rey rounded the next corner and felt his insides drop into his shoes.

There, in front of him, was a hard plastic cage. There were little air holes in the very top and if Rey weren’t paying attention, he could have walked right into it. He couldn’t believe what he was seeing. Rey stepped forward carefully and noticed that parts of the exterior were covered in what looked like a black trash bag.

Rey took a few steps back and looked at the scene, every horrid thought capturing his mind.

It looked like the cage was being disguised with various pieces of junk and plastic bags. It was meant to look like a tunnel through the junk, and it led right into the hard plastic cage.

No.

Did this mean…

“You…”

Rey spun around and was instantly face to face with Emile. His pack was gone, and he looked slightly more haggard than he did the day before. He was limping severely, and he was shaking from head to toe. Emile’s face was twisted into a look of pure terror as his brown eyes flicked from Rey to the cage and then back to Rey.

“You… shouldn’t be here. You shouldn’t have seen this!”

“W-wait just a second,” stammered Rey, holding out his hands in a motion of surrender. “Emile, just talk to me. What is going on?” Although Rey suspected what was going on, he needed to hear it.

He needed to hear that a Borrower was helping a human trap them.

“No! No no no no no!” whimpered Emile. “Th-this… this is so bad.”

Rey needed to deescalate the situation. Emile needed to know Rey was on his side – that he could help. Whatever was going on could be stopped. Nothing bad needed to happen. Rey needed to show Emile that. He took a breath and stared at the panicking Emile hoping his words would get through.

“Emile, listen to me. I can help you, but you have to let me leave and get my-”

“No! I can’t let you leave!” Emile roared and, in a sudden frenzy, he lunged forward toward Rey.

He had no choice.

Rey needed to fight.

As Emile lunged forward, Rey braced himself and ducked under Emile’s clenched fist. He was horribly unbalanced, and Rey took advantage of it. He clenched his fist and made a quick jab against Emile’s ribs. Emile howled in pain, sending a pang of guilt through Rey. Emile staggered to the side, arms wrapping around his torso, as he winced and gasped for air.

Whatever was beneath Emile’s tattered clothes was obviously painful, and Rey hit a pressure point with precision and power.

I need to be more careful, thought Rey. I don’t want to hurt him. I need him on my side.

Rey, distracted in the moment, missed Emile’s quick recovery. Fueled by adrenaline, Emile managed to grasp onto Rey’s shirt and began forcing him backward toward the cage. His adrenaline-fueled speed and strength had Rey staggering backward, trying to regain his footing.

Rey grasped at Emile’s shirt as he caught a glimpse of Emile’s wild eyes. Feet finally gaining purchase, Rey was mere inches from the entrance to the cage. One wrong move and he would be thrown backward into the hard plastic container with no chance of easy escape.

Thankfully, Rey’s training with Soren and Ashlynn kept him strong. While Emile had height and fear on his side, Rey had experience. The two were at a stalemate, both struggling for an upper hand. The older Borrower grunted as he struggled to dislodge Rey’s firm footing. Rey, on the other hand, decided to try to talk to him again.

“Emile! We can help you!”

“You can’t!” Emile roared as he kicked at Rey’s shins and threw him on the ground. Rey grunted in pain, the throbbing dulled by his own adrenaline, as he watched in horror as Emile grabbed him by his pack and began dragging him into the cage.

Rey’s mind raced. He needed to do something, and quick.

“No!” Rey shouted as he thrashed and grasped at the ground for a handhold. Then, his fingers felt the trigger at his side.

His gear!

Rey clutched the trigger and fired his grappling device on his left side. The spring shot the hook and, as if Rey willed it to happen, it gained purchase on the corner of a nearby pipe. Slapping the connecting wire, the gears whirred at his side and yanked him and Emile with incredible speed across the ground toward the pipe.

The sudden jolt made Emile’s grip loosen on Rey, making it easy for Rey to roll on the ground away from Emile and get back up onto his feet. The young Borrower meant for the weapons he brought to help Emile, but he was glad he already had it equipped.

Rey slipped his hands into the grips of his wearable claws and stood in a defensive position, weight on his back foot.

“Emile! Listen to me!” Rey roared. “Nothing’s happened here. We can still fix this!”

Emile whimpered and shook his head as he lunged at Rey again, muttering incoherently in a mad babbling. Rey was ready this time. He blocked several frantic punches, deflecting the blows with the leather strap along his shoulders where the claws were affixed. Rey didn’t want to hurt Emile, but he would defend himself.

“Don’t make me hurt you!” Rey shouted as he rolled out of the way. There was his chance. Emile’s side was wide open. As Emile lunged once again, Rey rolled forward and slashed a warning shot, tearing Emile’s shirt to ribbons.

That’s when Rey spotted the horrifying bruises beneath the tattered pieces of cloth. Rey recognized the size and shape immediately.

Human fingers.

It was hard to miss. They were the same kind of bruises Rey’s father, Brady, had on his body before he slipped away.

Emile used Rey’s momentary stun as his chance to wrap his arm around Rey’s neck. The pressure against his throat made Rey’s knees go weak. He reached up, abandoning the grips on the claws, to try and peal Emile’s firm grasp away from his neck. Sadly, it was no use.

Rey’s vision was going black.

He was gasping for air while his heart began pounding erratically.

Emile knelt, dragging Rey backward toward the ground. His vision darkened again.

“I’m… I’m sorry… I… I have to do this…” whimpered Emile into Rey’s ear.

No… no you don’t. Rey wanted to speak, but the last of his air was trapped in his lungs. Just before he faded, Rey remembered he had one last grappling hook.

In a last ditch effort, he grabbed the trigger and fired, pressing the wires to the gears so they would whir into action. Rey didn’t see the hook launch. He didn’t hear it clatter against the metal beams above him.

All Rey knew was that a moment later he was flying through the air rocketing toward the ceiling, Emile grasping Rey’s pack to keep from falling. Rey gasped for air just in time to be slammed into the metal beam, knocking the wind from his chest and leaving him wheezing.

The weight on his back suddenly slipped and Rey heard Emile hit the ground harshly. There was silence for several seconds before Rey heard a gasp from below. There were several precious seconds where Rey collected himself and realized he was hanging in the air. He needed to get back to the ground; and fast.

Rey grasped the metal beam above him, unhooked the grapple, and let himself drop to the ground. Even though he braced for impact, Rey still staggered a little as he approached Emile, who was laying on the ground groaning.

Rey didn’t want to hurt a fellow Borrower who was incapacitated, so he reeled in his hip grapples and brandished the clawed hooks once again. The young teen stood over his adversary and held out the claws, ready to strike at a moment’s notice.

“Emile, stop,” Rey said, his voice sounding commanding and not quite his own. “This is insane. Stop fighting me. I can help you. We can help you.”

Suddenly, Rey watched as tears began spilling from Emile’s eyes, smearing the mud and grime in tracks down his face. He choked out a sob as he realized he had been beaten.

“It’s over… it’s over… it doesn’t matter…” Emile sobbed. Rey’s heart twisted in pain. He had glimpsed the horror of what it was like for a Borrower to be captured by a human, and he couldn’t image what Emile had been through.

Still, this was a step beyond.

“It does matter, Emile,” said Rey. “We have people who can help. Come with me. You don’t have to see that human anymore. You were seen, right? Captured? We can protect you, but you have to come with me.”

Emile’s face twisted in anguish.

“BUT IT WON’T SAVE MY FAMILY!” He wailed. Rey’s insides churned.

“F-family?” echoed Rey. Suddenly, it made sense. “That’s why you’re working with the human? Your family has been captured too?”

Emile nodded and shied away from Rey’s pale blue gaze. The young Borrower teen was at a lost for words. As he thought about Emile’s reasoning, he wasn’t sure if he would make a different choice than Emile. To protect his family, he would do anything.

“Emile,” said Rey as he lowered the claws ever so slightly. “We can still help you. We can rescue your family. We can get you all out of here.”

“Y-y-you d-don’t unders-stand! Austin has th-them in his v-v-van! Th-there-there’s nothing-”

“Austin…” Rey’s world stopped. Suddenly, his ears were ringing. Bile filled the back of his throat. He wanted to vomit and cry, scream and rage.

There was no way this was a different Austin.

It had to be the same one who killed his father all those years ago. Who else would know how to design traps to keep Borrowers in?

Rey straightened up.

This was personal now.

Jaw clenched and knuckles white and trembling, Rey knew exactly what he had to do.

“I’m getting your family back – right now. Where is the van?” stated Rey firmly, voice devoid of emotion.

Emile looked up at Rey in complete disbelief.

“Y-you… what?”

“I said where is the van?” demanded Rey. “Tell me!” Rey began to point the claws back at Emile.

“J-j-just beyond that p-pi-pipe,” stammered Emile. That was all Rey needed.

He spun on his heel and headed for the pipe that seemed to have the most light.

“Wait! Don’t! Please! Don’t get caught. I-I-I n-n-need t-to…”

“No! You don’t need to do anything. You’ll get in my way. This is personal. If you want to save your family, do not get in my way. Stay here as a lookout and I’ll be back.”

“He’ll catch you!” wailed Emile as Rey continued to walk away.

