The fairy-tale fic Lighthouseraiders asked for that is due in 22 minutes
2k words
TW: swearing, dubious consent for mariage, mentions of death and execution
Alex was in deep shit.
Sitting in a room filled with straw, Alex was in over their head. Though pretty soon their head would probably be gone, so maybe that was a plus? Except then they’d be dead, which was less of a plus. They sort of liked being alive.
Unfortunately for this love of living, they were facing an impossible task and it was entirely their own fault. Though some of it was also Rex Roofers. Y’know what? Blaming Rex Roofer felt much more productive than what Alex was doing at the moment, so they decided to keep doing that.
Really it was Rex Roofer’s fault for taking what Alex said as the truth. Everyone knew that very little of anything Alex said was truth of any kind. Everyone knew how much Alex loved to brag. On the other hand, everyone also knew just how much Rex Roofer loved his gold.
So instead of doing something fun, like burning down an orphanage, Alex was trapped in a room, faced with the command to turn straw into gold or be executed.
Alex groaned. They were gonna lose their head. Their parents would be so disappointed in them.
“Bro… What is with all the straw?” Alex looked up at the deep voice to find a man sitting in front of him. Wait- no, the man was standing, he was just super short. Like Alex-was-sitting-on-the-ground-and-still-a -bit-taller-than-him short. Alex had no clue how the man got into the room, but they weren’t really about to question it. They were just glad to have someone to complain to again.
“Roofer is making me spin this straw into gold. If it isn’t all done by sunrise then he’ll kill me.”
The man sucked air in through his teeth. “That’s rough buddy. I’m guessing you’re just as much of a procrastinator as I am?”
Alex gave him an incredulous look. “Are you serious? The sooner you get things done the less you need to care about them.”
The man tilted his head, looking confused. “So why isn’t there any gold in the room? The sun rises in…” The man trailed off. He held two fingers up to the sky with a calculating look on his face. “Three hours and twenty minutes.” He said it with a certainty that, especially added to the ridiculous shortness, convinced Alex that the man wasn’t human.
“I can’t, idiot! It’s not possible!”
The man squinted at him. “Huh.” He reached out to poke Alex, but Alex brushed his hand away. “You have some power, though.”
Alex shrugged. “Not that one.”
The man stared at them for a few minutes, long enough to make Alex start to feel slightly uncomfortable. They didn’t normally feel self conscious, but the way this stranger was looking at them made them feel like he had been expecting more from them. Which was stupid! Alex had a good power and a perfect stage persona. They were feared and adored and they basked in all the attention they got, good or bad. But somehow this one person had made them feel like somehow this wasn’t enough.
“I could do it.” The nonchalant way that the offer was thrown out there in no way matched the possibility it brought to Alex’s future. Mostly that they might once again have a future. “For a price, of course. It will be gold, after all, so it won’t be cheap.” Alex nodded eagerly. They didn’t have much, but they very much wanted to have a life, and they would do whatever it took to get that back. They man raised an eyebrow at them, most likely judging the lack of thought they seemed to have put into their decision, but Alex couldn’t possibly care less.
“Sure! What do you want?”
“Uh…” The man paused, giving Alex a moment to take stock of what they actually had, setting it out on the straw covered floor between the two of them like a miscellaneous goods seller at the market on Sundays. It turned out not to be very much. They had a smashed up cookie they had forgotten about, a necklace with their mother’s birthstone they’d been planning on giving her, a multi-tool-knife-thing their dad had given them at some point that they’d never used, a charred lint roller, a dog toy (Alex had no idea where that was even from), and a pocket hairbrush. They really hoped the mad didn’t take the hairbrush, they actually used it quite a lot.
The stranger watched their process as they emptied their pockets looking slightly concerned and more than a little confused. “I guess I’ll take the swiss army knife.” They said, a bit uncertain as they reached for it, warily watching the lint roller like it was cursed.
“Deal!” Alex reached out and grabbed the man’s other hand, shaking it like they were trying to pull his arm off. “Now can you get this done? I really hate being trapped in here.”
The man nodded, maybe agreeing, maybe just dizzy from the handshake. He looked around the room like he was searching for something. “Where’s your spinning wheel?” He asked.
