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hains-mae · 4 years

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Flowers - Pt. 5 (The End)

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5 (The End)

(Damian x Reader) Soulmate AU

The Flowers: @call-me-prodigy @annoylinglyaries @zphilophobiaz @comic-brew @biglilwing @awkwardspontaneity @lozzybowe @mariiecapo @distressedearie @diyosku @dracoaereum @thesuitelifeofafangirl @chims-kookies @blade-xingston @danicalifxrnia

Rating: T

Ages: Damian and you are 16, everyone’s ages follow after.

Summary: Soulmate AU where the wounds on your soulmate turns into a flower tattoo on your skin, if it heals with no scars the tattoo goes away, if it heals with a scar then the tattoo stays.

Notes: Wow that was a fun ride. But every story comes to an end, I hope you guys enjoy the final chapter! And thank you everyone who has taken their time to like, comment, and reblog. I appreciate it a lot <3

Disclaimer: I do not own DC. If I did, I wouldn’t make it as confusing as it is now.

Robin visited every other night after that. It was surreal to have a hero that you’ve so long admired become your frequent visitor. Then again, nothing seemed normal anymore.

“It’s past the convention week. How do you keep coming here?” I asked curiously one night.

Robin gave me a lopsided grin and tapped the side of his nose. “I have my ways.”

After Mom’s week long leave was up she begrudgingly had to go back to work. The hospital assured her that I was healing fairly well, and that I would be transferred to Gotham Hospital the following weekend.

I was never really lonely though. Besides the friendly staff, my midnight visitor always came right on time. I wondered why he would take the time. Maybe it was to get to know me better? Perhaps my speech that night managed to get through to him. I had hoped it was both.

If I was being honest though, I was a little more than glad he did. I had meant it when I told the boy that I found him intriguing. He was a tough nut to crack though. I couldn’t blame him.

During the day when I would shower, I’d trace the flowers across my frame and wonder just how much he had gone through.

Soul marks start to appear at 10 years of age. You could imagine the shock (and worry) my parents had gone through when they found me one day absolutely covered in flowers.

From a young age I would hide them. Always wearing my sleeves till my palms, my neck constantly covered with either my jacket, scarf or high placed collars. It wasn’t that I was ashamed, but Gotham liked to talk – and when you’re the subject of attention, then you’re an easy target for criminals.

As I got older, the marks around my neck forearms slowly faded. I had worried about my soul mate and their well-being. Now that I understood everything, it was a different type of worry all together. The kind that would sit at the pit of your stomach and tie knots, heavy enough to keep you on edge.

My T.V in the hospital room was always on the same channel, Gotham News. Every battle would have my heart clenching as the camera’s desperately tried to follow the fight. Most of the time’s they wouldn’t be able to capture the end, and I’d be left holding my breath.

That’s one other reason I looked forward to our nightly visits. I could relax knowing he was alright.

I still wasn’t sure what I felt for this enigma of a person. But I knew that I wanted to get closer.

“I have an idea.” Robin said one evening. There was a glint his eye, the mask was off since my mom wasn’t around anymore. “And it’s got something to do with your invention.”

I arched a brow. “The bullets are complete but I still have yet to finalize the counter measures.”

He nodded understandingly. “Counter affect can wait. We don’t want to encase anyone in rock at the moment, but I’m putting it out there since you wanted to help.”

Intrigued, I urged him to continue.

Damian was quite brilliant in his own way. After much thought and planning, we had about 3 more types of chemically enhanced concoctions laid out. All of which were to go through Batman before beginning the experimentation process. He has assured me that I would be leading the research team for that under Wayne Ent.

I couldn’t wait to get out of the hospital.

“Do you like sweets?” He asked randomly.

Arching a brow I studied him. He was slouched on the couch with his leg dangling on one side and a book in his hands.

Charles Dickens.

“Yes.” I said, noting his obvious attempt to look natural. “Do you?”

“On occasion.” The boy shifted a shoulder to mimic a shrug.

The very next visit he had a black bag slung across his shoulder. His face gave nothing away but from the times I’ve spent with him, I realised it was his eyes that did most of the talking.

“Whatcha got over there?” I asked curiously, scooting closer to him at the edge of the bed.

“Patience.” He said and pulled up the make shift table that was attached to the side of my bed. Placing a medium sized box on top, he carefully undid the lid and opened it. “I present to you, baklavas.”

In the dim light I saw that they were flaky, almost like a croissant. There were some with a mix of nuts, from pistachios to almonds. Others were plain but still looked heavenly. They gleamed with a moistness, as if coated with a syrupy substance. I picked one up and popped it into my mouth.

It burst with flavour and dissolved much too fast. I squeaked at the exotic taste.

“Oh my gosh these are so good.” I said, licking my thumb.

Robin looked pleased.

“You should have one.” I pushed the box towards him but he shook his head.

“They’re yours.” He said.

“Nonsense. Food always taste better when shared.” I picked another one up intending to eat it.

“If you insist.”

I had barely managed to register the wicked glint in his eye before he took hold of my wrist and brought my hand that was holding the sweet close to his mouth. He took it carefully from me in one easy motion and lightly licked my finger.

“You’re right. It does taste better when shared.”

I felt the burn on my cheeks and ears before I heard the warning blare of the heart monitor. Immediately, Robin slipped behind the couch just as the nurses for the nightshift burst into my room in a panic. They fussed over me as I repeatedly tried to tell them I was alright. My heart finally calmed and once they left, Robin got up covering his mouth. He was trying to keep himself from laughing.

-x-x-x-

The weekend came much faster than I had anticipated. When the doctors checked on my progress, they gave the thumbs up for me to be transferred to Gotham’s hospital. Mom was relieved, and wouldn’t stop fussing over me when we got there. I let it be though, thinking it was more for her own peace of mind than mine.

After that it was a short two weeks before I was fully discharged.

Robins visits never wavered though. If anything, he had stayed for longer periods of time. I got to know the boy under the mask more than I had hoped for and opened up in return more than I had intended.

I found out his brothers were vigilantes too. He pointed them all out one evening with a family picture he’d secretly stashed in his wallet. They were a “thorn” to his side — as he had so eloquently described, but I could see just how much he loved them. That was another thing I learnt about him, his speech patterns were very posh. He liked to use formal names and slang was not completely in his vocabulary. I asked him about that one time, to which he only replied “another time”. It was probably a touchy subject, where he exactly grew up.

His favourite colour was green, and his adoration for animals was as deep as black hole. It was crazy how perfect my mind painted him to be, and the more I knew, the harder it was to ignore the feelings growing inside me.

He enjoys reading, but would gladly spend the day locked in his room with his tablet and pen drawing the day away. He is good both in traditional and digital art, and sometimes dabbles in graphic design when he feels like it. He prefers his tea without any additives, but would not hesitate to pour bucket loads of milk and sugar in his coffee during the rare moments he drinks it.

I could list everything down but it would just solidify my attraction to him, and honestly I doubt this was he needed right now. Juggling a double life sounded a lot more stressful than he showed it to be. He hardly ever talked about it but from the amount of flowers blooming on me, it was difficult to see it any other way but exhausting. He’d kick butt at night, get hurt, then go to school the very next day like nothing happened.

He arrived one evening like he normally did and I had rushed up to pull off his glove. I felt a sting earlier and found a Sakura branch littered with pink flowers. I was right, his arm was soaked in red, and the gash looked bad.

“It’s just a scratch.” He promised me.

I didn’t reply. Taking him straight to the bathroom, I rinsed out the remaining blood and addressed the wound. After bandaging him up I finally looked into his eyes and showed him just how worried I was.

That evening we sat next to each other, with our fingers intertwined and his thumb randomly brushing against my knuckles.

-x-x-x-

Finally I was able to return home. Being able to lie down on my own bed, inside my own house, I could let loose and properly relax. I threw myself onto the soft comforters that smelled like fabric softener and smiled to myself.

Home sweet home.

But not for long, I reminded myself that this evening I would be dining with the Wayne’s. Swallowing hard, I hurried my face onto the pillows. I can’t mess this up, not after everything they’ve done for me.

Damian’s smirking face suddenly came to mind, and all his welcomed visits. It made my stomach grow warm. Remembering us sharing the sweets he gifted – soft lips against my fingers.

I groaned into the pillow, the room was getting a little hot. Getting up gingerly, as to not aggravate the newly healed stitches, I manoeuvred my way to the window and pushed it open. The cold evening air felt good against my heated skin. I sighed in content.

If I were being honest, I didn’t know what exactly was happening between us. I didn’t know if I wanted anything to happen between us. Wouldn’t it be weird, considering that I’d be interning for his dad in just a couple of months. Possibly work there if my luck doesn’t run out first. Not to mention WHO he was.

You’re just a normal girl, I chided myself. Not someone important enough to stand beside such a prestigious boy and his ridiculously wealthy family.

But even then – I found myself wondering. Seeking. Imagining… What if we were to become something more? What if it works? What if we fall in –

“Y/n!” Mom’s voice broke through my reverie, waking me up from the needless train of thought.

Closing my window, I poked my head out the door and found her putting on a bracelet.

“Are you ready? The cab is nearly here.” She asked.

I nodded and took a step closer to her. Looking quickly at the vanity mirror in the hallway, I gave myself a once over to make sure everything was in place. I had on a slightly fitting turtle neck sweater, paired with a high waisted pleated skirt and dark stockings. On my feet I sported on my boots. It was safe to assume no one would be able to see my soul marks.

My mom grabbed her purse and headed downstairs. I followed close behind her, handing her her coat before locking up the front door.

The cab driver arrived a few minutes in, and we drove off straight to Wayne Manor.

“This is exciting isn’t it?” She said to me with a lift in her voice, as she exited the cab to get the gates opened.

Once we could enter, we were greeted with a very large land that was pristinely kept. The grass was cut evenly, and the trees lining the estate were trimmed to perfection. Bushes were perfectly shaped into different animals, and flowers systematically grown to create swirls and shapes beside the road. A big fountain was situated just in front of the mansion while a man in a black suit waited beside the opened doors.

We exited the cab after paying and did our best to take it all in without looking like fishes out of water.

“Ah, Mrs. & Ms. Y/l/n.” It was the man who I saw pick up Damian that one night in Metropolis appeared. I also remembered him in the family photograph. His accent was thickly laced with British poise. “My name is Alfred Pennyworth, I shall be you’re attendant for the evening.”

“Thank you.” Mom was quick to compose herself.

As soon as I entered the house I felt my breath stolen away. It was huge. Everything looked so new and polished.

I barely registered my mom and Alfred chatting away as he led her to the dining hall.

“I know what you’re thinking.”

I nearly jumped at the voice that startled me. Whipping my head around, I found Jason standing with his hands in his pockets.

“I remember my first time coming in here. Completely floored.” He chucked.

I waved a small greeting. “Everything looks so –“

“Expensive? Exorbitant? Grand?” He tried to guess.

“Beautiful.” I breathed out.

He laughed. “Not what I expected. But you’re full of surprises aren’t you.”

I blushed. “Ah, I’m not sure about that. I’m just me.”

“Hey, no stealing our guest before dinner.” Dick walked down the stair case with Tim beside him.

“Feeling better Y/n?” Tim asked as we grouped just below the stairs.

“Yeah, thank you.” I answered, suddenly feeling flustered as they surrounded me.

Stay calm.

“Don’t be nervous.” Dick said with an air of comfort.

I wanted to ask what made him think so, but he answered before I even began to articulate the words.

“You’re fidgeting like a college student during a thesis debate.” He said simply.

“You’re… very good at reading people.” I arched a brow at him.

“One of my many amazing abilities” He winked.

Jason let out an air of playful frustration and pulled Dick aside. “And now you’re stealing her. Can’t hold a normal conversation can you Dickie, always a flirt.”

“First of all – do I need to remind you who mostly does all the talking during dad’s parties. And second of all – I am not a flirt. I can’t help it if I’m charming.” Dick mocked a suave look and shot it as his brother.

Jason looked like he was about to gag and Tim was less than pleased. I laughed at their antics.

“What’s funny?” Damian appeared beside me. I jumped and held a hand to my racing heart.

“Jeez, do all of you have a talent for sneaking up on people?” I wheezed out, trying to gather my bearings.

They all grinned at me without answering.

Robins, my inner muse whispered. I brushed off the thought as quick as it had come.

We had made it to the dining area just in time for Alfred to begin serving the meals. My mother was already chatting up a storm with Mr. Wayne. A wine glass in hand and a slight tint to her cheeks. She looked happy.

I began walking towards the seat beside my mother when Damian pulled out the chair like a gentleman. I bit the inside of my cheek and mumbled a thank you.

He took the space beside me and the rest of his brothers seated themselves opposite us.

As we opened our plates for dinner, I was amazed to see how well it was presented. Mr. Pennyworth continued to serves other dishes, and once he was done he left the room.

The food tasted just as good as it looked.

Easy conversation wafted around us, the usual topics of school, and future plans. Mr. Wayne brought up the internship which I nearly gushed over due to my excitement. Damian held back a laugh with a cough when he noticed my little slip up before I composed myself again. I bumped his knee under the table and playfully glared at him. He smirked and bumped me back.

“My compliments to the chef Mr. Wayne.” Mom said.

“I’ll be sure to tell him.” He smiled through a glass of wine. How many glasses in were they at this point? Damian and I were the only ones who weren’t allowed so both our glasses were filled with water and juice.

“And, please,” Mr. Wayne continued. “Call me Bruce.”

“Hey, we should give the women a tour.” Dick suggested. “I’m sure you’ll both love it.”

Jason and Tim had excused themselves, and I had an inkling as to what they were up to. Patrols were a common thing, as Damian told me.

And so with Dick and Bruce leading, my mother and I followed as they showed off the grandness of the manor.

I couldn’t help but be awestruck all over again. The library was huge. Their shelves towered from ceiling to floor, and filled with all kinds of books. From novels to more informative documents. I recognised a couple of titles from the times Damian spent the night reading.

The sunroom was next. The glass was near invisible. I took in the sight of the gorgeous garden just beyond the panels, being able to outline a gazebo at the far end with flowers twisting around its pillars. I unconsciously touched my stomach where the stitches were, randomly pondering what kind of flower had bloomed from such a brutal wound.

“Are you okay?” Damian was beside me immediately and his hand supported my elbow. His voice was laced with concern.

“Oh.” I realised what he was talking about and pulled my hand down. “I’m okay, just a little tired.”

“Honey?” My mom’s face pinched in concern. “Is it hurting again?”

“I just need to rest Mom, I’m fine.” I assured her. “You should continue, I’ll just sit here for a bit.”

Mom was hesitant but there wasn’t much she could do, and she knew it. So they moved on, but not without Mr. Wayne asking for some painkillers to be brought to me.

After taking the medicine, I thanked ‘Alfred’ (as he had asked me to call him) before he left.

Damian was sitting on the arm rest of the couch. My hand was in his and he rubbed random circles around my knuckles. His brows were furrowed, and his features were set in a deep scowl. I could practically feel the guilt and worry radiating off of him.

“I have to be honest, I thought I’d see more animals around.” I said, trying to lighten up the mood.

“Father asked me to keep Titus in my room for the time-being, he didn’t know how you two would react to a Great Dane, or vice-versa.” The boy said simply.

“Great Dane?” I asked flabbergasted.

The corner of Damian’s lips turned upwards. “When you feel better I’ll introduce you.”

“It’s a date.” I answered before thinking. All at once I realised what I said and felt my cheeks burn. “Ah – I mean, not date. If you aren’t comfortable with that, people just use the word date as a meeting time or –“

“It’s a date.” He brought my fingers up and ghosted his lips over them. I had to hold my breath fearing that my heart would stop.

I was momentarily stunned by his forwardness and calm. Looking away I managed to slow down my heart rate to a regular beat.

“I still need to guess the rest right?” I asked coyly.

He gestured for me to continue.

“Let’s see.” I rested my head on the couch and closed my eyes to recall our conversation back in the ball room. “We’ve got a dog, a cat.”

“Mhm.” Damian nodded, moving from the arm rest to the empty space next to me.

My brain brought up an old song from the Princess and the Frog, when they had to ‘Dig a Little Deeper’.

A dog, a pig, a cow, a goat – the lyrics were sung in my subconscious before I could stop it.

“A cow.” I guessed.

Damian’s eyes grew a little wide, before a grin made its way to his lips. “Yes.”

“What seriously?” I giggled. “You actually have a cow?”

“Bat-Cow.” He chuckled. “I was a child, and that was the first name to come up.”

I was full on laughing now. “I cannot wait to meet them. But that was seriously a random guess, now I feel like my confidence is dwindling.”

“Then how about you wait till you see them?” He suggested.

I bit my lip and shifted in my seat, our knees brushed and I felt that warmth spread across my chest. We’re close. A little too close.

When I looked at him I found he was staring at the garden outside. I didn’t mean to be rude, but I couldn’t take my eyes off him. There was something about this boy that just drew me closer, making me want more. I traced the little moles across his cheek and wondered when I had let this magnetic pull take over me.

“Take a picture. It’ll last longer.” Damian commented. His intense green eyes bore into mine as he threw a deviously charming smirk my way.

I blushed and looked away, suddenly finding my shoes a lot more interesting than it was. “Sorry, I was just thinking.”

He turned towards me. And I made the mistake of facing him again, because now our faces were just mere inches apart.

I found myself gazing at his beautiful green eyes that contrasted so well with his tanned olive skin. There were so many different shades of green looping and mixing with one another, it felt like a maze – one that I would willingly get lost in.

My fingers rested in the spaces between his, and I marvelled at how everything in that moment felt right.

I tilted towards him, and he did the same towards me.

“What are we doing?” I whispered, stealing a glance at his lips.

Heart pounding.

Blood racing.

It left me dizzy.

“I’m… not sure.” Damian replied, his tone low. “But if you asked me to kiss you, I would.”