“No, he won’t,” said Rey quietly. “I’m not helpless anymore.”

~~~^*^*^~~~

Rey followed the tunnel, marching along toward a light at the far end of the tunnel.

Was this stupid?

Yes.

Should he be doing this alone?

No, absolutely not.

Still, he was going to do this.

He needed to do this.

When he was close enough, Rey decided to pull out all of the stops and use every trick in the book.

The Borrower teen crouched down once he was a foot or so from the entrance of the upward tunnel entrance and fished out a piece of bread from his pack. It was light and, hopefully, it was noticeable enough. Rey threw the bread with precision and watched it bounce and roll in front of the hole.

He used all of his senses, and nothing happened. One minute. Two minutes. Five minutes.

Nothing.

Rey crouch walked all the way to the entrance and glanced up, seeing nothing but the sky above. To the Borrower teen, this was good. It was outside, yes; however, it also meant that there were more places to run to.

Rey hoisted himself up out of the hole and peered around. Immediately, he spotted a massive white van with “Pest Control and Exterminator” on the side of it as well as a mostly vacant parking lot area.

Good.

Rey was quick to roll out of the hole and darted across the burning hot pavement until he made it to the shadow of the car. The sun was rising, meaning everyone would be awake soon.

Rey needed to hurry.

He dislodged his hip hook and spun it around and around, letting it fly. It clattered against the inside mechanisms and hooked against one of the wires. Rey ascended the line without issue and balanced his way across the different mechanisms and wires until he found what looked like part of an air vent.

This was good news.

Using every skill he possessed, he shimmied up through the pipe, carefully wiggling and climbing, until he slipped through the final chamber. Looking inside, he saw no one. There was no human and no one obviously out in the open.

For a moment, Rey feared he was in the wrong place when he spotted the backpack Emile had on just yesterday. It was the one the Rafters had given him.

Using his claws, Rey pried one of the vent flaps open and forced himself inside, slipping through and dropping to the floorboard of the driver’s side. Heart pounding and senses on high alert, Rey crept through the vehicle to the back where he felt his stomach churn again.

He spotted a whole array of tools and tables that would easily be used to torment and expose someone like him – a Borrower.

Rey would have continued his investigating if he hadn’t heard the thumping from up above and a muffled voice shouting at him. He turned around and looked up to see another Borrower, a woman, pressed against the hard plastic edge of a container. Her fists were slamming into the plastic, and she was shouting at Rey.

“Hang on!” hissed Rey as he took his hook and began swinging it around and around. It flew through the air and, after a few tries, Rey managed to get it hooked onto one of the air holes in the containers.

Rey had never climbed a line so fast in all of his life as he hoisted himself up onto the third shelf up to face the woman. The shelf was three boxes long, and each one contained a few Borrowers. The woman had two young children with her while the one on the end had a teenage Borrower girl and the one on the other end had a Borrower who looked to be a little older than Soren.

It was a heart wrenching sight. All of them looked broken and bruised, wild fear rampant in their eyes as they all looked at Rey.

“What are you doing!? Get out of here!” howled the man.

“Wait! Wait! Please, can you take my children. Please!” pleaded the woman. “Is my husband okay? Is Emile okay?” Tears sprung to her eyes as she clutched onto the two young Borrower children.

Rey’s thoughts went to his friend, Hero.

What would Hero do to help comfort them? Rey was practical and mechanical. It was Hero who had the heart of gold. Taking a breath, Rey knew what he needed to do.

“Don’t worry. I’m getting you out of here. My name is Rey. I need you all to be quiet and to work with me, okay? Emile is fine, but we need to move quickly. Now, where is Austin? The human?” asked Rey.

“Gone. He left. He said something about bringing friends. I think he’s inside the building,” stated the man as he stood and pressed himself against the plastic. Rey felt his insides twist. Austin was gone? That meant that whatever he was planning was already being set in motion. They needed to be quick. “Please. We have to destroy this place. He’s got everything in here. I can help you if you get me out first.”

“No! Please! My kids!”

“I said I’m getting you all out of here!” hissed Rey firmly. “But you all need to work with me. Okay? Now. I’m getting you out first. What’s your name?”

“Lian. My name is Lian,” said the Borrower man as he earned a nasty glare from Emile’s wife.

“Lian. Listen to me. I’m getting you out to help me lift the lids on the rest, okay? If you run off, so help me, I will make you regret it. Got it?” commanded Rey. Lian nodded.

Rey perched himself precariously on the edge and jumped onto the top of the box containing the mother as he used his claws to inch part of the side off. Using some of his tools, Rey inched the edge off of the box until it was just barely big enough for Lian to slip through.

The two of them made quick work of the next box, getting the mother and her two children out, before going to the last box. The young teenage Borrower girl looked at Rey sadly as she pulled herself to the edge. Rey could see immediately that this was going to be interesting.

Much like Rey’s friend, Theo, her legs seemed to splay behind her.

Now more determined than ever, Rey helped hoist the lid free just as he heard her soft voice speak.

“J-just leave me…” she mumbled. “I… he… I can’t walk… he broke them….” Rey felt his blood boil as he looked down at her. Her blond hair was dulled and her sapphiric blue eyes had lost their shine. More determined than ever, Rey took a chance and hopped down into the box beside her and unlatched his claws.

“You’re coming with me. Get on my back. I’m carrying you,” demanded Rey. The girl looked at him in disbelief.

“B-but… I’ll… I’ll just slow you down…” she said disbelievingly.

“You won’t slow me down,” stated Rey as he grabbed the girl’s wrist and hoisted her onto his back. Using his straps and keeping her draped firmly against his back, he secured her tightly like he had seen Soren do to Mayzie so many times.

He stood, legs quaking slightly, as he took Lian’s hand and hoisted both himself and the girl out of the box.

It would have been impossible on their own, but together they were now all safe – for the most part. Now, they just needed to escape – and Rey knew the perfect route.

With Lian’s help, they secured the two young children to him and to their mother as Rey helped lower them to the ground.

“I have a plan to get out, okay? Head for the driver’s side. It’s on the left, okay?” directed Rey as he helped lower Lian, making sure the line was secure before descending with the girl. Her grip was firm, but obviously fading. As Rey descended, all he could hear her muttering over and over again was, “thank you.”

“When we get through this,” Rey puffed, feeling a bit out of breath from so much climbing. “I get to learn your name. Deal?”

“Deal.”

Rey retrieved the backpack Emile was given, climbing up the middle console with the cup holders, and stepped across the driver’s side seat where he once again used his claws to help unlock the door and pull the handle.

“Won’t the human notice?” whimpered the girl as she kept her arms around Rey’s neck.

“Yes, but not before we get out of here and he panics. Hopefully, I’ll have backup by then,” said Rey as he slid down the line to the now slightly ajar door. He looked to Lian and the mother now as he pointed to the door. “Now, listen carefully. Follow behind me closely and I’ll get you inside safe. I’m going to take you to a safe place, but you have to trust me, okay? Don’t run off into the walls or outside. I think that’s what Austin will want from us.”

“Hey,” said Lian as he tapped the young teen’s shoulder. “How do you know the human’s name?” Rey sighed as he nodded slowly.

“He got my dad a while back. I’d know the name anywhere,” stated Rey. “I escaped him before, and we’re doing it again now. Let’s go.”

Seemingly satisfied with his reply, the mother and Lian followed behind Rey as he slipped out of the driver’s side door to the pavement below, leading them to the pipe and back toward the apartment complex.

As Rey led the way, he could only hope he could get everyone to Ashlynn’s apartment without issue. Did he take them to the community first? No. That would cause panic. Rey needed them to be back at his home before warning the others.

He could only hope that there was enough time.

Was he already too late?

~~~^*^*^~~~

Hero picked at his breakfast all morning. The things Rey was saying yesterday left the young teen curious and distressed. Was Rey right? Sure, Hero had felt a bit apprehensive with this new Borrower.

On the other hand, his parents didn’t seem worried in the least. They welcomed Emile with open arms.

Was Rey just being cautious? Or was there something up with Emile?

He would need to ask his friend sooner rather than later.

“Something the matter, Hero? You’ve hardly touched your breakfast,” said his mother as she came by and gave him a peck on the head. “You’re not feeling poorly, are you?”

“No, it’s… not that,” muttered Hero, deciding to confide in his mother and father, who was sitting nearby. “It’s just… I don’t know. Did you get a weird feeling from Emile? That Borrower who came here yesterday?”

“Hero, stress and moving does different things to us Borrowers. We can’t hardly judge someone’s responses immediately just because he seemed a little jittery. Why? Did Rey say something about him?” asked Prim.

“You’re mother is right,” agreed Casper. “I can have a word with him once he’s settled. Until then, I don’t think it’s out of the ordinary to react like that after immigrating. In fact, Rey was a bit….”

Screams.

Lots of them.

Casper’s thought was interrupted by the sound of panicked shouts from just outside. Immediately, Casper and the other Rafters approached the door, opening it to see a dozen Borrowers rushing by with some of their possessions in their arms.

“What’s going on?” roared Casper as he stepped out of their home. Hero struggled past his mother and followed after his father into the fray. His ears finally were deciphering what was being said.

“Gas! There’s a sleep gas in the walls! It’s coming from the top. We need to get out of here!”

Hero felt his insides drop as he ran out to the main elevator shaft and looked up. Sure enough, there was a descending mist falling from the upper levels. Borrowers left and right were running around, looking to Casper and their friends for help.

“Casper! What do we do!” some of them shouted as they looked up to the descending cloud.

“We can’t get out of here!”

“The lift is broken.”

“What do we do!”

“Hero!” Hearing his name, Hero turned and saw Rey pelting through the crowd toward him as the other Borrowers huddled together in the main thoroughfare, looking to Casper for answers.

“Everyone calm down. Do we know what it does?” asked Casper, addressing the crowd as the mist continued its slow, peaceful descent.

Rey grabbed his friend and hugged him before pulling away. Hero noticed immediately that Rey looked rough. There were several bruises forming on his neck and his pale blue eyes were wild.

“What’s going on?” Hero asked.

“It’s Austin. Emile. We were right,” panted Rey. “He was a spy. It’s a trap! All of the ways down are sealed. There are cages at all of the exits. We need to get everyone out of here.”

Casper, who was standing nearby, heard Rey’s explanation. Immediately, his features hardened.

If the stoic Borrower ever looked rattled, now was that time.

“Sealed?!” demanded Casper.

“I saw it,” panted Rey. “Look! We don’t have time. We need to get everyone out of here.” Other Borrowers were coming to the same conclusion, spreading the word that braces had been placed in some of the hallways further down.

“How?” demanded Casper and Hero together.

It was then that Rey and Hero exchanged a quick glance, both boys knowing the answer already. Hero nodded and looked into his father’s eyes.

“Dad, you have to trust me. We need to get them to Ashlynn’s apartment,” said Hero.

“What?!” demanded Casper.

“Casper! We don’t have time. This stuff is coming quickly and is some kind of sleep gas or something. This guy is trying to catch us all. We can’t go down the main way. We need help. Ashlynn can protect us from this guy. Please! Trust me!” pleaded Rey.

Others nearby began to speak out in protest while others collapsed to their knees, sobbing that this was the end. Slowly, everyone was realizing there was no escape.

“Go warn Ashlynn,” Hero said to Rey. “We’ll get everyone there.” Rey nodded and sprinted back through the crowd to his home. The gas was falling faster, descending on them. It was only a few floors up now.

Hero summoned all the courage he could and stood on one of the nearby tables.

“Everyone! Listen! We need to get out of here. You need to follow me! Dad, please,” pleaded Hero. Casper looked at his son and then to the masses who were all looking to him wildly.

With a solemn nod, Casper conceded.

“We need to get out of the walls! Hero knows a safe place to hide. Follow Hero and do not panic!” called Casper.

Hero grabbed the first Borrower he could and began leading the way through the crowd to the pathway to Ashlynn’s home. He could only hope that no one would question the safe place he was guiding them to.

“Cover your nose and mouth like this!” called Hero as he walked, pulling up his shirt and pressing it against his nose and mouth as he led the way into the walls. Hero’s older brother and sister, Atlas and Cali, mimicked his lead and began shepherding everyone along the path.

To his astonishment, Hero watched as the other Borrowers began to follow him and his siblings led the way into the walls. The panic was tangible, but everyone was following behind as they soon realized there was no other alternative.