There was no spinning wheel in sight in the entire room, just piles and piles of straw. “Um… I think it got buried under the straw…” Alex looked around the room guiltily, refusing to make eye contact with the other person.
“Okay then.” The man said with a sigh. “Three hours ‘till sunrise. Let’s get to work.”
They needed to hustle, but in the end they were done five minutes before sunrise. Alex honestly had no idea how they did it.
They heard the echo of boots walking down from the far end of the stupidly long hallway that led to the room they were in. Alex felt the man gently nudge their arm from where he was perched on the window sill.
“If you ever need help with another ‘impossible’ task,” He smirked and handed them a business card with D-Tier written on it in cursive. Alex turned to him, intent on asking about it, but the man was already gone.
—-
“What the fuck dude- again?!”
“Sorry- It really wasn’t my fault though!”
“Y’know what? Whatever. Just- you know the drill.”
“That’s everything.”
“...How do you have literally the exact same stuff in your pockets as last time?? Do you even wear different clothes?”
“Um…”
“Never mind, I’ve decided I don’t want to know. I’ll just take the necklace.”
“It’s bloodstone.”
“Of course it is…”
—-
So, maybe by the third time it happened it actually was Alex’s fault. To be fair, the strange man that showed up when they were stuck in the room was really interesting. He was witty and snarky and kinda cute and didn’t really seem to care what Alex thought of him. Which seemed really unfair to Alex, considering just how much they cared what the man thought of them.
“This is the third time, Alex. I really gotta up the price to keep you outta here, huh?”
“I have new stuff this time!” Truth be told, Alex had actually been looking forward to this. But instead the stranger shook his head. “What?”
“No, something else.” He gave Alex a calculating look, and Alex wondered if this time they were actually in trouble. They really didn’t know much about the man– not even his name! Maybe this was a bad idea. Not that they could really get out now, it was whatever D-Tier wanted or death-by-Roofer, which was really just a humiliating way to die.
“Marry me.” Alex blinked. And then they blinked again. He could not have just said that.
“What?”
D-Tier shrugged. “That’s my price. Agree to marry me and I’ll spin your straw into gold. Unless…” He looked like he was second guessing himself, his confident tone slipping a bit. “Unless you can guess my name.”
It wasn’t exactly that Alex didn’t want to marry him, but they could never resist a good guessing game. “Rumpelstiltskin?”
The short man’s eyes widened. “What the fuck sort of name is that? No!”
“Chad!” Alex was going to have so much fun with this.
D-Tier just pinched the bridge of his nose instead of answering. “God. Just find the wheel so I can start spinning.” He told Alex, who did as they were asked, still thinking of names to guess. Behind them they heard the man mutter something to himself that sounded like, “This is going to be a long night.”
—-
The wedding ceremony was small, just the captain of a ship (they could officiate weddings, so Alex had found one and kept her alive when they burned her ship) and Alex’s parents.
Everything was going smoothly. Except then Alex was supposed to say their fiance’s name. They grimaced.
“Can I get a hint?” The short man’s brow furrowed.
“Wait, you actually don’t know?”
Alex tilted their head to the side, confused. “How on Earth would I?”
D-Tier slammed his palm into his forehead with such force that Alex worried he might have given himself a concussion. “It was on the back of my fucking business card, you idiot! I thought you knew! I thought the guessing game was a joke!” He let out such a pained sigh that Alex worried their fiance did actually give himself head trauma. “Excuse us.” He said politely to the captain and Alex’s parents as he dragged them into a separate room.
“Are you okay?”
“Do you want to marry me?”
Alex stared. “What the fuck sort of question is that? I’m marrying you, aren’t I?”
The shorter man shook his head. “I said, ‘Do you want to marry me?’ I thought you knew my name. I thought you knew you could get out of it any time you wanted.” He groaned and ran a hand through his hair. It was very nice hair. It looked very soft. Alex wanted to be the one to run their fingers through it. And what a stupid thought that was, being jealous of someone because they got to touch their own hair.