His thumb grazed the inside of my wrist with a feather-light touch and I burst into flames.

“Kiss me.”

And he did.

-THE END-

#My Fan Fiction #Damian Wayne x Reader #DC comics #dc universe #Soulmate AU #Batman #batboys x reader #Nightwing #Red Hood #Red Robin #Robin #Bruce Wayne #Dick Grayson #Jason Todd #Tim Drake #Damian Wayne #Flowers AU

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barefoot-joker · 5 years

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Yandere!Jeremiah Valeska X Reader One Shot Pt 7 (Pt 4)

Hey, guys! Welcome back to another installment of Yandere!Jeremiah! I’m going to be honest this is probably the longest part of the series and is the second to last part. :( As per usual feedback is appreciated and I will see you all in the epilogue!

https://barefoot-joker.tumblr.com/post/182328341418/yanderejeremiah-valeska-x-reader-one-shot

https://barefoot-joker.tumblr.com/post/182409053588/yanderejeremiah-valeska-x-reader-one-shot-pt-2

https://barefoot-joker.tumblr.com/post/182862984808/yanderejeremiah-valeska-x-reader-one-shot-pt-3

https://barefoot-joker.tumblr.com/post/183226748438/yanderejeremiah-valeska-x-reader-one-shot-pt-4

https://barefoot-joker.tumblr.com/post/183462856853/yanderejeremiah-valeska-x-reader-one-shot-pt-5

https://barefoot-joker.tumblr.com/post/183601483818/yanderejeremiah-valeska-x-reader-one-shot-pt-6

https://barefoot-joker.tumblr.com/post/184215467078/yanderejeremiah-valeska-x-reader-one-shot-pt-7

https://barefoot-joker.tumblr.com/post/184513626468/yanderejeremiah-valeska-x-reader-one-shot-pt-7

https://barefoot-joker.tumblr.com/post/184712916978/yanderejeremiah-valeska-x-reader-one-shot-pt-7

https://barefoot-joker.tumblr.com/post/186623351048/yanderejeremiah-valeska-x-reader-one-shot

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Beep.

Silence.

I quietly rolled over in my shared bed at Wayne Manor. Beside me the space was empty and the sheets were made neatly. I ran my fingers over it and gained goosebumps from the coolness of the fabric, it reminding me of the absence of Bruce’s presence. I sighed and decided to get up. I pulled the covers off my body, swung my legs over the side and stood. Going to the closet I grabbed a pastel purple tunic top and black leggings before pulling of my pj’s and putting them on. Folding my nightgown I laid it on the end of the bed and proceeded past the full length mirror, my body pausing. Looking into the glass I allowed my hand to run over my now flat stomach, my eyes closing upon remembering the sad memory.

{Flashback}

I blinked rapidly as sweat donned my forehead and my heart sped up, the pain in my stomach unbearable. I let out a scream as I gripped the white gurney sheet tightly, hospital lights zooming by as I was rushed into a wide room full of beds. Lee came to my side and raised me up, a shriek ripping from throat. “Try to relax, Y/n. This is going to be painful but I fear the baby is coming.”

The baby coming...now?! “It’s too early! Lee, it can’t be coming!”

I grit my teeth and tugged on the sheet, the pain too much. “I’m going to get you through this, Y/n!”

She lifted my dress up and I grew fearful when I saw bright red blood on the white cloth. Lee noticed it but she passed over and lifted my legs into position, quickly putting on latex gloves. “Alright, Y/n. When I tell you you’re going to push, alright?”

“W-wait! What about Bruce?”

“He’s with Alfred and Jim. Now, push!”

I obeyed and cried out, my head pounding. “Push!”

“I-I can’t! L-Lee, it hurts t-too much!”

“I know, Y/n. But you need to pull through.”

I nodded and pushed, my scream echoing off the walls. “You’re doing great, Y/n!”

Tears began to roll down my cheeks as I pushed yet again, my grip on the sheets turning my knuckles white. Out of the corner of my eye I saw a group of nurses and another gurney, my eyes widening when I realized it was Jeremiah. “What is he doing in here?”

“Doctor Tompkins, there was no other room! They were all occupied!”

She sighed. “Leave him here then.”

The nurses nodded and began hooking him up, Lee turning back to me. My process went on for about an hour, my body sore and exhausted as I lay sweaty. Lee had gone to clean up the baby and I couldn’t help but look over at Jeremiah. His eyes were closed and most of his skin was wrapped in gauze, some blood seeping through. From the skin that was visible it took on an icky green gray color and was swelled. I couldn’t stand to look at him so I peered out the window when shoes clicking the tile reached my ears. I whipped my head to see Lee, a sullen look on her face. “Lee, what is it?”

She didn’t reply right away but sat herself on the end of my bed, her hand caressing my leg. “I’m sorry Y/n, but the baby didn’t make it.”

My eyes widened. “W-what?”

“Something must have happened that caused internal damage and the fetus died.”

“B-but nothing had-”

I stopped myself. It was then I remembered the punch. The blow that came from Jeremiah’s fist at Ace Chemicals before he fell in. The force must have done the internal damage. I could feel the tears come to the edge of my eyes and even though the child had a terrible father I would have loved and cared for it. My lip trembled as the tears flooded from their prison, my heart breaking. A sob left my throat as I curled into a ball, Lee looking very concerned. “Y/n, you’re free now.”

“Y-yes but that c-child could have been J-Jeremiah’s salvation-n!”

I allowed the tears to fall.

That day was when the last of Jeremiah Valeska’s sanity and humanity died.

{End of Flashback}

Reopening my eyes I walked away from the mirror and to the vanity, my fingers opening a wooden jewelry box. Inside was a golden necklace chain with a ring attached. I smiled and picked it up before clipping it around my neck. The piece of jewelry was important to me as it was my engagement ring from Bruce.

{Flashback}

“Bruce, why do you have to leave?”

“I need to learn to protect you and the city of Gotham, Y/n. I can’t have you get hurt anymore.”

“Then let Alfred and I come with!”

“I need to do this by myself.”

“When will we see you again?”

“I’m not sure but I promise to write a letter every week to keep you two informed.”

I watched with saddened eyes as he bent down and pulled something out of his suitcase, the object glimmering in the airport lights. Bruce unhooked the object and placed it around my neck before clipping it back into place and it was only then I realized there was a ring. “Bruce-”

“Consider it our engagement ring. When I return one of the first things I’ll do is marry you and get rid of that villain’s last name.”

Excited I wrapped my arms around his neck. “Oh, Bruce!”

“I have to go now. Alfred and Jim will take care of you while I’m away.”

“I’m going to miss you.”

“I will too but it’s for the best. I love you, Y/n.”

“I love you too.”

With that we gave each other one last kiss before Bruce picked up his suitcase and got into an airplane, us waving at each other as he flew off.

{End of Flashback}

That was 10 years ago. 10 years of waiting and seeing Gotham being rebuilt with the help of Alfred and myself through Bruce’s orders. The years were hard on the both of us, the only communication from our dear friend a letter every week.

Taking the ring in my fingers I smiled, today being different. Today Bruce was coming home for the first time and we would be attending the opening of Wayne Tower, perhaps even declaring our engagement in front of our friends. “Miss Y/n, there’s someone on the telephone for you!”

“Coming, Alfred!”

I rushed downstairs and met the butler in the study, the phone sitting on Bruce’s desk. “I believe it’s an update on Mr. Valeska.”

“Thank you, Alfred.”

He nodded and left, wanting to give me some privacy. Ever since Jeremiah woke up from his coma he’s been in Arkham Asylum, I putting him there as I kept my promise of helping him. Picking up the phone I put it to my ear and responded. “Is this Miss Y/n Valeska?”

I cringed. After Bruce had rescued me I declared my original last name as the only one I had, erasing the fact that I had been married to Jeremiah. “This is she.”

“This is Doctor Johnson at Arkham. I was wondering if you could come.”

“If it’s to see Jeremiah than you can count me out.”

“Please, Miss Y/n! There’s something wrong with him and we thought that-”

“Mr. Pennyworth and Detective Gordon strictly told you I am not allowed anywhere near him.”

“I-I know but this is an emergency!”

I sighed. “I’m sorry but that man has caused me enough trouble in my life. Goodbye now.”

“Miss Y/n-”

I slammed the phone down on the receiver, not wanting to talk. The Arkham staff had been told the day Jeremiah entered that I was not allowed near him, that he could come for me at any time. However the doctors still tried to get me to come when they updated me. I shook my head and walked into the main entrance way to put on my coat and black boots. “Where are you headed off to, Miss Y/n?”

“I’m just making sure everything is ready for Bruce tonight. I don’t want him to have to worry about a thing.”

“I understand. What time should I be expecting you back?”

“Around 6:00.”

“I will have your outfit set out by then.”

“Thank you, Alfred.”

With that I opened the front door and walked out. My list of errands was pretty extensive so I hustled my pace a bit, eager to get them done.

The rest of the day was spent checking up on Wayne Tower and making sure everything was in order before returning back to the Manor exactly at 6. Upon arriving Alfred and I greeted each other before we each got dressed in our formal attire: Alfred in a sharp tuxedo and I in a light blue dress with pastel blue lace overlaying. Just as I was putting on my heels the phone rang. Picking it up I said, “Hello?”

“Y/n, it’s me.”

I gasped. On the other end was a voice I hadn’t heard in so long. “Bruce! Oh my god! It’s really you!”

“Listen I won’t be able to make it to the opening tonight. I had some business come up.”

“Bruce-”

“Alfred already has instructions to read off his speech and I want you to just have fun. I should be back to the Manor later to see you both. I love you, Y/n.”

“Bruce, wait-”

The line went dead. Silently I set the phone down and sighed. 10 years later and Bruce already has business here in Gotham?

I just shook my head and finished getting ready, Alfred and I leaving a few minutes later. On the ride over the two of us talked about the first things we would do with Bruce and how exciting it was to get him back.

DING! DONG! DING! DONG!

The newly built clock tower struck 9:00 when Alfred and I arrived at Wayne Tower, guests already there. The two of us mingled with some of the guests for a little bit, I hanging out with Barbara. “Y/n, somebody was wanting to come to just see you tonight.”

I quirked a brow when suddenly a young girl ran up and hugged me. “Y/n!”

“Barbara Lee!”

I smiled and hugged her. Barbara knew of my unborn child and thought that watching over her little one would suffice. It did to say the least, I officially being named the girl’s godmother. “I tried to get her to stay behind but she was just so excited to see you.”

“I see. Well how about we talk and catch up.”

“I’d love to!”

I chuckled and led the young Barbara to one of the black leather sofas near one of the many large windows. We sat and began to talk, the two of us laughing at small happenings and amazed by each other’s adventures. Just as she was telling me about this time at school Jim ran in, immediately talking to Lee. The two began leading people out frantically, the only ones left being Alfred, Lee, Barbara, Jim, Lucius, Barbara Lee and myself. The young child looked confused but knowing the situation was bad I kept talking to her, trying to keep her calm. Out of the corner of my eye I saw Lucius lift off the clock tower model out of the display, some kind of machinery underneath. “Y/n, what’s going on?”

“I’m not sure but tell me about that story, Barbara Lee. I’m dying to hear it.”

“O-okay.”

As she told me her tale I watched Lee and Lucius, her cutting wires. Oh my god. Who put a bomb in here?!

A few moments later the group all gave out sighs of relief and chatted among themselves, Jim suddenly coming over. “Daddy, what’s wrong?”

“Honey, you and Y/n are going to go with your mother for a little bit, okay.”

“Jim, w-what’s going on?”

“Everything’s fine. Barbara is just going to escort you home.”

“What about Alfred?”

“He’ll be fine. But please Y/n, just go.”

I gave solemn nod and followed the two Barbaras, the three of us hopping into a car. We drove off and I just became more confused when we stopped in front of the Siren’s Club. Barbara ushered us out without a word and into her old clubhouse, the three of us heading into her old office. “Something happened tonight, didn’t it Momma.”

“Yes but it all worked out.”

“Then why are we at your old club?”

“Mommy just had to get something.”

She opened a drawer in her desk and I couldn’t help but widen my eyes when she pulled out a gun. I was about to say something when suddenly the lights behind us turned on and loud music blared. I looked to my friend, who in turn shushed us. “Stay here. Both of you.”

She went forward and pulled back the curtain, my ears picking up on a conversation between two familiar voices. “I need to check on Momma.”

“Barbara Lee, no!”

I tried to grab her and pull her back but I was too late. I heard the young girl growl, a gunshot and a scream, my stomach dropping. “Y/n dearest, come out, come out, wherever you are!~”

I froze. That voice, so familiar yet different than I remember. “I know you’re here so there’s no point in hiding, darling.~”

I swallowed but didn’t move.

BANG!

“The next shot goes into little Barbara’s head. I suggest you come out, honey.”

“LET ME GO!”

Slowly I walked forwards and stopped before the curtain, preparing myself. “You know how shaky my trigger finger is, Y/n.”

Releasing all my air I closed my eyes and slid the curtain open, my body trembling. “There you are, darling.~”

I opened my eyes only for them to widen at the sight before me. Lee had told me my husband was going to look different due to his chemical accident but he was much more horrific now. His skin was clown white as if he had put on makeup and scars from the acid made intricate drawings all over his face. His once smooth green hair now lay in several crisp strands and his eyes had lost their bright blue haze, it just dulled down. His chin seemed to appear swollen but it just made his bright red painted on smile much more menacing. “Well, well, well. You must have been expecting me. You’re wearing my favorite color on you.~”

His raspy voice sent chills down my spine but I replied with, “I want you to leave.”

“Leave? I just got here.”

“I’m giving you the chance to run out of my life.”

“And why would I do that? You are mine and I am yours. We agreed to that when we wed.”

“Jeremiah, leave now or I will call for the GCPD.”

“Tsk. Since when did you give orders? I guess I’ll just have to kick start your memory.”

“Huh?”

BANG!

I tensed when a bullet zoomed past me, it grazing the flesh lightly. “There we go.”

“W-what do you want?”

“You of course! I didn’t escape Arkham for the fun of it.”

“You know I’ll never go willingly.”

“That’s why I have backup.”

I cringed when he shot Barbara in the knee, her falling to the black floor as Ecco laughed. He connected the gun to little Barbara’s temple, the young girl squirming in his grip. “Come with me willingly and nothing happens to the girl.”

I gulped and clenched/unclenched my fist. “You know Boss would do it, puddin. Just come with us.”

“If I do you won’t hurt anymore innocent people?”

“Promise.”

I knew that this was a mistake but there was no way all three of us girls were getting out alive with the lion in the room. “Y/n, don’t hurt yourself like this!”

Ecco growled and sent a kick into the ginger’s side, her grunting on the floor. “Let Barbara Lee go first.”

“And why would I do that, hmm?”

“You want me to go with? You let her go.”

He rolled his eyes and pushed her away, the young girl crying as she hit the ground. Jeremiah lifted his arms and smiled, his grin unnerving. “Come to Daddy.~”

I bit my lip in disgust but walked towards him anyway. I tensed when his arms wrapped me and his nose dug into my hair, his burned skin tickling my cheek. “Boss, the police will be here any minute if we don’t hurry up!”

“Then we’ll just have to create a distraction, won’t we?”

I screamed as he fired his gun, my ears ringing from the close contact. “D-Daddy?”

I put a hand to my lips as I saw blood ooze out of Ecco’s mouth, the shock and betrayal still evident in her eyes as she fell to the ground beside Barbara. “She was starting to annoy me.”

My eyes flickered up to Jeremiah as his golden leather glove wrapped around my wrist and tugged me along, I stopping when Barbara Lee attached herself to me. “Y/n, please don’t go! H-he’ll hurt you!”

“I’ll be fine, honey. Just tend to your mother.”

Jeremiah quickly tugged on my arm to get me away, both Barbara's screaming for me to come back. I felt a few tears fall down my cheeks but I knew I had to put on a brave face for all of my friends. The demon suddenly stopped and opened a car door before thrusting me in, him getting inside and driving rapidly. “Where are we going?”

“The place I was reborn and where you will be too.”

I looked at him confused. What did he mean by that?

I gripped the car handle as we sped around corners, finally slamming to a stop. My eyes widened when I was pulled out, the stench of chemicals wafted into my nose. I tried to turn back to the car but Jeremiah tugged me along harshly, my heart beating fast as I knew where we were. The rusty door slammed open and I was guided to that dreadful bridge, the gap where Jeremiah fell through still there. The same neon green acid bubbled beneath us as we gazed at it, the liquid inviting us to jump in. “Why are you doing this?”

“Before my incident I was enraged with Bruce for him taking you away from me. I had done all I could to connect us and yet he was the one you cared for the most. It was then while in Arkham I devised a plan. Perhaps if you became like me then Bruce would leave you alone and I could have you all my own, my sweet little wife.”

His gloved hand brushed against my cheek and I couldn’t help but be disturbed by the insanity in his eyes. “Jeremiah.”

I placed my hands on his purple striped shirt, his hands wrapping around my wrists gently. “It’s alright, darling. It stings for a bit but I can assure you the pain is worth the outcome. And afterwards we can go home to our child and be one big happy family!”

I took in a gulp of air. Of course Jeremiah didn’t know about my miscarriage as he was still in his coma when it happened. Suddenly his arms lifted me into a bridal style position, my hands gripping his sparkly green suit jacket. Bringing me closer to the same spot he fell in Jeremiah smiled and gave me a kiss. “Don’t worry. You can look up at me to make you feel better. That’s what I did during my rebirth.”

Slowly he inched closer to the edge, my heels sliding off my feet and plopping into the acid below. “Jeremiah, please! Don’t do this!”

“It’ll be alright, dearest. See you after your swim.”

With that he pulled his arms away.

I felt my stomach twist and heart leap into my throat as a scream ripped through the silence.

