#[tw: blood death and drug mention]

[ivoryghostyy]

── .✦ ᴍᴇᴇᴛ ɪʟɪᴀꜱ ᝰ.ᐟ

⌗ㆍTHE ENEMY PRINCEノ, ⌗ㆍHISTORICAL AUノ, ⌗ㆍRUTHLESS TYRANTノ

「 i actually started working on this one for a while now, but i had to put it on hold for a bit. idk if anyone noticed, but i actually posted this on accident at some point—i panicked, man,,,, 」

「 tw: mentions of war, death, blood, etc., minor character death, implications of using sedtives, angst, hurt/comfort (?), using people as pawns, the typical power dynamics in a historical setting, breakdowns, panic attacks, lots of crying, this one made me kinda sad tbh, etc... 」

“commander–!!” your name is a jumble on their tongue, rolling off in a mess of intelligible words.

crimson stains the rough terrain, flooding your nose with the metallic scent of blood. swords tear into flesh, leaving bodies in a mangled heap on the ground. are they faces you recognize? you don't stop to think about it.

you hear nothing but the agonizing sound of war; smell nothing but the pungent scent of blood; and see nothing but an infuriated shade of red.

do the cries of your friends still haunt you?

───────────────────────────────────────────

you sit up with a gasp, greeted with a familiar burning in your chest. worse than a stab to the heart, the ache tears into the very core of your being. a splutter of coughs slip from your throat, but they do nothing to ease the pain.

the thin curtains rustle with the night breeze, illuminated by the moon. your exhausted eyes drift out the window—anything to distract you from the torment that plagues your life. every waking moment is a torturous echo of your failures, of the lives you carry over your shoulders.

like a parasite, it crawls up your spine and nestles into your mind. it's an incessant reminder of the blood that stains your hands.

a tear rolls down your cheek, and you can almost taste the salt on your tongue. you curl up, making yourself smaller. these are the only times you allow yourself comfort. having lived in a battlefield, you'd grown used to constantly keeping your guard up. an enemy could be lurking anywhere, waiting for the perfect moment to strike.

they would laugh when they slit your throat, dangling you by they hair before claiming your head. would the kingdom mourn if they saw such a gruesome sight? will they grieve the loss of a hero, or will they lament the failure of another tool?

the thought sends you an entirely different pain, something you believe will never truly cease, even if you rip your heart out of your own chest.

a tool. isn't that right? a weapon to wield against the threats that oppose your kingdom—your home. bitterness seeps into the pores of your sweaty skin, leaving you trembling as you heave another sob.

───────────────────────────────────────────

“your majesty!” calls an urgent voice.

the panic is answered with an arrogant tone, one that speaks with long years of luxury. the posh, aged voice grumbles within the throne room as the king places down his golden chalice.

“can't you see i'm busy? this best be important.”

───────────────────────────────────────────

the war is over, yet it feels as if you've never left the battlefield. it's a memory you can never forget, a burden you must shoulder for the rest of your life. it's ingrained into your bones, carved into the deepest parts of your mind.

you've won the battle, but nothing will make up for what you've lost.

hundreds were slain, and many were left injured beyond recovery. most were buried in hastily arranged graves, but the others were much less fortunate—with their bodies missing from their own coffins.

some were forgotten altogether. a memory that died alongside their final breath.

to the nobles, they were simply pawns for a sick game of chess. but to the people, they were family. they were parents, siblings, sons, and daughters. to you, they were friends; comrades. a found family that you grew to love, to trust, to cherish. you gambled your lives together, if only to make it back alive.

but now, you're the only one left.

───────────────────────────────────────────

“c-commander,” he calls to you, choking out his final words. blood dribbles down his chin, teeth stained with red as he grins.

“no, no, don't even think about it! we'll make it out of this, please, just hold on for a little longer, –!”

what was his name again? it feels like such a long time ago… the faces are blurry, but their voices are clear. you hear the agonized cries of the other soldiers in the frontlines, fighting for their lives.

“li.. sten, ya brat,” he chuckles, and you can feel the red staining your hands, pooling over the ground. you remember who he is to you, like a brother that you never had. much older, and yet he was merely your second-in-command. he always did teased you about it, didn't he?

“yer still young," he rasps out. his voice is rougher from all the blood pooling out his mouth, seeping into the barren soil.

"yer old man's- ugh, lived a good life. heh, lasted longer than.. i thought," he coughs, eyes drooping. he's losing his breath now, holding on to the final moments of his flickering life.

