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legendsofmyriad · 1 year

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Legends of Myriad: Arc One - Chapter 9: Hero of Flame

“Once the prisoners are restrained, wait for further orders. Take your place next to the other officers and keep your eye out for… Hey. Are you listening?” Roderick clapped his hands and the boy beside him flinched, eyes wide like a frightened alley pup.

“Sorry, Officer Cadwell,” Gabriel said, snapping to attention and attempting to ignore the loud clangs and intense wails pervading the correctional compound.

With his large collection of keys jangling on his chain and emitting their ominous death call, Roderick paused and shoved the recruit against the wall. “Listen, lad. You’ve got a smell of grass about you, and that doesn’t sit well with me. To be successful in this business, you have get your hands filthy, make sure you go home stinking of sweat, and if you’re lucky, find a bit of blood on your shirt. Understand me?” The boy surveyed his surroundings perplexed, and he shook him by the collar, permitting the stammered ‘yes, sir,’ to serve as a satisfactory response before he released him. “Fix your uniform.”

Gabriel evened out the wrinkled neck of his overcoat and prodded the loose strands back into his snug hat as he hastened to catch up with his superior.

“Now, as I was saying,” Roderick continued, “once you’ve taken your position with the other officers, keep your attention on the crowd. Some of them get rowdy when the shockers go off. Master Ironstrike has asked for the intensity to be set at a five, but sometimes he’ll request changes halfway through a punishment. Do you know how to change the settings?”

“Suspend the incoming flow of electricity, switch the left dial to the desired strength, and then calibrate it to the neck braces,” Gabriel replied. “After the velocity has stabilised, the machine is ready to be used again.”

“Good. You paid attention to your training, which is more than I can say for some.” An agonised screech rattled his apprentice, and Roderick huffed. “If you go into the cells looking weak, those criminals will eat you alive. Literally if you get too close to some of them. Ironstrike likes them skinny. Feel more pain that way.”

The stout officer nudged him as though they shared an inside joke and let out a choked laugh. Gabriel recoiled at the whiff of acrid smoke from his breath.

“You’ll get used to the sounds they make,” Roderick said.

How could anyone grow accustomed to sounds of agony? Gabriel thought. What purpose was this supposed to provide other than to fear the industry families? “I don’t mean to step out of line, sir, but should we really be punishing people like this? I thought that this kind of punishment was reserved only for serious offences.”

“What do you suggest, huh? Slap on the wrist? A ‘don’t do that’ and send them on their way?” Cadwell stuck his chest out, acknowledging a few supervisors of the same rank at the security booth. “It’s not our place to question it. We have our duty.”

From behind them, resonant bells tolled and stomping boots neared at speed. Roderick swept Gabriel aside as a group of officers marched an inmate to her new home.

“Ah, Cadwell,” the willowy captain at the forefront of the march said, signalling for his brigade to halt. The pounding heels ceased, and the woman suspended between them groaned, seeping blood and sweat in a puddle beneath her knees. “It’s been a while since I’ve seen you here.”

“Mostly been working near the warehouses these past few months,” Roderick replied. “Taking a fresh lot to the shockers today, though.”

“Judging by your companion, you have the honour of guiding a rookie into our ranks.”

“This is Gabriel. He’s green in the eyes, but he passed his training with excellent marks. I have high hopes for him.”

“Is that so?”

Gabriel fixed on the woman. Her head bobbed about her shoulders and each breath laboured through cracked teeth. Patches of inflamed skin on her scalp wept, wisps clinging where brutal fists had ripped chunks of her hair from the root. She held his gaze, and if it hadn’t been for the rough jab to his ribs from his supervising officer, he may have tried to help her.

The captain tracked the recruit’s line of sight and stooped down to him. “Don’t worry about her,” he said, the softness in his voice betrayed by the hostile glint in his eyes. “She can’t hurt you.”

“What’s she in for?” Roderick asked.

“Insurrection.”

“Then I hope she gets everything she deserves.”

“She will,” the captain promised, lifting his chin and giving the order for his squad to continue. “It was good to see you again, Cadwell. And to meet our new brother in arms.”

Roderick saluted and Gabriel stumbled backwards, wishing he could shrink out of existence. He clenched and unclenched his fists and encouraged his trembling legs into action as his superior trekked onwards.

“Captain Harold is a fantastic man,” Roderick said. “You’d do well to learn from him. He served during the last uprising. Beat back thousands of those vermin. If you knuckle down and work hard, you can achieve that too.”

“Thank you, sir,” Gabriel replied, unsure of what he was speaking but letting the words pass. He trailed after Roderick in a daze, thoughts full of the prisoner. Despite her wounds and the prospect of unbearable pain, her eyes shone with determination, and no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t erase the image from his mind.

Descending into the lower detention centre, Roderick swiped his identification card and talked with the guards on duty, passing on their various commands and verifying procedures had been completed.

Inquisitive criminals eyed them through rows upon rows of scratched, transparent doors. Most returned to the secluded corners of their cells once they realised there was nothing of interest, but some lingered.

Throughout his training, Gabriel had been taught that these were the lowest of humanity, an enemy of civilised society and hardly deserving of the air they breathed. And yet scanning the cubicles he wandered by, all he saw were people. Frightened people. Angry people. One side of a system that didn’t even attempt to understand them or their circumstances.

An irked grumble from his supervising officer interrupted his musing and he hastened on his way.

“It’s important for you to be on your guard,” Roderick said as he caught up. “These delinquents won’t hesitate to exploit any vulnerability. Hear me?”

Gabriel hummed. “Sir.”

“You’re the weak link here, lad, but if you keep your head clear and focus, we’ll make an officer out of you yet.”

An officer, Gabriel considered, the notion filling him with pride until the image of the beaten rebel invaded his conscience again. Why had she stared at him like that, as though he could liberate her? What could he possibly do? Concentrate, he urged himself. Roderick wasn’t wrong to call you weak. Remember your training. Criminals will do anything to get to you. Don’t let it.

Once they’d arrived at the temporary holding facility, Officer Cadwell assumed control of the proceedings and Gabriel held his assigned position at the end of the line.

Three dishevelled Ironstrike labourers stepped out into the corridor and the officers patted them down, sparing no amount of compassion as they thumped on their undernourished bodies. A middle-aged man with blotchy handprints on his forearm attempted to shrug off the guard digging in his pockets. Quick as a lightning bolt, Roderick swung his fist into his stomach.

Gabriel’s torso juddered and his gut clenched. He rapidly gathered himself and tried to block out the hacking coughs of the stooped worker as he hunched over the slabs, bracing his shoulders to fend off the continual strikes.

“Stop it!” the shorter woman shrieked, face contorted in horror as she jangled her restraints. “Please!” Her appeals met with a backhand from Roderick, the blow snapping at the muted air.

Quivering, Gabriel gulped down the rising adrenaline and remained motionless. The man groaned as he was dragged to his feet. Officer Cadwell neared the recoiling woman and snatched her chin.

“Shut your mouth,” he snarled, saliva spraying against her tear-stained cheeks. “You have a problem, keep it to yourself. Get it?” She whimpered, and he shoved her to her appointed officer. “Lead them out.”

Jangles and scuffling feet clattered. Gabriel curbed the desperation to squeeze his eyes closed and cover his ears, to retreat from the sights and sounds of the mistreated. He breathed through it. Shoulders squared, hands clasped behind his waist, face forward. Repeating the instructions that had been instilled in him until his chest steadied and the pounding on his rib cage subsided.

“Fall in with the others,” Roderick commanded when it was his turn to move. His recruit floundered. “Got something on your mind you’d like to say or are you so green you’re daydreaming on the job?”

“I… um…” Gabriel blinked.

“Come on, boy, out with it.”

“Are we supposed to beat the prisoners? The protocol manual states we are only to resort to such tactics if we need to safeguard ourselves or a fellow officer.”

Roderick let out a thunderous laugh and clapped his arm so hard he almost sent him flying. “You soft or something? I’ve never known a recruit so daft. Usually they come in willing to chew the finger off a convict to prove themselves, but you look like a bird in copter lights.” He huffed out a short snicker. “These people stole from our master, and that man was resisting procedure. Order must be preserved. Besides, considering what they’re about to get, a beating is nothing.”

“But that doesn’t make it right,” Gabriel argued, fidgeting. “Has nobody stopped to think why they took those things?”

“Listen to me,” Roderick spoke, his voice laced with warning and any trace of amusement vanishing from his features, “if you don’t keep your mouth shut, it will get you into trouble. Why did you want to become an officer if you can’t deal with criminals?”

“Because I always thought that officers were there to protect people. That they act honourably in keeping the peace.”

“You’re not the first to have that idea stuffed in your head. You’re young and far too naïve for your own good, so I’ll forgive you for that misconception.” Hoping his judgement sunk in quick, Roderick motioned for him to follow and set off after the group he’d been charged to escort. “It would do you well to think of the workers as animals, not people. And when animals are disobedient, sometimes a shock will bring them back into line.”

* * *

Restlessness radiated from the tightly packed crowd and apprehension filled the stifling air. Armed guards stood in position along the enclosing walls, their eyes scanning over the assembly as the prisoners emerged into the hazy evening. The captives squinted. Under Roderick’s orders, the officers made them kneel and folded the worn straps around their necks.

Gabriel adjusted his posture and glanced at the overhanging balcony where Edgar Ironstrike and his entourage sat. The distinguished master leaned to one side and murmured to his bodyguard. He sneered at the answer and scratched his sleek, grey beard, unfeeling eyes wandering to the elevated stage.

Dirtied faces and an ocean of Ironstrike emblems waited. A group near the left edge of the courtyard called out appeals for the three prisoners, but they quickly dispersed after a few swats from electrified weapons and barked warnings.

“That’s it, lad,” Roderick said after making his final checks and approaching his apprentice. “Shoulders back. Don’t flinch. Understood? You want to show Master Ironstrike that you’re made of strong stuff.”

Edgar rose, and after a short word on the condemned, gave the signal. The courtyard hushed into an anxious stillness. Deep breaths, Gabriel repeated to himself, his face flushed with a feverish heat and his palms clammy. Stay calm.

In the depths of his conscience, the thought of sneaking away tempted him, reminding him that this was not what he’d envisioned. Duty and honour. That’s what he wanted. Not this barbarity. Besides, he hadn’t been officially inducted as an officer yet. What difference would it make if he fled? Who would care if one scared boy refused to take their solemn pledge? But he realised in that moment, with all those eyes on him, he was locked into this, regardless of executive commendation.

Deep breaths.

As Roderick jammed a thumb into the buttons, the courtyard filled with a haunting silence and the machinery hummed. Three sets of shrieks burst, the crackling from their necks distorting the agonised wails.

Scorched flesh and static charge stung his eyes, and the young recruit struggled not to wince. He balled his hands into fists behind his back until his nails bit into his palms, gritting his teeth to prepare himself for the next wave.

From his seat, Edgar gave a smirk, talking to his daughter and heir as if he were in the theatre watching a displeasing show. Part of Gabriel pitied him, pitied anyone who casually brushed off the pain of others, but he wondered how many punishments he had seen over the years. How long had it taken him to become so desensitised to the squalid conditions and inhumane sanctions he’d set for his own workers that he didn’t need to look at the people he hurt?

Against the haze of the impending night, Gabriel spotted a green orb fluttering close to the balcony. At first he thought it to be a reflection catching the humid fog, but it veered too purposefully, too meticulously for it to be an accidental flicker. For the briefest of seconds, it vanished, reappearing again to bear down on Edgar and throw him from his chair.

Flashes hammered, swinging in a whirling flurry and disposing of the bodyguards. The officers stationed about the perimeter hurried to assist their master. Roderick motioned for his squad to stay put and swept a cautious glance over the crowd.

When Gabriel lifted his gaze to the observer’s box again, the flame had disappeared and Miss Ironstrike yelled for help, cradling her unconscious father. Without hesitation, he abandoned his post and scoured the upper ledges.

“What did you see?” Roderick demanded. “Gabriel?”

“I’m not sure. It looked like a green light, but I can’t tell where it went.”

Confusion hung heavy over the gathering until a voice cut through the murmur and a raised finger jabbed towards the stage. Boots pounded against the wood at speed. A cloaked assailant whirled their mace in dizzying swings, sending two officers sprawling and kicking aside a third. Roderick scrambled for his gun, but before he had the chance to grip the handle, he was knocked onto his backside. People shoved at each other in a frantic haste, pushing blindly in any direction.

Gabriel stilled. Through the vivid courtyard lights, he could make out sage eyes and strands of dark gold underneath the hood. Jade flames crackled like a warning, and the darkness considered him.

Gloved hands shot up, and he shrunk away, startling at the wave of energy that skimmed past his hip. He heard the electrocution bands snap and fall to the floor. The hooded figure gestured for the liberated prisoners to stand and commanded them to flee.

Shots rang out behind him. The bullets embedded in the brick walls instead of flesh and the assailant quickly fled.

“What do you think you’re doing letting them get away?” Roderick bellowed as he tried to rise, rolling on the ground and panting in his futile defeat. “Go after them, you useless idiot!”

The sight of the maimed rebel prickled in Gabriel’s conscience again, and the putrid scent of electrified skin stung his nostrils. Shards of screams and electrical hums reverberated through his head and he fought for every breath.

His body moved on its own, his foot connecting with Roderick’s face and his hands wrenching the fourth band around the man’s neck. He loomed over the controls. He’d run these drills hundreds of times in simulations, surpassing his classmates in speed and accuracy. Faced with the prospect and watching Roderick scratch bloody lines into his throat, it couldn’t have been further from the academy teachings.

No one ever prepared him for the emotional impact, the psychological chaos or the reality of the task ahead of him. Integrity. Duty. Obedience. That was all they repeated to him. And, like a fool, he’d trusted them.

“You do that, you stinking shit, and I swear I will make you suffer for the rest of your days,” Roderick growled, sweat pouring and face daubed red.

“How does it feel to be the animal?” Gabriel roared. His superior’s eyes widened. “What was it you said? A good shock will keep them in line, right?” His blood raced, but his hand wouldn’t lower, as though an invisible wall stayed his movements.

He yanked the gun from the holster on his thigh and held it to Roderick’s forehead. One press. One squeeze of that trigger would be all it took. In theory, the task was simple, but the weapon quivered in his clutches, fighting against any thought of mercy.

With a frustrated grunt, he fired at the cable linked to the shock band and shot half a dozen bullets into the power core. The battery ruptured and a deafening explosion divided the wooden platform.

Amidst all the chaos, Gabriel leapt off the collapsing stage and ran as fast as his legs could carry him, shoving his way out of the compound and into the midnight streets of Lumen. He didn’t know when he paused. A burning raged in his lungs, a rasp clung to his throat, and a heightened awareness assaulted him. Every noise smacked into him and the odour of sweat and charred flesh seeping from his uniform made him gag.

In the corner of his view, someone rushed across a back road, a faint green sparkle trailing behind them. He tracked it through the crooked alleys and refuse piles between stores, winding round corners and darting down narrow walkways until he lurched out into the peaceful, late-night streets again.

“Why are you following me?”

The heat of an unnatural fire tickled his right ear, and he slowly rotated, eyeing the glowing mace and the strange symbols that energised it. “Who are you?” he asked.

“That is of no concern of yours. Now answer my question. Why are you following me?” The green flicker sizzled and sparks sprang from the spiked ball.

“You were at the Ironstrike facility just now. You removed the bands on the prisoners without going near them,” Gabriel spluttered. “I felt something fly past me and I heard them snap. You were in front of me and there was… there was nobody behind… and… I don’t understand.”

She came closer, angling her head to get a better glimpse of him before taking off her hood and shaking her blonde ponytail out of the fabric. “Oh, you’re that young officer,” she said. “You don’t look old enough to be waving a weapon about.”

“Could say the same about you,” Gabriel shot back without thinking. She laughed at his retort.

“I saw you put a shock band around that officer’s neck. Why didn’t you push the button?”

“Because… I…” Gabriel’s mouth dried, and he swallowed the bitter tang of bile on his tongue. “I suppose because I don’t believe in their cruelty. Stupidly, I assumed the officers were respectable and only wanted to protect the citizens of Lumen. But their idea of dangerous people isn’t exactly the same as mine.”

The bright green fire rippling from the mace slowly died away until it extinguished, and the woman secured it safely to her belt. Overhead, search blimp propellers churned and dragged roaming spotlights along the adjacent roads, and she wrenched him into the shadows of an alley. “I’m Esther.”

“Huh?”

“You asked who I was.”

Gabriel’s features twisted into a frown until he recalled the start of their conversation. “Oh, yeah. Um. I’m Gabriel.”

“Nice to meet you, Gabriel,” Esther said while observing the air ship’s lazy path and putting up her hood. “I really must be going.”

Without giving him the opportunity to reply, she ran into the alleys of the industrial city and faded into the darkness.

Gabriel glanced at his uniform, stained with dirt and perspiration. Ripping the stripes of his low rank from his chest and discarding them into the puddles of excrement and refuse, he slipped out into the street.

#legends of myriad #legendsofmyriad #story series #fantasy #fantasy writing #fantasy story #creative writing #writing #writblr #original writing #original fic #tw: graphic depictions

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hollywoodcannon · 2 years

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Anonymous asked: Mr. Pillman. I...I need a favor. You said I could come to you for help whenever because you know how my Pa is. And, well, I know he's gonna get real mean about it but I don't care. I've been dating this girl for a while now. She's amazing. Super intelligent. Beautiful. I have no clue what she sees in an idiot like me. But I know he'll hate her because, well, she's beautiful just like Mrs. Pillman, if you get my meaning. I know he'll kick me out and I'm ready for that but I'll need a place to stay for a bit. I've been working the corner store and the junkyard. Got a good amount of savings but I just haven't found a place in my price range yet. But I just don't feel good keeping Jominique a secret. She's too good for that! What kinda man am I if I can't tell him to fuck off and that I love her?! So, can I crash here for a bit? I promise I won't be a burden on your family! Please Mr. Pillman!

A name sounding more so proper for a person who wasn’t even there, whom Brian never got to meet himself, the title of respect meant for his father, Mr. Pillman was what the good kids of the neighborhood had started to call him once Junior became their friend. An appellation bestowed through associate to the little boy - a term that didn’t feel so strange to hear. He had gotten used to it. Just as he had for the voices of those whose homes stood next to his own, their families and his mingling and socializing when able to. But not all those who lived in the area had gained the Loose Cannon’s favor. Housewives with their fake faces high on his list - smiles just as soulless - the father of the child who pleaded with him, then. Eminently capable of making anyone’s blood run cold, alcohol and poor life choices and an abusive personality had made the elder man an enemy to many who dared to listen to his nonsense, his sermons from his front porch. All who weren’t like himself were given the branding of evildoer. Sinners to the cause - a crusade in bigotry - criminals. It didn’t matter if families had taken to the land for generations, worked hard in those same fields just as he did. He hated them all. Each and every human being, what the boy confessed to Brian didn’t surprise him in the slightest. More so broke his heart.

Brackish and unforgiving, the elder male had gotten a taste for himself of just how temperamental the Loose Cannon could be one sunny afternoon. A day that was relatively peaceful before the confrontation even began, Junior and Niccola playing in the front yard, Brian trying with great effort to put together the latest climbing set that he and his beloved had purchased for their growing baby boy. It had started at first with glares from across the street. A gray colored face death-staring the little family of three, sipping a mug of mysterious liquid, a muted brown with unknown flavorings bobbing, no doubt tasting as bad as it looked. Eventually, it escalated. Shouts from just a way aways - earrings and tattoos on a father was a near damnable mutilation of the body, a toddler was never to be coddled so much unless their parents wanted them to turn out like a sissy-boy, a mother like that should stick to her own kind. That was when Brian decided that he had heard enough. Without saying a single word, he stood from his construction spot in the yard, marched with purpose to the cabin-like house just across the street, got nose-to-nose with the white tank wearing, cigarette smoke smelling, stained blue jean dressed clown who felt so confident as to expose his intolerance. The complete and honest disrespect that he held for those that Brian loved more than life itself.

It didn’t take more than 10 seconds for the other man’s wife to come bursting through her front door. Just as soon as Brian stomped up the porch steps, grabbed hold of the drunk and lifted him up off the ground, dangling, she, too, voiced her opinion, albeit, much more kind. Begged for Brian not to hurt her precious husband - threats to beat the white-haired supremacist danced over the Loose Cannon’s lips like the sweetest of songs - tears streaming down her cheeks. Her husband didn’t mean it, so she said. He was sick, injured from a work accident that left him a shell of the hero he once was. Brian didn’t believe it, but for the sake of the curly haired woman who stood beside him crying, for the young boy that he caught sight of from behind an indoor window curtain, he let the bastard go. Put him down gently and nodded, warned that there would be no second chance. Never again did such words of hate flow from that house nor its porch. But still, it could be felt, even just feet away and in another home that was filled with more love than was possibly known what to do with. Such guys couldn’t change. Their belief systems too strong, too awful to ever repair, though years passed and he and his family grew older, Brian had no hope for his vicious neighbor.

But the same wouldn’t be said for his son. Far more compassionate than his father, a wonderful friend to Junior and such a sweetheart to Niccola, so Brian said, so he would do. It wasn’t like the child had a parent at home who cared for him the way he needed to be. With a mother too scared to do more, a father who was better dead than alive, guidance was needed, help offered without further question. Not his kin nor his close friend - perhaps both when really thought about - but someone who would always be there. Brian wouldn’t let the kid be out on the streets just because he fell in love. Punish him for what happened to everyone when the time was right, something that wasn’t within his control, it would give the family another reason to have a movie night. Blankets and pillows in good condition - plenty of whatever could be needed found just there within the Pillman house - warmth and safety, too.

Crossing his arms over his chest, the Loose Cannon eyed the boy, inspected him as if to be able to find any lies hidden. “I always thought of your dad as a major jackass. But it’s gonna take you awhile to find that place, son. The housing market right now, from what I’ve heard, is dog crap. If you’re gonna stay with us, you’ll be here for a while. You wouldn’t mind that, would you?”

“Junior’s always liked you.” Brian added, putting the finishing touches on his car cleanup, seats dusted and loose items stored back where they went. “I think he’d want you to room with him in his room. Course, we have the spare bedroom, if you’d rather that, but Mrs. Pillman’s got some of her music stuff stored in there on the dressers. She’s got boxes full of it. But you’re a good kid, so I’m sure we’d find someplace new to put it. If that doesn’t work, tell her you think the statue in the living room isn’t damn creepy. It’s an art piece from Ireland. Supposedly symbolizes love, or something like that. Me and Junior, we just find it scary to look at. Reminds me of my old History teacher Mrs. Blackwell. Even got her weird bumps right.”

“Come on inside, pal. I’ll help you get that room of yours set up. We can talk things over once Mrs. Pillman gets back from the grocery store. Oh, and don’t even think about using any of that money you earn from working to pay for anything while you’re here. You’re our guest. Plus, you got that little lady of yours to take care of, right? Jominique? Use that cash to buy her a nice steak dinner. Jewelry or flowers - trust me, it makes a chick melt when she sees her guy pull out gifts like that. You use that money to take care of yourself and her, to treat her right. Me and Mrs. Pillman will worry about everything else, got it? So... Jominique, what’s she like, son?”

___

#( Anonymous )#Legacy Continued // Present / Current ERA #Heart Shaped Love and Trust // Brian x Niccola #( Brian will be the honorary dad to all the kids who don't have one )#( Or to the ones who have shit fathers )#( He's their dad now )

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tigerseye46 · 3 years

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For the headcanon thing. Once it’s revealed that Tang is Tripitaka, he uses that to get Wujing to reconcile with Pigsy and Wukong. Kinda like how Wujing used Tang’s celebrity crush. - Pixel Anon

Yesss, Tang gets revenge. This takes during S3 of the au.

Send me a head canon for the Red Shark/sand au and I'll make a fic out of it ^^! Send as many as you want

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Tang stomped away from Sha Wujing as the other tried to wave at him from the kitchen. He was still mad at the others for not divulging he was Tripitaka’s reincarnation especially Wujing who he thought was interested in him after they had gotten closer. But nope, he only liked him because he was Tripitaka.

He told the demon to figure out if he actually liked him for him and wasn’t using him as an outlet for his feelings. He wasn’t going to be friendly toward the other until then.

“Hey, Wujing,” Sun Wukong greeted. Tang turned around to see the former pilgrims all in the kitchen.

Sha Wujing hissed at the two. “What do you want?”

“Just to talk,” Zhu Bajie replied.

“There’s nothing to talk about.” “Well how are you faring since-?”

“Oh, I’m faring just wonderfully,” he snarked. “Nothing like the person I love the most ignoring me. Exactly like back then.” Tang sighed at the demon’s words. Wujing didn’t love him, he loved Tripitaka, that was it. The other thing the demon said struck him, from what he recalled, Tripitaka never ignored him and cared about him very much, he doesn’t know how the monk gave him that impression.