The question was would they continue to follow once they realized where they were going?

~~~^*^*^~~~

“So, the workman desk could go in the reading room with the shelves, leaving a good space downstairs for Rey’s inventions. I’m sure he’ll want some good places to practice and use his inventions, so I think that these cat trees would be a good investment,” stated Ashlynn as she scrolled through her virtual shopping cart.

Soren was perched on Ashlynn’s shoulder examining all of the furniture Ashlynn was thinking about purchasing.

“Cat trees?” asked Soren.

“That’s just what they’re called, but look. They have this carpet for good grips all the way up, multiple levels to create good, safe areas to practice climbing and falling. Plus, it’ll be a good playhouse for Mayzie. See? This…”

“ASHLYNN!”

Rey’s sudden shout made both Ashlynn and Soren jump. Both of them were on their feet in an instant, searing the ground for any sign of Rey.

“Rey? Rey!” Soren shouted, noticing immediately that there was something wrong in his brother’s voice. Rey emerged from under the nearby cabinet, panting heavily. He collapsed to his knees and propped himself up on all fours as he caught his breath.

Soren grasped the safety pin on Ashlynn’s shoulder tightly as she stood and rushed over to Rey.

“What happened? Are you alright?” asked Ashlynn. She instinctually raised her hand to her shoulder so Soren could easily slide off into her hand and then lowered to the ground.

“It’s… not… good…. I… was right… about Emile,” panted Rey.

“Emile?” asked Ashlynn.

“A… a new Borrower. Rey met him yesterday,” informed Soren as he leapt off of Ashlynn’s hand and crouched by his brother. “So, something was wrong?”

“He’s working with a human,” Rey spat. “He’s trying to catch everyone here. He released some kind of gas. It’s making Borrowers pass out. They’re all on their way here.”

“Wait, here?” asked Ashlynn. “But… they don’t want to be seen by…”

“They don’t know they’re being led here. Ashlynn, can we use your bedroom? Just shut the door? Please. Everywhere is blocked off,” pleaded Rey. Ashlynn took one breath before nodding.

“Yes. Sure. Of course. Sorry. Questions later. Let me get Dorian and Mayzie out,” said Ashlynn as she stood and briskly walked into her room. She had to apologize to Dorian for moving his entire studio, but the promise of a good reason and the look in her eye kept the musician from complaining. After snagging the drawer Mayzie was sleeping in as well as her pillow, Ashlynn had successfully vacated her room; and just in time too.

The moment she closed the door, Hero and his siblings came stumbling in through the baseboards. All of the Borrowers stumbled in, falling and coughing as they took in their surroundings.

As they looked around, many of them retreating to a place under the bed or other furniture pieces, questions began.

Where are we?

What is this place?

This place looks occupied. Is there a human here?

They all turned to Casper, who was doing a head count, and listened, absolutely mortified, as he explained that this apartment belonged to Ashlynn.

Because of the incident with Hero being seen, Ashlynn’s name was well known in the Borrower community. While many of them protested, none elected to leave when they were shown the door which now had a bit of mist coming through it.

In the meantime, Rey had darted back into the walls and brought in Lian, Emile and his family, as well as the young girl.

“W-what is th-this place?” asked Emile as he kept his arms firmly around his children and his wife.

“This is an apartment,” stated Rey. “And it belongs to my friend, Ashlynn. Before you freak out, she is a human and no we are not pets. She’s here to help us and, unless you want to take your chances with Austin out on the prowl, you’ll stay put and let us help. Got it?”

The others were silenced as Rey helped settle the young girl and started taking stock of what everyone needed.

When he slipped under the door, he found Ashlynn and, in great detail, explained everything. He explained his feelings about Emile. He talked about the whole caging system and how he rescued the others from the car.

Rey also revealed the name of their attacker – Austin – and this made Ashlynn angry.

As many questions as she had, the question about what to do about Austin and the “evidence” he had was the one that consumed their minds. Did she confront him? Did she go sabotage the car? How much time did they have before Austin realized his captives were free and that his plan of mass capture wasn’t going to work?

It all boiled down to the real question - what was what their next move was going to be?

~~~~~^*^*^*^*^~~~~~

::_____::

A Tall and Small Collection

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A Tall and Small Collection | Soren

ASK ME ANYTHING

::_____::

Everyone Needs a Little Hero

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Beginning

Prompt

ASK ME ANYTHING

[superdanverstrio]

Kidnapped PT.1

Masterlist

PT.2  PT.3  PT.4  PT.5  PT.6  PT.7

Summary: Baby Danvers Get kidnapped and it’s up to Kara and Alex to do everything in their power to save them.

Warnings: Torture, kidnapping, graphic description of injuries.

A/N: this is probably gonna become a supergirl x marvel crossover.

At first when you opened your eyes you thought you want blind, because the room you were in was pitch black. You blinked some more, and you think you can see something not too far from you, you think it's a table with a computer on it, but you're not sure. You tried to get up, but quickly noticed that your wrist and ankles were tied to the chair you were sitting in. Not only that, but you tried to wiggle out of the restraint, but it only manages to dig into your skin. Instead of trying again, you tried to remember how you got here in the first place.

 The last thing you remember was walking to Kara's apartment, you were supposed to meat both your sisters there to hang out. All of a sudden someone grabbed you from behind, you tried you fight back but the person grabbing you seemed to be 10x bigger and stronger than you. You screamed, hoping that maybe Kara or someone walking by would hear you. You screamed and trashed around until something pricked your neck, you tensed up, and then you felt your body relaxing on its own, your eyes felt too heavy to keep them open, and you could no longer scream for help. The last thing you remember was the voice of and men, then nothing.

The sound of a door opening and closing brought you back to the present, you watch as a tall scary creature step in the room, it was at least 6 foot 5 with yellow pupil and super long claws. 

“Y/N Danvers?” the alien said. You don't answer him, instead you ask him a question," Who are you and what I'm I doing here.” The light suddenly turns on, blinding you for a short moment. “ I will be asking the questions, but since I'm feeling nice, ill answer those 2.” He slowly walked toward you, stopping a few feet in front of you, he crouched down to be at eye level. “ My name is Vexok, and you are here because of your sister.” Immediately you thought it was another alien seeking revenge for what Kara's mother did, so it was a shock when you did say Kara's name. “ Your sister… Alex, I think it is-.” “How do you know my sister!” You said, trying to sound more confident than you feel. “You never forget the name of the person that kill your brother.” You stayed silent, there was no way Alex would do something like that unless she absolutely needs to. 

 “So it's only fare if I kill you for revenge.” He said smirking, he got up and walk to the other side of the room and turn the camera on. “ Now smile for the camera.” Vexok said, walking back toward you.

An hour earlier at Kara's Apartment.

 Alex and Kara were seated on the couch waiting for you. When after 30 minutes you didn't show up Alex decided to Call you, when you didn't answer after a few ring Alex hanged up. “Where could they be?” Kara wondered.” Maybe they're just late.” Alex answered. “Super hearing?” Alex asked her sister. Kara focused on her hearing for a few seconds, Alex say frown on her sister's face. “ What's wrong?” “I can't… Hear their heartbeat.” Kara said worried. “ We should go to the D.E.O.”

 When they arrived at the D.E.O they approach brainy's work desk. “Brainy.” Alex demanded. “Yes director Danvers?” Brainy said, turning in his chair. “Supergirl.” He greats with a nod of his head. “Brainy, would you be able to track someone's phone for us?” Alex asks. “Of course who's phone would you like me to track.” “ Our sibling's phone, we haven't seen them in a while and their heartbeat as gone silent.” Kara explained.

In less than a minute, brainy found it. “Got it.” “Really where?” Alex demanded. “In an allay way near your apartment.” Brainy said, pointing at Kara. “OK let's go.” Alex said, in a hurry to find you. “The thing is, Miss Danvers that it was an hour ago and the phone as been disconnected since.” Brainy said before they left. Just then Alex got a message on her phone, she check to see who it was, but she didn't recognize the number, so she decided to check it later your safety was more important right now.

[willowisapillow]

🐉 Next Time On South Park Z 🐉

The couple of all time 💝

Here it is, the true (super belated) Valentine’s Day picture. Yet another cringe crossover absolutely nobody asked for yet I deliver because I can. Apologies if I’ve been posting way too much South Park stuff, it’s yet another franchise that I’m currently unhealthily hyper-fixated on. Enjoy some more Randy and Sharon appreciation art from me, because these two dorks are just everything to me <3

This was also made as a small tribute to Akira Toriyama, the creator of Dragon Ball after I found out that he passed away earlier this month on March 1st. Even though I’m a casual fan of the series, still makes me sad that he’s no longer and that we lost another anime/manga legend.

This whole art became a thing based on a phone call between me and one of my older brothers. We were just talking about random dumb stuff and he jokingly asked me to draw Cartman as Naruto and Kyle as Saskue (which is an art project that y’all know damn well I’ll be drawing in the future so look out for that lmao). I just started laughing to myself, but then I thought to myself, “What other anime could I cross over with South Park?” then Dragon Ball popped up in my head all of a sudden, and that’s how this cringefest came to be.

I can kinda see some connections with it, tbh. Both Goku and Randy are dumbass but funny as hell dads (they also have black hair), and both Chichi and Sharon are no-nonsense moms who are often exasperated by their hubbies’ idiotic actions, but do love them deep down and have shared some wholesome cute moments together with them. Both series also feature a lot of fighting and deaths too lol

And since it is the year of the dragon, this pic is pretty fitting :>

I thought I would take forever with this picture because a. I’m total garbage at drawing realistic-ish, non-animal guy characters, and b. I don’t draw side-view faces that much, but surprisingly it wasn’t too hard. I did get kinda lazy with the lower half of Randy’s body and didn’t draw it, but besides that, the whole art was pretty easy. Minus drawing the hands. Because Jesus tap dancing Christ, the hands took me lightyears to get right 🙃

All in all, this might be one of my favorite 2024 pieces of art I’ve drawn so far. Again, these two are special to me, and I finally got the chance to cross over some of my favorite things, cartoons and anime. Maybe I might draw Stan and Wendy as Gohan and Videl in the future as a little follow-up ^^

Also, the mental image of Randy going Super Saiyan is just the funniest shit to me, istg someone needs to make fanart, an animation, or some other sort of meme of that 💀

That’s all that I have for now. Hope you guys have a great day or night, and make sure to stay safe out there.

Farewell, Toriyama. May your memory and legacy live on 😇

[klbwriting]

The Jason Todd Anomaly

Chapter 4: I’ll Buy Breakfast

Pairing: Jason Todd x female!Reader

Fandom: Red Hood

Warnings: none

Summary: Jason is curious about Y/N and keeps an eye on her at the gym

Chapter 3, Chapter 2, Chapter 1

This was the fourth day in a row that Jason found himself at the gym with Y/N.  He had moved his training time, wanting to keep an eye on her and what exactly she was doing at his gym everyday.  He suspected she might be that idiot masquerading as a vigilante but so far she wasn't giving any tells.  He was off training by himself, lifting weights, using the speed bag, but still watching as Y/N trained with Marco.  Once she was coming to use the weights he would bounce, not wanting to actually talk to her.  He couldn't figure her out all the way.  He had looked her up, she wasn't anything super special, she was born in Gotham, lived in a decent neighborhood, was in college before everything went to shit.  Now she worked at the GCPD as a record keeper and the chief's assistant, and trained a lot.  Other than that he couldn't find anything about her that was suspicious.  His next step was to go to her apartment, search around and see what he could find.

But for now, he was working the speed bag while Y/N stretched in the ring, waiting for Marco.  When he came out of his office he called out to Jason, walking beside the ring, his arm in a sling.  Jason walked over, already not liking this.  Y/N looked between the men, standing straight up again.

