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fundeadasylum · 5 years

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By Any Other Name

More Jake-centric Micoverse fic.

Um. I really don’t have anything else to say about this one.

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Jake runs away from home at sixteen.

He doesn’t say anything to anyone. He doesn’t leave a note. He doesn’t even say anything to Dan.

One night, Jake shoves some things in a backpack, takes the money he’s been hiding for months, and vanishes into the night. No one notices he’s gone until his mothers realizes she’s missing some pieces from her jewelry box and his brother’s missing all the bills from his wallet.

But when they go to confront Jake, his room is empty, the window is open, and the bed is cold.

Jacob Pierly is gone and he clearly has no intention of coming back.

———

He huddles in a seat alone in the middle of the bus, leaning against the window, headphones on and ignoring the other passengers as much as they ignore him. He wants to go sit in the back, press his spine into a corner and watch everyone get on and off. But sitting in the back is suspicious and Jake doesn’t want to draw attention to himself.

But he probably already has.

It doesn’t take an idiot to figure out why a teenager with bruises on his neck, a lumpy backpack, and a faded guitar case are alone on an out of city bus in the middle of the night.

———

Jake briefly wonders if anyone’s reported him missing, if anyone’s even noticed at all. Would anyone look for him? Would anyone care?

Dan probably would.

An ache in his chest makes him feel bad about leaving without saying anything to his (only?) friend.

But it’s better this way. Jake knows it is. Jake knows he’s poison and that Dan will be happier without him. Without Jake around, Dan can have normal friends who don’t show up to school with bruises and cuts and anger burning in their veins. Without Jake around, Dan won’t have a broken little basket case to weigh him down and he’ll be able to focus on his own life. Without Jake around, Dan will actually be able to live his life the way he wants to.

It’s better this way, Jake tells himself. He stubbornly wipes his burning eyes with the back of his hand and ignores the tight feeling in his throat and the way his heart hurts.

———

The money goes away fast.

For a while, he gets a job scrubbing floors at a hotel and the manager lets him sleep on a spare mattress in a side closet as part of his pay. When she asks him with a forced nonchalance if he’s heard about the missing boy from his hometown, Jake quits and takes the next bus to the adjacent county.

———

A busboy at a bar he’s washing dishes at offers him a cigarette one night.

Jake doesn’t know why he takes it but he does, takes a drag on it and coughs out a cloud of acid air that makes his eyes water. The older man laughs and claps him in on the back, calls him a child, takes the cigarette back and walks back inside still chuckling.

His pride is stung and his eyes are watering and his throat hurts but at least he knows now that cigarettes really aren’t worth the hype. He swears off them and, two weeks later, he quits the job and leaves town.

The busboy gives him a hundred dollars and a smile that says he gets it.

———

He plays guitar on street corners sometimes.

Occasionally, he’s invited into a cafe or bar where the tips are better and sometimes they give him a free meal.

The owner of a bar puts his hand on Jake’s thigh once, too warm and too close and too much. Jake stops playing his guitar for a while after that.

———

There’s a pay phone outside the bus station.

Jake stares at it from a bench inside the building for a long time, turning thoughts over in his mind, and some spare change over in his hand. He hardly realizes he’s made his choice until his shaking fingers are pressing the metal buttons and there’s a buzzing ring in his ears.

“Hello, Fuller residence?”

His mouth dries up and his voice is caught under the boulder of emotions lodged in his stomach. He tries to say something but his mind is blank and his palms are sweating. It’s just Mrs. Fuller but her voice is so familiar that it strikes him to the core and he can’t, he just can’t.

“Hello? Hello, is anyone there?”

“U-um—“ His words are far away, spoken by someone else in another building, in another time, in another place, “H-hi. Is…is Dan…is Dan…” The words won’t come out.

There’s a small breath on the other end of the phone line, a crackle of sound like fingers over clingfilm,

“Jake? Oh my god, Jake, hun, is that you!? Where are you!? We’ve been looking everywhere! Dan’s been—wait, let me—“ Her voice pulls away but Jake can still hear her, calling in the distance as his heart begins to race, thudding fists on the prison walls of his ribcage until the ache in his chest makes him feel sick.

“JAKE!”

Something cracks and Jake makes the noise of a beaten dog. Dan’s voice is shaking and hoarse and even through the hum of telephone static it is a warmth and a comfort,

“Jake, are you still there!? Please still be there! Jake, buddy, please, say something!”

“Dan—“ A croak of sound, desperate and hurt and so broken and lost that Jake’s not even sure he’s the one who said it.