My hair flew up around me as I lifted my arms to try and grab something.

Why does this feel much faster than before?

I felt a searing pain on my left elbow/upper arm, right foot past my ankle and upper back when I was once again falling, just this time into the air. I gripped the black figure tightly and cringed when bullets zoomed past us. “LET HER GO!”

“I’ve got you, Y/n.”

My eyes widened upon recognizing the voice, even if it did have a tuner to make it sound different. The man set me down on the bridge and shot up into the banisters, Jeremiah shooting at him. Suddenly a whirring noise came from up above and I gasped at seeing the clown’s gun fly from his hand, him cradling it as a bat shaped object protruded through both sides. Jeremiah began to cackle and I took the opportunity to grab his weapon, my hands shaking as I had never held one before. “Y/n honey, give me back my gun. I need to protect you.”

Quickly I raised the weapon up and held my finger over the trigger. “N-no! You’ve hurt me so many times! Y-you’ve kidnapped me, killed Selina, hurt my friends and other innocent people! You’ve even married me and gotten me pregnant! And you don’t even realize how much damage you’ve done, you, y-you psycho!”

My thumb pulled back the safety pin, the click ringing in my ears. Jeremiah’s grin faltered and he made a move towards me. “I should have done this a long time ago.”

BANG!

Jeremiah looked down at his chest to see blood pooling around his gold tie, his lips twitching into a grin. “Heh. Good one, love.”

And that’s when he dropped.

My hand loosened on the gun and it fell to the metal bridge below, a sob overtaking me. What have I done?

Arms wrapped around my waist and held me close to a hard chest but all I could do was cry. “It’s over, Y/n. You’re free now.”

Yes. I was free.

Police sirens rang in my ears and before I knew it my dark knight fled and I was in Jim’s embrace, him sending me over to Lee’s hospital for treatment of my wounds. The rest of my night was spent laying in a hospital bed with gauze wrapped around my injured skin, a shallow feeling in my heart.

That night I had lost a friend.

That night I had gained my freedom back.

That night the chains came off, dropping to the ground.

That night I became my own person.

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macgyvermedical · 5 years

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3-Quinuclidinyl Benzilate is My New Favorite Chemical Weapon, A “Mason+Cable+Choices” Medical Review

This episode. This freaking episode.

First of all, Charlie Robinson, who I really thought was going to stick around in this version of the series after he survived his first episode, had to go and become the instrument to someone else’s revenge scheme. We also got to see a relatively hard side of Mac in the interrogation room, and I’m not sure whether to applaud it as character development or feel like they’re going too dark.

From a medical and whump standpoint, this episode sure has a lot of things covered- the gunshot wound, the neck needle, the 3-quinuclidinyl benzilate poisoning (Yay!), the heart needle/antidote, and the toxic smoke. I'm warning you now, most of this review is about the 3-quinuclidinyl benzilate poisoning.

The Gunshot Wound

Honestly, there’s not a lot to be said about the gunshot wound- it was to the outside of Charlie’s thigh, so while it would have been painful and probably would have bled some (the duct tape wouldn’t have helped stop the bleeding) it probably wouldn’t have been enough to really threaten his life. If he hadn’t later plummeted to his death, he might have needed some antibiotics, professional medical attention, and physical therapy.

Neck Needles

Neck needles aren’t a thing, but I’ve talked about those in previous posts.

3-Quinuclidinyl Benzilate Poisoning

Oh hey look, we’re already at 3-quinuclidinyl benzilate poisoning! And fam? this is where I really did my research.

If you’ve been on this blog long enough you know I like my chemical weapons. Not in a “kill everyone” way but in more of a “strong academic interest I may one day write a thesis about” way. And man, do I love having access to an academic library again. Whoo buddy. This was fun.

In the episode, Mason uses a chemical weapon called 3-quinuclidinyl benzilate (also noted in the episode as “BZ”), smuggled in a false tooth, to subdue Mac before making his escape from the interrogation room. The tooth contains QNB in an aerosol form, which when released forms a visible cloud in the room. Mac breathes the aerosol, which appears to instantly paralyze or possibly sedate him, while Mason takes advantage of the small amount of uncontaminated air in Mac’s water bottle before making his escape up the air vent. A security team makes their way to Mac, Desi calls for a med team, and Mac is revived with an antidote delivered by a needle straight to his heart.

When someone mentions chemical weapons, most people think of mustard gas or nerve agents. But poisons designed to torture and kill people aren’t the only things that fall into the category of chemical weapons. In fact, there’s a whole class of them, called “incapacitants” that are specifically designed to take people out of commission without a high risk of death or permanent disability.

Let me just say, Jim Adler is a writer after my own heart. He wrote both this episode and “Mac+Fallout+Jack” and considering both were absolutely gut-wrenching and contained reasonable choices of incapacitating agents, I really, really appreciate what he’s done for the canon. He didn’t get everything right here (*cough cough* neck and heart needles *cough cough*), but he clearly understands enough about drugging people to buy some literary license. Not all of it, but some.

Now, as I’ve talked about in other posts, drugging people into unconsciousness isn’t a particularly safe thing to do. Unconscious people can’t protect their airway, and most drugs that render people unconscious significantly impact their respiratory rate, blood pressure, or both. Unless the party doing the drugging is prepared to devote at least one trained person to monitoring and management of the drugged individual, there’s a chance that person could suffocate and die. Paralytic agents have a lot of the same issues.

This becomes even more problematic if you’re trying to incapacitate multiple people. Case in point- in 2002 a small group of Chechan rebels held over a 1,000 Russian civilians hostage in a theater in Moscow. After several days, in order to end the stand-off, Russian military personnel used what was probably an aerosalized opioid* to render everyone in the building unconscious. They then stormed the building and rescued the hostages. Unfortunately, even though antidotes were available and used, about 1 out of every 10 hostages ended up dying due to the mass drugging, which didn’t win any PR points for the use of incapacitating agents.

But if you get just slightly more creative, sedation and paralysis are not the only two ways to drug enemy combatants into uselessness. Turns out, a variety of hallucinogens and deliriants can achieve the same goal without the same risk of death by suffocation. If you can get someone to a state where they can’t remember what they’re doing or perform basic skills like reading or decision making, they can’t easily attack and kill your own personnel.

This is where 3-quinuclidinyl benzilate, (NATO code BZ, US Army code EA-2277, Soviet code Substance 78, and usually referred to as “QNB” in medical circles) starts to stand out. QNB is a deliriant and hallucinogen. Now, there are lots of drugs that fall into these categories- think LSD, ketamine, PCP, and atropine to name a few. QNB works very similarly to atropine, by selectively blocking the action of the neurotransmitter acetylcholine (think the opposite of a nerve agent), but with significantly more of its action concentrated around the mind-altering side-effects. It’s also safer, hardier, more versatile, and has a more ideal onset and duration of action.

The typical course of incapacitation with QNB involves:

An initial period of progressively worsening anxiety, restlessness, and confusion

A period of extreme drowsiness

Finally, more confusion, an inability to perform simple tasks, difficulty with movement, hallucinations, and bizarre behaviors including picking at things, which all gradually wane over the course of 2-4 days.

Here are some reasons QNB stands out as a particularly effective incapacitant (and all the ways the episode ignored them):

The first is therapeutic index. A drug’s therapeutic index is the difference between its effective dose and it’s toxic dose. If we say a drug has a “narrow” therapeutic index, that means there’s a very small difference between an effective dose and a toxic one, while a “wide” therapeutic index means that the two doses are very different. When drugging someone without their knowledge, no matter how you’re delivering the drug, it’s really hard to estimate the actual ingested dose. Because of this, you want the widest possible range of effective-but-not-deadly doses you can have- the best drugs for mass druggings are those with the widest possible therapeutic indices.

QNB happens to have a very wide therapeutic index compared to other possibilities for incapacitants. The lowest effective dose is about 150 micrograms, while a toxic dose is more than 650 times that at about 100 miligrams. In small doses, the drug doesn’t last as long and causes more sedating vs delirious effect, but is still very useful in lowering the effectiveness of an enemy force.

The second is its options for route and availability in an environment. How any drug is given is referred to the route of administration. These can include:

PO (oral- taken as a pill or liquid)

IV (intravenous- injected into a vein)

IM (intramuscular- injected into a muscle)

SC (subcutaneous- injected into fat)

IO (intrasseous- injected into a bone in an emergency)

Inhaled (breathed and absorbed through blood vessels in the lungs)

PR (rectal- given rectally)

Transdermal (absorbed through the skin)

Most drugs work best when administered a certain way, and some may only be produced for use by a certain route. Some, like ketamine or LSD, can’t be absorbed in the stomach, so giving them orally doesn’t work (LSD “tabs” are actually absorbed through the mucous membrane in the mouth). QNB’s advantage is that it can be given by any route. You want to drug food or drink? It works. Aerosolize it and pump it into the air? Also works. Inject it IM, SC, or IV? Yes but you might have to answer some questions. Coat something like a doorknob? It goes through skin too!

QNB is particularly suited as an aerosol, not because it readily evaporates, but because it’s odorless. No one would even know they were breathing it until it started working, and even then, they might not know what happened. It also stays in the environment for a long time- up to several weeks depending on conditions- and can survive extreme heat without degrading, so it could be disbursed via explosive (LSD would not survive). Bottom line, everyone that came into that room to rescue Mac was contaminated, probably enough to cause them problems. Also, so was Mason, so take that as you will.

The third is the drug’s onset and duration of action. In the episode Mac is almost instantly incapacitated when the spray hits his face. This is not how any drug works (even via the IV route, the quickest-onset drugs still take at least 15-30 seconds to be felt), but particularly not QNB. QNB has an onset time of about an hour, no matter the route. This is actually beneficial to the drug’s original purpose- if no one shows symptoms from drugging with an odorless aerosol until an hour after exposure, there’s no way to take protective measures. Suddenly everyone’s hallucinating and can’t do basic math. Sucks for that attack plan you were working on.

The fourth and final benefit that QNB provides is both it’s lack of (specific) antidote and the fact that there are no lasting effects. Some people point to physostigmine as a possible antidote, but it’s not perfect and has some incapacitating side effects of its own. As incapacitation with QNB is generally not life threatening, it’s probably better for most people to be cared for in a safe place and ride out the effects. Since it’s also not a carcinogen or mutagen, once the effects subside, there shouldn’t be any additional problems.

Phew. Okay.

Heart Needles

I swear I’ve talked about heart needles before, but I’ll do it again since it hasn’t been recently. In the episode, Mac is injected with an antidote directly into his heart. Now, like we said before, using an antidote wouldn’t really help him much, and its not really necessary. He’s just gonna have to ride it out (I don’t make the rules...).

But they chose to do it, so we should talk about it- in the pre-CPR era, intracardiac injections represented the only way of getting emergency medications like epi to the heart in the case of cardiac arrest. As late as 1992, there were still some groups advocating for it if the patient was in asystole (flatline) and IV or IO access couldn’t be obtained. Mac has excellent veins if I do say so myself, and he also wasn’t coding, so there’s no reason for this to have been a thing in the episode. It’s also never used today.

Also, I’m going to be particularly disappointed if that was just a callback to the similarly inaccurate Pulp Fiction scene. Because this show has already used epi to counter an acetylcholine-based problem, and you already only get to do that once. EPINEPHRINE IS NOT AN ALL-PURPOSE ANTIDOTE.

Jim Adler based on your other work I have to assume you know better.

Also it’s late and I’m not talking about the toxic smoke. See my many posts on cyanide and some time in the future come read my post on carbon monoxide.

*According to the book Chemical Warfare: Secrets Almost Forgotten by James Ketchum, who did a lot of the initial research on chemical incapacitants. Other sources reference the drug used as anything from traditional nerve agents to QNB itself, but the onset times and symptoms initially reported seem to match up better with an opioid than QNB.

R E F E R E N C E S

Awl - X-Ray + Penny - Duct Tape + Jack - CD + Hoagie Foil - Guts + Fuel + Hope - Wilderness + Training + Survival - Father + Bride + Betrayal - Lidar + Rogues + Duty - Nightmares - Seeds + Permafrost + Feather - Friends + Enemies + Border -

#MacGyver #mason+cable+choices #chemical weapons #neck needles #heart needles

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ramheavenandhell · 6 years

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Unerasable Love – Chapter 3: The Third Time was Genuine

AN: I have to say that this chapter is my personal favorite -^_^- Warnings: as before Rick/Morty, angst/fluff and romance, mutual pining, slow burn Summary: Summary: Based on the idea from @cheeky-cheek-kiss: Morty falls in love with Rick and confesses to him. However, every time that he does, Rick deletes Morty’s memories of it. What Rick hadn’t counted on was that he’s only setting himself up for a “Groundhog Day” that is slowly starting to make his own heart crumble.