"Can you get in there and help out Y/N today?  Obviously I can't hold the pads for drills and since I got shot I need to go to the police station and fill out paperwork," he said.  Jason scowled a little but Marco just stared at him expectantly.  Jason finally grunted and nodded, clearly annoyed but he couldn't argue with Marco.  The man had been around forever and he respected the man, so he climbed into the ring.  "Thanks man, I'll be back in awhile, lock up when you guys leave."  He headed out the door and Jason grabbed the pads.

"You all ready to start?" he asked, sounding bored.  Y/N nodded and put on her gloves as Jason held up the pads for crossover drills, left, right, duck, just like Marco had showed him.  "So why are you here all the time?"

"I...got mugged...cut pretty bad...wanted to...protect myself..." she answered, throwing her punches as she went.  She stopped for just a moment, showing him a scar along her bicep.  "Took 150 stitches and a lot of rehab to get me going again."  Jason nodded.

"I have one like that" he said, turning his calf to show her a scar that looked similar to hers.  "150 stitches as well."  He held up the pads again for her to keep running drills.  "Do you live here or the safe zone?"  He didn't know why he was making conversation with her.  He knew all this, he could just do this in silence, but he was curious, maybe she would drop some information for him, give him a sign of her being Anomaly.

"I live in the Safe Zone, this just happens to be the only gym I like, we only have the GCPD gym and it sucks" she said.   "What about you?  You still live in the Wayne building?" He shook his head.  "Why not?  Its in Two Faces territory but I'm sure you guys could afford to pay his tolls."

"None of us live there, or want to live there.  I don't know about the others but I don't personally like living where Bruce supposedly raised us" he said.  He tossed the pads and put on some gear to do some sparring.  Y/N wiped her head with a towel, taking a sip of water.  She was watching him curiously.

"Supposedly raised you?  Didn't he adopt you?" she asked.  He nodded slowly before shrugging.

"I was the second kid, and a troublemaker on top of that.  Dick was the one who listened, Tim was always quiet, stayed out of the way, and Damian was Bruce's actual kid and an absolute fucking troll.  Plus, Bruce is not a great dad, I think he only adopted us for the clout" he said.  Y/N cocked her head to the side as he got into position.  She seemed to decide against saying anything and they started sparring.  She was good, using her weight and muscle to slow down his speed.  They sparred pretty hard for awhile before sitting and removing the headgear.  Y/N took a drink before tossing Jason her water.  He drank and splashed some on his hair.

"So sounds like you rejected that silver spoon life" she said.  "Privilege not your thing?"  He shrugged.

"I wanted to be more than just some rich guys charity case" he said.  "He wanted us to be little soldiers of good, show off how great he was, I couldn't do that."  He rubbed a hand through his hair.  This was all true, he just left out the fact that Bruce did train them to be good little soldiers.  Jason just wasn't a good man.  "What about you?  You got mugged, decided to train up to be what?"

"I just was tired of being afraid, tired of people bullying me" she said.  "I mean, you've noticed I am not stereotypical in my appearance, I've always been bullied and I'm just, so tired of it.  So I won't be bullied again, not by kids at school, and not by random muggers trying to steal my wallet."  She looked over at Jason.  "Are you hungry?"

"Um, ya actually," he said.  She nodded and stood, offering him her hand.  He took it and stood, starting to untape his hands.  "We could go to the diner?  Meet at the door in 20 minutes?"  She nodded and headed to the locker room.

Jason waited for a minute at the door, now dressed in his jeans and white tshirt, leather jacket over his arm as he checked him phone.  He glanced up when Y/N came out of the locker room, dressed in jeans and long sleeved shirt, her hair down and flowing down to just below her chest.   He couldn't lie, she was pretty, very pretty.  And...what was he thinking?  He shook himself and pushed open the door for her.

"Thanks, um I'm buying breakfast," she said, heading out the door.  She waited for Jason to lock up, watching him slide on the leather jacket.  Damn, he was annoying but he was also super hot, and for a second she imagined what it would be like to have those arms around her but then she dropped the thought.  He finished locking up and motioned for her to continue.

"I'm the one with the neverending money stream, I'll buy breakfast," he said.  She shrugged and nodded.  Sure, let the rich kid pick up breakfast.  She didn't know  where this seeming friendly rapport was coming from, they had been at each others throats just last week, but she didn't hate it.  He was a pretty good trainer and when she talked he actually seemed to listen to her.  She heard his phone go off and he answered, frowning and hanging up rather quick.

"Everything ok?" she asked.  He quickly put a mask of content on his face and nodded.

"Ya, I think it was a wrong number, no one was there" he said.  She knew he was lying but who was she to question him?  If he wanted to keep something private she would let him.  "Anyway, why didn't you just leave Gotham?  I know there's ways to get out of the city."

"I grew up here, I mean, we all saw Batman and now the Robins, they make everyone think they can be safe here.  Although the only one who seems to actually to have done anything is Red Hood, if I was going to pick any of them I would probably put him in charge," she said.  Red Hood was annoying when he was getting in her way but in the grand scheme of things he was the one actually making a permanent change, not just putting a bandaid on the situation in the city.  She looked at Jason and saw he looked surprised as he held the diner door open for her.   "What?"

"Red Hood?  You think Red Hood is the one that should be running the place?" he asked, unable to hide the surprise.  No one actually liked Red Hood, they were either scared of him or thought he was a loose canon that needed taken down.

"He actually makes change, and good changes.  I mean, everyone here is fed, there are supplies, really low crime even compared to the safe zone, and he actually is gaining territory" she said.  "He's doing something right." Jason smiled a little bit as they sat down and were brought coffee.   "Now...you said you were buying right?"  He nodded.  "Awesome."

[specialagentlokitty]

Martin Evershed x reader - my lookalike

Okay you do crossovers right? If yes, could you do one where Saul meets with Evershed as the Reader is Saul's best friend and is dating Evershed? - Anon 💜

You looked at the man next to you in the car.

“You didn’t have to come Saul.”

“Well, you’re always going to the first world every weekend, I wanted to meet the reason why.” He smirked.

“Saul!”

He laughed, giving you a little grin as you pulled up in front of the school.

“Wow, he must be young.”

“Saul Silva I will slap you. He’s a teacher.”

“So you just go from one school to another?” He asked in confusion.

“They don’t live in schools here, not all of them anyways. This is just a normal school, no dorms or anything.”

“So… everyone just leaves?”

“Yup.”

“That’s not very safe.”

“It’s the first world Saul, not the other world.”

He shrugged a little and you held your hand up to him, telling him to wait as you walked into the school.

“Hey Loraine, is he in?”

“(Y/N) hi! Yes of course.” She smiled.

Smiling back you walked into the office and leant against the door, smiling to yourself as you watched him working away at his desk.

“You’re looking stressed love.”

He snapped his head up and his frown faded into a smile as he looked at you.

“Hello Martin.” You smiled.

“You came.” He said softly.

He walked over and you met him halfway, tucking your arms under his blazer as you hugged him, resting your forehead on shoulder as he kissed the top of your head.

“I told you I would. I can’t stay long, Saul is waiting in the car, are we still meeting at the bar?” You asked.

Martin pulled away from you and nodded his head.

“Yes, yes of course do you need the keys?”

“Please, and don’t worry Saul only here for this weekend, practically bullied me into letting him come.” You laughed.

Martin chuckled softly, going back to his desk, he grabbed his house keys and held them out for you and you smiled.

“Thank you darling, we’ll meet you there.”

You kissed him softly and gave him a grin before you left and made your way back inside the car and started to drive to the house.

“Where we going now?” Saul asked.

“Martin’s house, we’re going to drop out stuff and get a taxi to the bar.”

He nodded his head and when you guys got to the car he grabbed both your bags while you unlocked the door to let him in.

He set everything down and you looked at him, looking at his armour and you shook your head.

“Absolutely not Saul, no armour no sword.”

“What if something happens?”

“What the hell is going to happen in a bar Saul?”

He shrugged a little and stuffed his hands in his pockets.

“I’m bringing them.”

“Saul we can’t go walking around with swords on our backs!” You hissed.

“Fine! God you’re no fun.”

“You’re just asking to be set on fire aren’t you?”

“Ooo alright then. You wouldn’t even dare.”

You hummed, walking over as you poked his shoulder and he shuffled back a little bit.

“Ouch?”

“Oh don’t be pathetic Saul it doesn’t even hurt but I know you still have the scar from when you pissed me off as kids.”

He raised his hands and stood up, taking his armour off, but he gestured to the shirt he was wearing.

“I’m keeping this on.”

“Well I don’t want you to take it off.”

“You sure.” He smirked.

“Silva I swear I will burn you to ashes.”

You grabbed his armour and sword and stuffed it into the cupboard under the stairs and gestured for him to follow you so he did.

You got a taxi to the bar and got a booth in the corner you and Martin always sat at at he got up.

“Going to get some drinks.”

“You got money?” You asked.

He stopped, turning to face you.

“Can I have money?”

Laughing, you shook your head and handed him your bank card so he could order drinks and you looked at your watch.

It wouldn’t be long until Martin got there, so until he did you and Saul spoke about work while you waited.

You excused yourself to get more drinks and Saul sat sipping at his drink when he noticed someone standing a bit lost at the table.

He flicked his eyes up.

“Sorry I thought (Y/N) was here.” Martin said.

“They were, just gone to get drinks.” Saul said.

He stuffed his phone into his pocket and looked up, and he couldn’t help but stare, and neither could Martin.

It was almost like staring into a mirror, except the only different was clothing, hair and facial hair.

“Martin!” You beamed.

You set the drinks down and he looked at you, smiling softly as he placed his hand on the side of your face and leant down to quickly kiss you.

He pulled away and let you sit in the booth first before he sat down next to you.

“Martin, this is Saul Silva, my best friend. Saul, this is Martin, my boyfriend.” You smiled.

The two stared at each other again and Martin leant close to you.

“Why does he look like me…?” He asked nervously.

You blinked, and looked between the pair of them before laughing loudly.

“I didn’t even think of that.” You snickered.

Martin looked at you and you looked at him, taking his hand in yours as you gave it a gentle squeeze.

“It’s a big world, it’s nothing more than a coincidence love, don’t worry about it. You’re both from different worlds remember?”

“Right, right.” Martin nodded.

He looked back at your best friend.

“I don’t like it.. it’s weird…” he mumbled out.

Saul looked at you, a smirk creeping up on his face.

“You know if you wanted to date me you could’ve just asked.” He teased lightly.

Leaning over, you smacked the back of his head and he pouted a little, rubbing his head.

“Damn, okay. That’s not nice.”

“Sucks for you doesn’t it Saul.” You smirked.

You rested your head on Martin shoulder and he still couldn’t get over the fact how much Saul looked like him.

“Hey, if we swapped clothes would you recognise us?” Saul asked.

Martin turned his attention to you.

“Would you?”

“Of course I would. One is my annoying childhood best friend and the other is my dear loving boyfriend, of course.”

You guys talked and Martin and Saul got to know each other a little more and you all went back home.

Saul slept on the sofa, and you got changed, resting your head on Martin’s shoulder as you laid next to him in bed.

You held his hand and he rested his head on yours.

“I don’t know when I’ll next be able to come.” You said.

“That’s alright, you’ll be safe won’t you?” He asked.

“Of course love.”