There’s a sound on the other end of the line, a shuddering gasp and a whine of relief and hurt. Dan’s crying. Dan’s crying and it’s Jake’s fault and he shouldn’t have done this.

“Jake, it is you! Where are you? Why did you leave?”

Dan knows why. Jake doesn’t say anything, can’t say anything. He just presses the plastic phone harder to his ear and sniffles, his body shaking, the buttons on the pay phone swimming in front of his burning eyes.

“Come back. Jake, please. Please. Come home.”

He hangs up the phone and runs away with his head ducked low and tears on his face.

He never calls again.

———

Jake is twenty-one and sipping at a rather sour tasting beer when he falls in with a questionable crowd.

———

They don’t ask him anything and he likes that best about them.

He’s sure they know who he is, sure they’ve picked up every trace of him they could, but they don’t ask and they don’t pry and they don’t care. So he likes them. Like him, they’re outcast and hurt, the discarded and forgotten, the freaks and punks and dreamers who get kicked under the bus to be forgotten and run over.

Jake plays them an angry song and they all sway to the beat. It’s something they feel in their souls.

———

“Oi, musiker, want to learn how to do some real damage? Skada de människor som skadar dig?

Jake doesn’t understand most of what is said but he knows the feel of the words, the way they burn against the lips of the speaker and ignite fire in her eyes. He sets his guitar down and nods.

She grins, shows her teeth, and turns her laptop towards him.

———

It takes while to master the skill but Jake becomes shockingly good at it, something that surprises him and no doubt most of the group.

Hacking is by no means as easy as the television makes it look.

But he has good teachers and a lot of spite inside him, a lot of passion and anger and frustration and hurt. Not all of it can come out in the songs he sings and the strings he plucks. And he’s never been good at fist fights.

There’s something cathartic about typing away at a keyboard for hours on end, losing yourself in the strings of numbers and lines of code, the endless staircase of information that spreads open like a butterfly’s wings once you find the right key. And Jake so very much likes finding the keys. It’s not even that he wants to do anything once he’s unlocked the paths, he just likes getting there. He has no purpose yet and that’s a dangerous thing when he has such a powerful tool at his disposal.

He doesn’t want money or riches or an island. He doesn’t want blackmail or secrets or cons.

One of them asks him what he wants and Jake isn’t sure. He thinks about it for a long moment, staring at his bruised hands and dirty fingernails and thinking about all the scars under his sleeves and how many times his wrists have been purple and black from a grip that was too tight.

Then he says, very quietly but with a heavy heart,

“I want it to stop hurting so much.”

Someone hugs him.

———

She calls him Musiker.

He learns it’s simply Swedish for “musician”.

He starts calling her Lisbeth.

She laughs the first time he says it to her face.

Then she shows him how to get what he wants.

———

He’s twenty-seven and he still plays on street corners and bars. He makes music in his spare time and sells it on the internet.

No one’s called him Jacob Pierly for years.

———

His favorite targets are the people who slip too easily under the radar.

Pedophiles are easy. They’re not as clever about hiding their sick obsessions as they think they are. Some of them are a bit sneakier than others but none of them so far have managed to evade him for long.

It’s the abusers he really likes taking down. The ones who hit their partners or their children. The ones who lock their pets outside on chains in the cold and the dark. The ones who get away with it because they have friends on the police force or because their victims are too afraid to saying anything.

it’s hard to find a way to prove anything on them, hard to catch them in the act, hard to get them to serve justice for what they’ve done. But the anger they kindle in his stomach drives him to it and he spends hours sprawled on his bed with his laptop and a plate full of apple slices and peanut butter spread and graham crackers. Lisbeth teases him for snacking healthy and he casually reminds her that his heart condition would explode if he were to so much as even think about consuming the same energy drinks she and the others tend to.

She laughs and sits down to help him bring down some white collar asshole who beats his kids with a power chord and calls it educational.

———

He’s thirty and playing something solemn on a curb under a flowering tree sometime in the spring.

One foot is planted on the lid of his guitar case, propped open for tips from the passersby, his guitar nestled lovingly in his lap as his hands glide gently across the strings. It’s not a sad song, just something nostalgic, something lost and then found again in the long expanse of years that pass them by.

“Jake?”

The notes snag on his stumbling fingers, his body going numb with shock and cold and maybe not a little bit of fear. His heart thuds painfully against the neck of his guitar where it’s pressed tightly into his chest, his breath shaky as he slowly raises his head.

There’s a man standing on the sidewalk a few feet away.