“don't blame yerself, kid. hah... don't regret... nothin'...”

he gasps, voice fading to a whisper. he's gripping your hand one last time before he falls limp, closing his eyes.

"it's not your fault."

─��─────────────────────────────────────────

the wind cries with you, bellowing within the dim room. the tears drip down your chin, shaking with uncontrollable sobs, and yet you force yourself to keep it down—to bury the pain deep in your heart, to close it off from the world, never to be heard again.

you bite your lip, muffling your whimpers as another presence makes itself known. the moon does little to illuminate the dark, shrouding the intruder in a veil of shadows. trembling hands reach above the bed frame, gripping the familiar handle of your dagger.

a tense silence chills the room; you're only graced with the sound of howling wind and the faint light brought by the night sky.

for a moment, you begin to think it was your senses playing tricks on you. had the nightmares gotten so bad that you've lost your mind?

but a moment was all he needed.

the dagger flies out of your hand, sliding across the floor as you wrestle with the intruder. the mattress sinks from your combined weight as he pins your wrists above you, holding you down with a monstrous strength. something pokes your skin, sinking into your skin before you can react.

all the sleepless nights have done a number on you, highlighted by the dark circles under your eyes. you had overworked yourself, spending your days like a mindless drone. you're haunted by the memories of your slain comrades, living like an empty shell of a person.

is this it? after struggling for years in a war, you ultimately die by the hands of an assassin.

pathetic.

a tear rolls down your cheek, and then another. you've resigned yourself to your fate, but that doesn't mean you've no regrets. guilt and despair cling to you like a vice, like chains that weigh you down every single day. losing your found family is one thing, but knowing you could have stopped it is another.

you barely even noticed the shift in your position, pulled into a soft chest, and held like a prized treasure.

“shh. i'm not going to kill you, precious.”

he coos, pressing a soft kiss to your temple. a large hand pulls you closer, tightening his hold on your frantic form. “you're alright now, always safe with me. shh, shhh, don't cry,” he wipes your tears, trailing his hand down your neck.

“come on. breathe with me, yeah? in and out, just like that,” he pulls back, cupping your face as the drowsiness begins to cradle you, lulling your mind into a reluctant slumber.

“that’s right, don't fight it.”

the voice urges you, stroking your head. your eyes grow heavier by the second, and all the fight leaves your body as you slump against him.

“good,” he whispers, nuzzling into your neck.

the last thing you see is a pair of intense, golden eyes before your vision goes black.

“sweet dreams, my rose.”

───────────────────────────────────────────

the man, who seems to be an aide, clears his throat. but it does little to hide the way his voice trembles as he speaks.

“t-the hero, your majesty. they're gone!”

[shes-some-other-where]

June of Doom 6, 13, 22

Broken Promise | Sacrifice | Poison | Bedridden

<<< previous | next >>>

Contains: royalty whump, lady whump, death, murder, blood, fantasy drug/potion

WC: 840

A bitter magic, a curse

Your time is running out, he said. To plead her case. To save her brother . . . if not herself.

Her last chance to ensure that one of them lived on. Even if what she was about to do would result in something that, for her brother, would be hardly a life at all.

“It stops the visions! He’s a seer!” she shrieked. “He sees things! Terrible things, future, past, present! Everything he sees, it’s true, or it comes to pass!”

A bitter magic, a curse: it tormented him, stole his slumber every night, showed him things that dulled his bright eyes, greyed his burnished skin, tattered a spirit that had once been indomitable.

The usurper prince burst into a laugh, and the princess drooped. He didn’t believe her.

“A seer, you say.”

Or—perhaps, he did.

“What a pity,” he said. “What a gift! And yet so useless if it’s being suppressed.” He lifted the bottle of the sleeping draught, reading the label with a sneer, then let it fall to the ground and shatter. Glittering knives of brown glass skittered across the floor. “Perhaps if he’d been less of a weakling, if he’d been strong enough to face his own magic, he might have seen us coming.”

But he hadn’t, and her family was dead. Soon she would be, too. But perhaps one of them didn’t have to be.

“Spare him,” she whispered. “His gift . . .”

His curse.

“Perhaps it will be of use to you.” The words were slimy and sour on her tongue, like a broken promise, like poison.

Coward, traitor, backstabber, snake.

“Indeed,” said the invader. “And yet while he lives, so too does a threat to my future throne.”

“Please,” she said. “I’ll do anything. Anything. Don’t kill him.”

The prince was silent. He studied her coolly, as one might observe a beast in a cage, with curiosity and some measure of disgust. Perhaps, she thought desperately, even pity. “You’ll grovel for the life of this lily-livered brother of yours, whose abilities could have saved you all?”