You smiled up at him and cuddled up to him, and he wrapped his arms protectively around you.

Morning came and you woke up after Martin, so you padded down the stairs to the kitchen and stopped when you looked at the two men in front of you.

Both of them smiled at you and you flicked your gaze between them.

Walking over to the one in the Alfea uniform you walked over and placed a hand on the side of his face, leaning up to softly kiss him.

“Morning Martin.”

Walking to the other man, you backhanded his stomach making him groan with a chuckle.

“Morning idiot.”

“Damn how can you tell?” Saul asked.

You flicked the kettle on while the two men swapped shirts.

Turning around, you looked at them and shook your hand, holding your hand out for Martin and he took it, letting you pull him over.

“This man, is adorable, innocent looking.”

Then you pointed to Saul.

“You look like a mess, and your hair is also shorter then his.”

“So if we had the same hair you wouldn’t be able to tell?” Martin asked.

You looked up at him, bumping your hip against his as you turned around to make your drink.

“I would. Your face instantly goes softer when you look at me, Saul’s turns into a grin like he’s planning something.

The two men chuckled and Saul started looking around for something to eat.

“Oh by the way is that a sword under my stairs?” Martin asked.

“Yeah that’s mine.” Saul said.

“Why’s there a sword under my stairs?”

“I wouldn’t let him take it with him to the bar, and we came straight after his classes end.” You explained.

Martin nodded his head and carried your drink over to the table for you and all three of you sat down and you looked between them both with a smile.

Sure, okay it was a little weird they looked alike, but it was nice having your two favourite men in the same room

[squishmittenficfan]

Thanks so much for the tag, @lilolilyr! This is a really interesting one 😀

I just wish I knew how to do the fancy little title links to everything I’m talking about…

1. How many works do you have on ao3?

A tiny amount in comparison to many, but I’m proud of my 32 works! Considering I’ve had a couple of huge gaps in writing and posting, I’m happy I even got past thirty!

2. What’s your total ao3 word count?

233,653

93.7k in 2018

91.2k in 2019

0 in 2020 Yup, one of those writing gaps was massive!

23.2k in 2021

22.5k in 2022

2834 in 2023 I had to drag those words out as @lilolilyr knows too well, with all my whinging!

3. What fandoms do you write for?

Just Berena. I can’t imagine finding the voice inside my head for any other 🤷🏻‍♀️

4. What are your top five fics by kudos?

Fight For - 968

You gotta rub me the right way! - 625

Murder on the streets of Holby - 611

Running Away (together) - 470

There’s The Rub - 233

5. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

Absolutely yes. When my stupid brain wanted nothing to do with fic in 2020, one of the things I felt bad about was all the unanswered comments. I like to acknowledge anyone who has taken the time to not only read what I’ve written, but also been kind enough to comment. I know it gets said a lot, but even an emoji left on a chapter or one shot genuinely makes my day! I used to get horribly hung up on comments and kudos, and would get a bit upset if something I posted didn’t get much attention. After my break in posting I became far more chilled about it. I primarily write things that I want to read, so as long as I’m happy with a fic, that’s all that matters. Comments and kudos are just icing on the AO3 cake.

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

I don’t do unresolved angst! The closest I’ve come is ‘Parting is such sweet sorrow’ because it was for Berena Appreciation Week 2018, and the prompt was angst. It was my take on Serena, in Nairobi, receiving the call from Hanssen, asking her to return to Holby. In my mind, we knew it didn’t spell the end of her relationship with Bernie, so the sad and mildly angsty ending didn’t count.

7. What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

Everything? 😆

Seriously though, probably ‘Running Away (together)’ because it ended up being the start of the series that saw Serena and Bernie getting married and properly settling down together.

8. Do you get hate on fic?

I think I had one fic get a couple of 💩 comments, but that was when there was a period where there was a contingent of Serena haters who just had to make themselves known. If I recall correctly, I basically replied telling them to fuck off (in the hope they’d used a legit email address and would see my responses!) then deleted the comments…

9. Do you write smut?

I have done. I find it very, very difficult though, and essentially used my first venture into smut as a template for the second and third. It does NOT come easily (ahem!)

10. Do you write crossovers?

Nope. Again, I can’t imagine feeling like I could ‘hear’ any other characters well enough.

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Not that I’m aware of. I can’t imagine anything I’ve written would be a big enough target for anyone to bother.

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

Nope

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

Nope

14. What’s your all-time favourite ship?

Berena, obvs!

I’m also reading a LOT of Rizzles these days.

Way, way back in the mists of time, I read a lot of Bad Girls. Also some Willow/Tara and 7/Janeway.

15. What’s a WIP you want to finish but probably won’t?

My desert island fic - ‘Bernie Wolfe-Born Survivor’ I desperately want it written, but can’t imagine my brain cooperating, sadly. It would need to be a multi-chapter, and I struggled hard enough to squeeze 2834 words out of my brain this year!

16. What are your writing strengths?

Dialogue, I think. My ladies do love to talk! Quite a few people also seem to comment on the humour in my fics, so that as well I guess.

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

Smut.

Plus just writing anything at all these days. 😕

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic?

Erm… as in including lines in a different language to the main body of the story? It can be frustrating, but if you’re on AO3 and using Chrome (yes, yes I know!) you can just highlight the text and get it translated easily enough. Not so much on FFnet of course…

19. First fandom you wrote for?

Posted - Berena are my one and only, my OTP…

However, I did dip my toe, many years ago, into trying to write a Bad Girls fic. I didn’t get far at all before it stalled. It only took me nearly twenty years to try again!

20. Favourite fic you’ve written?

I honestly like everything I’ve written. I wouldn’t have posted it otherwise!

I think I’m most proud of good old Dead Ed (aka Murder on the streets of Holby) though. As well as being my longest, it also has the most complex storyline and took a fair amount of planning out. From someone who very much winged most things up until that point, it was a bit daunting. Plus the worry that people might find the reveal of the murderer disappointing was a bit stressful, I must admit!

Blanks to copy:

1. How many works do you have on ao3? 2. What’s your total ao3 word count? 3. What fandoms do you write for? 4. What are your top five fics by kudos? 5. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not? 6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending? 7. What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending? 8. Do you get hate on fic? 9. Do you write smut? 10. Do you write crossovers? 11. Have you ever had a fic stolen? 12. Have you ever had a fic translated? 13. Have you ever co-written a fic before? 14. What’s your all-time favourite ship? 15. What’s a WIP you want to finish but probably won’t? 16. What are your writing strengths? 17. What are your writing weaknesses? 18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic? 19. First fandom you wrote for? 20. Favourite fic you’ve written?

I’m not going to tag anyone, but I do recommend anyone who writes and has the time, to do it… it’s fun looking at the stats and thinking about all things fic related!

Thanks again for the tag, @lilolilyr, I really did enjoy this 😁

[kanerallels]

@zushigirl Sorry it took me so long to respond to this one!!

42. Frank Travels the US and meets all my blorbos. This au is self indulgence at its finest-- it's basically me just going "what if after S1 of the Punisher when Frank left, he met this person and this person and this person--" almost none of whom are actually from Marvel

I've written a few things for this (including a Madam Secretary crossover, which remains one of the most deranged but actually super fun things I've ever written) but I think I'll share this one, which is kinda a side au of this au.

(Full disclosure, this is a Star Wars Rebels crossover. I started thinking about it at work and absolutely lost my mind over it about a year ago, so I had to write this scene. Pretty sure this is actually the first Kastle fic I ever wrote. Let me know if you need context, but I think I explain it pretty well!)

There was someone in her apartment.

That was the first thing Karen registered as she fumbled for the key in her purse, then spotted the light under the door. She froze— but only for a second. Okay, don’t panic. Karen, she told herself. It could be you just left the light on. And if it’s not… well, I can handle that, too.

Releasing her key, she went for her gun instead, sliding it outside of the confines of her purse. With her free hand, she tested the door handle— and it opened easily, with only the slightest creak.

Crap. She knew for a fact that she’d locked the door before she left. Which changed things considerably. Moving deliberately, she slipped through the doorway, weapon at the ready.

Three steps into the apartment, she paused, straining her ears. At first, there was nothing— then Karen heard a rustle, and the murmur of someone’s voice. There’s more than one person, she guessed, and took another step. Bracing herself, she started to step out into the open, when someone spoke.

“Karen.”

Her heart jumped in surprise, and then the voice registered. “Frank?”

Cautiously lowering her weapon, Karen moved out into the open, taking in the view of her living room.

The lamp on the coffee table was switched on, dimly illuminating a small patch of the room, while the rest was shrouded in shadows. Frank Castle was kneeling on the ground, his gaze locking on her. His eyes moved to the gun in her hands, and a tiny smile tugged at the corner of his mouth before it vanished. “I’m sorry to just show up like this, but we didn’t have anywhere else to go.”

“We?” Karen asked, and then she saw the teenage boy on the couch, clutching a bloody rag to his arm and looking pale. “Oh.” 

He managed a grin and waved at her, then turned slightly green. “Ow. Uh, nice to meet you, Miss Page. I’m Ezra. Frank has had a lot of good things to say about you. Also we’re very sorry we broke into your house.”

“I would have gone somewhere else, but the kid wasn’t going to make it much farther—”

“Oh— no, you’re fine,” Karen told him, sliding her gun back into her purse. “Hold on one minute, and I can give you a hand.”

She went back and closed the door, then returned to the living room, setting aside her purse. Frank had pulled out his medical kit, and was sorting through the contents, which Ezra was eyeing warily.

“Why are there so many pointy things in there?”

“In case there’s a bullet stuck in you,” Frank said, not looking up. “Lucky for you, you just got stabbed. But we’re still gonna have to stitch you up.”

Grimacing, Ezra said, “I don’t feel lucky— wait. What do you mean, stitch?”

That actually made Frank look up. “What do I mean? What, you never been stitched up before?”

“Yeah, they don’t have that where I’m from.”

Wordlessly, Frank held up the needle and thread, and Ezra’s eyes widened. “Uh, I think I’d rather bleed, thanks.”

“Not gonna happen. Give me your arm.”

Groaning, Ezra said, “Shouldn’t you at least explain to Miss Page why we’re in her house?”

“That would be appreciated,” Karen agreed.

Frank hesitated, then nodded. “Okay. But you’re still getting stitched up.”

“I can make coffee while I’m waiting,” Karen offered. She had a feeling it would be a while before either of them got any rest.

“Yes, please,” Frank said, shooting her a grateful look. A look that sent a flash of warmth through her, which dispelled the last of the shock and pulled her headfirst into the realization she’d been trying to avoid.

Frank Castle. Was in her apartment. Was here for the first time in months. And she’d missed him, more than she cared to admit.

Focus, she told herself, heading into the kitchen and switching on the coffee maker. Don’t think about that, not right now.

As she worked, pouring water into the reservoir, she heard Ezra speak.

“So that’s Karen? Who you’re always talking about?”

He talks about me? Karen banished the thought before it made it more than a few inches into her mind, even as Frank responded.

“I don’t talk about her that much.”

“Oooh, that should be the title of the book you write. “I Don’t Talk About Her That Much, And Other Blatant Lies By Frank Castle”.”