“Well then what is your name?” They asked, trying to get back on track. But that hair-
“Morgan.” The name was delivered with a defeated sigh. “I’m sorry about all of this. I… I had this stupid idea that I could get someone to marry me and then my parents wouldn’t be able to have control over me in things like medical emergencies or whatever, and you’re handsome and I enjoy being around you and you’re really an idiot a lot of the time but that’s okay and…” Morgan trailed off again. “I’m sorry.”
Alex grabbed his hand before he could disappear or walk away. “Morgan.” Alex decided it was a fun name to say and they set themself a private goal to say it as many times as they could without making it weird. ‘Back to Earth, Alex’ they reprimanded themself. Gently they tilted Morgan’s chin up so they could meet his eyes, never forcing him to move his head, just guiding. “Morgan. Will you marry me?”
It looked like Morgan’s face had been pulled off and all that was left was his confusion. “What?”
Alex smiled at the chance to repeat their fiance’s name. “Morgan, will you marry me?”
Slowly Morgan’s face turned hopeful. He bit his lip like there was something he was trying to stop himself from saying.
“Please?” Alex added. Morgan burst out in laughter.
“Yes.” He wheezed when he finally stopped laughing too hard to breathe. “Yes I will.”
“Oh, good, I was really hoping you would say that.” Alex smiled at him, humor in their eyes. “Does right now work for you?”
Morgan hummed thoughtfully, tapping his chin as he did. “I’d have to check my schedule, but maybe I can move some things around.”
“Wonderful, because my parents are in town and I know just the person to marry us.”
Morgan smirked and squeezed Alex’s hand, which was still holding onto his. “Well then what are we waiting for, straw to turn into gold? Let’s get married!”
“They first met when Alex hired Morgan to scare some potential investors away from some property assuming that Morgan would like, rough them up in an alley and not dress up like a ghost and pretend like the property is haunted, which Morgan did. It was shockingly more effective than beating people up in an alley.” -Lighthouseraiders
this fic is 4k
TW: swearing
Technically Alex could have just snapped the investors out of existence or dealt with them some other way on their own, they were powerful enough that it would probably take them under a minute to do so. Counter point, if they went around attacking civilians, supposedly unprovoked it could ruin the entire ‘brooding and mysterious and don’t approach the rabid dog even though it just looks lonely™’ vibe they had going, which would kinda suck. So instead they took the classic ‘too powerful to really care, get a henchman to take care of it for them™’ way out. They opened a search tab on their phone, typed in “villain for hire” and watched pages of results show up. They scrolled to the very bottom of the first one without even looking at all the hero propaganda and news articles about successful or failed attempts on heroes’ lives, and skipped the first twelve pages that came up. Thirteen had always been a lucky number for Alex. A link caught their eye and they scrolled, though Alex couldn’t pinpoint why it did. Still, they clicked it, curious enough to check it out. The link led Alex to a blog, interestingly enough, though there were very few posts on it. At the top in large font it advertised:
E-tier villain for hire
No questions asked
Payment negotiable
Will work long term
Will take care of people
Will not act as bait for heroes
Will set traps for enemies
Will work undercover
Underneath that was an email and a phone number, which Alex assumed were for contacting the villain in question. They browsed the site for a few more minutes (there really wasn’t much else on it) before shrugging to themself and clicking the email. They liked the part about “taking care” of people, not to mention that few low tier villains ever set boundaries because they were afraid it would make higher tier villains dislike them and either not hire them or kill them. So Alex would send this person an email and if they didn’t like the E-tier villain’s work then they could just kill them. Simple as that. Satisfied with their solution, Alex began composing an email.
Morgan hated his job. He hated working in customer service and he hated being forced to put up with people’s shit everyday. And for what? Just so he could earn minimum wage so he could live in a shitty, literally illegal apartment, and use the little money that was left after rent to feed himself. Although most of the time he didn’t even do that. It was an awful way for anyone to live, but it was downright shameful for someone who called themself a villain.
And yet it was still somehow better than being his brother’s sidekick. Being a sidekick was horrible. As a sidekick to a hero, he wasn’t technically working for the FA, legally making him an independent contractor, which meant that they were legally allowed to pay him less than minimum wage, charge him to rent the costumes he wore from the FA and he would be charged extra if the costume got damaged. It meant he had no insurance, and pretty much couldn’t leave. It was an entirely corrupt system that financially ruined any sidekick as long as they didn’t die first. And then the FA had the audacity to call themselves the “good guys”.