“Give him time,” Wukong said. “He’ll come around.”

“Yea, no thanks to you. Maybe if you told him in the beginning we would be happy with each other. But no, you had to keep your mouth shut for once.”

Bajie held up an arm to halt him. “It’s not his fault, Wujing.”

“Yes, it is! He hung out with Tang the longest! He should have told him.”

“I didn’t know, Wujing.”

“But you suspected,” he pointed out. “Also you could have used your special eyes and told him but you’re too much of a coward to do so.” “Coward?” He exclaimed. “What about you? You figured out and could have told him yourself. Don’t blame me for your faults.” “Whatever,” he replied and pushed passed them, heading towards the opposite direction of where Tang was. Jeez just when they were finally starting to at least talk without screaming.

The king ran a hand through his fur. “He’s right. I should have said something.”

The pig patted him on the back. “It’s not your fault. It’s not like it was an easy thing to bring up.”

“I know but-”

And at that point, Tang stopped listening. He went back to his room and laid on his bed. He was angry at Sun Wukong and Zhu Bajie too but that argument left a bad feeling. Heck, all their arguments left a bad feeling.

He knew Wujing loved to pick fights with those two because of Tripitaka’s- because of his death. While Wujing was right that his best friend should have told him, the demon should have also told him.

They had really split apart after his passing which was not something he wanted at all. He didn’t like to see his disciples friends fight and while he could leave them be, it wasn’t right to do so. He knew their relationship wouldn’t be repaired unless he intervened since Sha Wujing was so stubborn.

He threaded his fingers through his dark locks and decided to use his position as their master’s reincarnation to get them to reconcile. They were going to be stuck on this flying ship for who knows how long so they had to get along or the journey would be more difficult than it needed to be.

He would go up to Wujing first to convince him they needed to talk and while he hated being used as an outlet, he didn’t have a choice otherwise. Well other than locking them in a closet but he’s sure they would break the door.

Tang got up once again and went to find Sha Wujing who was on the balcony of the shop. He was leaning against the railing with a contemplative look on his face. His red-orange hair shined in the sunlight.

Tang took a couple of breaths and walked up to him. Hearing the noise, the demon gazed at him, his eyes blown wide at the other approaching him.

“Tang,” he said.

“Hey,” the human responded and leaned against the railing just like the demon did.

“Why are you here?”

“Fresh air. Hope you don’t mind.”

“Of course not.” Wujing opened his mouth to speak before closing it then repeating the process. “Tang.”

Tang placed a hand up. “I know what you’re going to say and you don’t have to lie to me.”

“I’m not lying when I say I really do love you.”

“Uh huh. You only love Tripitaka, not me.”

“That’s not true.”

“It is true. We’ve been over this. I’m not looking to get into it right now. It’s not what I came here to discuss.”

“I thought you said you came here for fresh air.”

He pursed his lips and nodded. “That too but there is something we need to discuss. You need to talk to Wukong and Bajie.” The other lifted a brow. “And when I mean talk, I mean something that is not an argument, a fight or anything along those lines. Civilized conversation. You three need to make up.”

Wujing scoffed and crossed his arms. “Make up with those two? No thank you. They’re terrible.”

“And why are they so terrible?” He asked.

“Because they wanted you dead.”

“And how do you know that?”

“Think about it, Tang. They never wanted to listen to you. They always thought it was best to disobey you or get you captured. They never cared about you like I did yet they were your favorites.”

“Wujing, they cared about me like I did them and you.”

“They didn’t. They let you die after they finally managed to get away from you.” He muttered, “And you didn’t care about me.”

Tang rubbed his temples in annoyance, ignoring the last comment. “They got there too late.”

“How do you know? You died.”

“I know them. They got there late and there was nothing they could do either way.”

“Whatever. I’m not making up with them.” He began to step away.

“Sha Wujing, come back! You are making up with your brothers!”

“They’re not my brothers,” he called back.

Tang removed the glasses from his face and said in a soft tone, “Wujing, please come back.”

The other stopped to stare, the human’s face was marked by a frown and without the glasses, he looked even more like his incarnation. He blushed at the human’s appearance. The human getting closer and closer with folded glasses in hand.

He held his face and tilted the demon’s chin slightly upwards. “A little close there.”

“What? I can’t get close to my disciple?”

“Wh-what?”

“You heard me.” He traced a hand along the demon’s biceps. “Wow. Your strength really hasn’t waned since I last saw you centuries ago.”

He blinked. “Th-thanks?”

“Still so impressive after all these years. This is rather forward but I find it hot,” he said it just as Tripitaka would say it.

“Thanks…”

“It’s probably why you’re the best one out there.”

“Well that’s no secret,” he bragged and tried to act as if this didn’t affect him.

“You are.” He rubbed his cheek with his thumb and Wujing placed a hand over his. Tang ignored the flutter and enjoyed the fact that he could get revenge on the demon for using his crush against him. “You know what would make you better than them?”

“What would that be, Tang?” He questioned and pressed a kiss against his palm.

He leaned in and whisper, “If you showed the other two how great you are by patching things up to them first. Be the bigger man like I know you are.”

“And what do I get if I make up with them?”

“A kiss,” he replied, “but only if you promise.”

He grinned. “I promise.” Tang smooched his cheek and walked off, putting his glasses back on. “Wait! You said a kiss!”

“I did give you a kiss!”

“A kiss on the cheek doesn’t count!”

“Yes, it does! I didn’t specify! And I’m still mad at you! Remember your promise and I might give you another one,” he exclaimed before going back inside.

He touched his cheek, the warmth lingering. He grumbled at getting tricked before going with the human.

It wasn’t until hours passed that Sha Wujing saw Sun Wukong and Zhu Bajie. “Hey. We need to talk.”

“About?” Bajie pondered.

“Sit down.” He gestured to the couch in the living room.

The two gave him a questioning glance but complied. “Okay. What is it, Wujing?” The king held Bajie close to him.

“Tang is forcing me to do this.”

“Tang talked to ya?”

“Yea. He hasn’t forgiven me just yet but he wanted me to talk to you.”

“And ya listened?”

“He is still our master…”

Wukong smirked. “Let me guess. He managed to seduce you into talking to us.”

His face shifted beet red. “No! Shut up!”

“Let’s listen to him, Wukong.”

“Fine. What is it?”

“Look I don’t care about you two.”

“Wow a great way to start,” Sun Wukong joked.

“Shut up. Look I don’t care about you two but I should at least try to get along with you. Heavens, this is difficult.”

Tang interrupted with, “You better go through with it.”

“Tang! I will. I promised I would.”

“Good. Even though I’m still mad at you, all of you. Make this easy on me and the kids by at least being civilized. Before I leave you to your own devices. My previous death,” he winced, “wasn’t any of your faults and I don’t want you to blame each other or yourselves for what happened. It’s all in the past and I’m here now. Got it?”

They bobbed their heads. “Good. Now I’m going to eat something. Have fun.” He left to the kitchen.

The youngest demon clasped in hands together. Wukong apologized with “I’m sorry.”

“Sorry?”

“Sorry for not being there when you and master needed us. Everyday I think about how we should have gotten there faster. Maybe things would be different. We shouldn’t have given up on you so easily.”

“You didn’t. I was the one who made it difficult on you.”

“Still. We should have stayed with you,” Bajie said.

“I would have gotten even more pissed.”

“Even still. We should have done somethin’.”

“There was nothing you could have done. Just like… just like with master’s death,” he admitted. “After all this time, I didn’t want to admit how I acted was horrible to you two. I always thought… thought that Tripitaka loved you more than he loved me and that broke me inside. I still think that way. It’s not something that’s easy to get over.”

“We know.”

“And I don’t exactly forgive you either because a part of me still thinks you wanted him gone but I know I have to deal with you around and if I never say this, I’ll make it difficult for all of us. I have to protect that kid even if it means opening up to all of this. So that’s it. I don’t exactly forgive you but I’m not going to remain that pissed either. At least try to.”

“We appreciate that,” Wukong responded with a smile. “We’ll try our best to make it up to you again. And we’re really sorry we couldn’t help save master. That decision still haunts us.”

“I know.”

“But it wasn’t all for nothing,” he continued. “He came back and we got Tang. Tang is pretty cool.”

“Yea, he is. I just wish he believed I like him.”

The pig asked, “Do you or do you just like him because he’s master?”

“I… I don’t know. I would like to believe that I do and I do but his words make me doubt that.”

“You have to figure it out. It isn’t easy for him, ya know? The guy he has a crush on only likes him because he’s the reincarnation of the guy he loved. And this whole time, this guy has never said a word.”

“I know what he thinks and I’m trying to figure it out so I can tell him.”

“If ya ever need us, we’re right here.”

Wujing nodded and got up from the couch. “Thanks… big brothers.”

The two grinned at being acknowledged as his eldest disciple brothers even though their relationship wasn’t completely repaired. The blue demon went into the kitchen with Tang. The human looked at him as he stood over a pan, he pressed a hesitant kiss and whispered “Good job but I’m still mad.”

“I know. I’ll prove to you I like you.”

The human’s eyes drifted to the pan, a small nod of the head and replied, “I hope you mean that” then went back to ignoring him.

#lego monkie kid #monkie kid #red shark au #red sand au #sha wujing #sandy #lmk sandy #tang #mr tang #sun wukong #monkey king #monkie kid wukong #pigsy #zhu bajie #jasmineteashipping #jasminetea #my fic #philo/tiger writes #I’m making that a tag now

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korpuskat · 4 years

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Kinktober Day 13 - Watersports - [Tomura Shigaraki/Reader]

[Ao3 Mirror] Rating: Explicit Word Count: 927 Summary: Tomura Shigaraki accidentally kidnaps you and decides killing you isn’t quite easy enough. Contains: implied noncon oral; sex and gender neutral reader insert; watersports, wetting, humiliation, degradation

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Fear, fear- you’re staring at the colorfully caped heroes, their determined, unafraid eyes- they’ll save you. They have to. If they don’t-

The cold fingers at your throat tighten, all but one which hovers just past the others. He talks again, voice rasping next to your ear- hiding half his face behind your head. He's going to kill you, no matter what he's saying to them; it's in his voice, the adrenaline-driven upturn there. No doubt he'll escape and then, then you won't be necessary and you-

“Shigaraki…!” One of the heroes yells- and you're falling.

You're dying. Down and down, through mist- cool and dry, like smoke billowing up around you- and you land, your weight coming down hard on your tailbone, leaves you sprawled out on the floor, staring up into a black cloud that retracts, slides away.

He's not holding you anymore, stomping off towards a bar, towards a man who looks like fog itself with two golden eyes and-

"Damn heroes, can't even walk down the street without interfering! Only around when it's convenient." Shigaraki grumbles, turns away from you. From his pocket he withdraws- your stomach drops- a hand and places it on the bar's counter.

He's halfway into the seat when the other man finally speaks. "Tomura Shigaraki, the hostage."

Shigaraki stops, turns, and for the first time, you're actually staring down those blood red eyes, the horrible warped lines of his scars- "Hm. That's right." He cross the room in two strides, horrible palm outstretched, just about to consume your vision and-

you flinch away, bury your face in your shoulder- and fear overtakes every other sense.

"Oh?" Shigaraki says. Acutely, you are aware that only two fingers pressed to your forehead. The subtle warmth of his palm graces your nose- and warmth slides along your thighs. Warmth and- and- Your eyes snap open, gaze dropping down, just as shocked at your captor's as the cloth of your pants darkens, dampens. This cool tips of his fingers leave your face as he stands up to his full height.

The white rubber sole of his shoe nudges your leg apart. "What happened here?" You can only whine, cover your face with your hand as the shame makes your face heat. Shigaraki laughs. A high-pitched horrible little noise that makes you pinch your eyes closed. "Hah! You wet yourself! Am I really that scary?"

Something about that sparks a change- a single shuddering breath above you and the toe of his shoe is pressed up against your sex, squeezing the wetness there back into your skin. "Or maybe," Shigaraki's voice has dropped down low, rasping. "maybe." His fingers twist into your hair and the fear of death surges back, overtakes your shame for a moment- before he shoves your face against his clothed cock. Mortification takes over, a completely different fear taking root in your belly. "You like it."

You push at his thin thighs, shake your head as best you can- which only earns you a low groan and a twitch of his cock. He pulls you away- pulls the reign of your hair tighter over his hand while he pops the button of his pants with the other. With your eyes still squeezed shut, you plead, "Please, please, don't- I'm not-"

and something hot splashes across your face. You flinch back as hard as you can with his iron grasp of your hair. It runs down from your forehead, arcs along your nose, over the curve of your cheek and down, down into your still open mouth. Your jaw snaps shut, but not before the bitter, sour flavor of what can only be his piss washes over your tongue. Pain laces through your scalp as you twist your face away, let tears mingle with the wetness on your cheeks.

"So rude! I'm giving you a gift and you turn away." He laughs and you want to sink into the ground, to dissolve into nothing- you probably will. That chills you, despite the heat of the urine that now soaks your hair, drips and runs into your shirt, your clothes- he's going to kill you. "It's like you want to piss me off."

Your lip wobbles and a stupid, desperate hope makes you turn back towards him. The stream centers on your face once more and you shudder, strain to breathe through your nose without gagging at the overpowering acrid scent. Shigaraki hums approvingly above you, "That's it." The stream peters out, weakens and dribbles, splashes on the floor between your legs.

Sniffles are the only noise in the room for a long minute and you dare to hope. To believe, maybe, that's it. He's humiliated you and now he'll drop you off somewhere with one more horror story about the depraved, amoral Shigaraki.

"Look at me." He demands. You shake, flex your fingers where they still hold onto his thighs. Still, you obey. Tip your head back, and peek out past your piss-soaked eyelashes. To your horror, he's grinning- white teeth shining in the low mood lighting of the bar. "Now what do you say?"

Your lips twist, purse- but you want to believe. Voice small, hardly more than a whisper. "Th- thank you."

His fingers tighten, his smile falters. "Use my name."

Sickness rises in your throat, but you shake and breathe and force it out. "Thank you, Shigaraki."

The grin returns full force, a dangerous glittering in his ruby eyes. "Cute."

"Now," His cock bobs just in front of you. "Be a good pet and clean me up."

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If you like my writing, please consider reblogging or leaving me a tip!

#Tomura Shigaraki #tomura shigaraki x reader #Tomura Shigaraki fic #bnha x reader #kinktober #kinktober 2020 #tomura shigaraki x gn reader #kat talks

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fairymadnessyeah · 3 years

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BNHA Ship to Finish the Year

KotEri (Izumi Kota x Eri Aizawa)

Canon

I like to think that Kota and Eri meet during October. Eri never went trick or treating, and since Kota is a kid her age and Ragdoll is available for taking the door to door, Shota deems it okay.

They met before Halloween night, and it goes okay. Mostly they talk about costumes.

They dress up as LeMillion and Deku. Ragdoll sends a lot of pictures, It's too cute.

From there on out, the two are inseparable. I feel like Kota would be Eri's first friends, and he teaches her the beauty of pranks. Once, they put cooking oil on the floor and watched as Iida went flying into the TV. There is a no running rule now.

I don't think they would go to school together until they go to UA.

I feel like until then Kota only sees her as a friend until they start high school. Suddenly, the guys of class 1a are talking about who the cutest girl and they all think it's Eri.

He knows he shouldn't, but he is mad about it... Oh no!

I feel that for Eri, it happens later and more slowly. She knows she can trust Kota. Whenever she has a problem or needs someone to talk to, she knows she can trust in him.

By the second year, when I imagine he suddenly hits a growth spurt and enters his emo phase, she realizes he is handsome.

The two don't say anything until they go to a hero-convention (Deku Merch!) and one of the ex-Hassaikai attacks as a villain and recognizes Eri.

Kota helps her by taking her around the city, and when they get to a Sakura tree, Eri leans in and kisses him. He obviously returns it, and they start dating.

They keep it a secret for as long as they can, since Aizawa is the principal and very protective of his daughter. However, once he finds out, his trust in Kota is completely broken. He is not welcome in their home anymore.

However, Shinsou is weaker against Eri's puppy eyes.

I don't know why, but I would love a fic about them like this:

"Hey Izu-kun, you know how to drive right? And your aunt's and uncle let you take their car whenever?"

"Yeah, why?" "I need you to drive me somewhere?" "Sure, where?" "Tartarous," "... alright."

"So, why am I driving you to Tartarous?" "Oh, I want to talk with Chisaki," "*stops abruptly* WHAT!? You want to talk with the man that tortured you since you can remember and made your life a living hell!? WHY!?!?"

"I need closure. I know I might never be able to forget him and what he did, but I can't freeze every time somebody mentions him. I need to do this, I need to move on,"

He goes with her, as moral support. It kind of helps seeing him armless, behind bars and defeated, but Eri simply tells him she is moving on with her life and he should too.

After it, they go for ice-cream and a walk in the beach (I like to think this is a favourite date for them). I think it's a very romantic moment until Shinsou interrupt them.

Her family was made aware that she visited Chisaki and have been looking for her like crazy.

Family

Aizawa is not happy when he finds out. This is what happens:

*Eri comes in with Kota. The two have smoothies, Kota a blue one and Eri a red one* "Hi dad! We are going to be in my room studying! Don't interrupt us!" "Alright!"

*An hour later* "Eri, Mic is going to be home in a few minutes, we'll have dinner when he arrives. Is Kota staying?" "No, his aunt is picking him up in a bit," "...Why is your tongue purple?" "Oh... um... maybe it was the smoothie," "You had a red smoothie... and Kota had a blue... one..."

*He realizes what happened and starts stomping up the stair, Eri behind him, telling him to calm down. He slams the door open and sees Kota, with his hair messed and his lips covered in lip gloss, throwing himself off the window.* "Come here, you traitor!"

Aizawa calls a family meeting, and even Shinsou who has his own home has to come. He is ready to expel him, he feels betrayed. He trusted that kid in his home, and he takes advantage of his daughter? I don't think so! He is going to die.

Hizashi cries, his baby girl is replacing him. (I headcanon that she would die her hair to look like a rainbow, and Kota helps her, instead of Hizashi)

Shinsou is the one who sides with Eri, reminding his parents that she is old enough to make a decision like this, and they should trust her. "Besides, I was her age when Kaminari and I started doing stuff," "What?" "What?" "I don't live here anymore, I don't have to keep secrets,"

Shinsou lets her come to his home to get ready for her dates, so that Koda doesn't have to fear for his life in their living room. However, he still threatens him.

"For some reason, you make Eri happy. But if that changes, and you make her sad, you are going to wish, Midoriya never saved you from Muscular," "H-how do you know that?" "I know everything. Have fun on your date!"

The WWP are embarrassing. They have a photo album ready, they tell Eri how much he talks about her.

They also have an open-door policy, but Koda is a rebel and doesn't follow the rule. However, they found a way around it.

*comes in without knocking* "Hey kiddos, want some cookies?" "No, Aunt. We are fine," "Alright, just keep the door open!"

*comes in without knocking* "Hey lovebirds, are you thirsty? I made some lemonade!" "We are fine, Pixie-bob," "Alright, just keep the door open!"

*comes in without knocking* "Have you seen the cat?" "We don't have a cat, Ragdoll!" "Oh, right! Keep the door open!"

But when he locks the door:

*BANG!* "Aaaaahhhh!" "Aaaaaaaahhhhhhh!" "Tiger! Did you just kick the door open!?" "Yes! Remember to keep the door open!"

Also, when they found out, the WWD follows them on their date. They need pictures.

The problem is that Kota and Eri are not on a date. They are helping Katsumo give a tour of the city to his sister. They all notice the four pros following them, Kota tells them to ignore them.

I feel like Deku would be happy for them. His first fans are so cute together.

AU - Band AU

This is a modern setting au.

So, Eri was adopted into music. After she was rescued from Chisaki, she was adopted by Present Mic and his husband, Aizawa.

Present Mic is a famous radio host, and before that, he and Aizawa and Oboro played in a band together. Now, Aizawa is a music manager for young artist, in between those there is 1A band.

As she grows up, she is introduced to music, and it becomes one of the best things in her life. She is a great singer, and she also learns how to play the piano.

She want to have a career in music, so when she is a teen, at UA school, she joins the music club.

She is trying to form a band, and along the way she finds Katsuma, who becomes the bassist, Tamashiro on the drums, and they only need a guitarist and vocalist.

Enter Bad boy Kota. His parents were musicians that died in a boat accident, and so Kota now lives his aunt and their dancing group, The Wild Wild Pussycats.

He used to love music, but now it's only a reminder of who he lost.

But one day, Eri hears him sing. She asks if he would want to join their band. He refuses and leaves, but that is not the last he sees of Eri.

The two are paired for some school work, and while working on it, Eri starts singing, and it wakes something in him.

Kota doesn't know what it was, but suddenly, he felt as if he was with his parents again.

He tells her that he'll join her band temporarily, at least so he has enough time to figure out what was that feeling.

They are all ecstatic, and they start playing together.

Eri and Kota are the ones who most clash since he is really into rock and edgy stuff, and she is more cute and pop style.

However, the two spend a lot of time together.

Kota wants to understand how Eri makes him feel stuff, and Eri doesn't really mind his company, so she lets him stay. She was always very shy, so it's hard for her to make friends without recurring to music.

At some point, Eri tells Kota about her life as Chisaki's toy, and it makes him realize why Eri is so special.

She is real, she suffered and survived, and now she can keep smiling. Which Kota never got to, he never moved on from his parents death, and still hold on to the rage and sadness.

Kota also opens up to Eri, and he tells her about his parents death and his departure from music.

Eri asks him to sing with her, and when they do, Kota feels like he has his parents back. It brings him to tears, but Eri hold him.

The band present themselves to the talent show of the school and somehow end up winning.

During the celebration party, Kota and Eri kiss.

Fanon Opinion

I'm sorry, but I don't feel comfortable writing NSFW stuff about Kota or Eri.

I know that I age up everybody, and I did so with these two, too, but I can't.

I can't picture them as nothing, but children and I am not going to write PWP about that.

I don't they would do it until their third year, but I do think that they make out.

I think this is a very cute couple. They have that puppy-love thing going for them.

Also, I love this because it would be a good thing for Eri. We just want good things for Eri.

And I know that Eri is older than Kota, and supposedly she should be his senpai. But with all the emotional baggage she has, I think it makes sense that she would start school a little later.

I think that they would be a beach and parks couple. In summer, they go to the beach, while in the winter they hang around the park.

I feel like they would love to go camping.

Also, they match. They are horn buddies.

Also, Tik-Tok has a lot of stuff about them, so I recommend seeing them. I got the Band AU idea from it.

I imagine that they would become heroes when they are older. Eri would be like a new recovery girl, but scarier, and Kota would torture the children when they go to the training camp.

In my mind, Eri uses Aizawa's capture weapon, but she has it wrapped around her arms, covering her scars.

Also, while they are at the dorms, they are the Parent Couple. The two take care of their classmates with Kota stopping them from doing stupid shit and lecturing them, and Eri comforting them and healing their bruises.

Also, if Katsuma goes with them to class, he would be the baby.

"Oh, No! This is Bad! This is Bad! Stress is bad for the baby!"

"What baby?"

"ME! I'm the baby!"

#bnha #mha #kouta x eri #kouteri #izumi kouta #eri bnha #eri aizawa #bnha headcanons #bnha ships to finish the year #canon #family #band au #fanon opinion

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jadedragoness · 4 years

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Battle Ground 1st Read Through Reaction

Can I just start off by saying, Holy crap. Chicago got curb-stomped hard. So freaking hard.

I really, really, enjoyed the story. I pretty much didn’t want to stop reading as soon as I cracked open the covers of the book but I did have to have periods of giving myself a break and just put the book down and go do something sensible like do the dishes instead of screaming or shaking my fists at the sky like a lunatic.

I do admit that as a story the continuous battle was draining and exhausting to read. But I think that was the point so I don’t really count it against the story. It is something important to know going in, and why I’d recommend breaks.

Let’s talk spoilers… just assume spoilers for everything Dresden Files related too. Ummm, also this runs long.

First Let’s Me Tell You About the Thing Which Exploded My Brain:

1. MARCONE IS FREAKING KNIGHT OF THE BLACKENED DENARIUS! WHHHAAAAT!!

...okay, I’m done screaming about it.

OF FREAKING THORNED NAMSHIEL!!! ...I lied, I wasn’t done. How long? What? When? I didn’t see this coming at all! And I’m so freaking torn about how to feel about it.

I am so damned (heh) relieved that Marcone’s didn’t die at Ethniu’s hands. I seriously freaked at the moment she snapped his neck that I went into instant denial and my eyes skipped several paragraph down out of the desperate wish to see if it was trick. I’m also very, very delighted that Marcone is now so much harder to kill. I mean, he was already pretty hard to kill being Marcone but this just takes it up to eleven.