“Yeah, yeah, you’re real smart. Why don’t you save some of that for next time you decide to block a knife with your arm?”

“Well, we can’t all be Frank Castle— OW!”

Ezra cut himself off with a cry of pain, and Karen winced in sympathy as she finished making the coffee. She heard a few more following yelps and curses, with Frank intermittently speaking in a low, soothing voice, ordering him to stop moving.

As she finished, and moved to get three mugs from the cupboard, Frank stepped into the kitchen. Heading to the sink, he flipped on the faucet, sticking his hands under the stream of water.

“Is he going to be okay?” Karen asked him quietly. 

“Who, the kid?” Frank nodded, his gaze focused on his hands, scrubbing them clean. “Yeah, he’ll be fine. Tough kid.”

“Hmm.” Karen filled one of the mugs, adding a dash of cream. Starting to pour into the next one, she said, “Are you going to tell me how you two met?”

An amused look crossed Frank’s face. “It’s a long one— you got time?”

By way of response, Karen handed Frank the mug of coffee she’d poured for him. “How does Ezra like his coffee?” she asked, turning back to the counter.

“Better make it about half cream,” Frank said, taking a sip of coffee and letting out an appreciative grunt. “Kid still can’t handle real coffee.”

“I heard that!” Ezra called from the living room. “It’s not my fault everyone likes to drink it all hot and bitter and tasting like you licked the road.”

Frank looked offended, and Karen bit back a laugh, adding a stream of bright white cream to the mug, and a little sugar. Scooping it up along with hers, she headed out into the living room and passed it to Ezra. “I used to hate black coffee, too,” she told him, taking the chair next to him.

 Leaning back against the cushions, Ezra grinned. “Told you it was terrible, Frank,” he said triumphantly as the older man came out of the kitchen.

Dropping onto the couch next to him, Frank swatted lightly at the back of Ezra’s head, and Karen couldn’t hold back a smile. “See if I stitch you up next time, with that kinda talk,” he grumbled. He turned his gaze on Karen, raising an eyebrow. “And I expected better from you— sticking up for him?” 

His tone was teasing, and the laugh Karen had been holding in slipped out. “Hey, don’t judge— I came around eventually,” she said, lifting her mug.

“Attagirl.”

He sent her a smile— the real one, lopsided and warm, his eyes crinkling at the edges. It wasn’t one she’d seen often, but Karen started to suspect she’d seen it more often than almost anyone else still living. It was the kind of smile you couldn’t help but respond to, one that warmed her to the core and made her want to draw closer. Closer to him, which was… impossible. 

That didn’t stop her from wanting it.

Pushing away the thought impatiently, Karen took a sip of her coffee. “I think you promised me an explanation,” she told Frank. 

“That I did,” he agreed, his brow furrowing. Glancing at Ezra, he said, “This one is… kinda a tough one to start on. Umm…”

“I’m from space and there’s a blue maniac trying to kill me?” Ezra offered, and Frank let out a long sigh.

Karen’s eyebrows shot up. “Excuse me?”

Grimacing, Frank rubbed a hand across his face. “That’s not helpful, kid. Even if it is true. Uh, I guess it started at that truck stop in Missouri.”

Coffee almost forgotten, Karen leaned forward in her seat as Frank began his story, telling her about how he’d bumped into a kid with strange clothing and the look of someone being hunted.

Unsurprisingly, he was right— Ezra Bridger was being hunted by powerful enemies, ones that were from a different world. So was Ezra, as it turned out, and he wasn’t exactly an ordinary teenager, either.

When Karen had asked for clarification on that point, Frank nudged Ezra, who’d dropped back against the couch with his eyes closed. “Hey. Explain.”

Letting out a grumpy noise, Ezra reluctantly opened his eyes. “I can tap into the living Force, which is this thing that surrounds and encompasses living beings. That means I can float stuff, sense living beings and their intentions, and do a sick backflip. Among other things.”

Karen’s jaw dropped, and she glanced at Frank, who nodded. “Yeah. I’ve seen him do it. It’s as crazy as it sounds.”

“Much like your life for the past five months, right, Frank?” Ezra said, grinning.

Snorting, Frank took a sip of coffee. “No argument here. Where was I?”

Continuing the story, he explained how after he had helped Ezra escape from his enemy’s troops (“Thrawn”, Frank had said, a scowl crossing his face. “He’s smart, and he knows it. Love to meet him in a dark alley.”) and the Department of Damage Control, the two of them had gone on the run.

“Evaded a couple Avengers, hid out on a derelict farm for a while, and then we heard about the killings here,” Frank said. “Thought we should come check them out.”

“Oh, you mean the killings you supposedly did,” Karen said dryly. “I saw those. Someone’s trying pretty hard to get you locked up, aren’t they?”

A look of relief flashed across Frank’s face, for just a moment. “Yeah, well, Ezra says it’s probably Thrawn. Apparently he’s some kinda genius.”

“You don’t think so?”

Shrugging, Frank said, “Even geniuses can bleed if you hit ‘em hard enough.” He paused, rubbing his thumb along the edge of his cup. “So, uh. You didn’t think it was me?”

Karen took a drink from her mug, and grimaced when she found it had gone cold. Setting it to the side, she said, “No, I didn’t.”

“Why not? I mean, a coupla drug dealers— seems like my style, doesn’t it?”

“Maybe,” Karen said. “But when you wrote to me last, you said you weren’t going to kill anyone else if you could help it.” She paused, waiting until he looked at her again, and continued, “And you don’t lie to me.”

He didn’t smile, exactly, but his features softened in a way that was almost as rare as a real smile. “This isn’t gonna be the exception.”

“Good,” Karen said simply. She got to her feet, picking up her coffee mug. “You want any more coffee?”

Shaking his head, Frank said, “Ah, better not. Should probably get a little rest.” Standing, he grabbed his mug as well as Ezra’s— the boy had fallen asleep not long ago, the half empty mug dangling perilously from his hands— and followed her into the kitchen.

The two of them spent a few minutes cleaning up— Frank dumping out the leftover coffee and washing the mugs, Karen drying them at his side.

It felt oddly normal. Him being in the apartment, handing the mugs to her one by one. Standing so close to her that their shoulders would occasionally brush. Karen tried desperately not to overanalyze every touch, every time their fingers would meet when he handed her a cup, and knew she was failing.

I’m absolutely hopeless, she thought, holding back a defeated sigh. But there wasn’t anything she could do to fix that now. One problem at a time.

Aloud, she said, “It looks like you’re staying the night?”

“If it isn’t too much trouble,” Frank said, sending her an apologetic glance. “Didn’t really plan on it— not much of tonight has been planned, though.”

“No trouble at all,” Karen promised him. “Let me find you two some blankets.”

When she returned from digging through her cupboards, armed with two blankets, she found Ezra curled up on the couch, still asleep, and Frank settled in the chair facing the door. He rose at her entrance, accepting the blankets from her with a grateful nod. “Thank you. For all of this— I know it’s probably not how you wanted to spend your evening.”

“Since when has anything gone according to plan in either of our lives?” Karen said. She hesitated, then added, “I’m glad you came, actually. It’s good to see you, regardless of the circumstances.”

“It’s good to see you, too,” Frank said, voice low, with a note of something Karen couldn’t quite read. It sent a slight shiver up her spine, one that she didn’t exactly dislike.

“Will you be here tomorrow?” she asked on impulse. She knew what the answer was likely to be, that she’d likely wake up to an empty living room, blankets neatly folded on the chair. 

But then he hesitated, and hope lit up bright in her chest. “Depends on how the kid’s feeling,” he said slowly. “And he’s not much of an early riser as it is, which doesn’t make traveling easy.”

“I’m sure,” Karen said, trying to pretend that her heart wasn’t pounding. “So… will I see you tomorrow?”

Before Frank could answer, Ezra’s sleepy voice came from the couch. “Say yes and then we can have breakfast for once. You know you want to, Frank.”

Frank rolled his eyes, but Karen could see the fondness in his gaze as he tossed one of the blankets at Ezra. “Go back to sleep.”

“Only if we stay and have pancakes,” Ezra mumbled, yanking the blanket over him. From under it he added a muffled, “Thanks, Miss Page.”

“Call me Karen,” Karen responded automatically. Looking back at Frank, she raised an eyebrow. “So? Will I see you at breakfast?”

Another heartbeat passed, then Frank chuckled, low and wry. “Don’t think I could avoid it even if I wanted to, between you and Ezra.”

“You got that right,” Karen said, finding herself smiling. “It’s been a long time, after all.”

“It has,” Frank agreed. “Okay. Breakfast it is.”

“Okay,” Karen repeated, relief sweeping over her. She’d see him again, before he left. That was enough for now.

Sending him a final smile, she said, “Good night, Frank.”

As she turned and headed towards her bedroom, she caught him say, “Good night, Karen.”

What she didn’t hear was right afterwards, when Ezra said, “Dude, your crush is showing.”

And a very tired Frank responded with, “Shut up, Bridger.”

[regallibellbright]

Girl Genius Week Day 3: Crossover

@girlgeniusevents

Agatha was, in a word, baffled.

It’s not that she wasn’t used to massive bursts of light overtaking her vision in the middle of work, but usually, that was an explosion. And explosions weren’t usually because she was tightening the rivets on a pipe. (Except for that one time, but that had been a very different kind of explosion.) And explosions had never, in all her life, ended with her suddenly in an unfamiliar sewer system.

“... Huh.” Especially not a sewer system with a glowing white figure who had to be seven feet tall and had a voice that sounded like static electricity. “That’s new.”

--

Agatha hadn’t been any less baffled when the glowing figure turned into a young man about her age, dressed in some completely strange clothes, or when he led her out of the sewers into the city proper, which wasn’t just unfamiliar but alien.

Going to a coffee shop, at least, she understood.

“Let me get this straight,” said the proprietor, a man significantly older than either of them. She wasn’t familiar with the language, but she had no trouble understanding it for whatever reason. “You and Minamimoto were fighting - before meeting up with the Wicked Twisters later -”

“It gets it out of his system,” the young man interjected.

“- When suddenly there’s a bright light, he’s replaced with Mystery Woman here, and neither of you have any idea how?” the proprietor continued.

“I didn’t do it, if that’s what you’re getting at,” he said. “It’d be so boring without someone trying to kill me every other Tuesday.”

“Composers,” the proprietor muttered, shaking his head. Which was just another confusing thing about this whole confusing experience.

“My name is Agatha, by the way. Agatha Heterodyne. Not ‘Mystery Woman’.” They both looked at her. “It seems rude not to be introduced, under the circumstances.”

“Right. Well, we can’t be rude, can we?” the one her age said brightly. “My name is Yoshiya Kiryu, and this is Sanae Hanekoma. Don’t mind him, he just gets fussy over any major mysteries in Shibuya.”

“’Shibuya’? That’s where I am?” They both nodded. “That’s not anywhere in the Baron’s territory, I don’t think. I’m not even sure it’s part of Europa.”

“... The moon of Jupiter?” Kiryu asked.

“... The continent,” Agatha replied.