Unerasable Love – Chapter 3: The Third Time was Genuine Rick felt bad about Morty's birthday. Of course, he knew that it hadn't been the boy's fault. That one had been on him. He just shouldn't have given the boy alcohol. Still, with erasing his grandson's memory, he had also erased his birthday present for him and obviously, Morty had been upset, thinking that Rick had gotten him nothing. So, the scientist decided to make it up to the brunet and was planning to take him out on a fun adventure today. Or, well…at least, he planned to surprise him with something that Rick just knew Morty would love. So, in typical Rick Sanchez fashion, he burst into Morty's room and dragged him out of bed and into the space car without telling the boy what they were about to do or where exactly they were going to go. Of course, the ungrateful little shit was only grumbling about this, going on about losing his "oh so precious sleep" because of Rick's whims again even though the scientist was solely doing this for Morty. "Quit your whining, Morty. We-we-we have to quic-to hurry up and get to Lzra 5 fast before it's too late, Morty." Rick only explained. "Too late for what?" Morty asked back, his voice still sounding sleepy. "You'll see, Morty." After that, silence reigned in the space cruiser as the scientist continued driving and the brunet stared moodily out of the side window and at the passing stars. Morty hated it that Rick had to drag him out in the middle of the night, claiming that it was important and they needed to hurry when it was just about something stupid that could have actually waited for another time. Or, it was about some drugs that Rick just wanted to get high again. At any rate, he was convinced that it was just something dumb as always. Sighing inwardly, Morty could already see how the rest of this day that had started way too early for him would play out. First, he would be risking his life again to get Rick whatever he wanted to get now. By the time that they would arrive home, he'd be probably late for school and having missed the first few periods already. And for the rest of his classes, he would probably be so tired that he'd end up sleeping through them again. Yeah, the teen was in a bad mood right now. On top of that, he still only wore his pajamas since Rick hadn't even let him get dressed first. By the time that they landed on Lzra 5, – Morty couldn't even pronounce the name of this planet – his mood still hadn't gotten any better. Looking around, he actually could only see trees and other alien plant life. There was really nothing of interest out here. So, had he been right and Rick would tell him now that they had to search for some flowers or mushrooms that would reveal themselves as some sort of super drug? "What exactly are we looking here for, Rick?" He asked, deciding to just get over with this quickly. If he was lucky, he might still make it in time for first period. Rick took a swig from his flask and burped grossly before he pointed to a mountain in the distance. "We gonna have to go up there, Morty. Gonna go aaaall the way to the top." "What?! We're going to have to climb that mountain?!" Morty eyed the giant rock formation with disdain. "Then why did you even land the ship here? That's such a long way to walk, Rick." "Take a look around us, Morty!" Rick swept with his hands, motioning over their current surroundings. "This is the closest place to it that I could land on. The entire mountain range is surrounded by this forest. And before you ask why we didn't just land on top if the mountain, I'll have you know that it's impossible to land anything in the size of our space car on there." "Why didn't we just use your portal gun instead?" The teen deadpanned, not willing to be the one to stand there like an idiot because Rick decided to put him on the spot. Rick's facial features drew downwards as if he had hoped that the boy wouldn't remember his infamous invention and bring it up. "Because it's currently recharging." Indeed, the device laid on the workbench in his garage and was in the midst of recharging. Rick didn't want to admit that he had forgotten to do this beforehand and therefore had to hurry to get Morty out of bed so they would still make it on time. Originally, he had planned to just take Morty here after breakfast and right before he would drop him off at school, so his grandson couldn't bitch at him about that. Needless to say that his plan didn't work out thanks to his own failing. His index finger was itching and he was in two minds about this whole thing as he was tempted to just erase Morty's memory of this and return home just to avoid looking like a failure in front of the teen. He liked to hold the position of an infallible god in his grandson's universe and would try to retain that no matter what. Luckily, for Morty though, the boy decided to drop the subject and already started to walk. Still, the brunet looked rather begrudged as they fought their way through the underwood, occasionally stumbling over a protruding root, or getting a twig in the face while he was focused on watching where he stepped. "This is stupid, Rick!" Morty complained, if only to break the awkward silence that hung over them – and also to vent his anger a little. "Couldn't we have done this later, after when your portal gun was charged again?" "I already to*uuurrp*ld you, Morty. We don't have much time. If we waited till my portal gun was ready again, it'd be already too late." "Too late for what exactly?" The teen asked once more, but made the mistake to look at his grandfather and not at where he was going. As such, he suddenly stepped on something that wasn't leave-covered ground or alien wood. In fact, it felt rather soft and…warm? Before that thought fully registered in Morty's head, a shrill screech pierced the air. The wild animal on whose tail the boy had stepped glared darkly at the duo and was obviously anything but happy about the rude and painful wakeup call. Its seven dark, tiny eyes flashed dangerously and as it snarled, eight very long and sharp fangs were revealed, – standing out between the two rows of smaller, but also rather pointy-looking teeth – causing Morty to freeze up in terror. "Run, Morty!" A jerk of his arm pulled the teen into a run and his body's reflexes kicked in causing his legs to fall into the familiar motion of a sprint. The wild beast looked unimpressed and actually jumped after them on its six long legs. Morty thought for sure that it would get them since it was quickly gaining. Too focused on the animal that was chasing him, he didn't notice how Rick pulled out his plasma gun from the inside of his lab coat. Just as the beast almost reached them and took the last leap with which it would get Rick and Morty, the boy yelped as he was suddenly pulled to the ground. Held securely against Rick's chest by the man's left arm, it barely registered to the teen that the scientist used his other hand that held the gun, to shoot at the animal that jumped over them. He could barely hear the screech of the beast as it fell over the heavy pounding of his heart – or was it Rick's heartbeat that he heard? Morty couldn't tell, being so close to his grandfather right now. What did register to him though was the heat on his cheeks. As well as the fact that they were both still panting heavily from the exertion. The moment was unfortunately very short-lived as Rick let go of him and stood up. "Heck, yeah! Got that fucker good!" The scientist shouted full of pride as he saw that the beast wasn't moving anymore, clearly done in by the huge wound that he had inflicted on its delicate stomach. "C'mon, Morty! We're almost there." Certainly enough their brief chase had brought them thankfully closer to the mountain and Morty could already see its foot in the distance. Well, that was at least one part of their adventure done, he figured and continued to follow his grandfather who led the way. "Why are we doing this again, Rick?" Morty asked on the short way, having managed to fight down the blush in the meantime. "You'll see once we're up there, Morty." Was the only answer that he received. Unsure Morty looked up and wondered how they would do that. The mountain was huge! He couldn't even see the top from here since the summit was somewhere above the blanket of clouds. There was no way that they would manage to make it in one day. With how things were going, the teen would be lucky if he would make it to school within this week. Fortunately, his grandfather seemed to have a solution for this. He pushed one of the buttons of his lab coat and suddenly two hooks shot out if the inside and up into the sky. Sturdy, metallic ropes were attached to them. "Grab onto me, Morty." Rick instructed him. Being unsure where exactly to hold onto his grandpa, Morty decided to innocently climb on the other's back while fighting down another blush that threatened to rise up on his face. "Better hold on tight, Morty!" Was the last warning that he got before Rick pushed another button on the coat and they were quickly pulled upwards. After overcoming the initial shock of the sudden rapid movement – and stopping his screaming – Morty decided that this actually wasn't so bad. Even if he only clung to the scientist's back, he could feel the body heat and smell Rick's familiar scent, which was a mix between motor oil, alcohol, some other weird chemicals and what the boy liked to simply describe as Rick. The blush won finally out, but thankfully his grandfather couldn't see that and he pushed his head a little closer to the back of Rick's neck under the pretense that he was just scared of falling off. As they quickly ascended the mountain, he was lost in his own little world. However, a loud roaring sound interrupted the cozy atmosphere and Morty noticed how it was quickly getting darker around them. Once more the thunder rolled – this time even louder – as they traversed through thick rainstorm clouds. The teen sputtered a little as he looked up and suddenly it really started to pour heavily, water getting in his eyes. A bright flash made him almost jump and his heart raced anew as he noticed how close they had been to being hit by that lightning bolt. Knowing that they were technically hanging on two earth wires – if those ropes really were made out of metal – didn't ease his nerves one bit. The panic didn't last long though as they eventually broke through the wall of thick dark clouds and the temperature became warmer around them. He breathed a sigh of relief and relaxed the slightest bit, but that was another mistake that he made. He didn't notice it that quickly, but the further they moved upwards the more the temperature was increasing until it reached a level of unbearable heat. To add the cherry on top, the sturdy rock wall gave way to a landscape that looked like lava and erupting volcanos that all stood sideways. They just barely evaded a fireball that was spit out of the mouth of one of those craters. "What the hell is this, Rick?!" Morty cried and tightened his grip in fear. "What does it look like to you, Morty?" Rick asked back, apparently unimpressed and not one bit surprised by the insane sight. With the air being too hot, the boy made the wise decision to not continue this argument as it would only quickly dry out his mouth. Eventually they passed through this part, too, and the air began to cool down again. Actually, it became too cool! Morty wasn't even surprised anymore when it suddenly started to snow. With chattering teeth, he clung tighter to his grandpa in search for body warmth. After all, he was still only wearing his pajamas and they weren't meant to keep him warm through a blizzard like the one that they were getting into. "Se-seriously, Ri-Rick." He stuttered thanks to his reflexively spasming jaw. "I-I do-don't get wha-what we-we are do-doing this f-for." "Trust me, Morty. This is totally gonna be worth it." His grandfather replied, seemingly completely unaffected by the extreme temperature drop. Just as the brunet feared that his limbs would die from the cold, the snow stopped and the air warmed up again. This time the temperature seemed to stay at a comfortable constant and Morty wondered what would come next. Thankfully, this seemed to be the last trial as they finally reached the very top. With another push of a button, the hooks dislodged from the stone that they had burrowed themselves in and the entire contraption vanished back into Rick's coat again. Morty looked around, but despite how dimly lit it was thanks to it still being nighttime on this planet, he managed to see that there was nothing of interest here. There wasn't a rare flower or crystal or whatever else he had imagined Rick having come here for. "What is this, Rick?!" He sounded pissed off now. "There's nothing here!!" The scientist took a seat on a somewhat even spot and pulled out his flask. "Shut up, Morty and park your pretty pink ass here." With his free hand, he patted the spot directly beside him. Still not understanding what was going on, Morty followed the direction and sat next to the man, but still frowned. Expectantly he watched Rick now, who was steadily sucking from his hipflask. With a sigh and a burp that sent his spittle flying, the scientist pocketed the container again and checked one of the three wristwatches on his arm. "We made it riiiight on time, Morty." The teen was still confused and opened his mouth to retort, but stopped when he noticed how the sky was suddenly lighting up. Looking up into the sky, he saw that the light came from a big moon that must have been really close to the planet. While the sight was certainly amazing, that wasn't all. Some bird-like aliens suddenly floated in the sky above them and began to glow in the same bluish-white light as the moon. The air was filled with a vibrating noise that sounded very melodious. Almost like a song. Then the flying creatures hovered around, their elongated bodies seemingly dancing in the air and reminding Morty a little of streamers on the string of a kite. The teen was utterly mesmerized by the sight, watching the odd phenomena with a gaping mouth. Rick grinned as he saw his grandson's reaction, having known that the boy would love this. "It happens only every 50 years that the five moons of Lzra 5 line up in one row like this, Morty. I've been here the last time and watched it from the very same spot." The scientist explained calmly and looked like he was reminiscing about that time when he had been still young and just started exploring the universe. "And whenever this occurs the Iczrga appear here and sing and dance like this. It's actually their mating ritual, but don't let that fact distract you from the sight, Morty." The brunet continued to watch the beautiful spectacle, watching how the Iczrga elegantly danced first alone, but then moved closer to another to dance together in the same rhythm with their chosen partner. Almost unconsciously he began to lean against Rick. Morty could feel his grandfather stiffen at the contact. The elder looked from the corner of his eye down at his grandson before he relaxed again and loosely put his arm around Morty's shoulder. The boy blushed from the contact and felt so immensely happy and at ease. Everything else was forgotten right now. It didn't matter that he had been pulled out of bed at 3 in the morning or if he was going to miss school. None of that mattered in this magical moment. He looked up at Rick again, his heart pounding wildly inside his chest, yet there was no fear inside him. "Rick?" He began, his voice barely above a whisper as if he was afraid that talking any louder would shatter this reality. His grandfather directed his full attention on him, looking expectantly, but there was also another emotion on his face that Morty couldn't read. "I love you, Rick." He breathed dreamily. "I love you so much." The reaction wasn't what he had hoped for, but what he should have logically expected. Rick frowned down at him and groaned, pulling his hand instantly back from his shoulder and leaning back as if he was suddenly disgusted by the contact. Morty felt a twinge in his chest and the dreamy look on his face turned to one of shame. With tears stinging at his eyes, he looked down in his lap as the dream-like moment turned into a nightmare in mere seconds. "Seriously, Morty! How often do we have to go through this again?" Rick sounded clearly frustrated. Of course, Morty was confused, not understanding what his grandpa meant by that. "What do you mean "again"?" "No point in telling you since you won't remember this conversation anyway." Without giving his grandson any answers, Rick drew his memory gun and wiped the boy's memory once more. With a sigh, he hoisted himself up and lifted Morty, preparing to get down the mountain again and backtracking to the parked space cruiser. This entire event had turned sour quickly and he felt really pissed off now. However, what he really felt was different. Even if he would never admit it to anyone – not even to himself – each time that Morty did this to him, it hurt Rick. With each time that Morty was confessing to him, Rick could feel his own heart breaking a little bit more…

AN: The next chapter might take a little while longer to come out because I decided to put smut in there and I always take longer to write that.

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 4

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resplendentgoldenwings · 7 years

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All That Remains, Chapter 11

Part 1:In the Beginning, Chapter 11: Gather Them Close

rating: teen

characters/relationships: Iris West, Henry Allen, Joe West, Wally West, Francine West,Linda Park, Caitlin Snow, Cisco Ramone, WestAllen

summary/introduction: Iris turns to Malcolm in a moment of desperation

betad: by asexual-fandom-queen

warnings: talk of abortion

Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6, Chapter 7, Chapter 8, Chapter 9, Chapter 10

Gather Them Close

Iris' sweat dampened dress clung to her skin, sticky with humidity, her dark hair curling where sweat dampened her edges. She had over two months of new growth, maybe now was a good time to grow out her relaxer.

The wind, gusted warm then drying her sweat for a just a moment and whistling through the leaves of the trees. The late August trees were green and full some heavy with flowers, willows bending under the weight of their branches, the chirp of crickets and cicadas filled the air, along with birdsong, but it was quiet other than that a strange, solemn humanless world.

The sounds of the city, cars, people they were distant here. She supposed that made sense.

Iris hadn't been to the cemetery since the burial. She'd thought of going more than once, but had been far too drained. Now she faced Barry's grave with a mixture of guilt and hope.

People talked about feeling close to their lost loved ones, feeling their presence, their spirit. So far she hadn't felt Barry's presence or spirit anywhere. He would come to her if he could, she knew that much. Maybe he couldn't come to her at their apartments, but if he still had a spirit that she could feel it would be here. She stood studying his tombstone, roses in hand, sonogram in her purse and waited.

An ash old and broad stood a few feet away from the Allen plot, its branches fanning out to shade Nora and Barry's graves, and a plot reserved for Henry.

'Barry Allen, beloved son, and fiance, the only time he was ever early.' She leaned down to spread the roses on his grave, and Nora's tombstone caught her attention as she straightened up. A fine coating of dust covered the top of it, and Iris frowned. Even though she was there for Barry Iris took a moment to wipe to dust of Nora's tombstone and lay one of the flowers for her.

She remembered Nora Allen, vaguely. A kind, compassionate woman, cheerful, but she could be stern too, and Iris had secretly found herself waiting to see if the woman's red-headed temper would come out. If it had, it had never been in her presence.

"Nora you raised an amazing son. I love him with all my heart," She sighed. "I wish I could've gotten to know you better, had you for a mother-in-law."

Iris ran her hand over the sun-warmed marble, fingers lingering on the date. Nora had died so you. She said a silent prayer for Nora and turned her attention to Barry, the reason for her visit.

"I'm sorry I didn't come sooner, Barry. I miss you every day at every meal, when I watch tv, when I hear about a scientific study or breakthrough on the news I still tell myself to ask you about it. They released a trailer for the new Star Trek movie. I was gonna let you talk me into going to the premier and maybe even let you convince me to cosplay as Spock and Uhura this time. You know I always let you drag me to that stuff, but I secretly liked them, now who am I gonna go with?" Iris waited and felt a lump form in her throat when she got no sense of Barry's presence. "I don't understand Barry; you're the Flash how could you die in a house fire? It doesn't make sense."

Still nothing. She squeezed her hands into fists for a moment and forced herself to continue.

"I'm pregnant Barry, and I don’t know what to do. Caitlin thinks it was probably around May 12th, the night you proposed. I know we used protection, but here I am pregnant and by myself."

She fished the sonogram out of her purse.

"We're having twins Barry, they're fraternal, so it could be a boy and a girl." For the first time since Caitlin confirmed her pregnancy, Iris smiled just a little bit and held up the sonogram. "They look like little aliens."

Iris waited her smile faded.

"Alright, Barry I know you would come to if you could. So that means you can't." She put the wrinkled sonogram in her purse. "Maybe we're just so much meat, and chemicals no soul. Maybe none of this matters anyway."

Iris turned on her heel.

There was nothing here, no comfort or peace for her no matter how quiet and peaceful it seemed. Nothing, but a corpse cold in the earth and a pile of dirt. She could call her mother, make that appointment at Planned Parenthood. At that moment the wind stirred whipping her hair into a stream flowing back behind her and tearing the sonogram out of her hand. Without thinking she went after the little piece paper as it fluttered to land on Nora's grave. She bent to retrieve, and it and a feeling of warmth, love, and concern strong enough to push forth happy tears flooded her.

"Okay, Barry, okay."

The West house was redolent with the wonderful the fragrance good food cooking. Onion, garlic, and rosemary were heavy in the air while the warm, sweet scent of baking brownies rose to slowly overpower the savory fragrance of dinner.

"Iris have a seat. I'll keep an eye on this."

"Thanks."

Henry took over stirring the mashed potatoes, and Iris sat down at the kitchen table. Her stomach had stayed calm and let her cook, something she was grateful for. She wouldn't have been able to cook otherwise.

"I need to ask you something."

"What's going on?"

"Did you know-" She took a deep breath. "Did you know that Barry was The Flash?"

"Yeah," Henry said after a moment. "He told me about a week after he woke up."

"Oh." She looked down at the table for a moment. "Do you- do you know why he didn't tell me?"

"I think these are done." Henry turned the stove off. "You guys had just gotten together; he didn't want to jeopardize the relationship."

"But I wouldn’t have-"

"-I know, and I told him that." Henry sat down, closed a hand over hers. "Listen, Iris; it wasn't just that. Barry had enemies."

"Henry my dad is a cop-"

"-It's not the same. That man Professor Wells, he wasn't what he seemed. He was a bad guy. He's the man who killed Nora."

Iris felt her eyes go wide and then she listened while Henry told her the story of Barry, The Flash, and the Reverse Flash.

"So this man came back from the future and killed Barry's mom before he'd even become The Flash." She stared at Henry, confounded by the very idea. "He came to the past to try and harm a little boy, and when he couldn't hurt that little boy he went after Nora?" Iris could hear an edge of hysteria in her voice.

"Dr. Wells- Eobard Thawne he's dead Iris."

She nodded and ran a hand through her hair, and the other hand drifted to her stomach. The feeling of wrongness that had been with her since she'd gone running to Henry's house the night of the fire flared into life again.

"Barry has enemies?"

"Yeah."

"Henry do you think-"

"Hey!" The kitchen door swung open then, and Wally strolled in eyes widening as he took in the scene in the kitchen. "This all looks and smells great."

Wally smiled that bright grin of his and the shadow that had fallen over her retreated.

"I'm so glad you're here sis'."

He pulled her up into a hug, and she felt her all of her baby brother's love and devotion in his embrace, but it wasn't enough to reach the fear and worry blooming in her heart.

The West house soon filled with guests, Wally, Linda, Joe, and Francine, along with Caitlin and Cisco. As much as she had been hiding in her apartment, avoiding the world it was good to see her childhood home filled with friends and family, get heartfelt hugs and wishes from people who truly cared about her and would care for the twins. It was good to see their friendly faces around the dining table while they ate and talked and laughed.

Had she been doing it wrong, burying herself in grief rather than surrounding herself with love?

Wally talked about school, Francine discussed the conference she'd been asked to speak at, Linda was full of sports talk, and Cisco was thinking of starting a tech business.

When they'd finished eating Joe made Wally help him clear the table.

Iris stood as they finished.

"Dad, Wally don't bring the dessert yet I have an announcement."

Joe and Wally returned to their seats, and all eyes went to her.

"I'm so glad I invited all of you over. This is the best I've felt, since well-" Her grief stirred, and Joe took her hand giving it an affectionate squeeze.

"Take your time sweetie."

"Thanks, dad." She squeezed his hand back. "I feel so loved right now, which is good because I'll be needing all of you in the coming months. A few days ago Caitlin confirmed that I'm pregnant with twins, just a little over two-"

"You're pregnant!" Henry stared at her gray eyes as clear and bright as she'd seen them since the fire.

She nodded.

"With twins?"

"Yes, Henry."

"Iris, oh my god." Henry was on his feet and coming around the table to catch her in a hug that lifted her off her feet.

"Thank you, thank you, thank you." He held her for a long moment radiating happiness.

When Henry sat her on her feet, it was Joe's turn to hug her.

"So you’re moving back in the right?"

"Yes, dad," Iris said ruefully.

"Iris this is great." Wally was grinning from ear-to-ear. "I'm sure I speak for everyone when I say you can count on all of us to help."

"Yes, mhmm." Echoed around the table.

"You know," Joe eyed everyone in the room. "None of you women seem all that surprised."

"Well, I'm the doctor." Caitlin volunteered with that slight smile of hers.

"And I'm her best friend and roommate," Linda said with a shrug.

"And I'm her mother of course I know," Francine said with a superior tilt to her chin.

The four women looked at each other and laughed.

"Well, at least we're not outnumbered, right Cisco."

Joe, Henry, and Wally looked to engineer for support.

Cisco shook his head.

"Don't look at me; I came with her." He pointed to Caitlin whose cheeks flushed a soft pink.

"Forget you man," Joe said. "What about this dessert?"

Sundaes were made with her favorite toppings, and they sat around the dining room table eating and talking. Iris savored the mix of warm gooey brownie and cool ice cream while they talked, everyone, giving her encouraging smiles from time-to-time.