On the other hand, a Fallen Angel is so freaking dangerous. *makes gargling worried noises* And while it looks like Marcone appears to have worked out a partnership with the coin I can’t help but remember that when we were first introduced to this Fallen he was called ‘Thorned Namshiel’ and not by the name of his bearer. So he appears to be the type to subsume the human who holds him. Which makes me worried that Marcone could be on that path and not even realize it. *goes back to making gargling worried noises*

I do find reassuring that the coin is on a chain around his neck and therefore easily removed and not buried in his body like some of the other Denarians will do.

However, I am feeling a little disappointed Marcone is no longer purely a ‘vanilla’ mortal who stood toe-to-toe eldritch beings and survived by simply being smarter, deadlier and amazeballs. I’ll miss that. I always thought that it was especially hilarious how much Harry would freak out about Marcone and how deadly Marcone is when even in the same room as scary monsters (like in ;Skin Game;, I mean seriously he was in the same room as Nicodemus and Harry was hardcore worried about upsetting Marcone… hilarious!) when Marcone was a vanilla mortal… but now he’s not.

And yet, now Marcone knows how to sling around magic and is incredibly hard to kill. *thumbs up at Jim Butcher* Yeeeessssss! *is so happy*

Although… if Harry doesn’t end up making all manner of ‘thorny’ jokes at Marcone I’m going to be very disappointed. =D

Things I Sorta Expected:

1. Murphy dying.

Now, I totally bawled at the scene after Rudolph shot Murphy. I especially lost it when Harry kept referring to her body as an ‘empty house.’ ARGH. But I wasn’t actually surprised that she died. I did feel like I got a very strong sense it was going to happen. Actually, from how often Harry’s thoughts seemed to be pinging in that direction I was partially convinced his wizardly ‘insight’ was kicking in and trying to warn him.

And he tried. He really did.

But ultimately it was Karrin’s own choice to be away from safety and be her badass self.

2. Hendricks’ dying.

I’ve actually have read the short story ‘Monsters’ from Goodman Grey’s POV and I’ve read it a little over a week ago and in it he notes Marcone’s bodyguard as a dumb Einherjaren. Which made my brain go: Whoa, wait… where’s Hendricks? Is Hendricks dead? Did Hendricks die and become in Einherjaren? Or is he off doing something and one of those guys is taking over for a bit? Fuck, Hendricks is dying in ‘Battle Ground’ isn’t he?

So I wasn’t exactly surprised, but I was still very, very upset. And when Ethniu picked up Hendrick’s corpse and smashed him into Marcone that’s where I lost it. Like totally lost it while also being worried about Marcone at the same time. Gah.

Curveballs I Did Not Expect:

1. Marva and Drakul. The deaths of Wild Bill and Yoshimo at the hands of Black Court vampires and the threat that we may see them again as Black Court? Did not see that coming. I expected to lose Wardens but not like that.

...and I may be in denial about Chandler (I like the guy, okay) being dead. Please. He’s a wizard. He’ll be back. Of course as soon as I wrote that I was instantly struck of by the thought of: “Yeah, but will you like what you get back?”

2. Also Drakul is a starborn? I get more and more curious about what it means! I’m with Harry in frothing in frustration over how people won’t tell him already! *screams into the void*

Also Kincaid worked for this guy? *shudders*

3. Marcone and Thorned Namshiel. *gurgles*

4. Justine had Nemesis in her! And for years?!

How in the hell are they going to save her? Mab barely saved Lea and she’s Mab!

Also I thought Nemesis was very infectious. Is there anyone else around who has been infected? Maybe among Harry’s friends with Justine as the vector? *is worried*

5. Not getting a resolution on the situation with the Svartalves. Or did I miss something? Seriously, the ending of the book felt like it was missing about 30 more pages to wrap up and work a bit more on characters.

Things I Did Not Like or Was Disappointed By:

1. Rudolph getting to live. Fuck that guy.

Okay, I understand that his not getting murdered at Harry’s hands wasn’t really for Rudolph’s sake but for Harry’s own soul. I just want him dead. Dammit, is it too much to ask for him to have been shot by a turtleneck or stomped by a Jotun or splattered by Formor acid that slowly ate away at his guts as screamed until his internal organs slowly dissolved?

I have may have a bloodthirsty vengeful streak. And yet: want.

2. I also may have narrowed my eyes at the end of the book there after Harry said that Marcone was dropping off the keys and then it turned out Lara had picked them up instead. I may have also said aloud, “Butcher, are you Marcone-blocking me?” And he was, dammit, because I didn’t get to read more Marcone.

… I do not have a Marcone-addiction.

3. This is more disappointment than dislike but I didn’t get nearly as much Goodman Grey as I thought I’d get. Aw.

4. Harry not getting to talk to Ivy. *grumbles*

Things I Really Liked/Loved

1. Harry got his home back! And it’s the castle! The castle he all but swindled out of Marcone. Yes, I love it! I love Marcone but doesn’t mean I don’t enjoy it when Harry get the best of him too. Anyway, I just love the fact that Harry is claiming parts of his life back from the traumatic heart-stomp events which occurred in ‘Changes’. *bounces in excitement* Now he just needs an office!

2. Marcone. Always. Actually I was a little afraid when he vanished after the battle started that there would be very little Marcone in this book too because Butcher is so Marcone-stingy.

3. That Harry is no longer a member of the White Council. I mean, they’ve been pretty useless to helping Harry out. And honestly, Harry has gotten so many headaches from them that I can’t help but think this is a weight he needed to shed.

Although, it really feeds my ‘Harry needs to become a member of the accords in his own right’ thing again. Seriously, he’s the Warden of Demonreach. He bound a Titan. It needs to happen. Ooh, or the Paranet can see about becoming an Accorded organization in their own right and then Harry can be with them. Yeeeessss.

4. Bob is back in Harry’s hands! Freaking yes! Whoohooo! About time! Oooh, wait, has Bob meet Bonnie? Can we read this happening? OMG, I want it so much… or would Harry be too horrified to let Bob influence his spirit-kid? LoL.

5. Seeing Toot-toot and Lacuna again! And when Harry pulled his ‘Za Lord’ maneuver and got the Guard and a ton of other fairies to help in the defense of… well, pizza in Chicago, that was great I punched the air.

The I gloated even more over how Mab then explained Harry had scared some of the others with that move. Heh.

6. River Shoulders was so damn badass and amazeballs and like Wild Bill said, I’ll take two.

7. Michael and Charity already knowing that Molly is the Winter Lady and being the best parents and loving and accepting and… so much love for those two.

EVERYTHING MARCONE… yes, he’s getting his own heading

1. Gah, I love him. I have mentioned this before. That one of the first things he says to Harry when Harry is staring at him as he changes clothes is to paraphrase ‘did you forget how to get dressed or is this an awkward sexual reconnaissance’ nearly killed me. I was caught between giggling and choking on my own spit and then I nearly fell off the couch. Just remembering about it now, has me giggling at the computer screen.

2. Also, I find that ‘Excellent’ response from Marcone after they exchange threats to be fascinating. This was one of those points were I put the book down and wondered what Marcone meant by that. Then I had the thought that maybe in his own fashion, Marcone was doing the same thing that practically everyone had been doing with Harry since he got back from being shot. He was checking to see if Harry was still the same man he’d been before. And from Harry’s response, Yup. He was. So: “Excellent.”

Having also read ‘Skin Game‘ and how cold Marcone is in the end there? The difference with this Marcone versus the one where Mab was listening? I find that interesting too!

3. When Marcone showed up to the fight! So freaking badass! Love how he led the fighters.

Also I find it significant that both of the guys who are obsessed with protecting Chicago were the ones who manifested ‘banners’ which drew humans to the fight.

Really cool. And it reminds me all over again that for all their different life philosophies Marcone and Dresden do agree on the mantra of: Protect Chicago.

4. This book, especially the lake beach scene reminded me so hard why I love the banter between Harry and Marcone so much. When it just seems to be the two of them and they aren’t actively threatening each they have such a great rapport! Loved reading it! Wished we got more of it in the books.

5. Okay, with Hendricks’ death I’m rather worried for Marcone. ‘Even Hand’ gave the impression Hendricks often acted as a very gentle conscience to Marcone. Losing him has got to be hitting Marcone hard. And that I now know he only has a Fallen angel on his shoulder?

Yup, growing more worried for Marcone at the time.

6. I’m also wondering about what was said in that exchange between Mab and Marcone on the roof when Harry called out Marcone for about being the Lord of Chicago needing to be more than talk. Okay, I can guess. I just really, really want to hear the words because I bet Marcone was badass.

7. The Lord of Chicago giving Harry the title of the Wizard of Chicago? Freaking loved it.

8. Also Marcone freaking purred. Purred. “Prove it,” he purred. “Hero.”

I think Jim Butcher is trying to give me a heart attack or cause me to crack my skull on floor because I nearly fell off the couch again.

9. With Marcone now outed as a magic-wielding Denarian does that mean we get more of him in the future books? Because I freaking hope so... I say this even knowing I’d have the exact same wish even without him being a magic-wielding Denarian.

Things I Found Completely Hilarious

1. Marcone’s opening lines to Harry. Heh. Forever Lol!

2. Is Lacuna a tooth fairy? Her obsession with teeth cracked me up so much.

3. That Mab smacking both Lara and Harry with those wedding plans. *snickers* I mean, I find it totally hilarious because of how gobsmacked both of them were about it. I don’t expect Harry to go through with it at all, not with how we know how seriously he takes relationships. So either he’s going to get out of being the Winter Knight or find some other way to defy Mab. Or hell, maybe Lara gets them both out of it by marrying someone else first. Honestly, I can’t see her agreeing to marry someone who’d burn her with a touch.

Pure Speculation or Things that Just Excite Me for the Future:

1. Now I bet you’re all wondering why I’m not more upset about Murphy or Hendricks dying. Simply put, I’m 100% convinced that when both Murphy and Hendricks wake up in Valhalla, in drinking (with quaffing I bet) halls full of grunting, fighting obsessed Vikings and they will go ‘Nope, I’m out!’ three seconds later. Those two? Especially knowing how much trouble Harry and Marcone have got to be getting up to without them? They’d probably join forces and stage a breakout to get back.

This is what occurred to me the moment Gard explained what happened to their bodies. The whole not come back until everyone who knew them was gone, yeah, right. Not happening.

Or, jeeze, I can’t image Marcone not thinking this was a possibility and then not having made plans to bust Hendricks out and you know Murphy would demand to come along too. And with Thorned Namshiel providing help? I can see this happening.

...okay, this idea sneaked into my head but now I’m seeing Murphy (having busted out of Valhalla with a bunch of Einherjaren) and learning about the upcoming nuptials between Lara and Harry leads a raiding party (what else, with Vikings!) to bride nap (groom nap?) Harry away before he says “I do.“ Heh. This would be hilarious.

2. I’m sorta vibrating with the possibilities of what the future will bring with a Chicago that is waking up to the dangers of the supernatural while at the same time having learned that it is possible to stand up to monsters and kill them. Especially, what this means when bad things go down in Chicago again, because of course they will. And there may be more people joining in the fight.

Hmm, can the Paranet be deployed as a means of bringing vanilla mortals in or educating them so they don’t go after the good guys? They do sort of stand in the middle, more so than Harry. *lost in thoughts*

3. While I’m actually a little surprised that Ebenezar made it out alive as I actually had him down on my ‘Will Probably Die List’. I was relieved as I hope to see him and Harry actually have that conversation which Harry wants. Seriously, if only for Maggie’s sake, who shouldn’t have her first and last memory of her Great-Grandpa be him being a total jerk.

4. Harry can bind the prisoners of Demonreach to do his bidding? *blinks* Ooh, the possibilities.

5. These Librarians, the Men in Black of the DF ‘verse, sound amazing and I can’t wait to see them show up.

#the dresden files #battle ground #Harry Dresden #harry blackstone copperfield Dresden #The Curbstomp of Chicago #spoilers #battle ground spoilers #dresden files spoilers #karrin Murphy #mab #review/reaction #formor war #formor #river shoulders #nathan hendricks #john marcone #gentleman john marcone #book spoilers

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copias-thrall · 4 years

Text

Pretty Thing

[Should I be working on any of my other things? Yes! Did I write this instead? Also yes!]

Mary Goore is a troll.

Yes—a shit stirrer for sure, but mostly he’s a fiend who lives somewhere dank and far from people. Some say he squats in a mausoleum, but others will laugh and tell you he sublets a garden-level apartment. He’s always just around—the scene’s unofficial mascot who flits around, always there with everyone and no one, and damn … you just missed him! But on weekends you can find him working the doors at bars and venues collecting tolls for entry.

On cloudy days, you can find him hanging out in The Pit with all the other gutter punks, passing around a needle to pierce each other and the guitar to play out some tunes. At night, though, he always seems to be hanging off the arm of someone way too clean, looking like the cat who ate the canary. Wherever he lives, he seems to spend more time in someone else’s bed.

It’s a bright, sunny day when you encounter him alone—without the camaraderie of your tribe. Mary Goore is stomping down the sidewalk holding a black-lace parasol aloft. It’s a hot day, so beneath his studded and patched denim vest is just the pale , paleness of his dewy skin—so bright and reflective in the sunshine that you think that maybe he was the inspiration for that vampire. His black jeans are so ripped, you wonder if he wore them special—for the aeration. The carefully-constructed mat of his hair is making a valiant effort to stand up, despite how tufts of it stick to the sweat on his skin.

Some of it’s the shock of seeing Mary Goore out in the sunlight , and some of it is just how blindingly white he is—like sun refracting off a snowdrift—but you can’t help gaping at him even when you know he’s close enough to watch you do it.

Now, you don’t know Mary Goore, but you spend enough time in divey bars and underground venues that you’re sure he at least recognizes you, so you expect maybe a wink as he passes by. Instead he walks straight up to you and stops.

“You’ll catch flies that way,” he says, and you shut your mouth with a click. He leans against the building with his free arm and gives you a once over. “Like what you see, gelfling?”

Reflexively, you look him up and down. What you thought were freckles is actually a collection of moles that dot his skin. It’s cute.

“I thought you were a mirage.”

He snorts and leans into your space. “Cuz I’m a cool drink of water?”

You look down again at the flat planes of his pale chest.

“Because you’re, um … glowing.”

Mary licks his lips and hoods his eyes. Your heart pounds.

“I’ll take that as a compliment.”

He leans in, and your eyes flutter closed. You wonder if he’ll taste as rank as he usually looks, or if he’ll taste like mint gum or something. Instead, you feel his lips at the conch of your ear.

“See ya ‘round, gelfling.”

Eyes snapping open, you whip around just in time to him striding away, the parasol still raised to shield him from the sun.

You don’t make it a point to seek Mary out—in fact, you’ve been trying to avoid him, sure he’d only make fun of you. So, it’s a surprise when—while waiting for your drink order—Mary suddenly appears. You start, but he just leans his elbow on the bar.

“Hey,” he says as he catches the straw from his—mostly-finished, bright-yellow drink with a pink paper umbrella—and wraps his plush lips around it. He sucks, and soon you can hear the rattle and slurp as his glass empties. He maintains eye contact with you as he keeps going, the death knell of the drink now gurgling in a prolonged throe as Mary makes use of his surprisingly robust lung capacity.

Before you can say anything, the bartender is placing your pint of beer in front of you.

“That’ll be $6.50, doll.”

Mary waves his arm. “Hey, Ned—put it on my tab.”

Ned raises his eyebrow at him. “You mean ‘Stephanie’s’ tab?” His chin indicates a girl across the room with bright pink and purple hair.

Mary grins, then slams his glass down on the counter. “And make me a tequila sunset.”

“That was a sunrise.”

“I know, man. I like variety.”

When he says ‘variety,’ Mary turns his head to you and winks.

Ned rolls his eyes and buses the glass—but not before Mary plucks out the paper umbrella. Mary crooks his finger at you, but when you hesitate, he leans forward instead.

“I expect you to treasure this forever,” he says as he sticks the umbrella in your hair just above your ear.

You sniff at him. “I’ll treasure it as long as you do your conquests.” You go for a dramatic exit, but almost spill your beer all over you when you practically collide with the guy behind you, and it sloshes a little bit over the lip of the pint glass. Straight backed, you walk stiffly away as Mary guffaws behind you.

The rest of the night, you make a point of not even glancing in Mary’s direction—you don’t want to see if there’s also an umbrella in Stephanie’s hair.

It’s late, and you’re drunk. The lot of you had parted ways after trivia with multiple $5 pitchers. Despite having downed your own weight in French fries, all you want is some fake cheese of the Cheetos variety.

The convenience store is on your way home and it’s still open. After the dark of the night outside, you almost have to shield your eyes from the harsh glare of the fluorescent lights. The bored teen at the counter watches as you stumble around to first the household aisle, then to the candy aisle, and back to the household aisle.

“Motherfucking cum whore,” you say out loud as you squint up at the signs again.

“Do you kiss your mother with that mouth?”

You jump out of your skin, and almost careen into the greeting card rack—but Mary grabs your arm at the last minute. He’s in his worn leather jacket and some really tight-ass jeans. After leering at his thighs for a moment you say,

“Oh. It’s you.”

Mary squints at you and then grins. “You’re sloshed.”

You make a pffft noise at him.

“What drunk logic has brought you here?”

“I can’t find the Cheetos,” you whine.

He laughs at you. “All right. Hold on.”

You let Mary prop you up against the wall by the magazine rack, and you read all the celebrity gossip headlines while you wait. By the time he finally comes back, your eyes are beginning to droop with sleep.

“Hey,” he snaps his fingers in front of your face. “No sleeping yet.”

“Cheetos,” is all you can manage before pointing into your mouth with an ah noise.

There’s a bag placed into your hands, already open. You shove a handful into your mouth before you remember you have to buy it. So you start rooting around in your pockets.

“Jesus you’re a mess.You’re getting cheese dust everywhere. The fuck are you doing, anyway?”

“Gotta pay,” you mumble around the masticated food in your mouth.

“I took care of it. C’mon.” He puts his arm around your shoulders and guides you out of the store. You notice he’s got a coffee cup in his other hand when he brings it up to his mouth.

Once you’re outside, you see a woman in her best goth blacks and contoured Elvira face. She looks up at the two of you.

“Mare?”

“Aww, shit. Sorry, baby. I gotta walk a friend home. Some other time?”

The woman looks at you; even with Mary’s arm you’re weaving, and you haven’t stopped shoving the snack food into your mouth.

“Yeah, whatever.”

She walks into the street and immediately a cab pulls over.

“All right, you,” Mary says, drawing your attention back to him. “Let’s get you home.”

The two of you walk in silence except for the crunch of the Cheetos and the slurp of the coffee.

When you reach your apartment building, you say, “This is me.”

Mary shoves his hands in his pockets.

“Hey, uh—do you mind if I crash on your couch?” He gives you a sheepish smile. “I kinda thought I’d be sleeping … elsewhere.”

“Me casa su casa,” you slur.

“Cool, thanks.”

You can’t wait to see the looks on your roommates’ faces when they wake up to Mary Fucking Goore in their apartment.

But when you all get up, he’s already gone.

You’re eating meat off a stick to soak up the scorpion bowl you and some coworkers shared after a long fucking week. They’re upstairs getting the dance party started, but you’re not allowed up until you finish, so you’re content to watch the shot girls weave expertly in and out the crowd with their wares.

Suddenly a yellow and orange drink slides in front of you.

“But I didn’t …” you start, and that’s when Mary appears and clinks his bright red drink into yours.

“Fancy seeing you here. Oh—is that chicken?”

Before you can answer, Mary is sliding off a chunk of meat from the skewer and popping it in his mouth.

“Hey!” You sputter at him, but he just pushes the drink at you.

“Drink your sunrise.”

You glare at him, but he just takes a big gulp of his own, his Adam's apple bobbing as he swallows. He removes his cherry and holds it out, and you notice that his nails are painted black with a red glitter topcoat.

“C’mon, don’t leave me hanging.”

Sighing, you remove your cherry and hold it out. As Mary touches his to yours he says “Clink”, and then pops it into his mouth. You do the same, squishing it between your back molars before taking a sip from the plastic stirrer in your sunrise. When you look up again, you see that Mary’s mouth is moving, his eyes unfocused. You’re about to ask him what’s wrong when he suddenly makes a noise of triumph. He spits something into his palm, which he immediately presents to you proudly.

He’s tied the cherry stem into a knot.

You just gape at him.

Mary deposits the stem into your hand, closing your fingers around it before leaning in. “In case you forget what I can do with my tongue.” Then he gently closes your mouth with a hand to the bottom of your chin. “You know, you keep doing that, and one day someone’s gonna stick something in there.”

Before you have a chance to respond, someone across the bar yells Mary’s name.

“Oop! Gotta bounce! Smell ya later, gelfie.”

And then he’s downing the rest of his drink and heading over to a gaggle of hipsters in flannel and leather. As you finish the last hunk of meat, you watch the group leave as they shout and whoop.

The last thing you expect to see on stage is Mary Goore on guitar when he’s not even in the fucking band. True, he’s been known to mix and match and do the occasional substitution—but there wasn’t even an announcement about it.

He’s in his stage shirt—the one almost covered in myriad blood trails—and a pair of jeans that are only torn at the knees. There’s a line of drinks next to him from admirers that he’s doing his best to slam back in between songs. The venue doesn’t make those kind of mixed drinks, so you’d sent Mary a shot of tequila with a cherry impaled on a plastic sword in it. “Inside joke,” you’d explained to the confused bartender.

When Mary gets to it, you watch the confusion on his face as he examines the contents. Then his head shoots up, scanning the crowd until his eyes land on you. You wave your own cherried sword at him before sucking the cherry into your mouth. He grins, takes out the sword, and runs it along his tongue before popping the cherry in. There are a few hoots from the audience, and then Mary is shooting the tequila before starting into the chords of the next song.

After the set ends, you convince your friends to stay for another round, vibrating with the certainty that Mary will come out to sass you. You can’t wait to see the look on your friends’ faces when he does.

It’s completely by accident that you even see him leave at all.

You’re waiting in line for the only bathroom in the entire place, when you see the band erupt from the back room. You raise your hand to wave, but Mary isn’t even looking in your direction. Instead, he’s got his arm draped around the bassist—the one everybody considers the “pretty” one—and is close talking in his ear. From the way the bassist’s hand is moving in Mary’s back pocket, you have a good idea who he’s leaving with tonight even before you watch them slip out the back door.

After that night, you go back to avoiding any place you think Mary might be. So it’s with irritated exasperation that you see him collecting cover for Thursday 80′s Night. He’s sitting on a stool, legs splayed wide open—with absolutely no shame that there’s a giant hole on the inside of his one thigh—his signature leer on full display.

You’re this close to suggesting to your friends that you just ditch theme night and go sing karaoke at the Chinese restaurant that turns into a club after 10pm, but then Mary sees you. He grins and waves you forward. You try to shake your head, but your friends see, and the group breaks free of the line.

A few people still waiting whine, but Mary just shrugs and taps his pen on the clipboard. “They’re on the list, guys.”

With exclamations of “Cool, dude” and “Thanks, man”, your friends fork over the $20 to Mary. When you try to hand yours over too, Mary just shakes his head.

“Gelflings don’t pay.”

“Stop calling me that,” you snap.

Mary looks a bit taken aback, but nods. “Yeah, ok.”

Again, you hold your money out, but he shakes his head again.

“Nah, you’re all set.

You narrow your eyes at him. “But I want to pay.”

“Buy your friends a round or something.” He gives you a wolfish smile. “Buy me a round.”

You slam the bill down on the stool between his legs, and he only flinches a little. He looks up and squints at you.

"Uh … have I done something to you?”

Inching closer, you get right up in his face. His eyes drop down to your lips before flicking back up.

“You’ve done nothing to me, Mary Goore. Nothing at all.”

For once he has no witty rejoinder, and you don’t bump into anything as you make your way inside.

Life gets a little busy, and before you know it, you realize it’s been two weeks since you’ve been out and about for real anywhere. You send out a text to the group chat, and soon there are plans to see some up-in-coming band at the bowling alley venue.

When you get there, you’re resigned to your fate when you see Mary holding court in the corner. His jeans are more holy than ripped, but you can definitely see his boxers peeking through. He’s in a modified sleeveless tee and his vest. The table next to his group is littered with empty pint glasses and beer bottles.

You look away before he has a chance to catch your gaze. It’s not like you can hide your presence, but you certainly don’t have to encourage him.

The group of you manage to snag a table close enough to the stage that’s being constructed over the lanes, and you put in an order for a round of beers. You sense him even before your friends do a double take at who’s behind you. Sighing, you twist around in your seat.

“What.”

Something you can’t pinpoint flickers across his face. He shrugs.

“Haven’t seen you ‘round.”

“Well, I’m not a grifter. I got shit to do.”

His face falls.