“Alternate universe. Of course that’s what it is,” Hanekoma said. “I have no idea why it didn’t drag her to this universe’s Europe, but clearly we’ve got a universe swap going on.”

“If you know what it is, clearly we can fix it,” Agatha said. “Are either of you sparks?”

The two looked at each other. “Sparks?” Hanekoma asked.

“The spark of genius? Of inspiration?... Madboys?” They both shook their heads, looking completely unfamiliar. “People who use science to bend the rules of reality? Go into a... another place, when they work sometimes?” She tried to keep the ‘science’ to a minimum, since they still looked bewildered.

“There’s more than one of you?!” Kiryu asked, eyes going wide suddenly. Hanekoma next to him looked just as unnerved.

“So you do have sparks!” This would be so much easier.

“Just the one you swapped places with,” Hanekoma said.

“Oh. That might be a problem, then.” She sighed. “Well, I’ll just get started, then. I’ll need all the scrap metal you can find, and...” A universe without the spark, that did sound dire, “and a pot of coffee.”

Kiryu sighed. “I’ll buy.”

--

Agatha then proceeded to build a bunch of Dingbots and a portal between universes. She also fixed the coffee machine! (”It wasn’t broken,” Hanekoma said.

Joshua took a sip. “I beg to differ, if THIS is what it’s capable of.”)

The coffee is of course inedible to anyone except Angels and the Wicked Twisters/Hachiko gang, who are all so traumatized that absolute coffee perfection just tastes like last Tuesday.

After Minamimoto got over the initial overwhelming nature of a universe where he was by no means unique, he helped Gil and Tarvek build the other side of the portal between universes. He’ll insist he’s never going back. Deep down, he enjoyed it a little.

[melonpalooza]

Alright listen up you 🫵

This is now an appreciation ask for the Last Ronin Discord server because it is absolutely amazing and it has been bouncin’ around the think sludge.

When first reading tlrd, a concept that brings to life what a bunch of TMNT fans been wanting…a crossover and throws in a few hooks to keep you excitedly reading the chat fic.

Hook 1, the identity:

By setting up Ronin as mystery it hooks the reader to keep reading not so we find out the identity of the ronin because a lot people already know but for the other turtles to find out who this mysterious turtle is.

However once it’s revealed, (and it’s done absolutely excellently!) the reader is already staying for the shenanigans, the characters that feel written well enough that it feels like something the canon versions of those characters would do. (With exceptions where some bits feels like you put your own interests as well and those are also extremely enjoyable to read!)

The second hook, is one I didn’t suspect that I needed but wanted anyway. The other turtles finding out the biggest tragedy of Ronin’s life…his father, and why his brothers aren’t on the server.

The third hook is the new arrivals (fanfic crossovers and Mutant Mayhem Galore)!

At this point, we’ve seen the discord server through Ronin’s eyes but now we get to see through other newly arrivals eyes as well.

One more hook I thought about that might be one or might be not….the mystery behind the server as well.

We know Ronin’s Donnie made it.

But for what purpose? Was this a small beta and was going to create a bigger project with it? Or was a back up plan?

Did he know he was going to die and try to leave his brother something so he wouldn’t be lonely?

Is it ai? Is the server alive in the same way monster house is or is there something more?

Anyways so to go on a Rise Donnie-like tangent there. But I just wanted to say that I love the Last Ronin Discord Server series and it’s my favorite fanfics with how chaotic, intriguing and well written it is!

aah i'm getting pointed at!! alkjdasda

omg thank you so much??? the big text scared me for a bit but reading this made me so so so happy!!! you would not believe!!!! thank you thank you thank you!!! i love this i love this i love thisss!!!!

im the yellow blob you're the pink tiny blob (platonically ofc)

there's a lot of references to my other personal interests and i'm glad you enjoy reading them!! i restrained myself in making it all about my personal interests or else this fic is just gonna be 30 more chapters but me making reviews about video games and movies i've watched. things i almost wrote a chapter about:

tears of the kingdom

cocaine bear

RRR

Renfield (bc ben schwartz is in it and hearing rise!leo's voice shout "fuck you! fuck you! fuck all of you!" with his full chest was wild bc i was half paying attention to that scene and did a double take. also nicolas cage is dracula. asdljasd)

also i hinted on why the discord exists and why ronin's donnie made it in a previous collab ;0 i won't say which one bc that'd be too easy!!! let's just say...don has contingency plans. <: (a possible ((adjacent, not direct)) hint or two exists in the addendums as well)

[late-to-the-magnus-archives]

Corrupted, chapter fourteen: Morphine - a TMA x Malevolent crossover

An injury. A plea. An offer of employment.

Things have gone right off the rails, and Tim needs to make a choice: specifically, what it looks like, right now, to be a good man.

AO3

------

Tim doesn’t have a lot of sex dreams.  He did when he was thirteen, certainly, but after that annoying hormonal phase, sex just isn’t where his sleeping mind goes. 

He knows that would be surprising.

When Tim dreams, it’s time spent with Danny, or his mom’s last birthday party, or some puzzle at work, or something completely trippy like a Tube ride that doesn’t end. 

Well, that’s not happening today.

Some part of him is aware this vision isn’t happening now. That his body is walking someplace, and speaking some words, and what he sees and feels in this moment isn’t real. Except it is real. And it’s not really about sex, is it? 

It’s possession, it’s holding another being so close and so intimately but not with human arms , and somehow it is natural to be moving with dozens of limbs, to be touching and exploring and entering and—

Tim wakes with a start and finds himself in a hospital.

It is jarring . He’s in his own body, just four limbs, significantly smaller than he just felt like he was; he’s sitting in a waiting room, inundated with the astringent smells of a medical institution, with the quiet sounds of a few people watching videos on their phones, with uncomfortable plastic chairs and muffled coughs.

He stares around. He looks to his right.

Elias Bouchard looks back at him, peering, unreadable (and yet somehow so damn smug ). “Well. Welcome back, Tim,” he says softly. 

So he and Hastur will be talking about the dreams later, but this is happening right now, and he focuses. “Uh. Hi. What?”

“All is well. Jon is cared for; the damage was superficial.”

“Damage? What damage?” He doesn’t remember what happened. Not after… 

“You know, there are quite a few cultures in which saving another’s life places them firmly in your debt,” Elias says conversationally.

“Uh,” says Tim, and realizes he can’t feel his left hand.

He looks at it. Tries to flex it; it does not move.  Okay. Okay. So that was the price for saving Jon’s life.

Worth it. This is who Tim wants to be. Someone who saves people, who chooses to do the hard thing and help people. It was worth it , he tells himself, absolutely worth it, and he will tell himself that until it’s true. He blinks a few times, trying to hide moisture. “Don’t suppose I could ask for a recap of recent events?” he says, his voice rough. 

“Well, if I understand correctly,” said Elias lightly, “you successfully navigated the wildness of the Vast, took proper advantage of Simon’s favor—which I had intended you to do, so I am glad—and survived the extraction. Then, you were attacked by the Stranger. Or, to be more precise, Jon was.”

He sounds so gleeful, doesn’t he?

Oh, there you are, Tim thinks, and wishes dearly Hastur could hear him.

“And then,” says Elias, “you saved him.”

“I remember doing that,” Tim says slowly. “But after that…” 

“Well,” says Elias. “It seems you passed out. Not to worry! Your passenger took care of the rest.”

Better not have hurt him, Tim thinks. “What happened?”

“We are in the Chelsea-Westminster hospital,” says Elias. “You helped Jon up, got him home via train, and then got him to the hospital, where I came to meet you.”

“What happened to Jon? How bad it is?”

Not that bad.

“Well, to put it frankly, a bit of… skinning occurred on his legs, from the knees down,” says Elias. “But only a bit.”

Tim stares. Hastur made Jon take a train after he’d been skinned? “Why did to do that? Why didn’t he go to a local hospital?”

“Because—correctly—he realized that to do so would keep Jon in danger. The Stranger, it seems, has deeply infiltrated Penzance, and Jon would be vulnerable. It was not safe to bring him to a medical establishment there.”

“So… Hastur did the right thing?”

“He did, in my opinion,” says Elias. “I am quite fascinated by all of these developments.”

The Stranger pretends, says Hastur pleasantly. It is the fear of the not right, that something is off. Its acolytes often steal the skins of others and murder them to return wearing their form.

Dear gods. Tim has never heard of anything so awful. “How bad is Jon?” he says, because that is the important thing. “Does he need skin grafts, or something?”

“No, just some care,” says Elias dismissively. “He’s more fussy than anything else.”

Tim didn’t like this man. “Well, when can I see him?”

“Probably soon?” Elias’ gaze lost focus for a moment, and it was the freakiest thing in the world. Tim knew Elias was seeing something else. Somewhere else. Something not at all in this room. “Mmm. They’re finishing bandaging him now. I’d say probably within a few minutes, if you are wise about asking.”

Tim sighs. “What did Hastur say? What did he do?”

“Oh, he was quite delightful,” says Elias, absolutely bright as the sun. “The things he’s seen! Ah… conversation with this being is something I don’t believe I can put into words. I could do it forever.”

And deep inside of Tim, Hastur rumbles, a sort of weird non-feline purr.

Oh, for the love of fuck, Tim thinks at him. You want to go into Elias’ body? Would that make you happy?

I cannot, says Hastur. It would be profoundly unsafe to try, and not only because that is hardly his body to begin with.

Woo, there’s a can of worms. A big one.

A can of worms for later. “I want to see Jon.” Tim stands.

“Of course.” Elias says in some kind of new-knowledge-post-orgasmic-chill, and can’t be bothered to do more than smile.

Tim heads for the counter. So you can hear me now?

Yes. It seems you’ve activated some kind of spell. Very convenient, Tim. Very impressive.

And Tim could almost feel the not like Arthur sentiment.

Great. Fucking great. “Hello,” he says to the nurse, leaning into his smile, his charm, his influence . “I’m a friend of Jonathan Sims. I would really love it if you let me see him.”

#

Jon is out of it.

“Jon,” says Tim softly.

Jon beams at him. “Tim! Hastur! Hi! Hi both!” He lay in bed, his trouser-legs cut away, his legs heavily bandaged. He looks like someone stopped partway into making him a mummy.

The nurse looks amused. “He did say this was fine, but…”

“No, no, it’s good ,” Jon says. “Do I need to sign some more things? I can sign so many things . You wouldn’t believe how many.”

“I’m sure,” says the nurse. “Fifteen minutes max, all right?”

“Yes, sir,” says Tim with a salute. “I really appreciate this.”

The nurse smiles (just a touch flirtatiously) and leaves, having been swayed for reasons he does not even know to allow Tim back here, even though Tim has no business doing so legally.

This magic thing isn’t too bad. It really isn’t. “Hey, kiddo.”

“Hi!” says Jon again, and points to his IV. “Did you know that morphine was developed from opium in 1810?”

“They’ve got you on morphine?” says Tim, horrified, revamping his idea of how badly injured Jon must be.

“Friedrich Wilhelm Adam Sertürner isolated the alkaloid, and called it ‘morphium,’” says Jon happily, doing his best with the German name. “He named it after the god of sleep, Morpheus! Isn’t that something?”