Morgan groaned into his couch when he heard a notification from across the room. His phone must still be in his bag, which he’d dropped at the door the second he got into his apartment, which sucked for him because he didn’t want to get up and face the cold floor. On the other hand, that was a notification from his email, and no one emailed him, so…
Morgan held his blanket tighter and braced himself for the cold that came with the floor (or really just anywhere) of his apartment in any season other than summer. Morgan hopped his way over to his bag, snatched his phone, and booked it back to the couch faster than he’d ever run from the police. Once he had returned to the safety of the disintegrating couch, hidden beneath his one blanket, Morgan unlocked his phone and opened his email, praying that the notification hadn’t been for spam.
He almost deleted the email, seeing that the sender was unknown, but he hesitated. It had been sent to the email that he’d put on that website he set up a while ago, so maybe…
Morgan bit his lip as he scanned the email, becoming increasingly relieved that he hadn’t deleted it. It was from some higher tier villain who needed to get some investors off their property, a simple enough job. Morgan didn’t know who the villain was, but he supposed that if they were hiring outside people instead of doing it themselves or using their henchmen they wanted the task to be unconnected to them. At this point Morgan just cared if the pay was legitimate. And when he saw the payment proposed by them he had to make sure his eyes were working. That was enough to support him for the next two years, more than enough time to actually plan a heist like he wanted to— enough to help him actually kick off his villain career. He’d been a villain for about a year and a half already, but he hadn’t really gotten the chance to do anything. And the job honestly sounded way too easy for that much, but that meant that Morgan was willing to take the risk that it might be a scam. He quickly typed out a response and asked for more details.
This was going to be fun.
The agreed on date had been exactly a week after Morgan received the email and he had been filled with excitement all week. This was pretty much his first heist since running away from his family, and it almost made him forget how much he hated his life.
The day of the job, Morgan called into work, saying he was sick and wouldn’t be able to make it in, embellishing his performance with a perfected ‘sick voice’ and perfectly timed coughs. The moment he got off the call, Morgan left and locked his apartment and lugged his bags downstairs. Living on the top floor was awful, but it meant he didn’t have a bunch of people walking by his door all the time. Plus it was the only apartment available when he moved in and Morgan really didn’t want to go through the hassle of dragging his couch up or down stairs again.
He finally managed to make it to the closest bus station, both of his bags intact, though his back was less so. The bags were almost overflowing with gear and Morgan honestly dreaded the end of the day when he would have to lug everything back home again.
The bus arrived five minutes late, or at exactly the time Morgan had expected it to, depending on who you asked. The commute to the property wasn’t a long one, but it took Morgan outside of the area he was used to. Not that Morgan was surprised. He’d done his research, he knew where he was going. It didn’t change the fact that he was out of his comfort zone, but he knew what he was doing.
He was the only person to get off at the stop and all the other passengers gave him odd looks because of it. He supposed that was normal– he really didn’t look like he belonged around here. The neighborhood looked like one of those streets that actors would walk around dressed like Dickens characters during December where tourists could pay for a carriage ride or overpriced hot chocolate whilst people in clothing from the 1940s sang outdated and overrated Christmas carols. Meanwhile Morgan, wearing a pair of jeans he hadn’t replaced for two years and a shirt that he often used to mop up spilled coffee with a bulging and worn out backpack slung on each shoulder, looked like he’d been homeless for a while. It didn’t help that his hair was just the wrong side of shaggy and far too straight to look good by any means. But Morgan didn’t care what the stuck-up, judgy people on the bus thought of him– he had better things to think about.
It didn’t take Morgan long to find the property he would be protecting, and it took even less time to break into it. Checking his phone, he saw that he had about forty minutes until the investors were set to show up, meaning he had about twenty five minutes, counting on the possibility that they might be at most ten minutes early, and quickly went to work, setting up the house exactly how he’d need it to be.