Your friends are watching this exchange like it’s a tennis match.

“I have something for you.”

Before you can even say anything, he’s walking back to his corner and rummaging through his leather jacket. He comes back over and starts searching your face—or at least that’s what you assume he’s doing. Satisfied with what he sees, he nods, then unfurls his palm. In it is a jeweled stud that’s eerily close to the color of your eyes.

“I noticed you were pieced,” he says as he offers forth the earring.

Game. Set. Match.

“I—”

When you make no movement to take it, Mary gently places the stud on the table in front of you.

“Ok,” he says and walks away. You only watch him for a moment before turning back to your table and picking up the stud.

One of your friends gapes at you.

“Did Mary Goore just penguin you?”

You look up sharply. “What? No. Shut up.”

It doesn’t stop there.

When Mary sees the stud in one of your holes—after you sanitized the fuck out of it—he starts giving you tokens. A bejeweled pin for your coat lapel. A subtle bracelet chain. A scuffed silver ring with a onyx inlay. A mother-of-pearl button to replace one you lost on your jacket.

A new one every time he sees you wearing the last one.

You have no idea where he’s getting them. They obviously aren’t new, and you doubt he’s trolling the pawn shops. Each time, he merely comes over, presents his offering, then leaves.

Some part of you realizes you’ve accepted his pitched woo when you get him a band pin from the local secondhand record shop. You know he usually works the door at the Irish pub on Friday nights, so you make it one of your stops. If he sees you in line, he certainly doesn’t try to wave you in again—but when your turn comes up again, you can see a smile start to break out on his face before he schools it.

“ID, please. Cover is $10 before 9 o’clock. No exceptions.” He smirks.

You mock gasp at him. “Highway robbery. I don’t even expect to pay that much on drinks.”

“Like you need to pay for your own drinks, beautiful.” His eyes take all of you in.

“Is that flattery, Goore?” you say leaning into his space.

His shrug says “maybe,” but his hooded eyes say “absolutely.”

Eyes still trained on his, you fish out two crisp fives while stealthily palming the pin. He cups his free hand out, and you place the bills in it, then rest the pin on top. Mary’s eyes zero in on the thing that’s not like the other, and you take the opportunity to skedaddle into the pub—two can play at the gift and run game.

It’s Saturday afternoon, and you’re bumming around in your apartment in a ratty tee and shorts when the buzzer makes its god awful noise. You’re a little wary because your other roommates are out, and you’re not expecting company.

You press the intercom. “Yes …?”

Feedback and a garbled male voice come through.

“Uh. This is Mary Goore. I’m here for …” he trails off, and you wonder if at any point you told Mary your name.

“Hey, dude,” you say.

“Oh. Is that you, um …”

You smile.

“Your gelfling? Yeah.”

“Cool. Cool cool cool. Can I … come up?”

You look down at yourself, and then at the detritus in the living room from 5 people.

“Or you could come down …?” he crackles.

“Gimmie 10,” you say.

Twenty minutes later you’re out the door, and you find Mary leaning against your building, thumbs hooked in his jeans. It’s a dreary day, so his parasol is nowhere in sight.

“Hey,” you say, and Mary opens his eyes. You’re in a comic book t-shirt and your denim shorts, and his eyes travel over you.

“Can I show you something?”

“Sure—” you start, then add, “—within reason.”

He nods. “Yeah. C’mon.”

The two of you start walking, you letting Mary take the lead.

After a block in silence, he says, “Thanks for the pin.”

You look over at him. “Thanks, uh … for the everything.”

He grins. “They look great on you.”

You walk a few more blocks, Mary taking you to a part of town that’s still close to the grid, but far enough that the houses are spaced apart. When he leads you to the back of a 3-story Victorian, you hesitate as he slides through the gate.

“What?”

“Is this the part of my life where I end up in pieces in a ditch?”

Mary rolls his eyes. He points to what looks like a back door.

“My door is here.”

Still wary, you follow after him as he unlocks the door and heads down a set of concrete stairs. You peer down at him.

“Are you sure this isn’t your murder basement?”

He turns to look up at you, his face scrunched in annoyance.

“Not all of us can afford nice, sunny apartments in high rises. Don’t be an asshole.”

“Sorry,” you say, even if you’re not 100% convinced.

You make your way down the steps and into the apartment. It’s actually not the lair you thought it would be. There are support beams throughout, but the paint is cheery and the furniture looks like your grandma got loose. Black clothes are draped everywhere, and there’s an old pizza box on the coffee table—but otherwise Mary’s place isn’t the shitshow you thought it would be.

“The lady’s mom died down here,” he says as he drops his keys on the kitchen counter. “I got it at a steal. As long as I pay rent and don’t blast music past 10pm, she could really give a fuck.”

“Is this what you …?”

He smiles at you, almost shyly. “No. C’mere.” He opens a door, and your interest propels your forward.

It’s Mary’s bedroom. Black cotton sheets are hung all around the room, and what look like back silk sheets—ripped at the corners—are stretched over a queen mattress laid on the floor.

“I’m not allowed to paint,” he says when he sees your line of sight. “And she got rid of the bed for obvious reasons.”

Your gaze comes down to the mahogany dressers. They’re covered in … costume jewelry? You approach one and are fascinated by all the baubles on it. There’s also a stack of polaroids. You pick them up to shuffle through. Most of them are portraits of what you assume are Mary’s conquests—though there are few … less than tasteful nudes.

You squint up at him. “I don’t understand, Mary. What am I supposed to be seeing? Some dead woman’s costume jewelry and bedroom set? Your porn collection?”

“Sorry,” he rubs the back of his neck. “I forgot about those.”

He comes over to take them from you. “I usually keep them here …” He opens the top drawer of the dresser, and you see that it’s full of lingerie.

You back away. “What the fuck is this? Am I here to pose for you or some shit?”

“What? Wait, no! That’s not—” Marys rubs his face in his hands. “Wait, lemme start over.”

Even though you’re dubious, you let Mary take your hands in his.

“Yeah, this place has strong grandma energy … but everything else is me. I brought you here because …” He sighs. “I like to look at the jewelry and I like to wear the lingerie. People, too. I like pretty things, ok? I like to collect them.”

You look back over at the hoard on his dresser.

“So you like … go to estate sales or something?”

You try to imagine Mary in his studs and ripped clothes—fake blood dripping down his face—at some fancy yard sale.

He grins at you.

“You have no idea what my day job is, do you?”

“It’s not making breakfast for your conquests?”

Mary laughs.

“Jesus, no. They want me to stick around as much as I want to stick around. No. I’m a grave digger. Well, I’m kinda a grave digger. Blah blah blah … long, boring story: because of union rules I can’t officially be a grave digger—so I’m paid under the table.”

You slap your hands to your mouth. “OH MY GOD. You’re a grave robber. OH MY GOD YOU’RE A GRAVE ROBBER. Did you?” Your hand flies to the stud in your ear. “ IS THIS?! ”

Mary chuckles at you, then shrugs.

“Yeah, ok. Maybe. But it’s not like they can take it with them—and it turns out that under the table doesn’t come with benefits.”

“Oh my god—is this where the mausoleum rumor came from?”

Mary again takes your hands and draws you closer to him.

“That’s actually not far from the truth. It’s a nice, quiet place. The stone’s a little cold, but no one bothers you there. We should go sometime.”

You look around his room again.

“But … I guess I thought you lived …. This is nice, Mary. Why wouldn’t you want to take people here? Why did you sleep on my couch that one time?”

He shrugs. “It’s just a place to sleep, isn’t it? A cheap, furnished basement.”

You stare at him.

“Why me? Why show me?”

He sighs, air punching forcefully out his nose.

“I dunno. Just a feeling. You ever just. Vibe with someone?” He ghosts a finger down the side of your cheek. “And I like pretty things.”

“You don’t know me.”

“I’d like to.”

You stare at him. Hard. “I don’t like to share.”

He grins at you with too many teeth.

“If I collect you, I want you to be mine.” He crowds into you. “Will you be my Pretty Thing?”

You smile back at him before you’re leaning forward to press your lips into his.

#mary goore #my writing #original content #sfw

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fishfingersandjellybabies · 4 years

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They All Fall Down - fic

Characters: Damian Wayne, Clark Kent, Lois Lane, Bruce Wayne, Jon Kent, Dick Grayson, Tim Drake Summary: Bruce didn’t destroy Dick and Tim after they infected him with the Anti-Life Equation. Now Damian might be the one who pays the price for the oversight. A/N: A DCEASED what-if because I like to hurt myself. Clark and Jon heard Damian’s heartbeat speed up and knew something was wrong. They’d all been silently checking on him during his mourning so they knew where he was. It continues into the normal story from there I imagine. Sorry the end is a little iffy, not sorry for the emotions~ Reminder if you like my stuff, please check out and consider my Patreon and/or Ko-Fi for more!

Damian couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t think. Just held the communicator as tight as possible.

His father had contacted them, told them he was dying. He’d been infected by the Anti-Life Equation, but slowed the spread long enough to call. To say he loved him, he was sorry, and that Alfred was coming.

“But…Bruce, I don’t understand.” Clark was saying, but Damian wasn’t paying attention. He was still trying to comprehend. “I mean…I know you have a lot of technology, but surely there’s failsafes…”

“There…are.” Bruce’s breath was labored. “I was attacked.”

“By who?” Clark demanded. “You said Alfred is fine…”

“Dick. Tim.” Bruce wheezed. “And that’s…that’s something else.”

Damian closed his eyes instantly. Grayson was already gone. Drake. And the apocalypse had barely even started.

What about everyone else? Todd? Cain? Commissioner Gordon? Did they get calls from Father too? Did they know what was happening? Or were they gone too?

He felt a hand on his shoulder. Opened his eyes to see Lois Lane standing next to him, ready to comfort. Jon was behind her, tears in his eyes as he bit his lip.

“…I didn’t kill them.” Bruce whispered. “I…It all happened so fast, and I was too weak. They escaped the manor before Alfred got his shotgun. Before I could go after them.”

Jon gasped, clamped his hand over his mouth. Clark paused, glanced at Damian himself. “…How long ago?”

“Hours.” Bruce admitted. “…Clark, they were heading in the direction of Metropolis.”

“But why?” Lois called. “Why wouldn’t they go into Gotham?”

“Higher population in Metropolis. More people to infect there than Gotham, I imagine. Especially with you all there saving people. Here…” Bruce hesitated. “It’s a bloodbath here already.”

“Father…!” Damian called. Lois’s hand squeezed his shoulder.

“Alfred will be there soon, Damian. Don’t worry.” Bruce promised. “I’m…I’m sorry.”

“Don’t.” Damian cried, ignoring the tears already on his face. “Father, please don’t. You always win. You always find a way-”

“Not this time, son. I’m sorry.” And Bruce sounded genuinely apologetic. Like he’d failed at something. “Stay with Clark and Lois, alright? They’ll keep you safe. And they’ll keep Alfred safe when he gets there too.”

Damian sniffed, wiped at his eyes. “…Yes, sir.”

“I love you, Damian. I always have.” Bruce’s breath hitched. “And I’m so proud of you.”

“I love you, too.” Damian whispered. “I love you, too, Father. Thank you for everything. Thank you for loving me too.”

Bruce grunted, and let out a thin wheeze. “Clark. I don’t want him to…the communicator…”

“I’ve got you, Bruce.” Clark murmured. As if Damian would break at the gentlest touch, Clark carefully took the communicator from his hand, and moved to the other side of the rooftop with the other Justice League members who were gathered.

But even with the attempt to get out of his earshot, Damian heard the low rumble of his father screaming in pain. Lois instantly spun him around, embracing him as tight as possible. She held the back of Damian’s head, practically curling around him.

“Don’t listen, sweetheart.” Lois whispered, even as Jon tackled them both from the side. Damian could feel Lois’s own tears dripping into his hair as he clung to her himself. “Just…block it out, okay? Think about…about Alfred. He’ll be here soon. He’ll be here with us soon, and…and…”

Lois rambled for a few minutes, trying anything she could to overpower the sounds that may have carried from the communicator. It didn’t help much, didn’t wipe out the fact of what was happening, even though her voice was louder than the dying of his father, but he appreciated her effort.

About ten minutes later, still cocooned in Lois’s arms, he heard Clark return.

“Alfred will be here by nightfall.” Clark said solemnly. Damian tightened his own grip on Lois.

It was done. His father was dead.

Batman was dead.

Lois held him for a little while longer, and Jon bounced between checking on them and checking on his own father. Eventually, Damian backed out of her arms, quietly requesting a few moments to himself. She nodded, and gave him a sad smile.

He went to one of the lower roofs of the Daily Planet building. Away from the group, the chatter, the strategizing.

Just a few minutes. That’s all he’d need. A few minutes to cry, to mourn, to grieve. Then he’d be back in the mission. Then he’d go back to saving humanity, like his father and brothers always taught him to.

He thought briefly of his mother. She was in Gotham as well. Did she survive? Did she…need help?

She wasn’t a good person, but if he mentioned it to Clark, maybe Superman would help him go find her.

Would she mourn Bruce? Would she give her condolences for Grayson and Drake? Would she care at all?

He heard a bang as he sat there, the creaking of a ladder, bringing him out of his reverie, back to reality. Figured it was Jon coming to check on him already. How long had he been sitting there? He checked the clock in his mask interface.

Oh. It’d already been an hour.

“…I don’t want to talk about it, Jon.” He called, sitting up a little straighter, rubbing the tears from his eyes. “We have more important things to worry about than-”

There was another stomp, and Damian hesitated. It wasn’t coming from the ladder above him, where Jon would have come from.

It was coming from the fire escape over the ledge in front of him. The one that led to the ground.

“Fuck.” He whispered, scrambling to his feet. He sidestepped towards the ladder that went back to the Justice League, keeping his eye on the roof ledge. He couldn’t take that chance, couldn’t take his eyes off the threat.

Another thump, and then a hand appeared over the side. A gloved hand.

A blue-striped, black gloved hand.

“No…” Damian breathed before he could stop himself. His heart sunk, as a second, bloodier black-and-blue hand joined it. “Oh, please no…”

Dick’s head popped over the ledge, and he snarled like a wild animal, blood flicking away from his face. If you could even call it his face anymore. Skin flapped loosely away from his skull, blood poured like a waterfall from an exposed eye socket. Part of his mouth was missing, and it looked like he was grinning.

And Damian was trained since birth. Under the world’s greatest assassins, under Batman. Under the worst and the best. He trained for moments like this. For scenarios like this. He’d jumped to action in life or death situations before, made decisions at the drop of a hat a million times.

But here, he froze.

“Grayson…” He whispered. Dick’s hands just scrambled on the ledge, like he didn’t know how to climb up. “Grayson…i-it’s me.”

Dick just growled, dragging himself forward, pulling himself onto the roof with his sheer strength.

“Focus!” Damian shouted. “You’ve beaten odds like this before!”

Spit mixed with the blood as it dripped down Dick’s throat. He continued forward, his knee just reaching the ledge. As he did, another hand appeared behind it, slapping to find purchase. A mop of black hair bobbed behind it.

Drake.

Damian’s heart was pounding. What were they doing here? Yes, Batman said they were coming to Metropolis but…to this exact spot? To exactly where he was?

Did they…remember him? Did they come here to find him?

He stepped away from the ladder, towards his brothers.

“Grayson?” He breathed. “Drake?”

Tim gave a shriek, all but flipping himself onto the roof. He stumbled to his knees, but kept his forward momentum. Kept crawling at Damian. Dick shuffled forward, eyes shifting to the roof above them.

Oh, right. The Justice League was up there. A Kryptonian, a Green Lantern, and a bunch of other powerful beings.

Full of life.

They weren’t here for him. They didn’t follow him. They followed the meat. Followed the power.

He was just in the way.

He swallowed back his tears and risked turning away, looking for his way up. The ladder was a few feet down the wall, further than he originally thought. He’d have to make a break for it.

So he did.

But he was still small, still young. And his brothers always had that height on him. That long stride.

That speed.

He took two steps, but Tim was already reaching the ladder with a guttural laugh. Damian tried to back away, but in his periphery, he saw Dick running at him, inhaling into those now-forever empty lungs to roar.

Damian ducked his reaching hands, spun away and tried to put distance between them. He slowed at the ledge they’d climbed, and glanced over. A sea of the Anti-Life zombies were below them, all clamoring for that same fire escape.

He was fucked.

But he didn’t have time to dwell on it. Tim was already rushing back at him, clawed hands aimed at his throat. Dick was right behind him, teeth bared.

Damian dodged to the side.

Those tears he tried to swallow came back full force as he ran to the opposite corner. This was life or death. This was the apocalypse. This was the end, if he wasn’t careful.

But.

He wouldn’t lay a hand on his brothers.

And maybe if he were in a better state of mind, maybe if he hadn’t just listened to his father succumb to this very virus, he would have attempted to take on Drake. Would have tried to fight him, if only out of some semblance of mercy.

But Grayson – never.

Damian could never go against Grayson. Not in the way he needed to save his own life, anyway.

So he ran. He took the cowardly way out, and he ran.

But even the Flash stumbled sometimes.

He was trying to distract them. Play tag until he could get them away from the ladder he needed, then scramble up it and make his escape.

He’d just sidestepped Tim again, swerved around those outstretched hands, and was taking off towards the other side of the roof. Just a few more passes, a few more laps, and he should have them far enough-

His boot hit a loose piece of tarpaper. His foot slid out to the side, twisting his knee in an awkward angle and throwing him down onto the roof.

And it was over.

He rolled to his back just as Dick’s hand closed around his throat. As Tim dropped onto his legs.

Damian closed his eyes. It’s okay. It’s okay. He told himself. It’ll be over quick. And then I’ll be with them. Then I’ll be with my family anyway-

“No!”

Damian opened his eyes just in time to see Jon dropping out of the sky, ramming into Tim with such speed that it launched him from the building, and into the wall of the next one, splattering him into nothing more than blood and guts, like he was a fly on a windshield.

Damian blinked, and Clark was there too. His face was cold, angry, terrified as he grabbed Dick by his own throat and yanked him away.

Damian coughed as he tried to sit up, Jon instantly at his side, holding his shoulders.

“S-Superman-”

“I’m sorry.” Clark said as he held Dick up in the air. Dick struggled in his hold, hands reaching up to try and loosen his grip. He was still growling, still shrieking. “I’m so sorry, Dick.”

Without preamble, Clark shoved his fist through Dick’s chest, pulling as many bones and organs out the other side as he could. Then he dragged his arm until it exploded out Dick’s side.

Dick went limp. Damian gasped, and, for the second time that afternoon, forgot how to breathe.

Carefully, Clark laid Dick’s remains on the roof. “I’m so sorry.” He whispered again, as he used his heat vision to cremate what was left.

As soon as the last of him was ash, Clark turned back to Damian, whose eyes were practically bulging out if his mask. He was trembling in Jon’s hands, jaw dropped in shock.

“No…” He whispered, even as Clark walked towards them. Tears fell instantly as Clark collapsed to his knees in front of him, pulling him fiercely into his arms. “No…!”

No one mentioned the blood on Clark’s hands. No one mentioned Dick’s blood on Clark’s hands.

“I’m so sorry.” Clark repeated shakily as Damian sobbed into his chest. “I’m so sorry.”

Damian just shook his head, his trembles increasing by the second. Clark just squeezed his eyes shut and held the boy tighter.

After a moment, Clark blindly reached out, reeling Jon into his arms as well. Held him just as hard.

(Covered him in Dick’s blood too.)

I will not let this virus touch them. Clark told himself. Silently promised to the children in his arms. No matter what it takes.

After a few minutes, Clark silently took to the air, returning the boys to the rooftop, and the care of the Leaguers standing there, and Lois. Lois began pulling the boys from his arms before he even landed.

He glanced at Dinah and Oliver, who nodded. He gave them a grim smile and nodded back, floating back over to take care of the hoard at the bottom of the fire escape, and the fire escape itself.

He glanced towards the other building, to see if there was anything left of Tim Drake. There wasn’t.

When he decided the hoard of zombies was sufficiently culled, he went back to the rooftop. Dinah had built the green mockery of an igloo around Lois and the boys, giving them a sense of peace in this new chaos, a moment alone. She opened a sliver of it as he walked towards them, and closed it after.

The world could wait a little bit.

Jon was sitting on Lois’s lap, Damian next to her. She was holding his hand, and he wasn’t shaking anymore.

Dick’s blood had dried, leaving brown splashes all across his skin and uniform.

His eyes looked dead.

Clark sat next to him and tugged him into his side. Damian came willingly.

“Mind if I stay with you?” Clark whispered. “Just until Alfred gets here.”

“…Until Alfred gets here.” Damian repeated with a dry voice. “Okay.”

Clark carefully leaned down, pressing a kiss to Damian’s hair. “I’m so sorry, Damian.”

“I know.” Damian returned softly. “I know, Superman.”

Clark glanced up at Lois, at his own son. Jon’s eyes were half-lidded, he was already so exhausted. There were still tear tracks on Lois’s face, too. He gave them a grim smile.

This was going to be a long apocalypse.

#Damian Wayne #clark kent #Lois Lane #jon kent #bruce wayne #dick grayson #Tim Drake

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wekeepcoming · 4 years

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I use this blog to enjoy Death Stranding, but I want to come on and speak about the PS5 Sean thing. I normally don’t comment on the JSE community, as it’s very biased towards Sean. And I kinda stopped watching him after 2017 b/c I felt like he was drifting from his moral compass. Especially after I learned he and Signe broke up. That caught me off guard, actually. But what really caught me off guard is when I learned he had a new girlfriend rather quickly. I had heard of Evelien “Gab” Smolders before... But not for a good reason. See I learned about her when she made the terrible “Herro” comment she made about Ada Wong back in like 2019 I think... And I didn’t know her well enough to think anything but “Damn that’s fucked up” and “that’s racists as all Hell”. I never thought about her again until I learned her and Sean got together... And then, if you watch a clip of him talking about when him and Evelien got together, the math adds up to the fact... That it’s pretty obvious Sean was cheating on Signe. He pretty much maps it out. If you watch this video and go to timestamp 0:50, he tells the story - dramatically- about how he and Eveline met. And he even talks about being on his tour... Which Signe was on with him at the time. And then I think back to when poor Signe was getting blamed for their breakup and people saying she was abusive to Sean (oh yeah, people were saying it)... And I just feel bad for her. Cheating is a BIG no no for me. I have no respect for it, no matter the reason. You don’t do that. It’s messed up... it also explains why Sean was adamant about people not bugging Signe about the break up... B/c I would snap out too if people bugged me about my ex who cheated on me with a married woman!

I’m the same age as Sean. Im actually a month older than him. I know when someone is trying to gaslight or manipulate me. And Sean has shown signs of that over the past two years as well. His constant excuses for things are usually him not taking responsibility when he needs to. Which is something else I have a no tolerance for. You’re a thirty year old grown man, Sean. You’re acting like a dumbass child when you puff up and go “well it’s not MY fault, obviously, it was so-and-so’s fault”... Which is exactly what he’s done. The last incident of this that I remember seeing is when he was making excuses for Nopeify and calling him a dumb teenager. They’re nineteen years old. Granted, at nineteen I did stupid shit... But I wasn’t being homophobic and I didn’t make very obvious school shooting “jokes”. That is just being downright disgusting and very much not okay.

After 2017, I didn’t really care too much about Sean’s channel. His content was getting boring and he was changing a lot. I noticed it when he’d collaborated with Mark or Wade or Bob and the others. And yeah I still popped into his stuff from time to time (that’s how I learned about him and Gab). It was clear to see he was changing. And not in good lights. His confident boost he has gained... It has not made him a better person. Back in the past, it was very obvious he was willing to take responsibility for his errors. Which he’s admitted he did b/c he was afraid of being canceled.. Not because they were genuine mistakes or anything... But at least he took responsibility.

I wasn’t mad about the PS5 comment until he brushed off everyone’s complaints for “it was a joke”... Listen, I know everyone has a different sense of humor... But if people aren’t laughing, then you might wanna rethink your “jokes”. Also! When you made that Corona virus joke about Mark back in like February or March or whenever that stream for GTFO was... You realize, sir, that the man you just made that comment to is half-Korean and of the Asian community. Which is receiving deadly hate crimes and being accused of the outbreak because it was sourced from Wuhan, China (and because the goddamn cheese puff that used to be in office kept calling it “Chinese virus” and making it exclusively like it was an Asian centered virus... ) Yeah, didn’t fucking think did you, boy?

Listen. If Sean was some sixteen year old blabbering about, I wouldn’t give a shit. But he’s my goddamn age and it’s pretty clear his stardom is starting to click and warp him. He’s become materialistic and money driven. There’s nothing wrong with wanting to make money. That’s fine... But waving that money over people and pushing products out while people are financially struggling and pretty much guilting people about donating or buying his stuff... That’s disgusting. Honestly, it gives me Jeffree Star vibes and that’s NOT a complement. And honestly I think he got worse when Gab came around. Toxic, racist, and money digging as she’s shown to be... If someone is willing to cheat on their husband then hook up not even a month after they divorce them... Then that’s just you being gross.