She nodded.

“And not for yourself?”

Herself? She had no magic, no gift to offer. She was a middle heir, a princess, lovely and demure and with no skills to speak of.

No words, pretty or not, would prevent the usurper’s steel from piercing her throat.

She dared a glance at her sleeping brother. He had not stirred.

“On your knees,” the invader prince commanded suddenly.

The soldier let go and shoved her down, sending pain keeling through her legs as her kneecaps cracked against the bloodstained floorboards. The pale silk of her nightgown, paper-thin and gossamer-sheer, offered no cushioning. She cried out at the lightning bolts of pain that bit into her skin, shredded and pierced by bits of broken glass. New blood mingled with the sanguine footprints on the floor: hers.

“Beg for him,” said the invader. “And beg for yourself. He offers me magic and knowledge which I would otherwise lack. But what of you?”

When she closed her mouth, listening to her own quiet, whimpering breaths, he ordered, “Do it, or I shall end your life and his.”

“Please,” she whispered. Tears slid down her cheeks. “Please let him live. He can use his gift to—to help you. To give you an advantage . . .”

An advantage. In what? In conquering other kingdoms, usurping other thrones? Orchestrating other massacres, and spilling the blood of countless more innocents?

She was despicable.

“Use his gift as you see fit,” she said, digging her fingernails into her knees. The pinpricks of pain stung, but did she deserve any less for selling out her own brother while he lay unwitting mere steps away? “But you must spare his life.”

The usurper prince lifted his sword, wielding it slowly and deftly until it grazed the bottom of her chin. She could not prevent herself from shaking wildly, nor stop her muscles from tilting her face up of their own accord to avoid the blade’s sharp edge.

His eyes bored into hers.

“And you, little princess?”

“And I will do whatever it takes to save him,” she said. “If you promise not to kill him, I’ll do anything you want.”

Her brother wouldn’t want this, she knew—he would never ask such a thing of her, nor would he want the life she was hurling him into. He would be furious. Hurt. Betrayed.

Yet the words were out, and they could not be taken back, and the invader prince was looking at her with that calculating gaze once more, and she knew no matter what happened next, she had lost either way.

“Bind her,” he said, “but keep her alive.” He paused, passing a shrewd glare to the body on the bed, while the soldiers wrenched her arms behind her and tied her wrists together. “And the brother, too. We’ll see if these pretty words mean anything at all.” He turned back to the princess, now a prisoner, whose quiet sobs echoed through the room. “Let’s see how much use the two of you can be.”

June of Doom Masterlist

<<< previous | next >>>

@juneofdoom

All my writing is original. Feel welcome to interact/comment/reblog. Pls don’t steal or repost.

[lookatmysillies]

Round 21 - Himei POV

The room Himei was brought into was small and stuffy.

Everything was soundproof and the room itself was hidden away in the deepest recesses of the Season 39 site's main complex, so Himei was under no illusions regarding what was about to happen.

At least it wasn't solitary. Anything was better than solitary.

Not for Lark.

"You look sick," an agent told her bluntly. She was shorter and scrawnier than her imposing partner, who for his part looked like he was about as done with this as Himei was. "Not sleeping well? Hm?"

The agent's tone was sickly sweet, swimming with mock concern. Himei was sick of condescension. The corner of her upper lip twitched in a barely concealed snarl.

"I'm sleeping fine," she said primly.

God, she hoped the light on her collar was green. She'd gotten used to the feeling of it around her neck, but not the read it gave others on her emotions, which were already enough of a shitstorm to deal with.

The female agent tilted her head. "Mmm." Skeptical.

Her partner scoffed and pushed off the wall he leaned against. "That's enough, Agent Pol. Hello, Himei. I'm Agent Irin of AREPH and this is Agent Pol. We're here to ask you a few questions about Subject-012864, known by his peers as Lark."

Himei held the lump in her throat. So much as swallowing felt like a guilty tell. So much as twitching a finger felt like a dead giveaway. "Hello."

Agent Pol took the seat across from her and tipped her chair back so it balanced precariously on its back legs, her feet propped up on the corner of the table. "We had another girl in here earlier. What was her name again?" You fucking know her name. Agent Pol glanced up at Agent Irin boredly. "Toph?"

Agent Irin's throat clicked like he was about to respond, but before he could, Himei snapped, "Tov."

Agent Pol snapped her fingers. "Tov. Right. Well, we had her in here to ask her questions just like you. We asked her about you." She did that annoying head jerk to the side again. "Put in a good word for you. She's your... hmm, friend, right?"