Morgan had not counted on the blueprints he’d found online being for a different house, but they were similar enough and he was good at improvising. Unfortunately that meant he finished ten minutes after he’d planned on and had only just finished setting up the kitchen when he heard the front door open. Cursing under his breath, Morgan ran as quickly as he could to get into position, stepping on quite a few creaky floor boards, but sure that no footsteps were heard. It was a skill he’d picked up quite early on in his years living in his parent’s house.
By the time all three of the investors were inside the house Morgan was in position, a bit winded, though that was mainly due to the adrenaline coursing through him. He’d picked the perfect vantage point to see almost the entire first floor from where he was, and what he saw made him smirk. The investor that was furthest into the house (probably the first one to enter) was looking around a bit nervously. The second was rolling his eyes and the third seemed to be straining to hear something– probably footsteps. Who knew that being caught off guard would benefit Morgan’s plan?
“It’s an old house, George,” The second man was saying to the first, “Old houses creak. And old houses exist. But do you know what doesn’t exist? Ghosts.” He scoffed and pushed past the other man and into the kitchen. “We’re here for the property not it's history.” Morgan grimaced a bit. If they didn’t know anything about the history of this place that might take his plan down a notch. Pity, it had been really fun to do all the research and to figure out how to incorporate it all into his plan.
“A– There was a woman who died here in the 1930s, though…” The third man spoke up. Good, at least someone else did their research. “She was this dancer– Margret Can?” Her name was Margret Cain, but whatever. “She, um, I think she went missing and ended up being found here in the 70s.”
The man that had been called George turned to the historian, still looking around like the wall paper might come alive and eat him. “Found? What do you mean ‘found,’ Mike?” Morgan really should have been filming this all– maybe he should write a horror movie script about it at some point.
“Her body. It was found bricked up in the chimney. Since then this place hasn’t had anyone live in it for much longer than a few months.” Morgan could see George swallow and finally look away from the house to make eye contact with Mike. Perfect. Their pre-existing fear would benefit him greatly.
The tension was broken by the other man yelling at them from the kitchen. “Jesus Christ– this place will need a lot of work but boy will people pay big bucks for it when we fix it up. What are you two doing out there, making flower crowns? Get in here.” It seemed like he was in charge, or at least like he thought he was. The other two scrambled into the kitchen, taking in the cobwebs and dust covering all the counters. The kitchen sink was dripping, set up by one of Morgan’s cheap machines that he had made in the middle of the night, being kept up by coffee, energy drinks, and pure determination. He really hoped it didn’t explode. The idea was that it would drip exactly twelve times every half a second, wait three seconds, then repeat. The liquid that was dripping was a concoction Morgan had made of some very watery goo and the tiniest bit of red dye, so that you wouldn’t even notice the color as it dripped unless you really looked. But the more drips into the sink, the redder it would get. And Morgan had made certain that the kitchen sink’s drain was clogged.
Mike noticed the odd dripping pattern first, cautiously inching over to the sink to watch the drips. Morgan can see a crease in the man’s brow as he sees the tint of color. “Keith? George? This water look a bit off to you?”
“Probably just from rust.” Said the man who must be Keith without turning to look. “Stop making up excuses and let’s move on.” George looked back and forth between Keith and the sink before seeming to decide that just moving on would be better for his sanity and leaving Mike alone with the sink and Morgan. Unlike the other two, Mike didn’t seem to be so quick to brush off the sink, creeping close enough to peek into the basin. Morgan really should have been recording this because he was pretty sure Mike had just broken the world record for highest pitch hit by human vocal chords. In the sink, covered in the reddish not-water, was a severed hand. Morgan had gotten it from an after Halloween sale a few years back and had taken some… artistic liberties to make it look more realistic. Honestly he was just glad it was finally getting put to good use– it had been sitting in his medicine cabinet for a while.
Morgan was quite a talented artist when he was engaged in a project, and the hand had apparently been the tipping point for Mike. Pity, really, Morgan frowned as he watched the investor sprint out of the room fast enough that Morgan almost thought he had super speed. The E-Tier villain had been hoping they would last longer, but he supposed the other two would have to do.
Said pair of investors had jumped at the scream and watched as their coworker all but vanished back onto the street. A full five seconds of no sound other than the drip drip drip coming from Morgan’s invention.