Alsooo, Sean (I love that this turned into me writing it like I’m in his face yelling at him Hah), last I checked you’re supposed to be Irish. And the Irish used to be heavily persecuted and had xenophobic hell thrown at them for centuries... You out there being discriminatory or classist is very much against what your ancestors fought against. You’re a shit stain on Irish history when you act like a fucking rich bitch twat. Very childish, kid. And dating someone who says openly racists things? Thatttt makes you come off just as racists as well... Although the fact you were comfortable with making Asian racist jokes with JadenAnimation back stage on tour is enough for me to look at you sideways and with disgust.

Also, I love how your sudden LGBTQA+ support streams happened around the same time businesses were profiting off the LGBTQA+ community with pride related objects and billboards... yeah I noticed that. Real cute 😑

Look, I don’t hate the guy. But his actions aren’t favorable and he needs a real world vibe check, because Sean, you could easily find yourself under the cancel culture stomping boot and I wouldnt even bat an eye in surprise. It happened to Dawson, it can happen to any of the “speak more positive” YouTubers out there (granted, Dawson’s stunts go back to more really tasteless jokes and racist shit but heyyy, you’re starting to not be too far off from where he was soooo...).

And for all you big Stans out there. I don’t care if this annoys or upsets you. Everyone preaches about holding celebrities and higher up people accountable for their actions... Sean shouldn’t be exempt from this just because you’re simping or a mega fan who thinks he’ll praise you if you stand up to people calling him out... If he would address his issues with sencerity and show he understands what he’s done wrong, I might even be forgiving. But this recent PS5 shit really makes me think he’s heading down a bit of a Paul brother hole... Actually, no, because the Paul brothers even know they’re being assholes and own up to it. You, Sean, do not.

#jacksepticeye #sean mcloughlin

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blackhakumen · 4 years

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Mini Fanfic #480: Teens React to a Bunch of Adults Acting a Fool in a Soccer Game (SSBU)

Mario

Mario: (Starts Growling in Anger....Only to Calm Himself By Take a Few Deep Breaths on Screen)

Ren: Wow.....Guess Mario really doesn't have it in him to be legitimately angry anymore, huh?

Sonic: It's a lot better than the way he acted in Toadstool Tour that's for sure.

Makoto: It's his way of maturing, I suppose.

Luigi

Luigi: (Grits his Teeth and Glares at the Screen While Having One of his Eyes Twitching) I am..... Luigi.....

Pit: You know.....This might be the first time I've EVER seen Luigi this mad.

Yoshi: (Genuinely Surprised by his Father's Behavior on Screen) Tell me about it. Dad always been calm and collected for the most part.

Futuba: (Eyes Widened While Discovering Something Interesting) Wait a minute. Pause the video!!

Tails: (Pauses the Video) Why? What's wrong?

Futuba: (Points at the Screen) That glare....('GASP') Is this really how Luigi's Death Stare originated from in the first place?!!

Dark Pit: (Raised an Eyebrow Towards Futuba) Luigi's what now?

Futuba: His Death Stare! You know....The one he uses after he hits an item at someone in Mario Kart 8? That HAS to be where it came from!

Ren: I dunno, sis....This might be just a coincidence if anything.

Futuba: (Pouts at Ren While Groaning)

Ren: Hey, don't give me that cute pouty face, young lady. I'm just speaking facts here.

Peach

Peach: (Starts Pouting, Stomping Around and Crying on Screen)

Sonic: I had no idea mom would be an actual drama queen in this.....(Chuckles Lightly) It's actually pretty funny now that I think about it.

Ryuji: Princess Peach as a drama queen.....(Chuckles Lightly) Now that's something I'd never expected to see up until now.

Peach: (Yells at her Teammate While Stomping Around in Anger on Screen)

Ann: (Shrugged) Maybe the fame and royalty finally gotten to her at that point.

Yusuke: It's a possibility.

Daisy

Daisy: Hot Stuff! (Place her Thumb on her Butt...Which Sizzles on Screen) Yeah~

Ren: (Eyes and Mouth Widened in Complete Disbelief) The hell did we just watched?!

Makoto: (Covers her Face Into Ren's Shoulder and Hugging it While Blushing) You're guess is as good as mines, Ren........

Tails: (Eyes Already Covered) What is it? What's happening on screen?

Amy: (Covering Tails' Eye while Looking Away Blushing a Little Herself) It's nothing, sweetie! Don't worry about it!

Morgana: (Eyes Already Covered) Futuba, do you have any idea what's going on right now?

Futuba: (Covering Mona's Eyes..... While Having her Eyes Covered as Well) I don't know, man. My eyes are covered already.

Haru: (Covering Futuba's Eyes While Blushing) I'm really sorry, you two! But I really think it's best that neither of you see this.

Dark Pit: (Sees Yoshi Getting Up from the Couch and Tries Storming Off) Where are you going?

Yoshi: Somewhere to bleach my eyes out!!

Ann: NOOOOOO!!! (Got Up with Haru and Futuba, to Stop Yoshi from Leaving the Living Room)

Yoshi

Yoshi: (Cries in Defeat While one of his Teammates Pats him on the Back for Emotional Support on Screen)

Sonic: (Smirks at Yoshi) Here you are. Back on your cuteness again.

Yoshi: ('Groans in Embarrassment') Don't remind me.......(Turns to Ann, Haru, Futuba, Who are all Staring at Him) What is it?

Ann: (Opens Her Arms Wide Open)

Yoshi: (Sighs Once He Immediately Realize The Girls Wanted) Come here.......

And just like that, Ann, Haru, And Futuba begins to give Yoshi a Group Loving Hug while telling him that everything is going to be okay.

Dark Pit was about to make a snarky towards the dinosaur.....only to be silence completely once Makoto gives him the Cold Niijima Glare.

Donkey Kong

DK: (Starts Whimpering While Running Off in Shame On Screen)

Futuba: (Frowns Sadly) Awwww.....Poor DK....I wanna give that gorilla a big hug on of these days.

Amy: (Feels Bad for DK as Well) Me too now that I think about it. He looks so sad when he runs away....

Ryuji: Eh. He'll be fine. He's the King of the Jungles.

Diddy Kong

Diddy: (Cartwheels Victorious on Screen)

Pit: So uhh.....Was Diddy really a psychic at one point or.....

Dark Pit: (Raised an Eyebrow in Confusion) Psychic? What makes you think that?

Pit: Well, I mean I kept hearing this psychedelic music through his winning animations. (Shrugged) So I thought maybe he might have some pyschic-ness in him.

Dark Pit: Well.... I've seen that chimp rap before. So I guess you're not too far off from that assumption, Pit-Stain.

Wario

Wario: I give up.....(Holds a Bob-Omb Right Next to his Face and it's Explode on Screen)

Everyone: (Eyes Widened in Complete and Utter Shock)

'Complete Silence'

Dark Pit: .............................Damn. Wario took that Bob-Omb to the face like it was nothing........

Ryuji: Dude.........Did he seriously let all of that happened? All because some soccer game that's not even over yet?

Futuba: That man's crazy!

Yusuke: Perhaps he doesn't take too kindly to losing that much.....

Sonic: This is Wario we're talking about here.....

Waluigi

Waluigi: (Does his Waluigi Dance with his Teammates on Screen) Wa-Lu-igi! Yeah!! Yeah!! Yeah!!!

Ren: Never thought I see the day Waluigi started his own dance craze.....

Tails: (Shrugged) Good for....him, I think?

Yusuke: Do you think his dance has gotten popular in public at one point?

Futuba: Probably not, Inari.

Waluigi: (Glares Directly at the Camera and.....) Cheese! (......Punches it on Screen)

Dark Pit: (Genuinely Surprised) Jesus! Where the hell was all of this pent up anger went when he didn't get invited to Smash?

Yoshi: (Shrugged) Your guess is as good as mines.....

Bowser

Bowser: (Starts Finger-Tenting with his Sharp Claws Evilly on Screen)

Futuba: You know, seeing Bowser's sharp claws got me thinking.......What if I have one for my-

Ren/Makoto: No.

Futuba: (Eyes Widened) What?! Why not?

Ren: Cause you'll hurt yourself.

Makoto: And we don't want that.

Futuba: ('Uggggggggggh') You guys are acting like a complete Sojiro right now!....

Ren: (Hugs Futuba on his Side) Hey, we may act like boring parents every now and then, but we're like this with love and care.

Makoto: (Hugs Futuba on her Side) We love you, Futuba and we want you to be safe.

Futuba: (Sighs in Defeat and Hugs Ren and Makoto While Blushing a Little) I know......I love you dorks too.

Bowser Jr.

Bowser Jr.: (Starts Kicking the Goalie's Net......Only for him to Start Crying in a Bit of Pain on Screen)

Haru: Awwww........

Morgana: You feel like you wanna hug him right now?

Haru: (Nodded Sadly)

Morgana: (Sighs a bit Heavily While Rolling his Eyes) Yeah...... I'd figured you would want to do that.......

Haru: (Turns to Morgana) Mona-Chan, are you starting to get jealous of Bowser Jr-Kun right now?

Morgana: (Immediately Starts Blushing) N-No!! O-O-Of course, not!! That's ridiculous!! W-Why would I be jealous of Junior here!!! That's crazy talk, I tell ya!!! CRAZY!!

Haru: (Giggles Softly of how Cute Mona is Being to her Right Now) It's okay, sweetie-pie. I promise I'll give you all the love you need later on today. (Gives Morgana a Kiss on top of his Head) Okay?

Morgana: (Immediately Starts Calming and Begins to Hug Haru's Arm right Beside Him While Blushing a Little) Okay, mom.... Thanks.

Futuba: (Smirks Playfully Towards her Kitty-Bro) Ha ha. A Jealous Kitty-Kat~

Morgana: (Rolls his Eyes) Shut up....

Haru: (Softly Glares at Futuba while Gently Rubbing the top of Morgana's Head) Futuba, don't make fun of Mona-Chan please.

Futuba: ('Sigh') Yes, ma'am.

Petey Piranha

Petey: (Starts Taking Part in the Limbo Dance Victoriously on Screen)

Tails: You know, now that I think about.....(Smiles Softly) Petey's starts being less scary the more we see him like this.

Amy: (Smiles Softly) I'd say. He looks so cute when he's happy.

Sonic: (Smiles Brightly While Giving a Thumbs Up Towards the Screen) He's pretty good in some Limbo action too.

Petey: (Starts Eating his Teammate for a few seconds before Spitting Them Out and Starts Whimpering on Screen)

Tails: (Eyes Widened in Fear) Okay. So maybe he's not completely harmless after all....(Hugs Amy for Comfort) Should've known better.....

Amy: (Hugs Tails Comfortly and Lovingly)

Reaction Over

Ren: Sweet Arsene....I didn't think Mario and the gang would act even more crazy in this one.....

Makoto: I know, right? And it's all over a soccer game nonetheless.....

Dark Pit: (Crosses his Arms) It's a shame, really. Might be a downright disgrace even.

Futuba: Okay. But can we all agree that this game is just freaking awesome in general?

Everyone: (Immediately Starts to Agree) Yeah. Yeah.

Ryuji: (Smiles Softly) It was pretty badass.

Yusuke: (Nodded in Agreement) And Visually pleasing.

Pit: (Smiles Brightly) I love Strikers. I wish it comes back someday.

@26shann

@keyenuta

@albion-93

@princeoflions123

@ma-lemons

@ink-correctsmashbrosbloo

@gengar-sans

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inkribbon796 · 4 years

Text

Crackdown Ch. 2

Chapter 2: Little Wooden Soldiers

Summary: The heroes go to arrest three of Dark’s closest enforcers, and things seem to be going unusually smoothly.

A/N: Illinois, Bim, and Yan’s scenes are happening at the same time.

Chapters: 1, 2, 3, 4

Twenty minutes before Dark’s standoff with the heroes, Eric and Illinois were running around what should have been an abandoned warehouse but was full of a local gang that was being mind controlled by some cursed cat totem, it was also summoning stone creatures that ranged from human-like to amorphous amalgamations of rocks.

They ran around the warehouse like maniacs, Eric screaming and exploding rock statues into dust and rubble, and Illinois was close by taking care of the actual humans.

With the totem contained and its former human puppets unconscious the two quickly made out and left, Illinois calling the cops so that the gang would be arrested. This made sure the neighborhood was safe from them and Dark had one less rival group to deal with. Eric quickly changed out of his costume so they could walk hand-and-hand to a diner they liked to go to.

“So it do-doesn’t summon cat-s?” Eric frowned as Illinois slid the totem into a little pocket Void space in his hat. They were crossing a park to save on time, only a couple people still in the park.

“Nah,” Illinois put his hat back on his head and took Eric’s hand again. “Be cool if it could, be funny to watch probably. I know Kay would like something like that.”

Eric giggled as they walked out onto the street, “Tonight’s been a lot of fun.”

“Always the plan, dulcito,” Illinois winked, clicking his tongue and tipping his hat.

“So wh-ere are we go-ing?” Eric asked, smiling.

“You know,” Illinois smiled widely at him, nudging him a little as they stopped just shy of the sidewalk. “We go to Shannon’s and then, I don’t know, it depends on if you’ve got patrol early tomorrow.”

Eric blushed, looking away shyly, smiling.

“Nah,” Marvin cut in, snapping his fingers and a large magic circle that took up almost half the park. He jumped down from a tree as both Eric and Illinois’s feet became magically locked in place.

“Yer grounded,” Marvin told Eric, pointing to him as Marvin summoned giant playing cards that were glowing in a way Illinois did not like. “An’ adventure boy here is goin’ ta jail where he belongs.

“D-on’t h-h-urt him,” Eric choked out, pulling his away from Illinois’s hand, his hands erupting into dozens of explosions on his fingers and palms.

Abe stepped over, he’d been hiding behind a tree and had a TASER in his hands, Jackie zipping in to stand next to him and Marvin. “Come on, kid, this guy’s one of Dark’s most loyal enforcers, he’s bad news.”

“I’m fu-cking tw-enty,” Eric was starting to get frustrated.

“Dulcito,” Illinois called out, and Eric looked back at him. “It’s okay, I won’t even stay the night.”

“They ca-can’t just ta-ke you,” Eric reminded, his voice choppy with agitation and frustration. “Wh-What-ever ha-ppened, you were with—”

Illinois leaned in and Eric met him with a kiss. “We’ll have to take a rain check on that dinner date, sweetheart, but I should be out in an hour or two, even if the Old Man does post bail.”

Eric was escorted away from Illinois, the young hero looking upset and betrayed at Jackie as Marvin disabled the circle and Abe immediately started reading Illinois his rights and cuffing him, but he made sure his wrists were in front of him where everyone could see them. “Illinois Jones, you are under arrest for conspiracy, murder, and theft.”

As Abe started reading his rights, Illinois looked over at Eric and tried to give him a reassuring smile. A car drove up and Illinois let himself be put in the back with Marvin who looked braced to summon up something to further restrain him.

As they drove away, Illinois noticed that Eric was safely away from you. Illinois glared at Marvin as the magician plucked his hat off his head. “If you destroy that it doesn’t get rid of the magic.”

“Yeh should have called Dark when yeh had the chance,” Marvin reminded, the mage knew there was a little bronze that summoned Dark to Illinois’s location but he couldn’t see it. “Why not?”

“Pardon me for being a good boyfriend and not wanting to get him hurt,” Illinois shot back.

“I think yer scared ‘a Dark,” Marvin accused, a smug smile on his face.

“Unlike almost everyone in this town, I’m not afraid of Dark, I’m just not interested in playing meet the parents yet. Unless someone can bring Derek back from the dead so I can properly acquaint him with the heel of my shoe.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Marvin dismissed in disbelief, the Irishman’s attention turning to his communicator. “Package secure, how’s everyone else?”

“Dorm 5 Killer under arrest,” Amy answered.

“We’ve got our end over here,” Bob answered.

“We’re done,” Bing spoke up, “heading back to the station now.”

“We’ve got Dark but who knows how long he’ll stay distracted,” Chase said over Marvin’s communicator.

~::~ ~::~ ~::~

Inside the infamous radio station that still ran Wilford’s program, despite all the stabbing and shooting he’d inflicted upon his various “guests”.

Bim was wrapping up shooting for his show and was excited to watch his dad work. The young show host had descended from the stage to find Wilford in a disagreement in the green room.

The argument was winding down by the time Bim walked in. But the event meant that Wil was already a little worked up and everyone already knew someone was going to wind up dead, and Bim was already starting to get the starting itches of a craving and if someone died, Bim might not need to hunt someone down. It wouldn’t even be the first time Bim had picked from one of his father’s mad kills, even if it took some of the fun out of the hunt.

“What happened?” Bim asked Wil, following him back towards the stage where they were setting up for Wilford’s show.

“They switched out one of my segments and only now just told me,” Wil grumbled angrily, his strides angry and purposeful. Then the madman saw the reason for his ire, a man who was in a tan trench coat with bandages over his eyes. He was talking with the show runner while he sat on set.

Wilford stomped over and Bim was braced for the gun to come out and blood to spatter the set, but as Wil started talking to the new interviewee Wilford seemed to be visibly calming down and eventually went to sit down.

Surprised and more than a bit disappointed, Bim threw up his arms and started back towards the green room. He’d wait for the gunshot there, Dark and the Producer were the only two who could stop his dad mid-murder.

So he waited and turned on the monitor to watch Wil as the show started. But as he watched his father open the show, he felt something like a heavy, invisible blanket fall over him and he was suddenly alone in the room with four heroes all in the room with him.

“Bim Trimmer,” UFO floated a bit off the ground, Amy’s hair tied back so it couldn’t be grabbed. “You’re under arrest for the murders and disappearances of ten people.”

As she began to read him his rights, Bim felt the room almost constrict around him. Robbie and Ethan were with Amy, Nate sitting in a chair by the door and the instant Ethan had pulled his aura dampening over Bim the singer began strumming slower music more befitting a lullaby. The result of Nate’s powers and Ethan’s dampening, unlike most other heroes, made Bim feel weird. The aura he’d inherited from Dark and Wilford fought being compressed into the ground, and for the first time in Bim’s life it could be visibly seen. It wasn’t the thrashing aura that Dark was infamous for, it clung to his body like a dark grey cloud that was tinged with purple.

“Get off!” Bim growled, his aura attacking Ethan’s like it was a virus, and Ethan reflexively pulled away.

Bim’s hand got halfway to the lapel of his suit coat and the bronze star hidden behind it that Dark had given him over fifteen years ago, scanning the room before his pride got the best of him, and he quickly pulled out his switchblade that Wil had etched with Bim’s name on the handle.

“You all have a death wish or something?” Bim demanded, his aura invisible again with Ethan’s aura dampening was off of him. “Do you even know where you are?”

“Wil’s not coming for you,” Nate reminded, still playing lullabies and classical pieces. “He gets tunnel vision on set, and nothing short of blowing the building will make him save you.”

“I can protect myself!” Bim spat. “I don’t need anyone to save me.”

Hidden by Ethan’s aura, Robbie appeared behind Bim and slammed his balled up fists into the back of Bim’s head and aided with some magical cuffs sewed into his sleeves the spell was strong enough to knock him out.

Bim dropped to the ground and slumped onto the ground. Everyone in the room froze, braced for Dark to show up but after a minute nothing happened.

“That was way too easy,” Ethan warned suspiciously as Robbie carefully picked him up.

“Let’s just get out of here,” Nate decided, subtly trying to hide how he was rubbing his arm. “Before Wil comes to his senses, or Dark finds out.”

Ethan extended his aura around them as they began to take Bim out of the station, Nate taking up the rear and Amy in the front. The whole group froze when a gunshot rang up, the death of the guest Wilford had second on his show.

But when Wilford settled back into his chair like a surly child, the heroes finished taking Bim outside to the same armored car they put Wil into whenever he was arrested. The car keeping his magic contained as he was driven to the police station, Bim starting to slowly come to as he was cuffed and Amy was contacting Chase and the others to let them know their part of the mission was a success.

~::~ ~::~ ~::~

Unlike the heroes had to do with Dark, Illinois, and Bim the third group didn’t have to worry about leading Yan into a trap. All it took was ambushing her in the street with one of Bob’s almost see through barriers.

Yan was slashing at Bob’s barrier with her katana, screaming in a mix of Japanese, English, and Korean.

“Look, we’re not going to hurt you,” Wade was trying to calm the angry, homicidal young woman from hurting anyone but at this point they might need to just stand here and wait for her to tire herself out. “We’re just taking you to jail with your brothers.”

“Fuck off!” Yan screamed at them.

“Here, let me try,” Patton smiled.

“Sure, knock yourself out,” Wade shrugged, stepping away. “Go nuts, pal.”

Patton moved in and placed his hands on the barrier, “Hey, you’re Yan right?”

She shouted something at him in Japanese that sounded as angry and insulting, as it was rude and loud.

“I’m Captain Morality, nice to meet you again,” Patton smiled, keeping his tone calm and even. “Look, we can’t let you out if you’re going to hurt people.”

“The only one I’ll hurt are you assholes,” Yan spat, but at least she wasn’t screaming which was a good sign. Patton was calming her down.

“So, we’re taking your brothers to the station and we want all of you in the same place,” Patton told her.

Yan was quiet for a bit as Patton kept trying to calm her down, with almost an unsure tone she asked, “Is Artie going to be there?”

Patton looked over at Bob and Wade who shrugged. So Patton leaned in, “Is that one of your brothers?”

“My biggest brother,” Yan smiled sadly. “He went off with my other brother and they never came back. The Old Man said he and my other brother work for the heroes now but I haven’t seen them in years.”

“Well,” Patton hummed, knowing the name Arthur wasn’t on the list but remembering what the Host had told him. “We’re trying to get all of you guys together to ask you a couple questions, so, yeah, he will be there.”

Yan chuckled a bit, “You won’t get Artie, he makes people disappear.”

“Well, we got some people that are hard to make disappear,” Patton promised.

Yan rolled her eyes and laughed at that, in a way reminded Patton strangely of both Dark and Wil, but that made sense to him because she had apparently lived with them for so long.

“So,” Patton smiled, “we’re going to bring you down to the station, and if you’re not going to help us we’re going to have to roll this thing all the way down there, and you might get motion sick.”

The young villain thought on that, clearly weighing her options. Wade and Bob held their breaths.

“Fine,” Yan grumbled, “but only because Artie might be there.”

After that Yan was more than a bit silent after that, just letting them arrest her and take her off in a car, Bob riding with them so he could make sure she didn’t escape and stayed in communicating with Chase and the other team leaders.

“You’ve got some freakishly creepy powers,” Wade told Patton.

“Oh, sorry,” Patton’s smile vanished.

“Nah, you’re not the only one like that, it’s just I rarely get to see it up close cause you live in the Gainesville area,” Wade apologized. “It’s just a good thing you’re one of the good guys.”

“Yeah,” Patton looked away nervously. “My powers are probably why the Host put me with you guys instead of UFO like Silver wanted. Think the others are doing okay?”

“Yeah,” Wade reassured. “I think they’re fine, they would have told us otherwise.”

Patton and Wade followed their group heading back to the police station.

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canid-slashclaw · 4 years

Text

The Outliers - A Guild Wars Love Story

Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6, Chapter 7, Chapter 8, Chapter 9, Chapters 10 and 11, Chapter 12, Chapter 13, Chapter 14, Chapter 15, Chapter 16 , Chapter 17, Chapter 18, Chapter 19, Chapter 20, Chapter 21, Chapter 22, Chapter 23, Chapter 24, Chapter 25, Chapter 26, Chapter 27, Chapter 28, Chapter 29, Chapter 30 Chapter 31

The reception was a riotous event with the amalgamation of five Tyrian cultures coming into play. Kaleb and Amalthia had already begun the festivities with a vengeance by consuming almost an entire cask of mead.

"Hold on. Aren't I supposed to take that garland off your thigh?" Kaleb said as he walked with a slight stagger.

Amalthia, who was also a bit more than tipsy herself, shook her head then reached for her a sword that she kept under her gown.

"Come and take it!"

"Bob accepts the challenge!" Kaleb drew forth his long-blade and soon the duel for claiming the garter was on.

Within moments, the husband and wife were locked in a sword fight as each deftly parried the attacks of the other. Kaleb tried in vain to catch his wife by the tail. But in each instance, she was too quick.

"I'm not falling for that again, love!"

Everyone in the wedding reception stood back as they watched the bride and groom clashing blades with each other. Soon, raucous cheers erupted from the many charr that were in the crowd. But it didn't take long for the humans and other races to join in as well.