"Hey baby girl," Joe came out onto the deck. "Now why am I not surprised to find you here?"

"Because Barry and I used to sit out here and talk all night during summer break," she replied.

"Yeah," he sat down next to her on the padded porch swing and Iris leaned against her father. "So how are you feeling, really?"

"Sad, worried, scared, but not as sad, worried and scared as I felt this morning."

"Good." Joe put an arm around her shoulders and kissed her forehead.

Iris stared into a night lit by the yellow glow of streetlights, leaves on shadowed trees moving in the breeze. Joe sat with her silent, and she was grateful for that. She was tired, and there was still so much to say and do. Her grief and fear were still with her, and there were new worries.

Barry had enemies out there, somewhere, at least one had traveled in time. She knew enough about the world to know that sometimes when an enemy couldn't get the object of their revenge, they transferred their anger and hate to family, a loved one. Did Barry have any enemies of that kind? There was an undercurrent of meta-human fear growing in Central City. With The Flash gone meta-human crime was on the rise.

She wasn't naive enough to think that wouldn't crystallize into something dangerous and ugly. It had been happening to black people for four hundred years. And what would the world make of black meta-humans raised by a single mother? Iris sighed feeling a bone-deep weariness that had been with her since the night of the fire.

"What is it baby girl?"

"Nothing I want to talk about right now dad. Tonight was a good night."

"Yeah, it was. You should see Wally and Cisco in there trying to impress Caitlin and Linda with engineer talk."

"Oh really. What happened to that guy Wally was dating?"

"Didn't work-out I guess." Joe's arm tightened around her shoulders. "You know we're gonna take care of you right?"

"I know. I guess I'll have to tell everyone about Barry being The Flash."

Her father took a deep breath.

"You will, but not tonight."

"That and more."

"Yeah."

She'd have to tell them about Barry being the Flash, about his possible enemies, about the twins possibly being metas. There was a lot, but for the first time in weeks, Iris did not find her herself consumed by grief, worry, and fear. It was still there she could feel it sitting in her stomach, riding her shoulders waiting for that moment, the memory that would bring it all out again, but for the moment she could turn her mind from it, and she did.

Iris leaned against her father, let him put a protective arm around her shoulders, let her hand of its own accord drift down to lie against her stomach. For now, for one moment though she- they were content, and that was all that mattered.

A/N- So I’m posting it all at once. This fic was never supposed to get drawn out like this in the first place. Chapter 12 is the final chapter of part one, we go back to the night of the fire and find out what really happened to Barry. If you prefer to read on Fanfiction.net it will be up soon.

#The Flash #WestAllen Fanfiction #Iris West #Barry Allen #WestAllen #Joe West #Henry Allen #AGDoren writes #All That Remains

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taocastleprincess · 7 years

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Inktober for Writers - Day 3 - Warmth / Eijiroctober - Day 3 - Hair

I’ve decided to do inktober for writers!! But also, someone made a prompt list for my firstborn in honor of his birthday month and I couldn’t NOT do that! So, we out here mergin’ prompts! ‘Cause it’s more fun that way! So pls enjoy 31 days of KIRISHIMA EIJIROU from your fave bakusquad stan and writer. (i MIGHT go back and do the days I missed, but that’s a BIG maybe)

Drabble under the cut!

“And you can’t ask Duracell why?”

Kirishima stands at the door of Bakugou’s room with his head wrapped and red hair dye in-hand. The blond looks at him with aggressive disinterest, if there ever were a thing.

“He’s studying with Yaomomo right now. We have a test next Monday; I’d feel bad interrupting.”

“You don’t feel bad interruptin’ me.”

The redhead smiles. Bakugou was such an easy guy to work with. There’s really nothing to it after awhile. You just gotta know what works and what doesn’t. And you wanna know what always works?

“Yeah, I know! ‘Cause we both know you’re gonna blow that test outta the water! It’s hella manly how you don’t even have to really study to get a good grade! Even Todoroki has to study even a little. You can spare an hour or two though, ‘cause you don’t even have to.”

Ego stroking. Flattery. A little bullshit.

Bakugou wears a look of self-admiration. Kirishima smiles to himself. Hook, line, and sinker. “Fine, Shitty Hair. But I ain’t a hairdresser, so don’t expect any fancy shit.”

It always works. Always.

Bakugou walks into his room and leaves his door open, presumably, for Kirishima to follow him. The redhead closes the door behind him and cheerfully walks over to the foot of Bakugou’s bed and sits ‘crisscross-applesauce’ style on the floor. The blond is fishing something out of his drawers with his back facing him.

Kirishima hums quietly while unwrapping the towel that adorns his head and caping it over his shoulders in preparation. Opening the box in his hand, he expertly mixes the red dye and puts it to side and waits.

Soon, Bakugou turns to face him with gloves and a bottle of vaseline in either hand.

“Why the hell would you let your roots grow out that long?” The blond’s face is scrunched up in funny show of emotion. If Kirishima had to guess, he’d say it was one part wonder and two parts disgust.

But Bakugou’s face is usually three parts disgust, so he doesn’t get too offended.

“Don’t look at me like that! It happened overnight!”

“‘Overnight,’ my ass. This is weeks of laziness. How’d you even hide this much growth?”

Kirishima wriggles around self-consciously. He whispers something indecipherable.

“Speak up, Shitty Hair.”

There is a long, uncomfortable pause. “...Jello.”

Bakugou’s face goes blank. Very blank. Kirishima’s stomach wells up with fear thinking that he might have broken his best friend but there is another part of him, a very small part, that thinks this is amazingly hilarious and is sad that Kaminari has missed such a grand affair.

“That is... fuckin’ nasty. I— You— That’s... nasty, Hair-for-Brains. Disgusting.” Bakugou walks over to his bed with the same blank expression on his face and takes a seat. He scoots over to the where Kirishima is sitting on the floor and arranges himself in a way that has Kirishima in between his legs. He hears the ‘POP’ of a container being opened and is confused.

“Whatcha doin’, Blasty? The dye’s right here.”

“I know, dumbass. You gotta coat your hairline in vaseline first.” Kirishima’s mouth opens and forms a dramatic ‘O’ shape. He’s just about to ask why he’s supposed to do such a thing when Bakugou beats him to it. “It’s so the dye washes off easily if it gets on your skin.” There is what sounds like a loud click above his head and he assumes Bakugou is clucking his tongue. “When you or Duracell or Raccoon Eyes dye your hair you end up lookin’ like your forehead’s been cracked open.” Kirishima thinks he’s heard the word ‘dumbass’ being quietly huffed as the irritated blonde lines his hairline in vaseline, but he’s not sure. (He is, but giving the benefit of a doubt to others is pretty manly.)

“Nice! I just started doing this a few months before school started so I’m still learning. Thanks for the pointers, it was getting really frustrating scrubbing my head all crazy every time I have to do my hair...” Kirishima rubs his forehead tenderly, remembering less than pleasant memories of pointlessly scrubbing his face until it was pink and raw trying to pry the faded red pigment off his face. After letting the thought fade after awhile and quietly humming as Bakugou lines his head, Kirishima stumbles upon a very important question. “Why do you know that? Like, I know you know a buncha stuff, but ‘you ain’t a hairdresser,’” the redhead finishes in an impressive imitation of the blond boy above him. He snickers into his elbow as Bakugou gently bops him upside the head.

“Shut up,” he responds. He points to the container of red dye sitting at Kirishima’s feet and waits for the other boy to pass it to him. He takes the dye and places it on the bed while putting on the gloves he fetched from his drawer. Once he finishes, he answers. “The ol’ hag’s been turnin’ gray since I was twelve. Refuses to go to a salon.”

“Why?”

“Because she’s a crazy ol’ hag and thinks it’s cute to force me to do it.” Kirishima can feel him start to expertly separate his hair into neatly parted sections. He tries to picture his spitfire, aggressive best friend doing this at home on his couch with his mom between his legs instead and starts smiling to himself. It was such a strong contrast to the Bakugou he usually presented with everyday and yet it still fits. The boy couldn’t be all blasts and booms and curse words all the time.

“That’s pretty manly, dude. Alotta guys wouldn’t even consider it. Good on you for helping your moms! It’s probably good bonding time too.”

“Mm. There’s food,” Bakugou replies. He tries to brush the subject off casually, but Kirishima can hear the fondness in his voice. He would enjoy it even if there wasn’t any food to have. Kirishima smiles again, content with the silence and the feeling of Bakugou’s hands going to work in his head.

The quiet is comfortable and friendly. Kirishima hums and Bakugou gently swings his feet to the beat. Nothing else is said until Bakugou is done applying the dye to Kirishima’s head and his timer has been set for fifteen minutes as a reminder for Kirishima to go wash his hair of the chemicals after the mixture has finished its job.

“Why do you dye your hair? You look just as shitty with black hair.”

Since Kirishima is fluent in Repressed Asshole, he knows that Bakugou actually means: You look just as good with black hair. So he laughs it off and feels his cheeks start to heat up oh so slightly.

“Thanks, Blasty! I think I’m pretty good lookin’ natural too!” Kirishima turns around and winks at Bakugou who promptly returns this gesture with a roll of his crimson eyes. Kirishima laughs some more and continues. “But...” His head fills with thoughts of middle school. “Red symbolizes good things. Better things. I made a promise to do better, to be better. And so I can’t be my old pathetic old self anymore!” Bakugou stares at Kirishima quietly, face indecipherable. The other boy blushes and wonders why he gave such an annoyingly honest answer. He could’ve just said he liked red, that he got bored of his natural hair color, that he just felt like it! But no, he had to go and mouth off while being weird and overdramatic and annoying.

Ugh. No one wants to hear the introduction of your dredged-up, tragic backstory, Eijirou. Damn.

Bakugou leans back on his elbows in his bed. He still has the gloves on that he used to handle the dye, but he’s careful not to touch the light colored sheets of his bed. His stare is still intense, but there’s a hint of something else. Kirishima can’t place it, sometimes Bakugou is just too good at hiding his emotions. “I’m pretty sure whoever you used to be wasn’t pathetic. Was probably more of a dumbass. Definitely still annoyin’ as fuck. But not pathetic.” Kirishima’s eyes widen slightly. Well, he was not expecting that. “Pathetic ain’t you. Nah.”

Bakugou shakes his head. He sits back up, peels off both his gloves and pitches them into the trash can across the room. He looks back towards Kirishima.

“You didn’t change. Just grew into the person you were always gonna be. The person that you’re still becomin’.” Kirishima thinks about this.

He hasn’t ever thought that he was being too hard on himself before but... could he have been? He means... yeah, his quirk isn’t as flashy or attention grabbing as it could be, but it’s his quirk and he makes it work. And he placed pretty damn good at the Sports Festival... and as a first-year? That’s pretty good for a guy with a ‘boring’ quirk.

In middle school he missed a few times to demonstrate his heroism but... was he not just a kid then? Yes, other kids in his place would’ve moved faster, reacted smarter, done better... But that’s not him. There’s no shame in getting better, in growing into being a hero. He’s always been a good person and that’s what matters. His intentions and ambitions have always been great and pure and manly. Nothing pathetic about it.

Kirishima smiles. A huge, sharp, toothy grin that nearly usurps his whole face and hurts his cheeks a little. “Yeah. Yeah, that sounds way better than what I said.”

The blond smirks. “Yeah, I know, dumbass. That’s how it always is. And stop fuckin’ cheesin’ like that. You’re still gonna be shit compared to me, so fix your face.”

Ignoring him, Kirishima continues grinning and lifts himself off the floor. He’s facing Bakugou now. “You’re a real pal, Katsuki.”

Bakugou’s face shades a pretty pink and Kirishima smiles wider. “Don’t call me that, dumbass. Do you want me to kill you?”

Kirishima laughs. “Nah. How much time do I have left?”

Prior embarrassment momentarily forgotten, Bakugou looks over at his phone. “Time for you to start heading to the shower. Got two minutes.”

“Aw. Okay. I guess I’ll see you later then.” Kirishima starts collecting the trash and unused items from the dye box and begins to leave.

Just as he is turning the doorknob, Bakugou calls out to him.

“If you’re not doin’ anything after you’ve finished, you can come back to study. ‘Cause I know your dumbass hasn’t started yet even though we’re coverin’ five chapters. Doesn’t make any sense that you and Duracell wait ‘til the last minute to break out the textbooks every time.” Kirishima quietly laughs at the blond’s obvious attempt at keeping his company.

“Okay! I’ll be back in a few.”

“You better. I’m doin’ your ass a favor, can’t have you flunkin’ out and wastin’ my good dye job.” Kirishima laughs out loud this time and can see the ghost of a smile wearing on Bakugou’s lips.

“No, we really can’t have that, Blasty,” he replies as he enters into the hallway just as Bakugou’s timer starts ringing.

#inktober for writers #eijiroctober #Kirishima Eijirou #kiribaku #boku no hero academia #my hero academia #bnha #mha #my writing #personalshy #someone said the point of inktober4writers isn't to put out amazing work; it's to better your writing skills and imagination #so i guess that encouraged me to actually post this bc this is NOT that great. at all.#like... yikes scoob

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trapmoon-vibez-blog · 7 years

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🔫Bonnie & Clyde🔫

Warning- shit is about to get real.

"I've got ya now Jack, what did ya think you can run away from ya past and don't think that shit will come back and bite ya in the ass...well karma's a bitch " me and (Y/n) was surrounded by at least 50 goons, guns all aimed at us ready to fire any moment...I fucked up, we barely have any amno...we only had to do this last heist and we could've had it all...

{one week before}

"Jack I have to tell you something." we were currently in a cheap motel and I was sitting on the bed cleaning my gun, I looked up to see (Y/n) by the bathroom doorway fidgeting nervously, I sighed "what is it sweetheart?" I patted the bed to signal her to sit, she swayed slowly towards the bed "I'm p-pregnant." I froze...I going to be a father..a father..me?...oh my god!...we're pregnant?!...that's my child in her stomach!

"I'm sorry Jack! I didn't plan for this!" I guess she took my silence for disapproval, so I embraced her passionately but gently so I didn't hurt are baby "no no no I'm not mad babygirl...far from it! I'm so happy I'm going be a father!" (Y/n) embraced me lovingly and we was in pure bliss till I saw my wife look worried, so I gripped her shoulder while feeling concerned "what's the matter sweetheart?" she looked down "b-but J we barely have any money to support are self how will we support a baby?" she was right we are poor, I was an engineer at a chemical plant but I quit my job to pursue my dream of being a stand-up comedian...of course that didn't work out well...and (Y/n)'s job isn't enough for rent let alone a baby...I tried to stay away from the life of crime but I guess I'm gonna have to speak with an old friend.

"Don't worry (Y/n) we still have money, we will manage."

"yeah but J-" she went to speak but I interrupted her "Just worry about that baby, I don't want you to stress yourself out, okay?" (y/n) smiled at me and hug me again "I love you Jack, you don't have to go through this alone." I wrapped my arms around her small frame "together to the end?" she squeezed me tighter "always and forever, Jack."

After talking about baby names, how we would be great parents and all the stupid Christmas photos we would send (Y/n)'s parents, (Y/n) finally went to bed, so I snuck out of the bed grabbing the keys to the motel and headed out to visit Ricci.

I got to his mansion to be stop at the gate by his goons "Who are you? and state ya business."

"Tell him it's Jack and I came for a...favor." the goons both looked at each other then smiled "come in, boss would be happy to see ya."

I knew meeting him again would be risky and dangerous but what choice do I have...

The goons walked me inside his mansion and one of them went inside his room...I assume he is telling Ricci I am here but I have to be guarded so I hide my pistol inside my coat, luckily they didn't search me.The goon came out of Ricci's office holding the door, signaling me to go in.

Ricci swiveled in his chair facing me with a salesmen smile "Jack! how have you've been?! I haven't seen you since...what! are last juvenile escape, those were the good days, huh!"

I chuckled, coming over to give Ricci our signature handshake "yeah those days were wild."

Ricci waved his hand toward the sit opposite of him "sit down! we have to catch up Jacky boy!"

I sat down getting straight to the point "I came today cause I need a job."

Ricci chuckled darkly "you never change huh jack? always sooo blunt, lighten up will ya, now tell me why you reallu came for a job? cause the last we talked I was sure you was done being a criminal and shit, so what changed?"

I shook my head while smirking "same old Ricci, nothing gets pass you."

Ricci laughed "of course kid, how else did I become Capo Dei Capi! I wasn't sitting on my ass, now tell me why your really here? cause I don't have time for games Jack."

I signed "I need money cause my wife is pregnant and working as a comedian ain't cutting it, so I came to ask if you could give me a job that pays a large sum of cash, cause after this I want to be with my family."

Ricci pondered for a while "your family huh, I'm assuming ya mean (y/n), well maybe ya did change Jack...it's dangerous but I'm assuming you know this right, so are you still in?"

"yes." Ricci nodded his head "well have you ever heard of dr. Alric Schmidt I have information that he went rogue from the government and is hiding underground, he has all types of important rare subjects, experiments and all types of chemicals and shit! now what I need is 0.5 Proton, put it in this suitcase and I will give you these instructions and if everything goes good I will give you 1 million as a gift to your family capesh?

I knew this could possibly get me killed but I would do anything for (Y/n)...she has been with me this whole time taking my shit, she knows about my past with my abusive father, she stayed with me knowing that I'm damaged and always seems to make me feel like her king as she is my queen.

I shook Ricci's hand "If I'm able to get the 0.5 Proton for you and something happens to me can I depend on you Ricci...will you give the money to my wife."

"Jack you have my word, but now that we got business over with I wanna show you my new eye candy~ Harley get ya fine ass over here!" Ricci yelled.

"What cha need pumpkin~" Harley walk in the room and sat on Ricci's lap.

"Well I wanted my friend Jack here to meet ya, since we will be doing some business together~"

Harley popped her gum "soo why do ya need me hon." Harley replied sassily.