“Weak.” Kieth growled. Morgan smirked, hearing the only partially hidden fear in his voice. “C’mon. Let’s go.” He turned on his heel, leading the way into the dining room, completely unaware of the feast that awaited them there.
When Alex hired someone to get rid of their investor issue, they had been thinking that said person would beat the investor would be beating the problems up in some alley somewhere. That’s what hired villains normally did. Well this one was apparently NOT normal. Alex had shown up at the house expecting to hand off the cash and never speak to the other villain again. Instead they found two of the three investors still in their house, climbing the stairs to the attic and looking quite terrified. Alex was already invisible from the fight they’d come from and decided they might as well stay that way while looking for the E-tier villain who apparently had no idea how to do their job. However, Alex was unable to find the villain just by simply looking around. They truly had no idea what the other looked like and they obviously weren’t in sight. Fine. Alex would just follow the investors and if the two men walked out of the house Alex would simply kill all three of them.
Of the two men, the one leading the was whipping his head around at every perceived sound, eyes wild, while the other man clung to his arm, apparently whispering something to himself. Alex slightly adjusted their senses, frowning when they heard, “Not real, not real, not real, not real-” coming from the mouth of the whispering man.
“Would you shut up?” Alex winced as the other man whisper-yelled at his companion, shaking his arm free and reaching the door at the top of the stairs. “If it weren’t for you we’d be out of here already!” He turned the doorknob and looked into the abyss-like darkness for a moment before taking a breath and stepping inside. “Light switch should be here somewhere…” He muttered to himself. Alex could imagine the man feeling the walls for a lightswitch but couldn’t see him. “Aha!” The sound of a switch being flicked and a slightly concerning buzz of a light bulb broke through the darkness. “What are you doing on the steps you coward?” The leader scoffed at the other man. “Get in here.” The man reluctantly stepped through the doorway. The first man grabbed him by the collar of his shirt and hauled him farther into the room. Alex moved to follow the two of them but instead ended up walking into a wall of wood as the door slammed shut. Frowning, Alex teleported themself into the Attic instead, and what they saw… confused them to say the least, one might have said that it freaked Alex out. That was if one could see Alex whilst they were invisible and had a death wish.
In the time it had taken them to teleport into the room, the overhead lightbulb had been shattered, smoke or fog or something had covered the entire floor, a red light was coming from somewhere, and there was a third… being that was standing in the center of the room. It was draped in old grays and whites and lace and the slightest hint of greens and they melded perfectly into the fog as if it was part of them. The being took a gliding step towards the two investors, both of whom were trembling and clinging to each other tightly. Alex felt intimidated, and they weren’t even the one being advanced upon.
“You will leave. This is my place and you have no right.” Oh wow. That voice definitely fit. It felt like the walls agreed with the being. Agreed that whoever they were, they had full authority. Alex was actually considering giving the deed up to them. “You will never come back and you will never speak of this. Heed me for I have power not just over this house but now over you.” The two men were nodding frantically, scratching at the door like dogs in an attempt to get out to escape to stay alive. “Leave.” The being said with a finality and the door swung open with ease, hitting both men, not that they stopped to nurse their new wounds. No, they were far too busy getting the hell out of there and as far away as they could. Alex stood stock still, forgetting that they were invisible and waiting for the being to notice them and turn its rage on them. Instead the creature started laughing. “O-oh my god! Their faces!” The voice had changed completely, breaking the spell. The being trotted through the fog to turn something off (Alex later realized it was a fog machine) and began what seemed to be clean up, still laughing. Alex shook themself, realizing that this was their chance.
Whilst the other’s back was turned, Alex made themself visible once more, leaning up against a wall to make themself look cool. “Oh yes, their faces really were a sight. Suppose that makes it even more of a shame no pictures were taken.” Alex watched bemused as the other–who just a minute ago had been the most terrifying thing Alex had ever seen–jumped out of their skin. The being grabbed the closest thing to them and brandished their newfound weapon at Alex. Unfortunately, said weapon happened to be a can of hairspray that sounded empty. Alex snorted at the attempt and pushed their attacker’s hands down. “Relax, I’m not here to hurt you. Are you the E-Tier villain?” Alex was pretty sure they were, but it didn’t hurt to check.