"Then I guess I'll have to try another approach." Kaleb gently tossed his sword at her (handle first) in the hopes that it would distract her. It worked. By the time she realized the trick it was already too late. Kaleb tripped her over then quickly began tickling her in the ribs.

"Damn you! Stop it! I hate that!" Amalthia said as she laughed uncontrollably.

"Something I found out about dating a charr - they are very ticklish!" Kaleb said with a grin.

He picked her up, reached under her dress then put her back down on the floor and clasped her garter with his teeth. He, then, pulled it off her leg as she lay on the floor laughing. All of the men in the audience let out thundering cheers as he stood up with the trophy dangling in his mouth.

"Not fair! I'm drunk," Amalthia humorously said in protest.

***

The celebration had begun in full swing. Kaleb and Amalthia were the first to take their turn dancing in front of the bonfire, as they were serenaded by a string quartet that played one of their favorite songs. They moved in synchronous motion, each feeling the rhythm of the music.

"I hope I don't vomit on your dress. I've probably had enough mead in me to tranquilize a dolyak," Kaleb said jokingly.

"If you did, I would make you clean it up... using our tongue!" Amalthia gave him an affectionate lick on the nose.

Cynthia, who was dancing with Brad, overheard the remark and decided to chime in. "You two are disgusting. Every time I hear either of you talk, it's something to do with bodily functions."

"Easy in, easy out, I always say," commented Brad.

"It strengthens the relationship," Kaleb said with a chuckle.

"If you say so," said Cynthia.

Amalthia noticed that someone was tugging on her gown. When she looked down, she saw Katie looking up right at her.

"I think we have a new partner, love."

Kaleb invited his little sister to join them in dancing. "Show us your moves, sis!"

Within moments all three of them were dancing together in a tight circle.

Off in the distance, Amalthia's father propped himself up on his wooden cane. As he looked around the crowds trying to find a place to sit down, he heard a strangely familiar voice coming from behind. He turned around to look and to his astonishment, he immediately recognized who it was.

"It can't be... Karla?"

Amongst the throng of people, stood a petite middle-age woman with blondish gray hair tied up in a braid, who looked at him with somber eyes. "Hello Ludrick. It's been a long time."

Ignoring the pain in his foot and knee, the old charr threw down his cane then hobbled over to a human he had loved so long ago. She reached out to him and held his massive pawed hands as he gently placed them around her shoulders.

"I can't believe you're here. How have you been, Karla?"

She averted her gaze, unable to look into his eyes. "I've been well. How about you?"

"Good, but lonely now that my only cub has moved out." He gently began stroking her long hair hoping she would look him in the eyes.

"I am so glad for you, Ludrick. That's why I came. To see your child enjoy a chance we never had," Karla said as tears began to well up in her eyes.

"Karla. I didn't expect you to show up at my cub's wedding. I had given up hope of ever seeing you again and now that you are here, perhaps we could make this a reality... for us," Ludrick said while trying to hold her close.

Karla backed away. "I'm sorry, Ludrick. I wish things were different, but for us they are not. I've moved on. Look over there."

She pointed to a woman with two small children. "That is my daughter Eliana and her to children Robbie and Sabby. I married about a year after our encounter. I'm sorry, Ludrick. What we had was a beautiful moment, but that is all it was - a moment."

Tears fell from Karla's eyes as she clasped hold of the broken half of the medal that the old charr had given her so long ago.

Ludrick's heart sank. "I understand. But grant me one thing, Karla..."

"And what is that?"

The old charr bowed regally then offered her his pawed hand.

"Dance with me."

As Amalthia was dancing with her husband and Katie, her bandmate Navina came up to her and grabbed her by the horns.

"Lookie there, sis. See your sire? If that isn't a love-sick puppy, I don't know what is."

When Amalthia saw her father dancing with the human woman, she suddenly realized what was going on. She turned to Navina and said. "I... I can't believe it. You're right, Navi. Gah! Why didn't he tell me?"

Kaleb was completely confused. "Tell you what?"

Amalthia held his hand as she pointed him towards the direction of her father.

"Don't you see? It's as plain as day just like Navi pointed out. I should have noted the obvious."

"I'm still lost. So your dad's dancing with a human woman... what's the big deal?"

"Ugh! Males, sometimes. So obtuse! My sire was in love with that woman. He never told me straight up, but he did make plenty of comments alluding to that fact. I was just too dense at the time to notice it," Amaltia said while trying to remain calm.

"Then we should leave them alone, dear. Your father probably had good reason for not telling you. And I think I can understand his reasoning too," Kaleb said as he pulled Amalthia closer to him.

"He should have told Ama," Navina commented.

Kaleb shook his head. "No. Her father wanted to protect her more than anything. Besides, if news like that had got out at an earlier time then there's no telling what would have happened to his reputation amongst his people."

"Navi! You're jealous. Admit it!" Amathia said as she poked her bandmate in the ribs.

Navina sighed. "Yeah. I guess you can call it that. Okay, I'll admit - I am very fond of your sire."

"So you and my daddy-in-law got busy in the sheets, eh?" Kaleb said with a smirk.

"Love! Isn't that a bit crass even for a human like you?" Amalthia said chidingly.

"Nah. He's right, sis. I had a fling and now I have a thing for your old sire."

"What did I tell ya?" Kaleb laughed.

Amalthia shook her head. "Don't you break his heart, sis. That old furball has been through too much in his life."

"What about Kren? How does he feel about all of this?" Kaleb asked.

"He's taken Mia's loss very hard. Ever since she died, he's never been the same around me. Even when we mate, it's like he's a million miles away," Navina said with a sigh.

"Speak of the devil... look who's been talking to my dad," Kaleb said as he pointed towards a table at the far end of the dance platform.

Sitting together like two sullen fellows, Daniel and Krenesh took turns downing lagers in successive turns. Krenesh took a long swig from his mug then wiped the foam from his mouth. "I can't wait to get back to the front. Seeing my people dancing around, acting like fools not only depresses me, it makes me really pissed."

"Then you need to take a good look at yourself for once, and think about why they are having all the fun and you aren't." Brad walked over then handed his charr friend a fresh mug of custom brew.

"Bah! You're a human, you wouldn't understand. This sort of stuff makes us too soft. And soft is what gets one killed on the battlefield."

Brad shook his head. "I beg to differ, friend. It's what makes us sane. Anyway, I don't think ‘your people’ is what you are really concerned about."

"Oh?"

"You've been eyeing your girlfriend over there ever since she started hanging with Ama's dad. Have you come to love her as much as you did Mia?"

Krenesh snarled and growled then threw down his mug before stomping off. "That's none of your damn business, human!"

Daniel reached out to restrain Brad. "Let him be. He needs time to come to terms with his loss."

Brad shook his head. "He's not even trying, Dan. If he doesn't acknowledge the loss of his mate now, it will only cause more pain for him in the long run."

Cynthia noticed Brad chasing down the distraught charr, then decided to follow.

"What's the deal with the Blade leader?"

Brad turned to his fiancée. "He's still flipping out over the death of his mate. I just want to help him if possible."

Cynthia pulled him in and kissed him on the lips. "The best thing you can do is to give him his space. If you push too hard, it may drive him even further into depression. Have patience, hun."

Brad sighed then shook his head.

"I just hope he'll be okay."

"He will, so long as he has a friend like you," Cynthia said as she hugged him.

***

"Mind if I join you, dad?" Kaleb asked as he took a seat next to his father.

Daniel nodded then offered a toast. Moments later, Ludrick hobbled in as Kaleb pulled out a seat for the old charr.

"Thank you. My knee has been killin' me."

"Cheers, Ludrick," Daniel said while lifting up his mug.

"Cheers."

Kaleb looked at both of his fathers and grinned. He decided not to ask Amalthia's father about his interaction with that human woman as doing so might open up old emotional wounds.

"Quite a bash, huh?"

"You're four sheets into the wind, son."

Ludrick laughed. "I think it's more like, five sheets."

"Hey! I can hold my liquor quite well, in fact. My wife can attest to that," Kaleb said as he tried gulping down another ale. His attempt was only moderately successful as part of his drink wound up spilling onto his outfit.

"Ariyana's going to have your hide for staining that drab. That suit alone cost me two weeks worth of income," Ludrick jokingly growled.

Daniel chuckled and shook his head. "Any damages incurred are on me. Listen son, you might want to ease back on the brew. I know the two of you love the stuff, but your lives are going to be very different from here on out."

Kaleb looked at his dad and grimaced. "Oh no. Here comes the sermon. Yes, dad. I will be a fine, upstanding gentleman who is rarely, if ever, completely sober."

"Spoken like a true norn," Ludrick said as he raised his mug to a toast.

Kaleb looked around. "Speaking of norns, has anybody seen Ulfgar?"

"I haven't," Ludrick replied.

Daniel scratched his head then gazed around the partying crowds. "I heard he was gearing up for some big surprise. I wonder what it might be?"

***

Amalthia took Rachel by the hand and led her to just below the summit of Thunder Ride Falls.

"Where are you taking me?" Rachel asked.

"Trust me. It's a special surprise, compliments of Kaleb, Ulfgar and me," Amalthia said as her ears began to twitch.

"Oh. I get it. You're going to take me to the top of those falls and throw me off and make it look like an accident," Rachel commented cynically.

"Come to think of it... that's a very original idea. I hope you can swim!" Amalthia said with devilish laugh.

"Ha! I knew it!"

Within moments, a massive raven flew towards the edge of the falls then transformed into the old norn. Raising his hands aloft, Ulfgar shouted in a thunderous voice. "Rachel Grimwald - word has reached my ears of a certain song of legend you have been seeking. I have searched far and wide for such a balled, from the furnaces of the Black Citadel to the Frozen Wastes of the Shiverpeaks. But it was in Rata Sum that I finally found this tune you so diligently have sought."

As Ulfgar finished his speech, the sound of mechanized footsteps could be both heard and felt beneath the soft ground. Moments later, cresting over the peak, stood four giant golems followed by several strange flying machines carrying various visual and audio devices.

Rachel's eyes flew wide open as she saw the four asurans who rode atop the mechanical devices. "Oh my gods!! It can't be!?"

Soon, the entire valley was filled with the synthesized rhythm of the asuran band, SynR J-TX. Several flying machines hoisted up the band members and their golems from the peak then deposited them on a large platform that was placed at the far end of the embankment.

The electrifying beat of their music soon got the entire reception party hopping with jubilation. Rachel had passed out on more than one occasion due to the sheer excitement. Amalthia and Kaleb, meanwhile, began grooving to the band's latest just-released hit - N.R. GyZ.

Eventually, the festivities came to a close, as Kaleb and Amalthia were both passed out from exhaustion and too much drink. Everyone else, filtered out of the crowd until only immediate family members and close friends remained.

Lifting each one in his mighty arms, Ulfgar hoisted the passed out bride and groom over each of his massive shoulders.

"I'll get these two love pups back to their den. They've had a very busy day."

"Thank you for all that you've done, Ulf. My son will not forget this day."

Brad chimed in. "Given his current state, I think remembering may be more the issue."

"I was much the same way on my wedding day," Daniel replied as he watched Ulfgar place the passed out couple on the wagon.

Shirley stepped up and chuckled. "It's true. In fact, Dan here left more than one stain on my wedding gown."

Cynthia, who overheard the conversation, let out a long laugh. "Mamma Grimwald! My image of you as being the font of piety is now forever shattered!"

"She was a wild one back in the day," Daniel said as he held his wife of twenty-four years, close.

"People are far more complex than they appear," Ludrick commented as Navina helped to steady him.

"The two of you have been mighty close this entire reception," Cynthia noted.

Navina spoke up. "Okay. I confess. I'm in love with this brute. He needs someone to look after him, so I guess that 'someone' is me."

"What about Kren? How's he going to take it?" Brad queried.

"He has to sort out what happened to Mia first. For myself, I'm eligible to take leave in caring for this fellow's needs," Navina said as she gave an affectionate lick on Ludrick's cheek.

"You are aware just how awkward it will be if the two of you decide to get hitched. I mean you'll be going from Amalthia's 'sister' to her 'mother-in-law'? That's a bit creepy if ya ask me," Cynthia said as she laughed.

"Bah! Marriage is a human ritual. So no worries there. And who knows? If Kren decides to get his head on straight, it may wind up being the three of us sharing the same bed," Navina said with a toothy smile.

"The kinky factor just went through the roof. You think there's any chance of going doubles with Kal and Ama?" Brad said with a sarcastic wink to his fiancée.

Cynthia grabbed him by the ear. She, then, pointed to his lower regions.

"Try it and I'll borrow Navi's claws and use them to take out more than just your eyes."

(All chapters have been posted to AO3. Chapter 31 is posted here.)

#gw2 fanfic #guild wars 2 fan fiction #tyrias-library #the outliers #kaleb and amalthia #cw alcohol consumption

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idontworkforsega · 5 years

Note

My queen! Your majesty! I have come here to ask of you a prompt! For I know no other who is better at the precious sonamy more than you! Please accept my humble request for a classic sonamy fluff! A jealous blue hedgie included is this prompt will be greatly appreciated!!

Jealous Classic Sonic!?!? Yes? All of that?! (Also, thank you, you’re so sweet >///wn///

(Art is by @drawloverlala Or her DA->(https://www.deviantart.com/drawloverlala) who has given permission to let me use her art as a Preview Art Image for my prompts! Please support her as well!)

If you’d be okay with me using your art on my prompts, please send me a message letting me and @cutegirlmayra know!

PROMPTS ARE CLOSED. DON’T SEND ME ANY PROMPTS UNTIL THEY REOPEN! That will be when all the current prompts in my inbox are completed. Again, DO NOT SEND ME PROMPTS AT THIS TIME. (People are still sending them in, so please stop or the prompts will never re-open T-T)

*Also, this blog is for organizing my prompts for fanfiction. When prompts reopen, please submit prompt requests there. :)b

Prompt:

A jingle and a click, then there was music sounding through Classic Amy’s headphones.

She nodded her head, enjoying the classic rock that kept her heart upbeat as she stretched, getting ready to run.

She had been training for so long. All she wanted was to manage that loop-de-loop so she could keep up with Sonic.

One time, while pursuing her darling Sonic, he had raced through one. She saw him curl up and bolt off like a slingshot in a pinball game.

Her heart sank as she stopped rushing after him and skidded her feet against the moist and furtile ground of the earth, the grass bending to her force.

“Oh… Dear.” her face slowly recoiled in its joy as she faced the terrifying obstacle.

A full loop. No stops, just a drop if you slowed down…

A death fall.

The last time she had been through a loop-de-loop, she was being hauled off by a metal version of Sonic.

She took courage, stepping back with powerful stomps to work herself up to it. With a wiggle of her butt and straight up to her tail, she charged at it.

Needless to say, she flopped and her poor face was red with the trauma.

She didn’t even get to the curve…

So today, she was going to face up to her fear and overcome that death loop!

Her nostrils flared with bravery once again, her body honed for speed and balance, there was no way she would skid her face against its slick dirt coating this time!

Unbeknown to our little heroine, a certain Sonic The Hedgehog was sitting happily in the shadows of a few camouflaging trees. He had been passing by when he saw her in her workout clothes, her classy sweatband replacing her girly clothes that were now jazzy kinda workout colors and designs.

Immediately, he popped his popcorn–so to speak–, and set up camp.

He had heard the horrible PLOP from behind when she had first attempted the loop-de-loop. He had stopped in curiosity and flicked an ear back, racing over a ramp he had previously scaled to see what had happened.

It was a conflicting moment. He wanted to rush over and make sure she was okay, but he also didn’t want her seeing him laughing.

She had the saddest look on her face, and his snickering ended as he waited for her to call out to him in help.

Except she didn’t.

She surprised him by remaining silent, wiping her eyes and the bright dirt from her face, kissing her own booboos and glaring at the obstacle that had previously blocked her from following him the rest of the way.

He had stared almost mesmerized by the way she held her own. Where was the doting cry of help? The wimpy, whining high pitch voice? Was she really not going to cry out for him to coo and comfort her?

It’s not like he wanted too, but… he was prepared to do it, that’s all.

Now he felt a little confused, and seeing her prepare to take it on again today, he decided to watch from a distance and just ‘spot’ her, if she did end up getting hurt.

He flopped his hand and poured another shoveled amount of popcorn into his mouth, swishing it around to mush it up and watched as she took a runner’s stance on the ground.

Arching her butt up, she then took a deep breath and angled her body, looking up with pure determination as she raced up the loop-de-loop.

His eyes followed her, swallowing and reaching for his drink’s straw when his eyes fell flat to the ground again.

Another PLOP.

“Wah!” she cried out, making his eyelids lower a bit as he waited for her to cry out to him.

“Ow… Umph.” she rubbed her head, “…Maybe I gotta get a firmer footfall. Curl up on the ending?” she worked it out in her head, and again, Sonic’s grip on the drink tightened slightly.

She wasn’t aware of him.

Why would she call out for aid?

Why would she ask him for help?

He ‘Pfft’d and continued to flip through music CDs, deciding on a hit and letting it play.

When she tried again and PLOPPED, then he turned the music up louder.

“Offph! Darn, gotta go again… huh?” Her music was drowned out by another’s, and she looked over to excitedly see Sonic bobbing his head to his hard punk rock.

“Oh, Sonic! What are you doing here?” She dusted herself off and then held her hands together, the typical puppy-love he was used too seeing from her.

He put on shades and gave her his best ‘cool dude’s smile.

“Oh? Are you here to… to…” her eyes slightly shrunk in fright. “Watch me?”

He seemed to wave it off, suggesting that he was there to watch her really do it, if she did manage it.

A fear suddenly rose in Amy, and she held herself a moment. “O-oh…” she looked away, ‘Is he really going to sit there and watch me fail?’ she looked back at him, lowering her head.

He continued to bob his head to the music, making Amy think he was agreeing silently to that inner thought.

She puffed up her cheek, “Well, I won’t have it!” she told herself out loud. “That Sonic’ll respect me!” she huffed and turned her backside to him, her quill sticking out and shaking in rage as the rest of her head’s quills followed shortly after in her anger.

“Just watch me then! I’ll do it!” she stretched again, “I’ll make it over no matter what!”

He took off his shades again, hearing her from a distance. He smirked to himself. There was no way Amy Rose wouldn’t ask for her sweet hero’s help.

She’d fall again, this time on her butt, and beg for him to show her how, or just carry her through it.

She’d dote on him, but he’ll just have to live with it.

He sighed and shrugged, as though it was inevitable and he should just take it with patience.

However, as the day went on, Amy kept getting bruised up by all the falling…

Now Sonic was getting concerned.

His toe tapped in the air, his arms folded, and his tolerance going down…

He didn’t want to watch her fail… it wasn’t amusing seeing her hurt and then getting up to do it again.

That was just stupidity… right?

She rubbed her eye, on the verge of tears from that last fall, actually getting about decently high on the first stretch before rolling down it again. She looked behind the loop-de-loop, then moved to see the curve and attempted to curl up.

“…Well, she’s got the right idea.” Sonic didn’t like talking much, especially to others. But something about Amy not giving up… not reaching out for him… made him suddenly jealous of her unrelenting charisma.

She was so naturally likable.

He sunk further in his chair, the music turning to a Song that’s lyrics annoyed him even more.

‘She’s a well-oiled machine! Beauty queen of the world! She don’t need a man, she don’t want your hand, OW! She’s a star~ In her own right! She’s a star~ With just her own light! She’ll shine through the night, leaving you crying! Wishing! On her own beautiful face-! That somehow you could be apart of her space!”

He clicked it off, not liking it anymore.

But Amy turned around, “Hey! I liked that song!” her cute little voice sent a chill up his spine. Why was it cute!? When at all other times, it was usually so shrilly and out of place?

He turned it back on though, mumbling incoherent words as the song picked up again.

“Bright light shining, she’s a five-star, golden lottery. She has the courage to face her demons. She controls the ring, she’s the tiger working through the jungles to face the king! She’s the queen of her own galaxy! She don’t need no help, she’s the best! She’s got the whole world wishing on her-bright-staaarr!”

She did jumping jacks to the music, breathing in and out as she curled up, trying to speed in place but was getting dirt everywhere and wobbling too much in it.

Sonic’s anger mark was throbbing on his head, listening and watching her struggle without so much as giving him any attention at all.

“She’s the best! Don’t require the rest- she’s a star! Star, star-ar-arrr! She’s a well-oiled machine! Beauty Queen of the world! She don’t need a man, she don’t your hand, OW! -click-”

“Hey!” Amy uncurled, looking back to Sonic, “I said I was-!… huh?” she looked to see an empty chair.

“Sonic?” she turned to look around, before seeing he was right beside her on the other side, sizing up the loop-de-loop. “Wah! Oh… you scared me.” She touched her chest, breathing hard as his speedy appearance spooked her. “What’s wrong? Gonna show me how it’s done?”

He nodded.

“Hmph. Took you long enough. Why weren’t you helping me before? I just need some pointers, then I can do it!” She gripped her hands together, eager to learn and get through her latest struggles.

“Ah…” he turned to her, surprised again. She was waiting for… him?

Was he just being that selfish? Thinking he needed her to ask him over when he could have been right here helping her all along?

“I like to take on challenges, but it’s way more fun with a friend!”

There it was.

The cutest thing Sonic had ever seen.

A positive attitude.

He shook his head, smacking his cheek a moment as though to get his thoughts back to where they needed to be.

He was still jealous of her obvious moxie to do it herself, but he was also strangely attrac-… EHEM, impressed by her diligent resolve to get it done herself.

“You need more speed.”

“Well, that’s obvious. Coming from you.” she folded her arms, but he was again taken aback that she didn’t freak out at him talking.

It wasn’t like he socialized a lot… even Tails felt honored to hear his voice.

“Okay, Miss Rose, what else is so obvious?” His trademark attitude was showing again, as he placed the back of his wrist to his hips and leaned toward her. “Go on. If you already know what I’m about to say.”

Now her face shied away a little.

“Hehe…he… b-bu-but how do I do that?” she sweat-dropped, showing she really did want some advice.

He smiled, “That’s a little better.” He looked to the ground, “It just rained, right?”

“Yeah, why?”

“Well, your not getting proper footing so-”

“I KNEW IT!” she shrieked out, “I knew it was my footing!”

He waited, showing her his annoyance by just staring at her with a deadpan expression.

“…Heh…hehe… Teehee?” She knew he was a bit upset at being interrupted again, and with her being such a chatter-box, she acted cute about it and placed a finger to her mouth, looking away.

She was going to be silent now, eh?

“Anyway…” He rolled his eyes, “Try and curl up over by that patch of hill. If you run down it and curl, you should get a good start up. You could still fall a bit coming down, but that’s just because you aren’t as fast as me and Tails. Try and just get yourself to the other side, even if you fall doing so.”

“I’m not afraid to fall.” She said that strongly, standing bravely.

The song triggered in Sonic’s mind but he looked back to her to see her dirtied, banged up body and clothes again.

“…Yeah.” He looked worried, “I know.” he studied her eyes… “Just… Don’t uncurl this time. You’ll get pretty high up there.” He looked to the loop-de-loop.

For one of the first time’s since meeting Amy Rose, Sonic felt genuine concern for her safety.

“If you uncurl… you could get-”

“OFF I GO!”

“H-huh?! Crazy girl! I wasn’t done!” he saw her dart to the hill, and reached out for her. For some reason, this girl made him more animated than usual… “You’re not listening again! It’s dangerous! Just don’t uncurl!”

“I’m a star~ In my own right! I’m a star~”

“Crazy!” he called out to her, seeing her doing a little dance while she sang the previous song and got ready to sprint.

“With just my own light!”

“Stop!” he rushed to her side but she raced down while he moved up. “Don’t-!”

“I’ll shine through the night, leaving you crying! Wishinggggg-!” she curled up, gaining lots of speed.

“..No… No…” He shook his head, his heart beating fast. “Ammmmyyy!!!” It was a true cry of fright. Though he believed it was possible for her to do it, he was terrified she’d really get hurt if she fell that far, that hard, and that fast to the ground this time. He took off, curling up, and heading up the loop-de-loop after her.

She scaled the first roll. ‘On my own beautiful face, that somehow, you could be, apart of my spaaace~’

Time seemed to slow down, two blurry and balled colors flying up the loop-de-loop.

Through the spinning, Amy could feel herself start to fall, and Sonic saw her ball form leaning towards the other side.

‘Will she stay curled?’ his thoughts turned to joy as she hit the other side and rolled down, not breaking her curl.

He uncurled in his joy, reaching his arms out, “You did it!!!” he shouted in praise before smacking his head against the other side of the loop-de-loop. “Ow, ow, ow, ow, ow…” He smacked back and forth all the way down the ramp…

She uncurled safetly down at the bottom, “Yay! I did it!” she cheered as well, turning to see Sonic smack a few more times down before lifting up a ‘thumbs up’ to her.