“Sure, it—”

“Oh!” says John. “And he kept experimenting on animals, and then himself, and in 1917, he published, ‘Ueber das Morphium als Hauptbestandteil des Opiums,’ which means, ‘On morphine as the main component of opium,’ and that’s when it really got interest in the medical community.”

“Fascinating,” says Tim, and pats his arm. “So you’re feeling pretty good right now, eh?”

“Oh, it hurts,” says Jon brightly. “But it’s just scars . It won’t matter. Do you know what I learned? Do you have any idea?” He tries to sit up and lean closer and succeeds at neither. “Those things . I got to see those things. ”

“The… the fear-gods?” says Tim, slightly lost.

“Something,” says Jon, his eyes enormous. 

“Well, they won’t get you here,” says Tim. “I’m pretty sure. Lie back, all right?"

“Oh, some of them are here.” Jon looks very serious; his eyes seem to take up his entire face. “But they aren’t interested in me.”

Tim goes still. “Who?”

“Some of the mortuary workers,” says Jon, and smiles. “I think I’m going back to sleep.”

“All right.” Tim is grim.

“Hey,” Jon mumbles. “Hey.”

“Yes?”

“Take me with you on your next trip. Or… or come with me on mine.”

“Why would… we’re not going to have another trip,” says Tim. “Are we?”

“I think so,” says Jon. “Elias seemed to think we would.”

“Well. I’m going to find out about that,” says Tim. “Rest up. I won’t take you anywhere until you’re well.”

Jon looks like he’s going to cry. “No, I don’t want to wait that long. Please don’t leave me behind. I need to see , Tim!”

Oh, yes, says Hastur, low and eager. I like this one pleading. At last, I see the appeal.

Okay, done with this . “Take care. I’ll check in soon.” Tim leaves. What the hell is wrong with you, Hastur?

Nothing. I am feeling quite well.

Tim sighs through his nose, frustration rising. He heads back to the waiting area with full intent to talk to Elias and find out what the hell is going on.

Elias is waiting for him, standing, with a tight smile. “Shall we?” he says.

“Shall we what?” says Tim, sharply.

“Have a little talk?” Elias gestures for the door.

Oh, good. So Elias had spied in their conversation. “Lead the way,” says Tim, feeling warm with anger, skin buzzing with a simmering, quiet rage, and absolutely disturbed by the fact that he cannot feel that heat in his left hand.

#

The hospital is only a few blocks from the Institute, so they walk.

Elias is in a fabulous mood. He walks calmly with long strides, head high, and as long as Tim doesn’t speak, he hums.

Tim wrestles with anger. There are good ways to do this. Smart ways. Just strangling the guy won’t accomplish any of them. He takes a deep breath. “So did this work? Are the cops off my tail?”

“A good portion of them, yes,” says Elias. “Not all. There is a reason I picked six places, you know—but I think we may not need all six, after all.”

“All right,” says Tim. “What the hell are you doing with Jon?”

Elias looks at him sidelong. “An interesting question. Why do you ask?”

Because Tim knew . Knew, though he couldn’t say how or why, but he’d never had reason to doubt his instinct. “Because you’re using me to do something to him.”

Oh, Tim… Tim’s left hand rose and gently lay on his stomach, as if pleased. (As if substituting for a tentacle, the sensation of which Tim remembers all too well from that dream, or memory, or whatever it was, but will not address now.)

“Really?” says Elias. “Interesting.” He peers again. “Hastur told me you had… some curious abilities.”

The hell did you say to him? Tim thinks, frustrated.

Only that you are to be respected.

“I am given to understand that it is dangerous to cross you,” says Elias, low and pleased. “Though I confess that merely leaves me wanting to see just what you’d do.”

“Burn you, probably,” says Tim, but does not mean it.

“No, I don’t think so,” says Elias, who really misses nothing.

Tim frowns. “So I noticed you didn’t answer me? And while it’s a great little distraction, I’d really like to know what you’re doing to Jon, or… I don’t know what I’ll do, but it won’t be good.”

Lovely, says Hastur, that hand just slightly clenching on his belly.

Why did Hastur have to get a hand? This is not safe. Tim is very aware of where that hand is, and how it feels against him.

Maybe all of this is going to drive him nuts. That would be one way out.

“I accept your query,” says Elias. “And I raise you a proposition: become an employee of the Institute, and I will tell you absolutely everything.”

Tim stops walking and stares.

Oh, that clever beast, says Hastur, thoughtful. He wants you under the auspice of his patron, and is willing to spend any currency needed to do so.

“Hastur is correct,” says Elias, and smiles.

Okay, no. This feels like getting cornered out of nowhere, like being in an open field, and suddenly against a wall, facing a wolf pack. Tim swallows. “What happens if I say no?”

“Everything continues as is,” says Elias. “I don’t believe you would suffer, particularly.”

“And Jon?”

“My plans for Jon will continue with or without you,” Elias says, low and menacing. “Though I am now certain his survival chances will increase with you.”

“You’re leveraging his survival ?” says Tim.

“I think we are beyond deceptive pleasantries, don’t you?” says Elias. “Regardless of your choice, I don’t plan to lie to you. I believe you’d know if I did, anyway—and that is not a good way to burn through one’s personal currency.”

“So you wouldn't lie, but just not tell me things, eh?” Tim growls.

“Yes,” says Elias.

Tim. I feel this is a trap.

“He’s got a point,” says Tim.

“He does,” says Elias Bouchard, always smooth as butter, always ready to respond, to parry, to deflect and answer in such a way that the asker feels stupid.

Tim understands what he sees. This man is, from Hastur’s account, more than two hundred years old; and he is intelligent, and used to getting his way. Elias is good at getting his way. So is Tim; but Tim also knows that his comparative lack of experience is the problem.

“What happens if I work for you?” says Tim. “Be precise. Be clear. Because I swear, if you lie to me, I will burn that building down.”

“Will you?” Elias seems surprised. “Employees inside and all?”

“If you trick me badly enough, I wouldn’t be able to help myself,” says Tim, which may or may not be true, but makes for a beautiful threat.

He sees and feels Elias weigh this, hold this statement in his hand, gauging if it’s true. And he sees the moment Elias decides it’s not quite worth the risk. “If you agree to work for me,” says Elias Bouchard, “I will, of course, pay you.” He names a sum comparable to what Tim made in publishing, which is… surprising. “Full benefits, of course. But that isn’t what you’re asking.”

“No, it’s not,” says Tim.

And Elias decides. “The part you may have issue with is you will not be able to quit.”

Cold washes through Tim, shocking and bad. “What?”

“I can let you go, but you cannot quit—not as long as you can see.”

Tim takes a step back. “Right, so, that sounds like absolute hell.”

Elias raises one hand, as if to say, peace . “Not only am I willing to bet my life that you will not want to quit, but the true benefits will be enough to keep you around by choice.”

“Which are?” says Tim, quite unconvinced.

“Full access to all the knowledge the Institute has gathered over two hundred years,” says Elias. “Well, one hundred and ninety-four, but that is quibbling.”

Go on, says Hastur.

“Also the full knowledge that I have gathered, which does not sit upon the Institute’s shelves,” says Elias. “I will—and am willing to write it contractually—answer any question you have.”

Tim, this is—

“Too good to be true,” says Tim. “I want the downsides. Now.”

“Those enemies the Institute have made will see you as a threat,” says Elias. “It is not unlikely you will be in danger—but the thing is, you already are . They are coming for you, anyway, Tim. This way, you will actually have backup. Resources. Help. Whereas if you are on your own, you and your passenger must rely on your… abilities, whatever they are.”

Amazing, the way this man made everything sound just slightly insulting. “Not really winning me over here.”

“It’s simple, Tim,” says Elias. “Face it all alone, or face it with help. Those are your choices. The cost is caring for Jon, and dealing with me—both of which you’ve already proven quite expert at.”

“Flattery will get you nowhere,” Tim mutters.

“Talk it over with your passenger,” says Elias. “I will be watching either way; and what I have already promised is yours, no matter what you decide. But I will mention…” His voice lowers. “We are being followed. Behind us are three people: two of the Corruption, and one of the Desolation. No matter what you do here, Tim, you will not be ignored. You cannot be left alone. You’ve made too big a splash, and gotten absolutely everybody wet. My offer is aid, with the cost of involvement with Jon, and the understanding that I will send you on information-gathering missions. Those may seem too high to you. I understand, if so. Do let me know, would you?” And, back to humming, he heads on down the sidewalk and to his Institute, cheerful and pleased.

Tim exhales slowly. “Okay, what the fuck.”

Tim. Hastur is afraid. Followed?

Tim looks. “I don’t see anybody.”

Tim. Please. We need to get inside somewhere.

“You know, for a tentacle-monster of gigantic proportions, you spook really damn easy,” says Tim, but walks slowly toward the Institute, too. "Had a weird dream. We need to talk about it."

A dream?

"Not until this horseshit is decided." It doesn’t really feel like he has a choice. He wants to help Jon; it feels like an important thing to do, a good person thing to do, and he’ll make that choice, regardless. But without knowing what Elias is doing with Jon, that will be harder.

He has to protect Hastur, too. Hastur may be a jerk, but he doesn’t deserve to get eaten. Tim doesn’t want that to happen. So that is a choice, too.

And all that knowledge… all that information. Answers to questions, there for the asking.

But he wouldn’t be able to quit. What was up with that? Jon mentioned it, too. As long as he could see? What the actual hell?

I cannot make this decision for us, Tim, says Hastur, low. This is tying us directly to one of the Powers. I have never done this.

“If you were in my position, what would you do?” says Tim.

I would take his deal. At the very worst, I could burn down the Institute and murder him, and thus be freed from his employ.

There was a weirdly comforting practicality in that.

Tim was horrified he found it reassuring, but he did find it reassuring. This was not a no-way-out scenario. And, most importantly, Elias clearly knew that risk—and believed Tim would find reasons not to burn the place down.

He’d have to make sure doing this didn’t… collar him, somehow. Cut off powers. Choke him. But if it did not…

You are considering doing it.

Tim looks, and spots, for just one second, a person on their tail. She is a woman in a red dress, with long dark hair, and nothing should be wrong with her; but something is, oh, something horrible is , and though she is at a distance before ducking into shadow, he swears her skin moves like boiling porridge, as if whatever is inside her bursts and bubbles and drips all down her form.

Bile rises in his throat. “Let’s go find out if it’ll limit us in any way. And if it doesn’t….”

It could be a fair deal.

Tim snorts. “With that guy? No. We’re getting screwed somehow, but it may still be better than going this alone.”

We could always reach out to my cultists.

"That isn’t happening. Let’s go find out the details,” Tim says, and follows Elias inside.

Elias answers his questions.

Elias puts everything in writing.

The only gotcha, as far as Tim can see, is his inability to quit. “You know if you don’t let me go and I want to go, I”ll kill you,” he says, barely feeling like himself, yet meaning every sick and wicked syllable.

“ Yes,” says Elias, as though eager to know what it’s like to die burned and screaming.

Tim knows it’s probably a mistake, but he sees no other path forward. He doesn’t know enough. There are too many monsters after him. They need help.

He signs on the dotted line, and is weirdly disappointed that he feels nothing change.