The man is very tall, his skin dark, his hair darker, his arms burly and his eyes kind. There’s an expression of hopeful shock on his face, a tinge of worry, the briefest hint of a plea.

“…Dan?” His voice croaks out and it’s like the rest of the world has dropped away, like the only people who exist are the two of them, standing in the shade of a blooming tree in some no name city.

“Jake.” The man says his name again, takes a step closer, hesitates.

He unslings the guitar from his shoulder, eases it back into the case, never taking his eyes off the man. He’s stunned and something else he can’t put his finger on, something like melancholy, something like relief, and something a little bit like hope.

His eyes are burning.

“Dan,” He says, rising from the bench he’d been sitting on, “Oh my god, Dan. Dan! DAN!”

He doesn’t remember running, doesn’t remember even thinking of doing so, but the next thing he knows he’s thrown himself into Dan’s arms with tears in his eyes, clutching at his old friend’s shirt and choking on words that tumble in unintelligible gasps out of his mouth. Dan is holding him tightly, might be crying too given how shaky his words are, might be just as happy and just as hurt, just as relieved and just as bitter.

It seems like hours before Dan sets him down on the sidewalk again and smudges the tears from his face with a smile,

“Hi Jake,” He says and his voice only shakes a little bit, “Long time, no see. I missed you, buddy. Where did you go? What happened to you?”

“Hi Dan,” Says Jake, who is not Jacob Pierly anymore, he is simply Jake and his own watery smile crinkles his face as he grins up at his old friend,

“It’s a long story. Wanna get some lunch?”

#is this a vent fic????? what is this???? i have no idea #micoverse

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loubuggins · 7 years

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Raven’s Revenge (Teen Tyrants)

Author's Notes: So I'm starting this up top this time, so that I can introduce y'all to this new story. I have had this idea sitting on the shelf for a while now, and some of you may notice parts of it come from a drabble I did a while back. Well, that was the inspiration behind this story! I wasn't going to start this project yet, but I had a lot of requests and inquires into it, I decided why not? I will warn you all, I am in college and I have a job, so my writing time is very limited. I also am still working on Every King Needs a Queen, which is a collaboration effort with my best pal @bearhow2, who was also so kind as to be my beta reader for this project. So, do not expect updates to happen right away. They will fluctuate as the year comes on. I plan to finish this story no matter what, and updates will happen when they happen, but I will say that reviews are my biggest motivator. Knowing people actually enjoy this story, makes me want to write more of it. So please keep that in mind. Anyway, thank you all and I hope you all enjoy the story!

- LB

A doctor dressed in a white lab coat that covered most of their body, was walking briskly down the wide halls of Arkham Asylum. On either side of the man were two largely-built police officers, who were covered in bullet proof padding and a clear shield over their faces. In their hands, they each held a large assault rifle, the safety off, and trigger fingers itching over the trigger. The group walked down to the end of the hall, stopping in front of a solid metal door that read only one word at its center - Logan.

"Okay, Doc, make this quick. This one tends to be tricky." The officer on the doctor's left commented. The doctor gave a curt nod, and with a quick look to his partner, the officer that had spoken stepped forward and banged on the door.

"Wake up, Logan! You have a house call! Stand facing the wall with your hands up!" The officer instructed as he slide open a tiny window on the door, and peaked inside. His cold gaze drifted across the room, but saw no sign of the prisoner. Unlocking the door and sliding it open, the two security men charged inside.

Inside the room, the single-sized cot in the corner was torn to pieces, and most of the wall space had deep claw marks. Over by one of the walls, a young man (probably in his late teens) squatted in front of the wall staring intently at the markings that he himself had clawed into them. He was completely green from head to toe. His hair was short, but messy, with his forest green locks falling in varies different directions. His ears were large and pointed, flicking slightly at ever sound. His emerald pupils were narrow like a cat's eyes. His face was expressionless as he stared up at the wall.

"Up against the wall, Logan!" The officer commanded before moving to grab the green mutant, until he was stopped by the doctor's arm.

"No wait!" The doctor called. He turned his attention to the man on the ground. "Mr. Logan, can you please explain what you wrote on the wall?"

Logan's ears perked up and his head spun around to face the three men standing off to his side. The guards tensed, ready to jump into action if the patient tried to escape. The doctor remained impassive on the outside, but Logan could smell his nervousness and sense his curiosity. The monster's eyes were lifeless and bloodshot, but shimmered in the darkness eerily. His face battered and scarred from both his past and his present.

"The Gem. Shall set me. Free." He spoke slowly, his voice hoarse from lack of use.

The doctor tilted his head slightly in confusion. "And what does that mean?"