Ricci's demeanor changed from mock cheerful to anger "DON'T BACK TALK ME YOU STUPID FUCKING WHORE!" Ricci jumped up and backhanded Harley causing her to fall on the floor. "get the fuck outta my face, you dumb slut, why can't you just sit pretty and keep ya trap shut, every time you talk you irritate me, GO!"

Harley glared at Ricci, then got up holding her cheek, she glanced at Jack and did a slight smirk before exiting Ricci's office.

Jack look at Harley then back at Ricci who was back to his 'cheerful' expression

"My bad, ya know how I tend to snap easily, I mean women ya can't live with em...nor ya can't shoot em...well I take the last part back!" Ricci laughed.

causing Jack to awkwardly chuckle "yeah I know what ya mean."

"Let's have a few drinks for old time sake, then you can go on ya merry way with ya wifey!"

"Alright, just tell me where ya bathroom is I gotta take a piss."

Ricci pointed toward the hallway down the right "I'll be in kitchen, if ya get lost ask one of my goons."

Jack got out of Ricci's office and made his way to the bathroom.

"Ya name's Jack right?" Harley grinned extending her hand out to Jack.

Jack smiled slighty and shook Harley's hand "and obviously your Harley."

"Yep but you can call me Harls!" Harley winked at Jack.

"So what do you want from me, I mean I'm sure you didn't come just to flirt cause I've already gotta girl."

"Well ~ yes and no...but I came to warn ya since you seem like a decent guy..."

Jack looked at her slightly confused "about what?"

Harley surveyed her surrounding "That man is not trying to help ya, don't trust him cause he is a sneaky rat."

Jack knew exactly what Harley was talking about but everything about the plan seem legit and Jack always knew how to escape a risky situation if the time came.

"Look Harley I appericate the-" Harley interrupted him "fine Mista, I just wanted to let ya know the deal you can do whateva ya want but don't say I didn't warn ya~."

As Harley was leaving I stopped her "why do you let him treat ya like that?"

She turned around 'cause Hon I find power to be quite the attractive thing, it can get ya a whole lot of things like respect fear and the freedom to do what ya want, besides I'm a bad bitch who can take what's dished at me and best believe I'm not the victim, ya just gotta know how to play the game in order to win."

I knew what she meant...but with power there will always be sacrifice...

I left Ricci's quarters and made my way back toward our room, to find the lights on and a furious wife sitting on our bed, I knew I was going catch a ear load.

"Where have you been J? do you know how fucking worried I was?!"

I signed, throwing my coat on the chair and sat on the bed "nowhere I just went out for some fresh air."

She got up "that was 3 hours ago?!...it's 4:30 am in the fucking morning, your normally sleep till 10 am! now tell me the truth J!"

I dramatically flopped on the bed "could we talk about this later, I'm tired."

"like hell you are, get yo ass up where talking about this now!"

I groggily got up "I went job hunting." well I wasn't necessarily lying.

"Jack you must think I'm stupid, I have been with you since we were kids so I know your up to something...are you cheating on me?" (y/n) voice cracked at the end.

"No I would never cheat on you (y/n) I guess.."

"I GUESS WHAT J! WE SAID WE WOULD BE HONEST WITH EACH OTHER SO TELL THE TRUTH!"

I knew I could lie to her anymore.

I got up and grabbed (Y/n)'s hand gently squeezing it "I was out speaking with mr.Ricci for a job." (y/n) violently ripped her hands out of my grip "no Jack, that man is shady! you know how much danger he'll put us through, he is a fucking coward that will leave us to die!." I glared at (y/n) "first of all, it's not we, you're not going..your pregnant and I know the risks of working with him but what choice do we have, jobs are barley hiring at this point!" (y/n) flinched by my sudden tone but yelled back "J were either in this together...or were not doing it at all, your choice!"

"NO (Y/N) YOUR NOT FUCKING GOING!"

(Y/n) didn't say anything, then I saw her start packing her clothes "where the fuck do you think your going!"

(Y/n) walked up to me poking my chest vigorously "like I said J where in this together or I fucking leave, like I don't understand you Jack I told you your not alone so why the fuck are you always leaving me out, knowing how much I love you." her voice cracked at the end and tears started gather up in her eyes, I know she wasn't going to take no for an answer and even though I love this stuborn side of her it could be quite the double bladed sword.

I sighed "shh shh don't cry princess, I will let you come IF you stay right along side me, no straying away and DO everything I say, got that?" I said sternly.

(Y/n) looked up at me with a slight smile and hugged me as if her life depended on it...we always completed each other, always had each others back and even in the most heated arguments we love even harder...(Y/n) is my everything.

"Is this the place Jack?" (y/n) whispered suspiciously while surveying the underground lab.

We were currently hiding in the bushes, awaiting the perfect time to ambush the guards.

"yeah, wait here." I was crawling slowly trying to not get caught, "but J-" I turned so fast not feeling in the mood for back talk, I glared at (y/n), causing her to put her hands up in mock surrender, I rolled my eyes and saw the other guard leave the area giving me the perfect chance to swiftly knock out the remaining guard.

We walked inside the tunnel, holding each others hand protectively as we cautiously look in the dark mold filled tunnel.

After a few minutes of walking we was inside a eerie large room to only see a chemical vat and a few doors.

"I don't know about this J, t-this doesn't look right, we should go."

I nodded cause the picture Ricci showed me of the lab looks entirely different from what we are seeing...though the address he gave was correct, I have a bad feeling about this.

"Going so soon Jack and (y/n)~, well that kinda makes me sad after all we didn't see each other since ya left me in that hellhole to die...but lucky enough for me good ole Ricci saved me and was kind enough to let me get my revenge!"

I knew who that croaky voice belong to...Marc Jones...we used to be friends, me, (y/n), Ricci and Marc till things went to shit and I left that life behind and create a new one with (y/n). I turned around slowly and protectively shielded (y/n) as she gripped my arm fearfully.

"Marc you know I would have never let you die in there but I didn't have the power or money to get ya out, ya gotta understand that?" I replied cautiously.

Marc eyes darken and his smile brighten "stop lying Jack be fucking honest and just say ya wanted to play house with ya lil whore, so ya left me without a fucking care as to how I felt! but I've got ya now Jack, what did ya think you can run away from ya past and don't think that shit will come back and bite ya in the ass...well karma's a bitch!" Marc and 50 other goons cocked there guns at us, awaiting Marc's order.

(Y/n) jumped in front of me screaming "W-WAIT! Marc we a-aren't the reason for you ending up in jail, it was Ricci who set you and Jack up that day, he is the reason you and Jack got caught selling his dope but the shit backfired on him when they traced the drugs back to him and he ended up in jail with you guys, Jack couldn't save you cause he barely made it out his self and I'm the one who convinced him to leave you there to rot not him so if ya wanna be mad a someone it's me you should wanna kill not Jack so please Marc let him go!"

I couldn't believe what (y/n) was saying "no (Y/n)! Marc don't listen to her I'm the one who had the choose to save you but I didn't, so please spare my wife...she is pregnant...with our child." I hide (y/n) along side me.

Marc chuckled "how cute!! do you guys see how loyal they are to each other, ohh how I wish you was like that with me, then we wouldn't be in this lil situation!" Marc turned to the goons "shoot them."

I waited for the impact of the bullets but that isn't what I felt...I was falling, I open my eyes and the last I saw was my (Y/n) getting shot as I was falling into the chemical vat I saw her drop off the railing and I blacked out to be reborn a new...as The Joker and ever since that day I swore I would be the one to burn Gotham to the ground.

Hey my lil lemonheads I hope u enjoyed the story, I'm going to bed cause it's 2:30 in the morning and my night owl azz need to catch some zzz's but if ya like my one shots plz vote, follow ya gurl cause I'm thristy and comment.

PEACE and DESTRUCTION my lil lemonheads.

MY WATTPAD

https://www.wattpad.com/user/Citrusdrop

#joker x reader #joker imagines #jared leto joker

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fattkittykat · 4 years

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The Beauty of New Queens (Epilogue)

The facility finished construction three months after Danni spoke with Carolyn, though it was less than 24 hours before a spot was cleared for Danni to situate herself and get moved. It took four helicopters and a flatbed truck to move her four miles inward, a spectacle for the whole city to see. Of course, Gordito’s made it a marketing experience, painting her belly with the Gordito’s logo and having Scarlet hand-feeding her Fatty Burgers the entire way.

When they got to the facility, the first thing Danni did was begin sucking down on the caloric blend R&D made. By the end of the day, she had engorged herself another 400 pounds. In the temporary trailers set up nearby, Scarlet was placed as head of feeding. She had a 24/7 multi-cam monitor of Danni and a direct mic in. In addition, she had a board of controls for Danni’s feeding tube, though she always kept them the same. 2 1/2 inch diameter, caloric feed, weight display on, full speed. Additionally, and much to the ability for Scarlet to be caught masturbating in her trailer, was an output of her shit content, and a smell-o-vision style chamber for smelling Danni’s body odor, as well as the audio option for different parts of her body. Her tube to hear Danni sucking down pounds of fat at a time, her belly to hear the groaning of her insides to digest the slop of grease, her ass to hear her rippling farts that were muted by the glass. An additional feature, purely for the pleasure of Scarlet, was a remote duct taped to the panel marked “Vibrator” with 10 variable speeds. The remote wirelessly controlled a vibrator inserted into Danni’s now inaccessably pussy. Every time Scarlet upped the vibrations, she herself nearly came seeing Danni’s heart rate jump and facial expression change to orgasmic ecstacy. She was not entirely inaccessable, however. The two exchanged conjugal visits every night, in which Scarlet would crawl under Danni’s lard, make her cum, leave it there, climb back to her face, kiss her, relish in her belches that she had accumulated throughout the day, and fall asleep on her tons of fat.

Leon’s innovations landed him a spot at the R&D department. His chemical supplements began to become an ingredient in all Gordito’s food, as well as what amounted to a purely addictive addition to keep people coming back. Within 6 months, Leon’s inventions had increased the global average weight to 350 pounds, with the weight of New Good Air City skyrocketing to an immobile 600 pounds. Though part of this increase was also due to Scarlet. During the day, she would occasionally slip out to manage the Gordito’s that started it all in New Queens, where a commerative statue sat out front with Danni’s titanic model afixed atop it in glistening gold. There, Scarlet continued her tradition of inflating those she found attractive to impossible weights. The regular hotties quickly rose to 500, 1000, a ton, and more. She would hand feed them as she would Danni, but there was never a replacement for the original. None could surpass her.

827,019 pounds. She covered an entire city block and proceeded to lift upwards. Her ass alone lifted her nearly 60 feet off the scale, though her ass was no longer seperate from her legs, which was hardly seperate from her belly. Really, her body was now divided into 2 parts, making fat and storing fat. Scarlet kept a perfect flow at all times, keeping her constantly at the brink of bursting, always uncomfortable, but she had long ago enjoyed being constantly streached by her belly.

A year later, Danni had ballooned to 8,086,096 pounds, which had to be calculated over 6 freight scales. She now encompassed several city blocks, with only a section of her gargantuan belly resting under the Gordito’s complex. The walls of the lower level were cut out long ago to allow her to spread out, though even how her belly approaches the bottom of the glass floor, which was 15 stories off the ground. Her feeding became a process in two steps. Her original 2 1/2 inch tube now extended beyond her mouth and directly into her stomach, now pumping pressurized fluid to make sure she stayed full, and a second, 1/2 tube that sat in her mouth, existing for flavor over fat, though it was of course packed with sugar and fat. She did, however, get to see through the glass floor, witnessing the trend she had started. Now the average global weight was nearing 1200 pounds, with it being exceedingly popular amongst the rich to reach weights of around 3000 pounds. In the glass dining room, filled with people on mobility scooters, she saw a face looking down at her. That bitch from the jewlery store job. Upon seeing her, she released a fart and belch both so defiant and loud and deep that they shook the entire city, rumbling the foundation of the Gotdito’s complex and causing the wobbling fatasses inside to fall over.

“And then that fat bitch fell over, it was s-*uuUUUUUUURRRROOOOUUUUPPPppp*-o funny.”

Scarlet giggled as Danni jiggled before sliding another slider into her mouth under the moonlight. It was gone in less than a second, swallowed hardly chewed.

“I don’t know that you get to call anybody fat, fatty!” 8 more sliders were gone.

“Says you Mrs. 7000 pounds!”

With the times and the cheapening and fattinging of the food she worked around all day, it was true Scarlet had balooned to a healthy 7000 pounds, though next to Danni, she could’ve been 180. Only with the help of a hover scooter, the newest product from Fatty Foods’ sister company Mobility Solutions, did she reach the soaring heights of Danni’s belly upon which her head sat.

“Says you Mrs. Seven MILLION!”

“Eight million, for your information! And besides, when you’re this big, one million isn’t anything, I can put on one million in a month, but for a twig like you, 7000 is enormous!”

“Oh yea? I met I can get to your weight now before you can double it!”

“Really? My belly holds like 6 millions pounds on its own, if I stopped eating I would put on 6 million!”

“3 2 1 go!” Scarlet shouted before putting Danni’s tube into her mouth. She was immedietley filled with regret and grease, some sputtering out of her lips before she puffed her cheeks and the tube situated itself in her throat, leaving only the flavoring tube in her mouth. Butter flavor. Within seconds, Scarlet could feel the grease filling her gargantuan belly. She pawed for an off button, only to find the warmth of grease flowing into her maw. She remembered that the only one with the ability to turn off the flow once it started was whoever was in the control trailer, which is usually her.

“Don’t worry baby, the stomach expanders should kick in any second.”

Morning was 8 hours away, when someone would realize Scarlet was gone, go to the control trailer, and shut off the flow. Until then, she would have to contuinue being inflated with the dense, fattening fluid that made Danni an over 4000 ton woman. Despite her belly’s incredible capacity, she could already feel herself being filled. Danni looked at her lovingly, before grabbing a frosting tube with her lips and beginning to inflate. She briefly feared Scarlet would win this contest.

The next morning the couple was 8,341,917 and 10,981. The next, 8,571,823 and 17,099.

8,761,049 & 31,671

9,847,166 & 74,899

10,881,415 & 157,843

11,418,566 & 309,008

11,785,236 & 688,917

12,098,751 & 1,144,969

12,516,814 & 2,918,166

13,481,051 & 4,891,515

14,147,518 & 6,681,996

14,985,168 & 7,998,153

16,172,191 & 8,086,097

“Well babe, *uuRRRoopp* looks like I was right. Give it two more weeks and you’ll be a scrap of burger stuck in my 145th chin!”

“Alright alright, you did a fantastic job being 1/2 my weight. So what’s your prize?”

“Well, I had Leon whip something up for us.”

Danni felt something slip into each of her hands, which her chubby fingers, each nearly 10 pounds, hardly grasped.

“The one on the right controlls our feeding tubes and a conveyer belt. There’s also a wheel that controlls speed. In your left hand, you have a remote that controlls a vibrator, both of which are connected to me. I have the same two remotes, and as your punishment, your remoted don’t work right now, and I’m going to feed you with whipped cream, low in calories but high in volume, until you’re about to burst, and keep your vibrator on low. That way, I can get fatter than you, and when I am, then I’ll let you have control over your remotes and eat your grease and make you cum. Sound good?”

“Oh you’re evil, I love it!”

Scarlet, however, overlooked that the millions of pounds of food inside Danni, combined with the light but plentiful whipped cream, allowed her to continue expansion to 504,817,091 pounds. She and Scarlet were moved away from the Gordito’s complex, and relocated to a lot in New Queens, where they remain as local legends, each occupying several square miles. Together, they occupied nearly 6 square miles, naming the neighborhoods around the two “Gorditas”. Long ago, the waste disposal systems burst trying to maintain the hundreds of thousands of pounds of shit and piss, that now the two simply piss and shit themselves and allow the waste to spill into the street drains below them. This process, however, took far longer than normal, as their asscheeks had lifted the two over a quarter mile into the air. Their sweat also was allowed to drip into the streets, though their sweat more resembled grease than anything else. Their feet were actually suspended that quarter mile in the air, most of their height came from the tons and tons of fat that they sat upon. Constantly shitting, constantly pissing, constantly sweating grease, they were perpetually wet. Moreover to add moisture was the millions of gallons of cum Scarlet produced, easily coating the wide surface of her inner thighs before dripping to the surface.

A small monitor on the contacts in their eyes allwoed them to see their weights, and as the digital readout changed such that Scarlet finally equalled the over half a billion pounds, she clicked the button on her remote to turn Danni’s vibrator to 10. After two weeks of being pent up, spraying moisture all over her legs, her belly kept tight and red, the pain able to be felt from the 2 mile radius around her, the sexual elation was unbearable, so when her lover finally gave her the release she wanted, it was a symphony of cum, piss, shit, gas, and belches that expelled her. The streets quickly flooded with the combination of waste, before being pulled into the sewer system. Scarlet paused both of their feeding tubes.

“How do you feel?”

“Last one to a billion is a fat whore?”

“You’re on!”

The two turned on the output of the calorically dense grease, turned pressure to maximum, turned their vibrators up to 10, and began to inflate to become the first people to weigh a billion pounds.

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jackfollmanwriter-blog · 6 years

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Frat House

Part I

It’s the sorority houses that are supposed to be haunted, not the fraternity houses. Regardless of stereotype, the Theta Chi house in Morgantown, West Virginia was haunted as shit. I found this out one when I lived a college boy’s cloudy dream that slipped into sweaty nightmare on the hot nights of my twenty-first summer.

May 14, 2007

I was the envy of every single one of my friends once they heard about the situation I lucked into heading into my senior year at West Virginia University. My dad’s construction company was going to be remodeling the Theta Chi fraternity house during the summer months when almost all of the school’s students fled back home for the summer and he worked into the deal that I would get to live in the house by myself while the work was being done.