“Hehe! Now I can catch up with you~” she flirted, poking his face that was buried in the ground. “You know… I thought about uncurling… just to make you catch me.”

He peered up, a slight glare in his eyes.

“But then I heard how loving your voice turned when you thought I didn’t hear you… I didn’t want to upset you, only play around… so I decided to really, truly land the ending. I was scared. I fibbed about not wanting your help… but I’m really glad you were here.”

His glare softened.

“I’ll always want you by my side, Sonic The Hedgehog! And now, I can always be beside yours!”

Under the earth, she didn’t see his kind smile.

He lifted up and shook the dirt off, now his bruises would match hers.

“Rascal.” he winked, playfully.

“Hehe~ Only for you~” she puckered up but he sped off. “Hey! You can’t hide in a loop-de-loop now, Sonic! Teehee~” and sped off after him.

The popcorn was tilted over, and the boombox stayed quietly posted next to the turned over chair…

(Jealous of Amy’s independence? Yes? No? Lol, I just wanted to make something new with the ‘jealousy’ theme XD I do it a lot, you know.)

Fanfiction Entry 602 (x)

#sonamy #classic sonamy #sonamy prompt #classic sonic #classic amy rose #rosy the rascal #cutegirlmayra #sonic CD #Idontworkforsega

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fmlfpl · 4 years

Photo

Lineup Lamentations - GW35+

Our Transfers, Captains, and Starting 11s for the week!

—

WALSH

TRANSFERS:

OUT: Kane and Calvert-Lewin

IN (for -4 points): Firmino and Benteke

Welp, Kane and Mou hooked me again - nothing new there.

DCL I still love and it is quite upsetting that I didn't own him this season when he was getting all his points and did own him for a strand of just straight blanks and nothingness since the restart. Oh well. I'm sure this is not the last of DCL in my team, and I will look forward to owning him next year. If anything, maybe this barren spell is a blessing in disguise as it may keep his price down a bit and prevent him from having much preseason buzz...

As shouted on the pod, it seems like its a nice time to reunite with old friends. Benteke picks himself, love him so much and maybe he bangs in the revenge game. Just a fun punt.

Bob has been pretty fucking bad for FPL but I love him and haven't owned him all season. I can stomach a few blanks from the lad, but at least I don't have Kane anymore. It's probably not a good sign for my rank that I'm using the tv guide as a significant factor in my decision making process but hey, whatever brooo. I am definitely worried a bit about him starting against Burnley but he did just rest against Villa so maybe he'll be good to go for the duration. Another old friend and someone who I get a lot of xJOY from watching - there is nothing that I've seen from him that leads me to believe he'll get in the points, and I don't think there is some hidden gem here for the run in by any stretch, but I like him so I'm getting him. Basically I figured it's more fun to have him than to start a third Wolves defender..again...and also seems cooler and more fun than any other defender so let's do it :)

GK:

de Gea (SOU)

DDG didn't have to do much so he got a clean. Great job by him and United. It's a good sign that when Ole makes his five subs he's bringing on Fredrick and other shithouses and kind of killing the game dead which doesn't make the last handful of minutes feel so nervy.

Soton are good, though, and I could see them scoring, but with the way United have looked they still feel like a good place to back for cleans. He's not making any saves really to speak of but 3 cleans in 5 from the restart is right about where I thought they'd be.

DEF:

Maguire (SOU)

I am going to roll with the slab over Saiss to keep my shares at 2 for United and 2 for Wolves cleans. Same kinda shit with DDG, he's been individually bad as per but the team is dominating and I see that continuing against Soton.

Dock & Boly (EVE)

Really, really, really, really, really good fixture for a clean.

It's always hard to imagine where an Everton goal could come from and this fixture is no exception. As long as they don't get caught on a counter ping long ball, which they shouldn't do with the extra CB, they should be ok. I expect them to be in cruise control for this game and fully dominate and control it. Whether or not they themselves score, fuck if I know or care, but clean sounds good.

MID:

Sterling, De Bruyne, and Foden (bha)

Besides Raz, no clue if the other two will play 30, 60, or 90 but either way I expect this game to be an absolute fucking.

Rolling with the three City friends till the end seems good, and they are good.

Harry Potter plays some insane stuff and if he rolls out something similar here as he did do against Livp it could get silly. An early goal and the weed hanging their heads could mean many more to follow. That's the hope, anyway.

Bruno (SOU)

Ya, ok bro. Shitting points at the moment. Cool.

Pulisic (shu)

This is suddenly back to being a rough attacking fixture, but with the way Puli has been going recently I'll always back him to return against anyone. Sheffu midfield seems like it could be problematic and they as a team should beginning to feel it in their legs. Chelsea still need to win every game and Sheffu are kinda done for the season so hopefully they are on it and Puli running at Basham et al is too much for them to handle.

FWD:

Benteke (avl)

Back to his old stomping ground with Villa absolutely needing 3 points in this one I could see some goals for us. Just a fun play for me and again gives me something extra to cheer for on Sunday when I wake up to watch the game :)

Firmino (BUR)

He did put them to the sword in the reverse fixture..not that I usually put any stock in such a thing, but hey, it did happen so just reporting the news.

Without Mee I could envision him being difficult for them to contain with his movement so maybe he is going to get in there with some points. It wouldn't stun me to see him on the bench for like Minamino or some shit but hopefully not. Also is nice to have one of Alon's favorites in there to boot. Go get em Bobby.

CAP:

Sterling (bha)

Raz never in doubt.

Didn't start last game...and Jesus has just started a few in a row...so there's a reasonable chance he's playing striker. Love the fixture here and the stars seem to have aligned for the cap shout.

He's been playing really well lately so it makes this a really easy decision for me.

—

ALON

TRANSFERS:

OUT: Alexander-Arnold and Calvert-Lewin

IN: Saiss and Vardy

Off with the hyphenated names they’re banished from my team for rest of season no hyphens fuck it.

Dropping Trent feels akin to dropping Kevin: I’ve probably made a big woopsies here and he’s gonna start 4/4 or 3/4 and haul because he’s the best but... maybe not? Maybe he gets rested/rotated for Burnley as we expect and maybe Liverpool don’t clean rest of season as I personally expect and then I’m doing ok?

Maybe... maybe...

I’m also just going partially with gut on Vardy vs. Bournemouth more then anything else. Form is some sort of mystical lover and every time she’s in our grasp she slips away and every time we think she’s gone forever she reappears... Hoping the form angel pegs Vardy’s butt-hole this weekend and he hauls.

GK:

Ederson (bha)

Was Eddy worth the funds out the gate? Probably not... But I also know my own weaknesses and I’d’ve probably somehow have talked myself into some shit-can like Foster on no cleans and alas here we are.

I’ll take the points and genuinely expect a clean in all four remaining matches from Citeh.

DEF:

Doherty & Saiss (EVE)

Sheesh this feels yuge. Double Wolves into Everton come on Wolves. Don’t have anything to say I’m just on my hands and knees praying for this clean man...

Maguire (SOU)

Tough one for me to read.

Part of me thinks that the chaotic style of Southampton’s attack will have The Oaf on toast but also part of me thinks ManU will just strangle them to death with their elite possession and passing breaking the press all the time and Soton will be huffing and puffing by 45′... Not sure how this goes but yeah I duno.

Go get’em big guy.

MID:

De Bruyne & Mahrez (bha)

It’s very realistic that neither of my City dudes start and that tilts me off so hard just thinking about watching City do The Seaweed 6-0 or something and not be a part of anything fuck meeeeeeeeeeeeeeee REEEEEEEEEEE!

Martial & Fernandes (SOU)

I still think that these two are the best two ManU guys to get. Tony looked great despite not scoring and what can we even say about the lad Bruno he can’t not run into points right now.

Pulisic (shu)

Gonna be tough to break down but also the possession and pressure should be relentless from Chelsea here.

Hopefully Pulisic taking 9000 touches in the box leads to some FPL points that tricky little fucker I love him.

FWD:

Vardy (bou)

Come on Vardz.

Not a thing I often say but come on you Vardz. Take the Cherries apart baby.

Jimenez (EVE)

Walsh talked me into this (keeping Jim) on the pod and it made a whole lotta sense to me.

Sometimes in life you just need to talk it out with someone you trust like your pod partner and then you can see more clearly and here we are. I actually feel great about a Wolves bounce-back against an Everton side with no midfielders.

Jim should be getting lots of chances and touches in the box and get the fuck in there. Overdue for a pen too maybe Keane or Mina does some mad shit? I haven’t given up on you yet Jim. Let’s go.

CAP:

Vardy (bou)

Whatever, right?

I mean I think capping either of my City guys is completely unreasonable this week (for the record I would cap Raz over anyone this week) so it’s between basically Bruno, or Vardy for me this week...

Why would I cap Bruno there? What’s to be gained? He’s owned by everyone and will be capped by everyone. It’s not fun and it’s not how I play the game.

I see weeks like this as an opportunity to both have more fun and to go for a maybe under the radar cap shout huge chunk rise if he hauls and Bruno is held relativlely in check... No pressure Jamie no pressure at all... Just... save me... Plz...

#lineup lamentations

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violetsmoak · 5 years

Text

Philtatos [10/?]

AO3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20101543/chapters/47690671

Blanket Disclaimer

Summary: During a patrol where Red Hood and Red Robin cross paths, Jason is infected with the blood of the Eros, the ancient God of Love, who informs them that they must track down his missing bow and arrows, or Jason will go slowly mad with an obsessive desire–for Tim. Though overwhelmed by the sudden attention being paid to him, Tim sets to work trying to solve the case, before Jason succumbs to madness. In the meantime, Jason discovers that there’s more than godlike powers at work here, as well as a legacy that reaches back through the sands of time.

Rating: PG-13 (rating may change later)

Beta Reader: None at the moment.

JayTimBingo Prompts This Chapter: #warriors #riddle

First Chapter

________________________________________________________________

The blade sticks out of Jason’s chest, gleaming unnaturally in the moonlight.

“You were saying?” Cutter purrs.

Somehow, her voice reaches Tim even where he’s pinned, sending a cold chill of dismay surging through his body. He would scream Jason’s name if it weren’t for the unyielding chokehold Dick has him in.

While Tim’s gasping for air, Jason’s attention doesn’t appear to be on the weapon that may have just killed him. From the subtle way his body is straining toward Tim whose attempts to push Dick off of him grow weaker, he seems more preoccupied with Tim than his own predicament.

“Juh…”

His attempts to speak use up valuable air and Tim curses mentally as his vision blurs. He thinks a blood vessel may have burst in his eye.

“What was that, Timmy?” Batman sneers. “Sounds like something’s caught in your throat.”

Great. Even when he’s gone dark side, he’s got to make bad jokes.

Tim tries to keep calm, to control his limited airflow, and think of a way out of this situation. Every beat of his heart feels like it’s jarring his body. And Jason, the poor idiot, keeps trying to inch toward Tim.

Jason, concentrate, she’s about to kill you, or worse!

Tim is distantly cognizant that Damian is still struggling against the way Dick has dangled him, trying to escape. He can hear the shift of leather and Kevlar as Steph struggles to get up.

“I have to say, I was impressed,” Cutter continues, spindly fingers digging into his shoulder as she twists the sword until Jason’s attention on Tim falters. His snarl of pain echoes through the voice modulator but to Tim’s relief, it doesn’t sound wet in a way that would indicate internal bleeding. “Just thinking of all the discord you could cause if those blades of yours were just…a little…corrupted…”

She punctuates each pause with a twist of the blade, and how the hell is Jason not bleeding out right now?

Maybe it’s my imagination…oxygen deprivation…come on, focus! She’s got him with a golden sword—golden arrow? So probably not trying to kill him. And he’s not poisoned with lead the way Dick was which…should be a good thing? Right?

Unless it requires a command to work like the arrow Cutter stabbed Dick with. Tim’s having a hard time coming up with scenarios for the golden diviner, but he thinks that’s more oxygen deprivation than lack of imagination.

Tim shifts beneath the anchor that is Batman, trying to worm his fingers toward the taser trigger in his suit. The way Dick is crowding against him, any charge that goes through him will hit Tim—and Damian—too, so he must be careful of the wattage. Not enough to parboil them all, but enough to allow him some give.

He hopes that because he’s expecting it, he’ll be able to withstand a second or two long enough to get free and get to Jason.

“Hey! Bat-dick!”

Looks like there’s some luck on his side, at least, as Steph, still a bit off-balance, chucks a handful of senbon-like projectiles at him. At the same time, Damian bends upward and wraps himself around Dick’s arm while jamming a knife into the part of his arm not protected by armor. “This one I am not apologizing for!”

“I think what you mean is, ‘sorry not sorry!’” Steph follows up with a swipe of her fist.

Dick snarls, jerks to one side to avoid Steph’s attack, while at the same time flinging the boy off and away from him. Steph grunts in pain as Robin lands on her.

The minute decrease in pressure gives Tim the space he needs to activate the taser. It throws Dick backward with a surge of electricity, which leaves Tim momentarily stunned and gasping against the same pulse.

There’s movement beside Tim, Steph crawling over to his side. “You okay?”

“Been better,” he replies, shaking off the dizziness as he gets to his feet.

“Aren’t you two adorable,” Dick growls, recovered now and stalking toward them. Tim tries to put himself in front of Steph, knowing that her injury will provide too tempting a target, but she snorts and stands beside him.

“Stubborn much?”

“Take a look in the mirror sometime.”

“You two are wasting time,” Damian growls and runs headlong at Dick, skidding low to take his feet out from beneath him.

Dick somersaults in the air to avoid him, lands on his feet in front of Steph, who’s already winding up a punch. Dick lifts off with one foot, twists in the air, knocking the punch off course with his feet and smacking Tim in the face before he can get close. As Steph’s body finishes the botched move, bending double, Dick continues to spin in midair, rolling over her back and flips a knife into his hand, grabs hold of Damian’s cape to wrap around his head, and then plunges the knife downward to pin him to the ground by the material.

Then he’s up and swiping at Tim with another blade, while Tim blocks and dodges out of the way of the wild blows. Seeing an opening, he bends forward and shoulders the older man, hard enough that he turns and faces Steph and her wild swing to the side of his head. Dick ducks, blocks, uses her momentum to flip her to the ground, stomps hard on her gut to leave her gasping, and turns around in time to bob from side to side to avoid Tim’s next onslaught.

Tim leaves himself open, and Dick turns his back, elbowing him in the face from behind.

“You want to know why I fired you?” Dick sneers at Tim, gripping him close. “It wasn’t because Damian needed Robin.” He pulls Tim’s arm over his shoulder and flips him over his back; without letting go, he unleashes a flurry of kicks to the small of his back. “It was because you were never meant to have the title.”

As Tim lists, Dick kicks his heel into his chest.

“Right—because I’m going to listen to anything you say right now,” Tim grunts, fumbling a moment before skidding back on his feet. He forcibly ignores the long-dormant doubts trying to surface in response to his brother’s diatribe, flings out several small explosives as Dick renews his attack, dodging nimbly between the bursts.

“You’ve always been the weakest—better suited to being behind a computer than in the field.” He throws a handful of Batarangs at Tim, who crosses his arms in front of his face to block them; two of them get embedded in his upper arm. “And you’re still mediocre at that compared to someone like Oracle.”

“Everyone’s mediocre compared to Oracle.”

“Keep telling yourself, if it makes you feel better about yourself. Not like you’ve got much else.” Dick catches hold of him, presses the metal deeper through flesh and muscle, making cry out. “Bruce never wanted you. Not as Robin.”

Tim falters a bit at that, if only because he knows that’s true. He lived that himself.

It’s enough of a pause for Dick to take advantage.

“Not as a son.” More pressure, and Tim grits his teeth. “He adopted you out of pity. Because he wanted to protect his secret.” Dick tugs one of the blades loose, turning it in his hand to set it beneath Tim’s chin. “You’ll never measure up to my legacy. Hell, you can’t even live up to the Robin that died!”

“No!” Jason croaks, trying to take another step forward, but kept frozen in place.

“For one of the All-Caste’s chosen, you appear oddly preoccupied with a mere mortal boy,” Cutter muses. “And look what that’s already cost you.”

“Lady, you have no idea,” Jason spits through gritted teeth.

“No need to fret, though. Such affection…it will soon be directed to me instead. That way, it won’t even hurt when Batman crushes his throat.” She stands on tiptoes, mouth near the side of Jason’s helmet. “Now—devote your love to me. Be useful to me and serve my needs. Kill them all as a gift to me.”

She pulls back and for an instant, it seems like the golden sword has duplicated—one is in her hand, the other still stuck in Jason’s abdomen. But the latter vanishes, flickering out of existence the same as the dart that downed Dick.

Somehow, there’s no blood spreading across Jason’s abdomen, or even a hint of a gaping wound. He claws at his gut in surprise.

Meanwhile, as Dick goes to swipe the blade across Tim’s throat, his arm is hauled back, and he is levered to the ground.

Damian stands in his place, cape gone and a furious flush in his cheeks.

“Back off,” he orders. “I won’t have Drake’s death on your conscience, however useless he is.”

“Thanks…” Tim wheezes as he tries to recover. “Really feeling the love.”

“You’re not fooling anyone with that act, little brother,” Dick tells Damian with an unkind smile. “All your talk about emotions and weakness, and all your League training—and you’re as soft as any other kid.”

“I am not a child!”

“Whatever you are, you still bleed.”

There’s a burst of gunfire, causing everyone to duck reflexively, except for Dick. Whether out of reflex, or thanks to the thickness of his mask, he avoids the rounds that skim just past his cheek, leaving red welt of burned flesh in its wake.

“Funny,” Jason growls, from behind clenched teeth it sounds like. “I was going to say the same about you.”

Cutter watches him, wide mouth curling into a cold smile.

Dick shifts his body, accommodating for a possible new enemy. “Are you going to try to kill me now, Little Wing?”

Jason takes another step forward, raising mismatched guns, and takes a shot.

“No!” Steph cries even as Dick throws himself out of the path of the shot.

A second later, Tim notices the weapon Red Hood is leveling at Dick isn’t one of his custom pistoles—it’s one of the tranquilizer guns from the cave. In the same instant, Jason’s whipped around and fired a volley at Cutter, who shrieks and dodges out of the way.

“What?” Cutter demands.

I’ll second that…

“How…?”

“Alright, babybird?” Jason calls, edging back toward Tim, still firing on Cutter who persists in evading.

“How are you still…?”

“I’m just that good.”

“That’s impossible!” Cutter snarls, recovering. “The winged brat himself is powerless against the golden—! How did you—?” She takes note of Jason’s protective stance in front of Tim, and her expression becomes sharp. “Unless…”

She doesn’t finish her thought, instead shakes her head.

“No matter. If you won’t serve me as the Bat does, you’ll die beside your beloved!”

She charges and vaults through the air, bringing down her swords upon Jason’s head—and just as before, out of nowhere, there’s a burst of golden flame that solidifies into swords in Jason’s hands, catching the diviners.

“Help Todd,” Damian orders Tim. “Otherwise the moron will become distracted and get stabbed again.”

“We’ve got this,” Steph agrees.

“You sure?”

“Yeah, bat bitch, you sure?” Dick taunts.

Tim can almost hear Steph’s knuckles crack as she forms a fist. “Oh, I’m so getting my second wind.”

“Just remember he’s not himself,” Tim reminds her.

“No promises.”

“I have alerted Pennyworth,” Damian interjects in. “Presumably he will arrive before anyone dies.”

“You hope,” Tim mutters, already hurrying to Jason’s side to take a position against Cutter. “Any chance you can lend me one of those magic swords?”

“Sorry, Red, they’re sort of soul-coded.”

“Of course they are,” Tim sighs, bringing out his spare bo-staff and clicking the button to elongate it. “You’re explaining that at some point.”

“Help me take this broad down and it’s a date.”

“Stop flirting!” Steph shouts as she holds of Dick’s incoming fists onehanded. She’s using what Tim recognizes as several modified Wing Chun techniques. They’re suited to taking down a normal thug, but right now it just barely allows her to hold her own against Batman. The only thing keeping him from targeting her injured arm is Damian, who has taken his sword back up and levies a savage assault on their older brother that Dick is forced to block.

Meanwhile, Jason and Tim dart toward Cutter, Jason in front and Tim flanking. Her blade arcs to meet him in an overhand swing, the force of it knocking Jason back even as Tim takes position behind her and strikes downward to her shoulder.

She spins and catches it with her other sword, stabbing forward with the first; Tim jerks back as Jason rallies and slices toward her; she catches that, sweeping down low to knock Tim odd his feet, and as she uncoils meets Jason’s blade with sparks, the momentum of the blow throwing him to the ground.

“I’m getting tired of eating dirt,” Jason mutters.

“There’s got to be a way we can get an opening,” Tim agrees, picking himself back up again.

Nearby, Dick grabs Steph, yanks and tosses her over his head, as Damian takes a running jump and launches himself forward. He aims a double kick, which Dick blocks with crossed arms that he uses to shove the boy backward. Damian flips in the air, lands in a lunge, sword still at the ready.

With Jason still on the ground, Tim has to defend when Cutter swings at him, ducking and whipping the staff at her. She twists out of the way in the air, regaining her hold on her swords which come down on Tim. He meets every blow, rapidly shifting his staff to catch the edges.

It works for a bit until one of her blades slices right through.

“Okay. Not just magic, also super sharp,” he grunts. “Noted.”

Mentally cursing, he adjusts his stance to fight with the remaining staff pieces, arcs them around and aims for her head.

Cutter gets out of the way of one of them, but the other hits her in the face. She falls to one knee, but it’s not because she dazed so much as she is trying to pincushion him from below.

Tim jumps back as she lunges forward with an underhanded swing, but Jason is recovered, sliding over and catching them with one of his swords.

“That’s it!” Cutter hisses. “Unleash your savage nature and stop me if you dare!”

“Oh, I dare,” Jason growls. “You killed a kid, Carrie. The only thing you deserve is savage.”

Cutter laughs. “It was a necessary sacrifice.”

“I doubt Green Arrow would think that,” Jason counters. “He’s a bit of a douche, but even he wouldn’t be impressed with a child killer.”

Cutter growls at this, but her moves slow incrementally.

Tim narrows his eyes in calculation.

Why would that affect her? Not worried about killing a kid…but worried about the Green Arrow judging her? Actually, now that I think about it, she slowed down before when Jason mentioned Green Arrow.

Far behind him, Steph launches herself at Dick, aiming a kick at the small of his back; Damian, waiting in the wings, charges forward and launches into his older brother’s chest. It’s not enough to wind him, given the body armor, but does put him off balance.

Before he can take advantage of it, though, Dick flings a bolo outward. The cables wrap around Damian, knocking him off his feet.

Steph has her nightstick out, uses it to knock Dick straight across the jaw to send him sprawling as well.

“Stay down…bat bitch,” she pants.

Jason is still running his mouth.

“I mean, it’s one thing trying to off his lady friend, but a kid? That’s one of those relationship dealbreakers, I’m thinking.”

Cutter narrows her eyes, once again faltering.

Tim decides it’s enough evidence to run with his theory.

“There will never be a chance for you two,” he speaks up, injecting a taunting note into his voice. “No matter who much power you think you have.”

“He won’t have a choice!” Cutter snarls. Her eyes flicker, red to green and back. “I’ll make him love me, in a way I never could before!”

“Will you really?” Jason asks. “Or is that just what your secret god friend told you you’d do? Because you’ve spent an awful lot of time everywhere else but tracking down the Green Arrow.”

“Yeah, Star City’s about 2500 miles that way. You could have been there a week ago, with the diviners, if you hadn’t gotten sidetracked by—who’s plan was it?”

“You…are beneath…her,” Cutter replies through gritted teeth.

“'Her?’” Tim echoes. “Well, that’s a help.” He pretends to consider it. “Although, maybe that’s it. Maybe she’s not bringing you to make Green Arrow yours because she doesn’t think you should be with him?”

“No!” Cutter yells, and her eyes are completely back to green now. The overwhelming sense of presence surrounding her fades and Tim knows that she’s suddenly just Carrie Cutter again.

Jason knows too because he’s ditched his magic swords and now brandishes a tranq gun, shooting her with it in the back.

Cutter goes rigid, and falls to the ground, only just catching herself on her elbows.

“That should have taken her down,” Tim says, dismayed.

“Guess it wasn’t enough to take down a god, huh?”

Behind them, Damian slices through the heavy cable holding him prisoner, as Steph readies her own tranquilizer gun to shoot at Dick.

Jason readies the gun to shoot again. “You’re done, Carrie. This ends now.”

Before he can shoot, though, her wrist lashes out to one side, and—shit, the black sword has reverted to its crossbow form!—trains her weapon on Tim.

“I guarantee I can shoot your boyfriend even if you pull that trigger,” she hisses. “And I have a feeling capturing me isn’t worth him hating you.”

Jason freezes.

“Shoot her!” Tim snaps.

“I…”

Jason’s hand shakes.