"It's a prophecy." The beast spat with an added snarl. "A prophecy that already happened, that shall happen again."

The doctor looked at him with amused curiosity. He didn't take this lunatic seriously, but he was always fascinated with the insane. "Oh? And when will that be?"

Logan's lips curled up in a large, wicked grin. His sharp, jagged teeth glistened in the artificial light of the room. He suddenly burst into an obnoxious crackle like a drunk hyena. He then snapped his head back forward and looked the doctor dead in the eye. "Now."

Before the guards could react, a large black hole opened under the changeling and swallowed him up.

"Shit! How'd he? That little bastard!" One of the officer's cursed as he pulled out his walkie-talkie and reported what he had just witnessed. The other officer cursed too, and kicked the wall in frustration. The doctor was more shocked than angry. He walked up to the markings on the wall, and ran his fingers over the words carved into it.

"You are truly a remarkable specimen, Mr. Logan." He muttered to himself. "I do hope our paths cross again."

Somewhere off in the nearby woods, another black puddle of magic appeared and the green man popped up from it. As quickly as the magic came, it vanished. The man was on all fours and he shook himself like a dog.

"Man, I hate when you do that." He growled as he ended his violent shake.

"Well would you have preferred I left you there to rot?" Came a sarcastic reply. He looked up to see a relatively short, curvy woman, wearing a skin-tight red leotard and a blood red cloak. She had the hood of her cloak over her head, hiding her pink, short hair.

"No." He said weakly.

She came closer to him. "That's what I thought." she knelt down on one knee and wrapped her hands over the man's face, forcing him to look up.

His ears perked up at the sudden contact, but when her scent washed over him, he quickly relaxed and purred into her hands.

"That's right my pet." She cooed as she used one of her hands to comb through his green locks. "Mama's here." Her gentle smile turned into an evil grin.

"Mama's here."

A giant boulder became entrapped in dark magic and rolled over to the side. Behind it, opened a large cave made entirely of stone and earth, littered with small patches of grass and other greenery. A green wolf ran inside and began sniffing at the floor and walls of the shelter. After walking in circles for a few moments, the wolf came to a stop and looked up to his rescuer that waited by the entrance.

"It'll be dark. Too dark to see inside." He warned through their telepathic link.

She rolled her bright red eyes, and strolled inside the cave without a second thought. With a snap of her fingers, a bright fire magically burned in the center of the cave floor. It just so happened that the wolf had been standing close enough that his tail caught the bite of the flame and with a pained yelp he leaped in the air. Panic-stricken, he jumped and howled in pain around the cave, the flame on the tip of his tail chasing after him. The sorceress watched him passively, only half amused at the situation. Finally, the canine dropped to his rear and began dragging it against the dirt, like a dog does to brand new carpet. Once he had successfully put out the flame, he stopped and shifted back into his human form, panting from the exertion.

"Damn it Rae!" The distressed changeling cursed.

Raven simply smirked at him, then slowly stepped closer to him. Instinctively, he bowed his head down in submission as she approached him. She ran one of her pale hands through his shaggy hair, making his right leg twitch with the urge to bounce it.

"You're such an idiot Garfield Logan." She murmured as she dropped down to her knees, becoming eye-level with him. Gently, she rubbed the back of her hand down his cheek, then caressed his face with both her hands. Their eyes locked in an intense gaze, before she slowly leaned into him and pressed her full, dark lips against his own. Their mouths moved in sync as they enjoyed the feeling of their touch for the first time in a year. It was Raven who pulled away first, and her warm breath brushed against his skin. "I've missed my idiot."

With that she stood back up and made her way to the other end of the cave. She whispered her mantra, and the ground shook as a rectangular shape revolted against the wall. Grass sprouted from the surface of the mound, creating a natural bed. She removed her boots and cloak and casually tossed them aside before laying her lithe petite body down onto the bed, her back pressed against the soft grass and her arm bent under her head as a pillow. Her other hand draped over her hip. She let out a comfortable sigh and closed her eyes in a moment of peace.

"So, how'd you escape again?" The rough voice of her den-mate broke her tranquility.

"I already told you." Her voice dripped with annoyance. "I had to wait until today, so that I could draw in the power of Trigon. It was the only way to rebuild my strength."

"Yeah, I get that, but..." The shape-shifter started as he staggered over closer to her bedside. "What exactly...did you do?" He looked up at her like a dog begging for a treat. Raven opened one eye and peered down at him, and smirked when she saw his eager expression.

"Well, my love, it was simply really. Once I harnessed my father's power, I simply took my full demon body out for a much-needed walk." She said ominously.