I was not in a fraternity and I could tell that it bothered the last of the gang of Thetas as they packed up to head back to their out-of-state suburban parents’ homes and suck at the teat of mom and dad for a few months. The last few departing frat guys would barely even make eye contact with me when I carried my shit into their main lounge and set up my bed in front of a huge window that overlooked campus.

I could practically still hear the frat boys’ footsteps walking away from the building when I cracked my first beer on my inaugural night in the house. I pounded the first can while I stood in the setting sunlight the expansive window in front of my bed ushered in and thought about everyone I was going to invite over for an opening night party.

May 15, 2007

I woke up with a pounding bladder, stomach and head with the lights of downtown Morgantown twinkling off in the distance from my window. The alcohol had started to wear off. I glanced at my phone and a displayed time of 4:30 a.m. confirmed my suspicions, this was usually when I woke up already a bit hung over for a long beer piss on drinking nights.

My middle of the night beer piss wouldn’t be as easy as it used to be. The nearest bathroom in the house was on the second floor, a good walk away from where my bed was, especially in the cavernous darkness of the old house. But I had to go. The 12 Coors Lights pleading to be let out of the prison of my urethra left me no choice. I took to the stairs that led up to the bathroom naked and weary with the camera light on my phone combing through the black of the night.

I had barely explored the house yet, but the entire thing reminded me of the schools, YMCAs and churches I had spent time in throughout my life. Cold, drafty and dusty, the entire place was linoleum-floored and perpetually hummed with the rumbling purr of heavy air conditioning.

The stinging smell of chlorine started to waft at me from the bathroom that was now just down the slippery hallway from me once I topped the stairs and got to the second floor. The soft light of the bathroom called to me like a fire to a moth and I looked longingly at the siren that was the relief of my aching bladder. I clicked off the camera light on my phone and surfed along the slick linoleum in my socks until I reached the glittering haven of the bathroom.

There is a true freedom to standing completely naked amongst a line of eight urinals in an empty bathroom and relieving yourself. I let out an audible, throaty groan as I finished up.

At first I thought what I heard was the sound of my disgusting grunt echoing in the expansive guts of the house, but those assumptions were tossed out the window when I heard the sound relay a second time from out in the hallway. A swift shiver trickled up my spine and rested at the back of my neck when I heard the sound maintain its volume.

Holding my junk and my phone awkwardly in my hand, I tip toed out of the light of the bathroom and into the darkened hallway. One of the last remaining frat guys had tried to explain to me how to work the lighting situation in the house, but it went over my head and I didn’t want to admit it at the time, so I had been living in the dark the entire first day and night there other than for the few rooms which had automatic lighting like the bathroom, kitchen and dining hall.

The sound whimpered out again and now I could tell it was coming from the opposite end of the hallway from where I had walked up to the floor, near the dead end wall where a line of small dorm style rooms flanked the hallway. I couldn’t really make out what the sound exactly was, but from my distant vantage it sounded like a high-pitched yipping.

“Hello,” I called to the end of the hallway in an attempt at an intimidating tone.

I flipped my phone out in front of me and hit the camera light on to give me some illumination as I walked towards the end of the hallway slowly. The doors of the dorm rooms started to box me in as I made my way towards the sound. I had been told that all of the dorm rooms had been locked, but I couldn’t help but feel horribly vulnerable when I walked naked by them, waiting for something to burst out.

But nothing did. I found myself sweating and relieved at the end of the hallway.

That relief evaporated when I heard the sound kick up, from just across the other side of the wall at the end of the hallway.

It was a cry. The unmistakable whine of a dog. It squealed a few times while I stood there with my ear to the wall to confirm what I was hearing.

A tour of the place my dad had given me a week ago let me know that a maintenance area of the building was on the other side of that wall. A dog had must have wandered in there and gotten locked in. I headed back to the soft comfort of bed, prepared to call my dad in a couple of hours and let him know that a dog is stuck in the maintenance room.

May 18, 2007

Watching Gavin roll his Midnight Special tobacco up into his rolling papers caused me physical pain.

“You know you can go into any store and they sell those things already rolled up for you?” I asked snidely.

Gavin took a second to respond, his mouth occupied with licking the paper shut.

“I’m not putting that mass-produced chemical garbage in my mouth,” Gavin fired back in disgust.

Gavin was my school-assigned alcohol counselor. A pseudo hippy with a long gray pony tail at the back of his nearly bald scalp, he was born just a little too late to truly be part of the flower child generation and instead spent his formative years dousing his insides with vodka and working in record shops before they all closed down and he turned his midlife-formed sobriety into a career as a drug and alcohol counselor.

“Because you want to make sure you are making healthy choices when you are putting cigarette smoke into your body,” I shot back. “You probably used to smoke some American Spirit bullshit before you started rolling like a complete poser.

Gavin’s lack of a response confirmed my suspicions.

I loved and hated Gavin at the same time. He was such a ridiculous wanna be hippy with good intentions that he was hard to hate, but at the same time he was an utter blowhard and whiner who loved to drone on about his past, frequently shared Upworthy videos and I only saw him because I legally had to. The reason for me being pointed in Gavin’s direction was no biggie, I just got drunk and crashed my truck into the drive-thru window of a McDonalds when I passed out waiting for two cheeseburgers.

Because of this, I had to go to Gavin’s fern-filled office every Thursday afternoon and talk about my addiction issues while fighting the urge to inform him his sweat smelled like chili cheese Fritos and was so awful it almost burned my fucking eyes.

“But you mentioned something about not sleeping well in the house?” Gavin asked after a long drag of hand-rolled tobacco.

“Yeah, not really, it’s not a big deal though, I think I’m just not used to sleeping in such a big drafty place,” I said, neglecting the fact that I was getting hammer drunk every night since I moved in likely played a role in my sleep difficulties.

“Oh-but-it-is,” Gavin ripped off the words, deathly serious. “Sleep is everything. You said something about a dog barking?”

I really regretted mentioning the dog incident. I only mentioned it because Gavin was putting the screws into me about looking so tired and disheveled. The truth was I was out of it because I had hosted booze-fueled parties every night since I moved into the house, but I obviously couldn’t tell him that. So I pinned my tired eyes, yawns and greasy hair on the dog in the maintenance wing.

“There has been a dog every night since I moved in getting trapped in a maintenance room in the house. It barks and cries, but when my dad and his crew show up in the morning it takes off,” I explained dismissively, leaving out the part where there were no openings in the room for the dog to get in and out of and how that mystery was playing a part in me struggling to sleep every night.

May 19, 2007

The barking woke me up earlier than usual. The mournful yipping and yowling pried my eyes open around 3 a.m. this time. I woke up in a sweat on top of my covers still dressed in the uncomfortable outfit I had worn to try and impress the girls who never actually showed up to the mini-party that had wrapped up a couple of hours ago. When I moved into my own personal frat house I had visions of every night winding down into a Playboy Mansion-style orgy, but every night so far came to a close with a bunch of guys singing “Nothing Else Matters” around the fire pit.

The jangling opening notes of the song were ringing in my head when I got out of bed and trudged up the stairs to the bathroom too drunk and groggy to be unnerved by the mysterious Hound of Baskerville that was playing its disappearing act in the maintenance room again.

“Shut the fuck up,” I called out through the fog of a nearly-crippling headache before I fully ascended the stairs.

I shoved my next planned words back into my throat when I reached the top of the stairs.

Waiting for me at the palely-lit entrance of the bathroom was a German Sheppard - it’s bushy coat furrowed and agitated to a raise on its back, it’s lips curled back grotesquely as if they were being pulled back by a dentist’s speculum, it’s yellow eyes shimmering in the darkness of the hallway, dead set on me. The dog’s painful howls had been replaced, by a low, rolling growl that sounded like the menacing purr of an idling Harley sitting outside of a blue collar bar.

At first glance, I thought it was just a random dog, but a few frames of vision provided me with an unmistakable identification. Jutting raggedly from tip of the dog’s cold, wet, black nose was thick cake of a trail of scar tissue that meandered back up the dog’s face and curved around one of its eyes and spiraled round and round just above its eye like a deflated noise maker you would get from a child’s party.

I was there when the dog got that scar.

August 27, 1991

I wasn’t supposed to play in the cabins at the back of our property, but there was no way any red-blooded boy of my generation was going to be able to resist playing cowboys and Indians in a cluster of cabins connected by a boardwalk of rotted wood that looks like they were stolen from a John Wayne movie set. I spent my first summer break sneaking all around the outside of the cabins crafting childish storylines in my head and playing characters.

My dad had tried to scare me away from the rustic playground with a bit of a rural legend. He told me that the cabins had been part of a mining camp in the 1800s, but were abandoned decades ago after one of the miners, Mountaineer Jim, had gone crazy and murdered everyone there with a pick axe. He claimed that the ghost of Jim still haunted those cabins and that if you listened closely at night you could sometimes hear his pick axe beating against the rocks in the wood behind the cabins.

Even at the age of six, I was skeptical of my dad’s story and figured that as long as I only played there during the day, I should be fine. Ghosts were allergic to the light of the sun, I was sure of it.

My belief in that theory would vanish on this sunny August day as I tried to wrap up my imaginary heroic story line in one of my last days of freedom before I had to head back to school.

I was in the middle of a gunfight in my head between two steely desperados on the porch of the biggest cabin when I noticed the rickety wooden door of place slightly ajar. All of the doors, were supposed to be locked, I had never seen one open. My little heart stuttered when I saw the door sitting there, drifting just a little bit in the wind and it clenched when I felt hands upon my back.

I escaped my assailant’s loose grip with a whirl, turned around with a scream and locked eyes with a decrepit man covered in gray hair who scowled at me with a mouth splashed with a sloppy pinch of Copenhagen.

“You’re not supposed to be here,” the old man hollered.

I was so shocked and disgusted by the old man’s face that I hadn’t noticed that he had a thick hunting knife poised for slicing clasped at his waist. I fell over backwards once I laid eyes on the thing and left myself helpless as the slobbering old man towered over me.

I smashed my eyes close, waiting for the worst, but threw them open when I heard a frothing sound, felt a heavy tumble on the boardwalk next to me and heard the painful cries of the old man replace his vulgar threats. What I saw was my German Sheppard, Shotzee, ravaging the old man with a furious combination of bites, growls and scratches.

I cheered Shotzee in my head and scrambled to my feet, eternally grateful for her defense, especially when I saw the old man’s hunting knife swiftly slash the brave dog across her face just before I ran away back to my house.

August 28, 1991

I was horrified when my dad pulled me out of bed a little bit after midnight before the first day of school. My mom had scolded me just a few hours before for drinking a Pepsi that’s caffeine could keep me up past my bedtime and make me tired on such an important morning.

My dad put a silencing finger to his lips before he pulled me out of bed and we tip toed out the backdoor of our house and into the dark of the night. Even at that young of an age, I knew not to even question my dad, especially when I saw the presence of a red can of Schmidt wrapped up in his palm as we crossed the backyard and headed towards the stale blackness of the woods behind our house.

An unmistakable cry cracked through the still of the chilly late-summer night out in the woods. We seemed to follow the sound as it whirred like a police siren until we were surrounded by the swaying trees of the forest and stood in front of Shotzee who was tied to tree, head bowed, snout still bleeding, eyes welled.

“No,” I shouted at my dad for the first time in my life when I saw his hand drift over to a shotgun that had been propped up against the base of a tree.

I tried to stop him with my body, but there was zero chance, I ended up just harmlessly clinging to his legs as he went on.

“There is an order in the world that needs to be upheld. A dog cannot bite a man without consequence.”

The last thing I heard before my dad did something that permanently cemented him as a dark figure in my brain and heart was a cry that I wouldn’t hear again for nearly 16 years.

May 20, 2007

“It’s funny how the brain works. That story took 20 minutes for me to tell you through my mouth, but it flashed through my head in less than a second last night when I saw Shotzeeand as soon as I called out her name she vanished before my eyes. I was back in the house by myself.”

Gavin looked down his nose at me through his glasses. He sat forward in his squeaky chair and then let out a deep exhale that I felt from across his desk. I swear Gavin saw a few movies or TV shows with psychiatrists in them and crafted his own persona around it.

His eyes swept whimsically around the room before he slapped his hands together and slowly stated one word.

“Totems.”

I let it absorb for a moment before getting up out of my chair.

“Seriously Gavin, I stayed here longer than I had to because I like that you were going to give me some real counseling on this shit, not that heavy bullshit that you usually scoop onto the alcohol counseling.”

Gavin shot up from his chair.

“Oh, but I couldn’t be more heartfelt about this. I know the word totem is something that you associate with Native Americans which is something you probably have your long list of ‘shit Gavin talks about that you tune out’ but I could not be more serious.”

The honesty dripping in Gavin’s tone held me at the back of the door of his office. I would hear him out.

“I truly believe that you encountered a totem for something that triggered this vision. Something that you saw, you may not even realize it and it fired up the section of your brain where these memories are stored. I don’t believe in ghosts, but I believe in the power of the mind.”

May 21, 2007

Another night of beers, guys and unfulfilled desires where I ended up standing in the front doorway of the house somberly saying goodbye to my friends, secretly wishing they had crashed at my place so I wouldn’t be left alone with the ghastly feeling that weaved me in. I felt a heavy presence wash over me once I closed the heavy double door behind my friends and returned to the drafty near silence of the frat house.

At least the three-fourths of a fifth of Wild Turkey that I had coursing through my veins was doing its work, coaxing me into a boozy sleep.

It seemed once I placed my head down upon my pillow, I was asleep.

*****

I awoke to the vibration of my phone tickling my thigh in my pocket. My college-aged male senses twitched just like the phone knowing all too well what a text in the middle of the night meant.

I didn’t have the number saved in my phone, but the text couldn’t have been more ideal.

U up?

I could not have replied any faster.

Yeah. You know where I am staying?

This was a delicate game. I had no idea who this was, but I didn’t want to ask or tip that off in any way, knowing that even the slightest misstep could put me back where I started, sleeping alone.

Theta Chi?

My heart started picking up in pace like the score to a thrilling movie. My fingers flew across the screen of my phone.

Come over.

*****

I couldn’t believe that I had blown it when I woke up. I laid down for just a second while I waited for my mystery partner to arrive and must have fallen asleep.

“Fuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuck,” I cried out and scrambled for my phone that was resting on the bed next to me.

I was a little bit surprised to see that I had not received any more texts during my snooze and it looked like I had only been out for about 20 minutes.

Maybe all was not lost.

I fired off a text to the mystery number as fast as I could.

You still coming over?

The number replied almost immediately.

I’m here. You weren’t up. I crashed in the lobby.

Without hesitation, I took off out of the room towards the lobby which was just a small hallway away from the lounge that served as my bedroom.

I stormed into the hallway, but lightened my pace once I was greeted by the sounds of muffled sobs.

I stopped myself just before the edge of where the lobby bled into the hallway and peeked around the corner.

I could see the producer of the tears from my vantage point. She was young, probably not yet college-aged and I didn’t recognize her but was unnerved by her presence. She was far too young to be the girl I had been talking to and she was far too distraught to be anything but bad news. Fuck, I could have sworn that I locked the front door when I said goodbye to my friends and headed to bed. How the hell did she get in?

The cries pitched up an octave and I threw my body back into the hallway when I saw the girl’s head of brown hair turn in my direction. I felt her eyes glimmer on me for a second just before I slipped into the safety of the dark hallway.

My heart raced when I heard soft footsteps flutter in my direction. I fought my fears though and held my position just inside the doorway, until…

I saw drops of blood start to drip upon the marble floor just outside the doorway. A slashed and pale arm wrapped itself around the side of the door and reached for me.

I screamed with the highest pitch I have ever heard my body emit, sprinted naked out of the hallway and tore up the stairs that led to the floor with the bathroom. Running to the only light on the floor, I slipped into the room that was covered from top to bottom in moist tile and threw myself into a stall so I could catch my breath.

What the fuck was that? My brain asked itself before being interrupted the slap of a bare feet entering the bathroom halted my train of thought.

I slipped my feet up onto the toilet seat and squatted while cursing myself for my moronic decision to run into the bathroom and lock myself in. The footsteps clumsily staggered around the bathroom aimlessly. I couldn’t see anything on the floor from my vantage point, but I started to focus my gaze out of the crack of the door on the right side and peer out into the hollow yellow light of the sink area.

I watched a figure step into my field of vision and stop just in front of the stall. My vision was distracted by the sound of tiny drips on the floor and I looked down to see deep red drops of blood collecting like flakes of snow on the floor just in front of the pale green door.

My eyes raced back to the crack of the door and I saw a clear reflection in the bathroom mirror of who was just outside of the stall. It was no longer a girl in her mid-teens, it was a girl who couldn’t have been much older than five, her hair frizzy and messed, her eyes a piercing green, I recognized her even before we locked eyes. It had been nearly 15 years since I had seen those eyes, that scared face, that frizzy mess of hair.

All these characteristics were already imprinted on me because they belonged to my sister Sara.

July 12, 1995

The first 42 days of summer vacation had been nothing but telling my sister that there was no way we would ever go out to the cabins at the edge of our property. I deeply regretted telling her about my attack at the cabins on the bus ride home on the last day of school after she asked for about the hundredth time about why we weren’t allowed to play any further away from the house than the immediate back yard. I thought telling her the story would chill her to the bone enough to where she would never even consider asking again or going out there.

I was wrong.

A plucky five-year-old fresh off a year of kindergarten, my sister Sara was one of those little kids that seemed to be wise and curious beyond their years. She already had an incredible knack for sniffing out the perpetual bullshit that adults and older kids feed little kids to get them to quit talking, but that knack would fail her in the summer of 1995.