“Um, yeah– who the fuck are you?” Alex decided that the other villain was not going to clock them with the empty can and removed their hands.
“I’m here to pay you.” They reached into the inside pocket of their coat and pulled out the cash they had promised in their email. “And my name is Alex.” They slipped the bills into one of the other villain’s hands and kissed their knuckles, winking up at them as they did.
The other villain looked thoroughly confused. “Um, okay?” Alex raised an eyebrow at them, part of them curious as to why this low tier villain was not begging for their mercy. That was normally what happened when Alex revealed themself to people.
“You know, typically when a person introduces themself it is polite to respond with an introduction of one’s own.” They prompted.
“Bold of you to assume I would be polite.” The other person had sass and apparently had no idea who Alex was. They were turning out to be quite entertaining.
Alex smirked, looking at the wall beside them, pretending to think. “Perhaps. Then again, I did just pay you.” They watched the other size them up before backing away slightly.
“Morgan. He/him.” He finally answered, glaring at Alex.
“Well, Morgan,” Alex began, leaning back against the wall, “What you did up here was impressive and I think I missed most of it.”
Morgan turned away but Alex could hear in the tone of his voice that he was pleased with the compliment and proud of himself. “This was probably the easiest part.” He shrugged like it wasn’t a big thing.
“Easy?” Alex asked incredulously. “I don’t understand how you did a single part of that.” They would have assumed that Morgan had the power of creating illusions, except that would make him C-Tier at least.
Morgan was taking off the outfit that looked hand made, pulling it over his head, so his response came out a bit muffled. “Really it was easy enough. I just had to make a lightbulb that I could easily shatter, then time the breaking of it perfectly so that by the time the back up lights came on I would be directly in front of them.” Morgan shrugged again. “And the door was just strong magnets. All I had to do was temporarily create an electromagnetic field to demagnetize them long enough for them to get in and out. Don’t worry- I can take them out of the door so you don’t have to worry about that.”
Alex understood nothing that Morgan had just said but boy did they want him to keep talking. “Um, you said you did other stuff around the place? What did you do?” The spark that flared up in the E-Tier’s eyes was worth not killing the investors– Alex almost forgot that they had even existed in the first place.
Alex trailed after Morgan around the house as he gathered all his stuff into two overflowing backpacks, trying their best to follow Morgan’s rambling, though to be honest they were never all that good at science or tech, which seemed to be Morgan’s area of expertise. All the same, they listened intently, waiting for Morgan to breathe so Alex could ask for his number. For work purposes, of course. Unfortunately, the only time Morgan stopped talking was to take a call, after which he spat out a quick goodbye and rushed out the door, taking all of his stuff with him and leaving Alex behind with no explanation or phone number.
When Alex got back to their lair they decided to see if they could find more information on the other villain, but google gave them nothing and now they couldn’t even find the blog that had been how they found Morgan in the first place they groaned and shut their computer a bit more forcefully than intended, snapping in fully in half. Damnit. Alex had gotten this one, what, two days ago? And they’d actually liked the stickers they’d put on it this time.
Despite their intent of finding Morgan again, the E-Tier slipped to the back of Alex’s mind and they quickly got caught up in other things. But they didn’t forget that day– the first day they met Morgan.
Today one of my friends told me I looked like a hot librarian. Another friend said I didn't look like a hot librarian, but I did have the vibes of a hot librarian. I have no idea what to make of this
Hello S and D tier tumblr! I just joined the fandom recently and am in desperate need of a beta reader because I need validation. (I've started at least three fics, but I keep abandoning them and no one I know is in this fandom!) 'Tis truly a tragedy. Anyways- if anyone is wanting to contribute or get an early look at some S and D fan fic please contact me!
Sorry that this is long and awkward, but probably no one is gonna see it anywas, so-
8th grade I wrote 90 pages, 11. font, single spaced, in a month on google docs
I've been trying to get this one fic done for weeks now
I really need a new hyperfixation to rekindle my flame
edit: the fic I'm working on I started two days and a month ago and is 10 words away from 4,000. The one from 8th grade is about 53,600 words and took 4 or so months (I never got around to finishing it, though. Just sorta abandoned it)