“No!” Steph yells from behind them, and its reflex to turn towards it.

Dick seizes hold of Steph’s bo, twisting it out of her hands and jabs upward, intent to crush her throat with its edge.

Instantly, Damian is there, grabbing hold of the staff to slow it enough that she can move; in doing so, he ends up having to grapple hand to hand with Dick. Steph stumbles and gets a grip on the gun, hesitating a moment, before shooting.

At the exact moment that Dick gets hold of Damian and moves him into the path of the projectile, Jason gives a grunt and he’s thrown to one side. When Tim turns back, it’s to see Cutter streaking off into the surrounding woods, leaving her bike behind.

“Looks like that dose is a bit too much for the brat,” Dick observes distantly.

“He’s going into respiratory distress!” Steph yells. She’s trying to get to the boy, but Dick is in her path.

Tim and Jason look at each other. They can’t risk Cutter getting away—but they can’t risk Damian dying. Even though Tim can’t read his expression behind the helmet, he knows that they’ve made the decision together.

Instantly, Tim scrambles over to Damian, while Jason throws himself in Dick’s path, his magic swords vanishing into the ether. “You don’t want to hurt that kid, Dickhead! Why not try someone your own size?”

Dick growls, teeth gritted, and darts forward, using Steph as a stepping stone to get to Jason. He stomps down hard on her already injured side, in a way that grants him momentum

Before Jason can react, Dick’s thighs are wrapped around his neck, twisting him around and using the force of it to throw him to the ground. If it weren’t for the reinforced neck hear, Tim’s sure Dick would have snapped his neck.

Can’t think about that right now.

He feels for Damian’s pulse and checks the other vitals, while Steph pulls a manual resuscitator from her utility pouch. Even as she fits it over his face and Tim keeps an eye out lest Dick somehow make it over to them, he knows Cutter’s already vanished.

“Heart’s stopping,” he grunts, tense as he tries to calculate in his head how high the tranquilizer dose was and how it’s interacting with Damian’s body weight.

“Help me get through the body armor,” Steph orders.

Tim doesn’t have a cast saw on him, or any edged tool that could get through Damian’s body armor, but he does have a modified laser he’s used to open tricky safe doors before. If he holds it the right distance away, it can get through the armor without burning Damian’s skin too badly beneath him.

As he cuts, he tries not to let his attention stray to where Jason, unable to free himself from Dick’s hold, digs tear-gas bombs from his belt and smashes them in Dick’s face. They don’t cause lasting damage considering the thickness of the cowl, but the force is enough to make Dick let up and stagger back with surprise.

Jason crouches to regain his footing, swings a leg out, which Dick avoids, and then jumps up and kicks him in the face, which he doesn’t.

Steph is already peeling the armor to the side before Tim’s stopped cutting and slaps two portable defibrillator patches on Damian.

“Clear!” she barks, activating the charge.

There’s a sizzling sound, and Damian’s body bows upward.

Steph begins CPR, while Tim monitors their patient.

Two minutes pass, rife with grunts and curses from the fight behind them. Dick’s voice echoes in the background.

“You’ve always been jealous.”

“I’d blame getting whammied by Eros’ arrows for the cliché, but you’ve always had the lame one-liners.”

“That why you spent your childhood trying to be me?” he smirks.

“Someone’s got an ego—but then, everyone already knew that.”

“Still not responding,” Tim says through gritted teeth.

“Going to try adrenaline,” Steph says. She’s got a syringe of epinephrine at the ready, and without ceremony, jams it into the part of Damian’s thigh not covered by gear.

As she starts another round of CPR, Jason and Dick continue to trade punches in the background, until Dick somehow gets a hold of Jason and hoists him upward, then twists and throws him face-first onto the ground.

“Come on, Dami!” Steph grunts.

Tim checks his pulse again and frowns. “Still don’t like this pulse.”

“Plan B then.” She’s got another syringe now, this time amiodarone. “If you die on me, you little shit…”

Jason grabs a handful of dirt and chucks it in Dicks’ face, putting him off-guard for a moment and allowing Jason the time to get to his feet. Then he’s running, sliding down to take Dick out at the knees before leaping up with a knife.

“You think it’s ego?” Dick asks, edging to one side to avoid it. “Let’s look at the evidence then.” He captures Jason’s descending arm and twists. “You jumped into my costume—” He uses the leverage to put Jason on the ground, “—into my home—” Jason knocks his head backward into Dick’s jaw, forcing him to let go, but only long enough for Jason to turn around before Dick grasps him by the throat, “—stole my father,”—He tightens his grip, “—my friends—” Jason is forced back and downward, “—my girlfriend.”

Bracing himself, Jason slides his arms upward and out to break through Dicks’ grip on him, follows up with a palm to his abdomen and staggers to his feet. He barely gives himself a pause before jumping and kicking Dick in the face with both feet, even as it propels him back to the ground.

It barely fazes Dick, who’s already stalking back over to him.

“And on top of that, you got yourself killed and turned into a martyr that could do no wrong in everyone’s memory. Even when you’ve fucked up, you get let off with everything.”

Jason spits blood on the ground. “I’ve got stints in jail and Arkham that say different.”

“And you should have stayed there,” Dick growls.

Jason flips him off, but Dick is there again, grabbing him by the front.

“Monsters like you need to be locked up.” He grasps Jason by the throat. “You’re just as bad as every piece of shit you ever locked up. Just look at what’s going on now.” He tightens his grip. “All of this is happening so we can stop you from fucking our brother.”

Tim’s stomach churns at that.

Is that what he actually thinks?

“How messed up is that?” Dick mocks, putting himself right into Jason’s face.

Jason snarls. “He’s—not—my—brother!”

There’s a violent flash, as the Red Hood suit panels explode at their highest frequency and send Dick flying several meters away.

He doesn’t get up again.

In the same instant, there’s a sudden flash of light from overhead as the Batplaneappears out of nowhere, and Damian shoots into a sitting position, gasping and cursing.

For a moment, nobody moves, trying to process everything that’s just happened.

Beneath the lenses of his mask, his eyes are wild and he whips his head around, before croaking, “Where’s Cutter? Don’t tell me you lost her.”

Tim snorts as he and Steph fall back from him.

“Typical,” he mutters.

⁂

Once Alfred has Dick loaded into the Batplane—heavily sedated lest he wakes up mid-flight—Jason and the rest of the motley Bat crew stumble back to the Batmobile.

“Well, that sucked,” Steph mutters.

“The last time we had our collective asses handed to us like that, the Joker tried to throw a dinner party,” Jason agrees.

“Ugh, so glad I missed that one.”

“Given the fact you are all in sub-optimal condition, I will be the one to drive us home,” Damian announces.

“Nice try, demon baby, but I’m driving.”

“Father would not be pleased with an outsider driving the Batmobile.”

“He’ll be less pleased if I let a twelve-year-old drive.”

“I’m fourteen!”

“You just got resuscitated. We’re not trusting your reflexes.”

Damian grumbles mutinously.

“You’re just lucky it was your left arm and not your right one Dick totaled,” Tim tells her quietly.

“Lucky?” Damian sniffs. “I tol—”

“If you say ‘I told you so’, I swear to god, I will tranq you again,” Jason growls.

“You will not,” Tim interjects, “Not after all the trouble we went through to save his life. Which we’re still waiting to hear a ‘thank you’ for, by the way.”

“Why should I thank you for letting the perpetrator escape?”

““On the bright side, at least we didn’t have to deal with Ivy on top of all that,” Steph muses. When Jason and Damian shoot her identical unimpressed looks, she shrugs her uninjured side. “What?”

Batgirl and Robin climb into the car. As the doors close, Damian warns, “Try not to get us killed, Brown. I’ve seen you drive.”

Jason rolls his eyes and follows Tim to the spot where they parked earlier. The younger man is being worryingly silent, but Jason has a feeling he knows what it’s about.

How much I screwed up, probably.

The redbird tires kick up dirt with the force Tim uses to spin them around and toward the main road. Jason reflexively grips Tim’s hand over the gear stick, not out of fear or apprehension, but just reassured at skin contact after their latest ordeal.

Tim apparently doesn’t feel the same.

“Damn it, Jay, we’re not reenacting the end of Thelma and Louise,” Tim snaps with a little more bite than usual. “I need my hand to drive.”

Jason immediately relinquishes his hold, ignores the spark of hurt and something else that leaps in his stomach as he forces himself to lean toward the passenger side door.

Tim notices and then softens. “Sorry. I wasn’t trying to—”

“It’s cool,” Jason replies quickly, not wanting to seem like it actually bothered him. He pounces on the first thing he can think of to change the subject. “I can’t believe you’ve seen Thelma and Louise but not Casablanca.”

“What is your obsession with that movie?”

“It’s a classic representation of a bygone era in cinematic history.”

“And I’m supposed to be the nerd in the family…”

“The toys all over your room would confirm that.”

“You mean figurines.”

“I rest my case.”

They side-eye each other, but Jason can see the way Tim’s mouth is twitching like he’s trying hard not to smile given the circumstances.

What I wouldn’t give for him to actually smile at me.

The thought isn’t as out of left field as earlier in the week; Jason supposes he’s just acclimating to the weird stuff Eros’ blood is making him say. Tim’s pretty good about not taking any of it seriously at least.

“So, I have questions,” Tim says after a while, eyes flicking back to the road.

“Starting with who or what the hell is wearing Carrie Cutter as a costume?”

“That—and what’s the deal with those swords?”

“Eros did say they could change form into other weapons.”

“Not talking about Cupid’s swords,” Tim grunts, in that same exasperated tone Bruce always uses when he knows Jason’s being evasive. “You. Those blades you had came out of nowhere. So I’m guessing that’s not part of Eros’ infection. You’ve had access to them for a while.”

“They’re not exactly something I can whip out in the middle of any fight when things get dicey,” Jason defends. “Only works against a certain kind of foe, which don’t show up often enough for you bat-stalkers to get a good look at them.” He pauses. “Actually, I don’t think they even show up on cameras, so it might be that.”

“Not answering the question, Jason.”

“You’re cute when you’re mad.”

Tim makes a choked sound and his cheeks and neck go red in what Jason expects is frustration, so he takes pity on him.

“It’s a long story, okay? None of which I really want to repeat right now,” he scowls. Not telling him they’re powered by my soul, something tells me he’ll take issue with that. “All you need to know is they only show up in the presence of true evil.”

“True evil,” Tim muses. “So, when they disappeared while you were fighting her…?”

“Carrie was back in the driver’s seat. And crazy doesn’t always mean evil, I guess. Never tested it before.” He pauses to think for a minute. “I should really try them out on the Joker some time.”

“Magic swords…” Tim shakes his head as they speed over the Kane Memorial Bridge. “Not my area.” Then he frowns and shoots Jason a look. “Are they why it didn’t work on you?”

“Huh?”

“Her sword. She stabbed you with the gold one, which I figure is analogous to the golden-tipped arrows. It’s the same thing she did to Dick with the lead one. But you were immune.”

“Thankfully. I don’t know what that was, and I wasn’t exactly expecting it.”

“No shit,” Tim says, and suddenly he sounds harsh again. “You weren’t expecting anything because you turned around to check on me.”

“You were in trouble.”

“I had a plan! I always have a plan.”

“Yeah, I saw your plan. It involved electrocuting yourself.”

“To get Dick off of me.”

“That’s the worst plan ever.”

“Better than you getting stabbed, Jason! If she’d used a normal sword on you instead of the diviners, you could have…” Tim trails off, shakes his head and glares at Jason. “I know you’re not exactly firing on all cylinders lately, but that was a really stupid oversight.”

Jason opens his mouth to retort, and then pauses as something occurs to him.

Tim’s not angry with him, but at himself somehow. Like he thinks it's his fault.

How the hell did he end up coming to that conclusion?

“Hey, stop that,” he orders. “You can’t blame you for this. It’s like blaming a girl for being attacked because of the clothes she’s wearing.”

“This isn’t the same thing.”

“Isn’t it?”

Jason’s hand gravitates back to Tim’s, resting gently on top as he grips the gear-shift.

They sit in silence for a while, discomfort filling the small space. It’s not until they make the turn-off toward the hidden entrance to the Cave that Tim speaks again, taking up their conversation from before.

“Whatever kept you immune is probably down to what Eros did to you.”

“Maybe, maybe not. He’s not immune himself, remember?”

“Right. She said that, didn’t she? I could have to do with your super-secret swords.”

“Still not the time to talk about that.”

“Fine, fine…back to the fight. Clearly it’s possible to hurt her when Carrie’s in control instead of whoever’s hitched a ride in her body. So how do we keep her in that state long enough to take her down?”

“Other than mentioning Green Arrow? That did something.”

“We could ask Oliver to make a trip out here.”

“Great idea. If she kills him, it’s one less rich asshole in the world.”

“Jason!”

“Kidding, kidding…”

Except not really, because Queen’s a douche.

“Let’s just…unpack everything. Her behavior, her mannerisms, things she said…”

“The crazy and the crazier…”

“What was that thing she mumbled when she stabbed Dick?” Tim wonders. “It sounded kind of familiar.”

“It’s from A Midsummer Night’s Dream.”

“What?”

“The play,” Jason enunciates and when Tim still looks nonplussed, he adds, “by Shakespeare?”

The younger man shifts uncomfortably. “I sort of…zoned out of most of those classes.” Jason shoots him a disgusted look and he raises his free hand in defense. “What? Half the time I was exhausted from patrol the night before, and the other half—” He makes an exasperated noise. “It was needlessly confusing. Language has evolved since then. Also, all the plots are ridiculous.”

“I’ll say it again. You’re a heathen. I don’t know why I like you.”

“Because you’re infected with the blood of the god of love?” Tim suggests, and though Jason knows he’s trying for a joke, there’s something tense in his words.

He feels like he needs to reassure him. “To be fair, you were my favorite before that.”

“I was…what?”

“As much as it’s possible to have a favorite pain in the ass,” Jason continues thoughtfully. “And next to Cass, of course. Just because I’m pretty sure she’s everyone’s favorite.”

“Of course…” Tim repeats faintly.

“But yeah, you’re definitely less annoying than the rest of the brood. And you forgave me for almost killing you those times, which is pretty cool of you.”

Silence meets his explanation, and he glances over to find Tim staring at him, mouth agape.

Way to sound like a kid with a crush, Todd. Great job.

“Hey, watch the road,” Jason snaps, ears heating up.

Tim clears his throat and gives a minute shake of his head. There’s another taut silence as they pull into the Cave garage and he puts the car in park.

Jason stays silent, letting Tim brood with his thinking face on; just watches him with what feels like a stupid look on his face until Tim shakes his head and they get out of the car.

“So a nameless mythical deity that possesses people and likes to quote Shakespeare?”

“I admit, it was kind of odd and out of the blue for her to say that,” Jason agrees. “Maybe she was trying to be dramatic. I mean, she butchered the delivery anyway.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, in the play, that part’s about making someone fall in love, not overtly causing them to hate other people.

Tim is silent for a few moments, parsing Jason’s explanation.

“Okay, so she was trying to be clever?” he suggests. “Or, whoever’s wearing her is being clever.”

“Maybe they have an appreciation for the Bard.”

Tim ignores that. “It just seems so out of place with everything else that happened in the fight.”

“Sometimes a cigar is just a cigar,” Jason points out.

“And sometimes it’s a stick of dynamite.”

As they head to the stairs, they pause in front of the containment unit where Dick is lying unconscious, divested of cowl and tools. That’s a preventative measure since there’s no cure for the arrow that they know of, and no telling what he’ll do upon waking.

Watching over him, arms crossed and a forbidding expression on his face, is Bruce.

Shit. Daddy’s home.

When he hears them approach, the original Batman turns to face them, expression thunderous.

“This isn’t going to be good,” Tim murmurs under his breath, lips barely moving.

Jason snorts with laughter. “Well, damn, babybird, you made me miss my curfew.”

Tim groans. “Not now, Jason.”

Before they can do more than blink, Bruce is in front of Jason, fingers clenched in the material above his body armor, lifting him enough that Jason finds himself balancing on his toes.

“What the hell were you thinking?” Bruce demands.

“Bruce, stop it!” Tim yells, trying to put himself between them.

“Stephanie’s injured! Dick is out of commission—Damian could have died—!”

“As if that’s different from any other night,” Damian mutters from across the way where he’s beadily watching Alfred treat Steph’s fracture.

She shushes him and elbows him with her good arm.

“This is exactly the kind of recklessness you wanted to prevent when you contacted me!” Bruce continues. “What was the point if you were just going to go out anyway?”

“Bruce, it wasn’t Jason’s idea,” Tim insists, trying to put himself between the two of them. “It was mine.”

Bruce pauses, somewhat caught off-guard. It gives Jason the opportunity to free himself and step back, arms crossed. “Way to shoot first and ask questions later, B.”

“You were told to wait,” Bruce growls at Tim.

“For what?” Tim argues with unexpected vigor. “A few more hours and you’d have been here, but what would it have changed?”

“Dick and Stephanie wouldn’t be injured, for one.”

“You don’t know that,” Jason interjects.

Tim nods in agreement. “Even you couldn’t have accounted for Cutter actually being possessed by some god. It might even have been much worse if you had been there.”

“Tim has a point,” Steph pipes up. “She could have whammied Batman—well, she did whammy Batman, but not the broody Batman. Things might have been worse than a broken arm.”

Bruce shoots Steph a look like he doesn’t know whether to be more irritated by her speaking up, or by the implication that he would have been taken out in the same fashion as Dick.

“Basically, I kind of think we got off easy. In the long run,” she concludes sagely. A beat later, she giggle-snorts. “'Got off’.”

Damian wrinkles his nose in disgust. “I honestly can’t tell if this is your base sense of humor or if Pennyworth put you on the good painkillers.”

Impaired or not, Steph’s clearly making enough sense to make Bruce think twice. He doesn’t look like he likes that, either, and Jason can see by his face he’s deciding on a different tack.

“You still should not have removed Jason from the premises. Red Hood is not cleared for fieldwork until this situation is resolved, and you put everyone in danger by allowing it.”

“Excuse me? No one ‘allows’ me to do anything,” Jason scoffs.

Bruce ignores him. “You couldn’t have known what heightened adrenaline might do to this infection.”

“It was a chance to get the diviners back, and I wasn’t going to waste it.”

“And now you’ve compromised any element of surprise that we had,” Bruce points out. “Cupid and whatever entity is backing her now knows you’re looking to get them back. This was incredibly short-sighted of you, Tim. I’m disappointed.”

Tim’s mouth thins, something flashing across his face that Jason doesn’t quite catch, before he straightens his back and does his best to loom right back.

Jason swallows, feeling a little hotter beneath his gear.

That’s hot. Why is that hot?

Bruce ignores it, continuing on.

“And it’s not just Tim who should have known better. Damian, Alfred, you do know better.”

“I am quite sure the man I raised isn’t presuming to chastise me,” Alfred replies calmly. “Just as I’m sure any and all attempts I may or may not have made to dissuade the young masters would have been as summarily ignored. Much in the same way similar attempts with their father have been rebuffed all these years.”

Bruce clenches his jaw.

Score one for the Englishman.

“What good does knowing better do me if no one listens?” Damian mutters, clenching his fists.

“Just wait ‘til you’re taller, little man,” Steph soothes.

“Shut up, Brown.”

“And you did not see the state Master Jason was descending into,” Alfred says, not as an excuse but as fact. “This was a judgment call made with the information we had at the time.”

“Information based on Tim’s analysis—Tim, who has been compromised about this from the beginning!”

Tim’s cheeks flare red and there’s something that looks almost like panic in his eyes. Jason doesn’t know the reason for it, but he knows that he’ll gladly fight the guy who put it there.

“Yeah, screw you, B,” he snaps, putting himself directly in his face. “It’s not like there’s a manual for this sort of thing. “Tim’s doing his best.”

Bruce shakes his head, mind clearly made up.

“Jason should be quarantined again—” He ignores their noises of protest, “—Tim can stay close by to offset whatever symptoms manifest, but outside. It’s safer that way if the infection progresses in such a way where he becomes dangerous.”

“No!” Tim argues. “Right now, the best place for Jason is next to me—without a bulletproof glass wall between us. We’ve already seen that the more often we’re separated, the more debilitating the symptoms become.”

“That won’t always work.”

“But for now it does.” Tim crosses his arms. “I’m staying with him.”

“Then you’re officially benched.”

“If you think either of us going to sit back and wait for you to solve a case that involves us, you’ve taken one too many blows to the head,” Jason snorts.

“Don’t you see, Bruce? Working the case—it’s helping Jason occupy himself. Otherwise, he’s literally tearing his hair out.”

Damian opens his mouth and Jason snaps a finger in his general direction. “Make one crack about my hairline, baby demon, and I swear I’ll—"

“It’s clear to me that Jason is not the only one compromised—Tim, you shouldn’t be in the field either. I don’t want to see you out there, is that clear?”

“You’re not going to stop us.”

“Tim.”

It’s one word, said with enough warning as to remind Tim exactly who he’s talking to.

“Okay, fine, you probably could stop us, physically,” Tim allows. “But we won’t make it easy. And then we’re both out of here and screw your help.”

“Just listen to yourself! You’re no longer sounding like you,” Bruce says, narrowing his eyes. “That’s enough to confirm everything I’m saying.”

“I’m not sounding like me because I’m not just going along with everything you say?” Tim counters. “Newsflash, Bruce, you don’t always know what’s best. Jason’s been saying it for years and everyone ignores him, but maybe he’s on to something!”

“Tim!” Steph protests.

He throws up his hand in disgust. “You know what? Fine. We’re benched. We won’t go out in the field anymore. But that doesn’t mean I’m giving up on this case, I can still investigate from a distance. And it sure as hell doesn’t mean we have to stay down here with you!”

He turns on his heel and stalks off back down the stairs, his cape flaring behind him in such a Batman-reminiscent fashion that Jason would laugh if he weren’t so stunned at what’s just transpired.

He’s not the only one having trouble processing, it seems.

Alfred sighs in a way that’s supposed to sound like exasperation, but which everyone knows masks worry. Damian and Steph are actually open-mouthed. Bruce looks like he’s trying to remain blank-faced, but there’s calculation going on in those eyes.

Jason doesn’t want to know what that calculation is coming up with.

Instead, he shakes his head and jabs his thumb in Tim’s direction.

“I’m with him,” he says, already walking away. “Because of the whole…you know. Infection. But also, you’re a douche.”

“Jason—”

“Let them go, Master Bruce,” Alfred says. “I believe we all need to take a few moments…”

Damian says something, but honestly, Jason’s no longer listening, too intent on going after Tim.

He’s feeling something strange and buoyant, something that’s edging dangerously close to validation.

It’s a novelty because he’s always the scapegoat, the family screw-up and cautionary tale. No one ever defends him—it’s almost required that everyone have a caustic comment for him by now, and normally he takes it in stride, gives as good as he gets.

But Tim, of all people, is on his side this time and that’s put a ridiculous smile on his face.

That smile vanishes when he gets down the stairs and he sees the way Tim’s expression is twisted, not with righteous anger, but with guilt and doubt.

“He’s right,” Tim murmurs, pacing back and forth. “This isn’t like me.”

“Are you kidding?” Jason asks, trying for levity. “That was amazing.”

“You’re just saying that because I told off Bruce, and you’re happy when anyone tells him off.”

“Well, yeah. But also, how many people have the balls to stand up to the Big Bat? Present company excluded.”

“He’s just so…” Tim trails off, gesturing wildly to encompass his meaning, and then throws down his hands in annoyance. “You know what? There isn’t even a word.”

“Been saying that for years.”

“Doesn’t mean he’s wrong. We should have waited. We didn’t even get anything out of this.” Tim runs his fingers through his hair, agitated. “Except for him getting pissed off at you. And you’re the one who he’s supposed to be helping.”

Jason shrugs. He’s too used to that sort of thing for it to be a surprise. He moves in closer to Tim, filled with the urge to protect him somehow.

“And I’m supposed to be helping, but I just made it worse.”

“Bullshit. This whole situation is fucked up, it’s not all on you.”

“You wouldn’t say that if you weren’t hopped up on Olympian blood.”

“Okay, then, how about I go take a swing at B? I’m always up for that.”

Tim snorts. “I don’t think one thing necessarily cancels out the other.”

But he’s smiling now, expression going clear and relaxed for a minute and for a second Jason sees the kid as he is when he’s not pretending to be red robin or Tim drake Wayne or dutiful son or terrifyingly clever master planner that goes head to head with Ra's al Ghul.

And Jason can’t help really help himself anymore.

Maybe it’s the infection, or the lingering adrenaline from the fight with Cupid, or the argument with Bruce. Or just the way Tim, fresh off standing up for Jason against everyone else, is looking at him just then.

But before he can really think better of it, he’s leaning in and covering Tim’s mouth with his.

⁂⁂⁂

Next Chapter

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