I still remember the unseasonably cold darkness of that summer night as if it was yesterday. I sat in the living room pretending to watch cartoons, but I was really paying attention to the perpetual flood of adults that were coming in and out of the house, holding flashlights, lightly flecked with summer rain and carrying heavy looks of concern on their faces.

Judging by the number of hugs the other adults where laying upon my dad and the length of time it had been since I had last seen Sara, even my nine-year-old brain could do the math about what was going on. My brain created the image of Sara’s little footprints crunched into the tall grass that led to the rickety cabins that were tucked up against the edge of the dark forest.

I pictured her innocently walking up onto the boardwalk of the cabins, playing wild west the way that I would, lost in the euphoric imagination of a whimsical setting. I pictured one of those cabin doors opening. I pictured the old man tearing out. I pictured the knife. I pictured things that I had seen on the video tapes of R rated movies that I had watched at friends’ house while their parents weren’t home.

I pissed myself watching Nickelodeon.

I was cleaning myself in the bathroom when I heard the screams through the open window that looked to the backyard that would haunt me for years. Looking like the horde that chased down Frankenstein, I saw the adult group maraud through the backyard and toward my house with lanterns, and flashlights cutting into the night.

Sprawled out and motionless in the sinewy arms of my dad, I saw the source of the group’s hysteria… my sisters body, splashed with blood, head rolled back in slack, face pointed toward the cold glow of a full moon that tanned the grass of the backyard in yellow gold. The next time I would see her body would be in the numbing fluorescent light of the Theta Chi bathroom.

May 21, 2007

I jumped up from my seat on the toilet with a jolt when the stall door started to rattle, a force on the other side fighting against the little metal swivel of a lock, shaking the entire row of stalls. My jaw quivered, tears started to well in the corners of my eyes, I felt cold, urged to vomit.

“S-a-r-a,” the one syllable word dribbled out of my mouth as if it was an entire sentence.

I was answered by a slight breeze that swooshed down into the stall and forced me into a spastic shiver.

“Sara,” I called out again sheepishly.

No answer.

I stuck my head out to get a better look at the crack, but halted when I felt an itchy tickle on my shoulder. I felt the itch crawl over to the back of my neck and jumped up with a scream.

I turned around in a flash to see the hideous form a jet black spider scurry across the toilet and tuck itself underneath the pearly white of the seat. The sight of a real life terror shocked me back into the real world. I ripped a wad of toilet paper, smashed the spider into a mess of loose legs and abdomen splatter in one quick motion and flushed the toilet.

I watched the little crumple of toilet paper and bug splatter spin helplessly into the dark hole at the bottom of the toilet.

Part II

May 22, 2007

“It’s funny for so many men the fear of admitting that you are afraid is actually worse than the fear of the real terror of the world,” Gavin said as he rolled an earthy booger between his fingers and reclined back in his chair.

“Seeing my bleeding, dead, fucking little sister isn’t funny to me though,” I spat back with a steely glare wiped upon my face. “

“The waltz of the masculine male is such a difficult dance, why do we even still try?” Gavin asked stoically.

I questioned the absurdity of a guy using the word “we” in that sentence when he had a ponytail so long that it flirted with his ass and was so juvenile that he had spent the past 10 minutes pretending to itch his nose when he was really just picking it.

“Have you given any thought to what I told you last time?” Gavin asked.

“That Indian shit?” I replied snidely before I reminded myself that Gavin was seeing me unscheduled without payment and I softened up. “Totem poles, or something?” I polished the cynicism off of my second sentence and let my eyes linger on the baby blue dream catcher that hung in his office window.

“Totems,” Gavin said with a little less grandiosity than usual, trying to get me to take him a little more seriously despite the lingering odor of Nag Champa seeping out of his desk.

“I remember.”

“I definitely think there is a totem at play here,” Gavin said with widened eyes that revealed the spider webs of bloodshot that dominated his eyes.

I wasn’t 100 percent on board yet, but I didn’t say anything to let Gavin know it was okay to go on with whatever theory he was prepared to present.

“There is something in that house that triggered these memories and images. You don’t even know that you have seen it, but you have and it has latched onto your brain like a lamprey. It’s like that old horror movie adage, ‘houses aren’t haunted, people are,’ but it’s true. Your brain is haunted, not Tappa Tappa Kegga house. Your brain creates these ghosts, but it doesn’t make them any less scary, or important, and only you can wash them out of your brain. The only way you can do that is be first identifying what planted them in your brain in the first place.”

Gavin interrupted himself by opening a drawer in his desk. He took a half-eaten wrapped up chocolate bar of mysterious brand and slid it across the table with a wink as if he was a mob boss offering me a bribe.

“Eat this, it will ease the nerves, then go back there and do a thorough search of that house to try and figure out what the hell in that place might have set this off. It’s the only thing you can really do.”

***

Gavin’s chocolate bar tasted like bitter shit. I have eaten my fair share of edibles and the taste was usually awful, but Gavin’s magic chocolate took it to a new level. It was probably some kind of fair trade weed chocolate or some bullshit that Gavin picked up at the Whole Foods version of a drug dealer.

The shit did its job though when I started tearing through the Theta Chi house, inspecting just about every inch of the place for something that could have infected my brain with a ghoulish parasite. I got that hyper kick of shaky adrenaline just as I was ripping through a dusty trophy case filled with plastic awards handed out for various drinking accomplishments.

That tingly high would linger for a couple of hours due to the generous amount Gavin had slid over to me. I had just about made my way around the entire house by the time I began to feel the cold dead hands of sobriety wrap around my neck. The melting of my high had made me tired though as I combed through a collection of old porn magazines stacked neatly in the corner of the top-story lounge which housed an old piano littered with dead keys and a filthy pool table with no balls.

The slow malaise of the weed mixed with the nausea brought on by the beers I had foolishly swigged while doing my search were taking their toll. The room started to tilt in my field of vision, just a little bit making me feel like a kid who had just run in circles to give themselves the spins for fun.

I had to lie down or I might vomit. I staggered over to a filthy couch that was probably well marinated with rotten beer and semen, but I didn’t care, I collapsed onto the haggard thing and closed my eyes to stop the world from spinning.

Fucking Gavin.

May 23, 2007

I awoke to the sounds of broken piano keys, their muted tones waking me up when they sent waves of hollow melodic vibrations through the room. I sat up in a sobering fog and was greeted by cold darkness all around me and the fading tone of the piano.

I felt a presence in the room, heard a shuffling over by the door where I walked in, heard an low human groan cut through the black that was all around me. My eyes started to adjust to the darkness, but I still couldn’t see anyone else in the room, just the motionless bookshelves figures of the room – tables, chairs, rows of books and cliché college bro posters barely illuminated by my tired eyes.

The numb melody of the piano leaked into the air again and I stumbled to my feet. I pried my phone out of my pocket before I made any more moves and pushed the flashlight on, casting a bright beacon out in front of me towards the piano.

Nothing there. Just a hanging mist of dust that swirled in the powerful light of the phone.

I slowly walked away from the couch and towards the piano and door, my footsteps clapping against the hard tile of the floor easily allowing any presence that wanted to track me to keep a close watch. I made it to the door unscathed, but just the groan returned once the palm of my hand met the cold hard metal of the door handle.

I turned around and the light of my phone beamed upon a gaunt grey figure. Grotesquely pale, the figure’s complexion was that of old uncooked chicken, bathed in a litter of billowy silver body hair that washed his chest in a shimmering coat of follicles and led up to a scraggily beard which hung from a sunken face of mean green eyes and a bald scalp littered with liver spots. Just looking at the thing made me want to barf and not just because of the hideous nature of the being, but because I knew this person… it was the old man who had attacked me all those years ago at the cabins on my dad’s property.

I didn’t even notice the sharp knife clutched in the old man’s hand until it slashed through the air and nearly skimmed my nose. Just like I had all those years before out by the cabins, I sprinted away from the old man, racing down the slick linoleum of the hallway until I came to a horrible realization.

Falling asleep in the top story lounge was a horrible idea. The room was essentially a hidden secret in the house, accessible only by an unmarked closet in the back of one of the dorm rooms on the third floor that led to a small staircase. I always heard guys in the frat talking about it on campus, about how they would leave girls up there and it would take them hours to find their ways back because the only way back down was to remember which of the many rooms that lined the hallway outside of the lounge contained the staircase that led back down to the third floor.

The hallway stretched out in front of me felt like something out of an Escher painting – rows of six unmarked, wooden doors taunted the memory the high the weed had wiped clean. I was going to have to open those doors until I found the one that contained the staircase that descended into the third floor, and I was going to have to do it with the darkest figure of my past slashing behind me.

With a little space between me and the old man who staggered forward at a thankfully slow pace, I attacked the first door to my right.

Cool, blue light washed over me once I opened door and it felt as if I was sucked into another existence. I was no longer standing in the dusty hallway in the Theta Chi house with the knife-wielding old man behind me. I was in the door of a hospital room, the steady beep of a heart rate machine serving as a discomforting metronome.

I had been here before. I instantly recognized the chlorine smell of the room, the feeling of the moisture upon my skin that seeped in through the windows on the rainy day, the sound of the heart rate monitor, and most of all, I felt a painful ache of childish confusion in my stomach that instantly turned to crippling sorrow when I saw my mother’s tired face turn to me from the hospital bed.

��Zach… she whispered from the bed, repeating the script of her last word to me when I last saw her in her hospital bed when I was just four years old.

I crashed my way out of the room.

I was back in the hallway, the old man growling just to my left. I dodged the old man’s weak slash and plunged into the door that was across the hallway from the first.

I was greeted by a chorus of crickets once inside the room. The frat house ceiling had turned into a canvas of twinkling stars and walls were now a dark thicket of trees splashed with moonlight.

A new fear had been planted in my heart.

In a flash, the source of my newfound fear was right in front of me, stalking towards me up a muddy path that cut through the knee-high foliage of the woods was Sidney Grass. The older brother of my friend, Howard, Sidney was a developing sociopath who would terrorize us whenever he had the chance. He loved nothing more than to cut off the heads of cottonmouths and chase us around with them.

Sidney had somehow stepped up his game from poisonous snakes this summer night though. He woke up Howard and I in the middle of the night with his dad’s shotgun jammed in our groggy faces. He chased us out into the backyard in our pajamas and then further out into the woods where Howard and I tried to hide while we heard Sidney comb through the woods, hooting and hollering.

I knew exactly what was going to happen next when Sidney flashed his pearly whites at me in the night and raised the shotgun up to my eyes. I was not going to wait for him to pull the trigger and have it click empty this time and then watch him laugh and punch me in the chin.

I rushed back out the door and returned to the stale hallway.

The old man was there waiting for me. I felt the hot piercing of his wielded knife strike across the hard bone of my kneecap and I erupted with a scream. Like a running back escaping an undisciplined attacked, I spun out of the old man’s ambush and rushed into the first door I could get to with my knee weeping hot blood.

A chucked bottle of Old Crow whizzed by my head and smashed into a hundred little pieces of glasses when it hit a wall right behind my head. I stood with wobbly legs staring at my beaten and bloody dad who stood in just his white briefs that were now stained red and fumed in front of a broken TV. Based on the fact that he looked like he had been run through a meat tenderizer, he had gotten his ass kicked again down at Gil’s Tavern again and based on the fact that the next thing he winged at my little head was my Joe Montana plaque, I was probably 11-years-old.

Once the setting started to sink in, I found my footing and realized that I needed to get moving or I was going to get belted across the face with a copy of Easyriders magazine, I inhaled the smell of alcohol soaked mildew and turned myself around to escape the hurls of my dad.

“You run away like a coward. Like you ran away from your sister,” my dad yelled with a swollen mouth that made it sound like he had a southern drawl that he actually didn’t.

I didn’t try to decode his comment, I just took off for the hallway where I knew the safe haven of my sister’s room still remained almost untouched since the day she passed. I ran down the hallway that was lined with a coat of flimsy fake mahogany and led to the bedrooms of the trailer. The hallway shook as I sprinted down its dirty carpet and the shadow of my dad started stalking me from behind. The smoked and faded portraits of our family cracked and fell from their perilous perch on the walls and started breaking at my feet, sending shards of glass nipping at my ankles.

My dad’s Romeo-booted feet were gaining on me, but the stray ink marks of colorful markers and half-peeled away Care Bear stickers that marked the door to my sister’s old room were within arm’s reach and I burst through into the room before my dad could get a finger on me.

I was back in the frat house hallway with the old man who at least was a few yards away from me. I was far enough away to avoid the slashing of his knife, but I could now hear him speak. His voice was familiar for a reason that I could not put my finger on. Listening to him was like hearing a song that you recognized in a movie, but couldn’t remember from where you knew it.

“Zach,” the old man gasped from cracked lips that looked like the shed skin of a snake.

I locked eyes with the fossilized man for the briefest of moments before he charged and I took shelter in the next-closest door.

The setting the door tossed me into was not nearly as instantly upsetting as the other ones. I was now in Gavin’s office with my nose tickling with the scent of incense. The only thing that was actually upsetting was the smug look plastered upon Gavin’s wrinkled face as he leaned back in his chair with his hands clasped and index fingers pushed into a point.

“You might think your fears are unique, but they are just like everyone else’s,” Gavin philosophized. “What if you are all wrong and they are all right? What if you are a bad person? You can’t escape the prison that is your own mind no matter how hard you try. There is no way out. You are trapped and if something goes wrong in there, there is nowhere else to go.”

This was the first scene I had been thrown into that I didn’t distinctly remember already happening. Maybe it was because I tuned out Gavin’s bullshit at the time he said or maybe we smoked out before the session, but I didn’t remember this at all.

“I get a sense that a lot has gone wrong in that head of yours Zach. And I get a sense that you have run from all of it. You don’t confront your demons. You look the other way when they pass you by, like an awkward old friend that you bump into at the mall. You act like you don’t see them, hoping that they will act like they won’t see you. You drown them with alcohol in hopes that when you do encounter them you will be numbed enough to take the edge off, or to soften their horns, but when you and them sober up the same problems are still there and your head aches. But, what are you going to do when you have so many dark spots crawling around your head that you have nowhere to look but the black? You run from one demon only to always find yourself dashing into the cold embrace of another.”

I didn’t have an answer for Gavin. I let him go on. He leaned across his desk with his grimy teeth giving off a rotten smell that made me stop breathing.

“That’s when you have no choice but to face the demon.”

Without a word, I got up and walked out of Gavin’s office.

The Theta Chi hallways seemed a little bit lighter when I returned. Maybe the sun was beginning to rise outside?

I thought about trying one of the few remaining unexplored doors for a moment, but was lured back towards the doorway that led to the fourth-floor lounge by a faint wail.

I followed the little cries back to the room that I first woke up in.

The sun was starting to rise. Out the windows that glimpsed out to the eastern horizon, the slightest tease of a yolky yellow sun was creeping up into view, just slightly brightening the hue of the lounge.

As I expected, the old man was waiting for me in there, looking a tiny bit pinker in the hints of sunlight. I stood cold and still for a few moments until he noticed me and his wails picked up into shrieks.

The old man lowered his bald head and charged me yet again, but I waited this time, my fingers wiggling in anticipation of having to slap the knife away.

We collided with a force heavier than I anticipated his age-riddled body delivering and tumbled to the floor. I was able to get a firm grasp upon his wrist that was holding the knife, but it was far from steady as we slipped around upon the hard floor and crashed into the wall.

Our smash into the wall sent numerous framed pictures that were hung from the wall above our heads crashing down upon us. I knew that the pictures were framed group pictures of every West Virginia Theta Chi pledge class since the late 1800s even before one fell square on the back of the head of the old man.

Suddenly the fight was over. The man was lying motionless with all his cold weight upon me. The knife fell out of his grasp and skittered harmlessly onto the floor.

I looked down upon the heavy framed picture that had knocked him out with love, almost feeling like I wanted to hug it. I stared at the thing for a few moments – the pledge class of 1940. I studied the faces of the 10 or so young men frozen in black and white time, looking like a classic photo of some Al Capone-era gangsters as they stood around an unlit fireplace.

I couldn’t take my eyes off of the picture of the young man in the top left – mustached, wild eyed and capped with a plume of slicked-back hair, his face was far, far younger than how I recognized it know, but it was unmistakable - it belonged to the deflated mass of grey human that was lying upon me. My eyes raced to the name index of the picture and laying my eyes upon the name of the slick-haired young man made so many things make so much sense – George Holverson, a name I had heard before, a name that belonged to my grandpa.

May 29, 2007

“People didn’t really have an understanding for mental health back then, especially men. Mental illness was treated either like leprosy or just a common cold – it either got you an ice cream scoop out of your brain or people just acted like you were a little bit crazy and looked the other way like it would just go away on its own. It sounds like your grandpa got schizophrenia or really bad PTSD and your parents thought they could just hide him out in the cabins, take care of him and hope nothing would happen.”

I picked at my teeth with the cap of a pen and nodded along with Gavin.

“I’m not gonna argue with you on that one.”

Gavin gave a smile and adjusted his glasses.

“But you’ve been staying at the frat house still?”

“Sleeping like a baby ever since and I haven’t even been drinking.”

“And you said his name that morning when he was on top of you and he was gone?”

“It’s hazy, but I felt him start to wake up and I greeted him as ‘grandpa’ and like Shotze and Sarah, he disappeared once I said his name and I was alone in the house again.”

Gavin shook his head in disbelief.

“But I found something up there in the lounge when I went back up there this morning to clean up the glass and grab the pledge picture with him in it,” I went on. “And I want to give it to you.”

I was already clutching the item I wanted to give Gavin as it rested in my pocket. I gave it one last squeeze before I took it out of the darkness of my pocket and placed it on the edge of Gavin’s desk.

A slow smile eased its way onto Gavin’s face when he saw what I had brought to him.

A small totem.

Originally published by Thought Catalog on www.ThoughtCatalog.com.

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