The man's ears wiggled with glee. "Give me the dirty details." He begged.

"Fine." She sighed, pretending to be disinterested when really, she thrived on the attention. His attention. There was something about his child-like personality that was so unlike the rest of the despicable human race. "As soon as the sun rose, giving birth to this day, I concentrated on my father's presence from his cell down below. Once I could feel his power crawl against my skin, I allowed my body to transform into my natural self."

Garfield growled with excitement as she continued retelling her escape.

"Then I broke out of my chains. The guards came rushing in, and with one swipe of my hand they collapsed on the floor dead. I flew out of the room and sent a blast of magic to clear the hall. I flew through the halls of the asylum using my tentacles to spear through dozens of doctors and military men. I destroyed their precious research and returned all the blood they had stolen from me back to my body. I found the psychiatrist they had assigned to me and took her into a portal with me. I placed us outside the asylum hidden away in the Arctic. The snow and ice circled around me, as I used my power to crack the ice of which the building stood on, and laughed as the chilling water devoured it. Lastly, I turned to the girl who lay at my feet, I told her I was sparing her life only so she could deliver a message for me. I wanted Arkham to know. I wanted the world to know. I want him to know, that I was free and that I am coming for him."

When she finished her story, Garfield cheered and jumped up onto Raven, smothering her with wet kisses. Raven gave a girlish giggle as she caught the lobe of his ear with her teeth. As she nibbled at the sensitive ligament, Garfield's kisses became deeper and more passionate. His chest rumbled with a low growl and his hands began to explore her body from her breasts down her sides to her smooth legs. Raven moaned as he assaulted her neck with a mixture of kisses and bites. With a flick of her wrist, the large boulder that had once kept them away, rolled over, closing them off to the outside world.

"Are you ready for your birthday present, my mate?" The changeling said in between bites.

Raven moaned her reply. "Well don't leave me in suspense."

The enchanted flame sent a low light dancing across the walls. The sound of their love-making echoing through the cave.

A loud ringing of an alarm filled the bedroom, causing a muscular young man to sit up in a cold sweat. His breathing was irregular as he turned his blurry, tired gaze around the room. Finally, his vision began to clear and the loud alarm grabbed his attention. He turned to face the source of the noise, his circular communicator blinking red and sitting on his nightstand.

"Hmm…what's going on?" A small, sleepy voice called from the other side of him. He turned to glance at the woman's hourglass frame that slept beside him. Her long black hair bellowed out on her pillow, and although she had spoken, her eyes never opened, and she was already shifting in her spot preparing to drift back to sleep.

"It's nothing Kom…go back to sleep."

She quickly did as she was told. With a heavy sigh, the raven-haired boy glanced back at his communicator, the device still buzzing on the nightstand. With a groan, he reached over and pulled the device from the charger it was plugged into with a tug. The cord popped out of it, and he brought the device over to his pale face. With his brain still in sleep-mode, he forgot to check the caller ID, and instead swiped the accept call button.

"Hello?" His voice came out rough and groggy.

"Robin, this is Doctor Harley Quinzel, I am the psychiatrist tasked with the patient Raven."

Robin's body tensed at the sound of her name. "Yes?" He replied feebly.

"Well it looks like you were on her emergency contact list, as well as another patient by the name of Garfield Logan?" The woman over the phone questioned.

"Yes, that is correct."

"Well unfortunately, both patients have escaped their respective holding locations, we are already looking into..."

The woman's voice became drowned out as memories began to play over in his mind. Visions of the torture he had to endure under her reign. Visions of the fight that had broken out among them. The look in her crimson eyes as they led her away in chains and the venom foam from her mouth as she swore her vengeance upon them. His hand shook as he pulled the communicator away from his ear, the doctor's voice ringing out through the speaker, but he ignored it. He dropped the device onto the nightstand, and threw the covers off his legs. He rolled out of bed, and staggered to the nearby restroom. He stumbled over to the sink, where he twisted the valve and ice-cold water flowed freely out of the faucet. He dunked his hands over the running water, and then splashed the cool liquid against his face. He gave himself a violent shake, before looking up into the mirror that hung in front of him. He starred back at his reflection, his eyes dark from stress.

"The gem shall return." He mumbled to himself. "The gem shall return, and all will meet her wrath." The words fell heavy on his tongue as he recited the prophecy given to him a year ago from today, uttered by the very gem herself.

"Raven is back."

#bbrae #garrae #robin #blackfire #raven #garfield logan #beast boy #teen tyrants #raven's revenge #RR #teen titans #fanfiction

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