Friend felt reductive. Himei didn't say that out loud. "Yes."

"So she could be covering for you? Or she's just that biased. Or stupid."

Himei's jaw clenched and ticked. If the light on her collar hadn't been red before, it was now. "She's the smartest person I know. Smarter than you, anyway."

Pol snorted, slid a leg off the table, and leaned forward like she was about to say something incredibly important before Agent Irin once again cut her off.

"We won't keep you long, seeing as you have a performance coming up in the next few days," he said after clearing his throat. "I have some questions for you. Did you and Lark associate much, in the Anakt Garden?"

"No." Himei folded her hands and tried not to clench them. Sweat slicked her palms the longer she had them pressed together. "He was quiet."

Agent Irin wrote something down on a tablet. "Did he and Tov associate?"

"No. Tov was... mostly with me."

And Tallis.

More tapping of the tablet. Agent Pol took over the questioning with a sharp, "And you and Tov? You're close. You would have reason to take out an opponent of hers to ensure her victory."

Oh, if only victory was all that mattered. If only it wasn't a game of survival.

"I wouldn't..." Himei flexed her fingers and tried not to let so much as a flicker of guilt cross her face. "I wouldn't do that to someone just to help her win. Not allowing each performer a fair chance is an injustice."

"Yes." Agent Pol lowered her voice to a murmur. "And you know all about injustice, don't you."

A pause.

Agent Irin finished tapping away at his tablet and cleared his throat again. "Recent investigations have shown us that the guard accused of treason, Hayate, is your biological brother. Not only that, but you were not separated at birth and grew up with the same guardian, namely Guardian Iquia. That all sound correct?"

Himei's eyelashes fluttered as she looked down at the table. "That's right."

"Lark had poison in his system when he died," Agent Pol said. "Poison that any ordinary Alien Stage contestant would have a hard time coming by unless it was provided to them. These are experimental drugs used in labs to study humans who know they're dying from the drug and the effects of impending doom on the brain. This isn't just a take-it-and-you're-out type of euthanasia like they use at kill shelters. This is... well, Himei." Agent Pol laughed a little, disbelievingly. "Well, this is just cruel, dare I say. And I'm sure you'd have had no trouble acquiring this drug with the help of your darling brother."

Himei could hardly even hear Agent Pol over the swell of her pulse in her ears. Her skin felt clammy everywhere from sweat.

"I didn't have any drugs," she whispered. "He didn't give me any drugs."

Agent Pol grunted. "You sound hoarse. Need some water?"

The image of Lark with his eyes closed, chugging poisoned water, jumped to the forefront of Himei's mind.

"No." She sat up straighter. "I'm fine, thanks."

The electricity from the harsh overhead lights buzzed in the silence.

Both agents scrutinized her for what was probably only a few seconds but felt like eternity to her. Then Agent Irin folded his tablet shut. "Thank you for your time. We'll escort you back upstairs." He turned to unlock the heavy black door blocking the exit. "I assume you have rehearsals to get to. The show must go on."

The show must go on.

Himei practiced. She tried on the outfit her team had made for her. She didn't sleep a wink the night before her performance, mind plagued with the golden glow of the stage lights, the golden glow of Lark's eyes, the way they morphed into dark hazel.

Another contestant was dead, but the show must go on. That was Alien Stage for you.

For weeks and weeks since Himei made it through her first round, she's been consulting with her team. First, in the immediate aftermath of Round 4, they thought they should try a ballad next time to contrast her pop performance. After Round 7, once Himei could finally think again in the weeks afterwards, she proposed a ballad about grief. Love. Like Aurien and Vermillion's performance during their round. She wanted to encapsulate that.

But plans had changed.

"Grief is overrated in this competition," her choreographer told her boredly. "No one wants to see another weary widow snivel on stage for four minutes before taking a bullet through the brain. You have to have something more interesting in you, or we've already lost."

Himei couldn't even respond to that at the time. She was too shocked.

Her entire PR team was at a loss until her fight with Daiki. If you could even call it a fight. She only got one damn hit in.

Anger, they said gleefully, like it was some kind of divine revelation. You have anger. No, not anger, you have rage. You're the righteous hand of those old gods.

So instead of capturing her audience with softness after initially presenting a diva image, they were taking it further. Pop princess with an edge. Great.

Himei got to choose her look, if not her image. She poured over magazines Daiki had modeled in and cut out outfit references to give to her designers. They were giddy when she presented the idea - ecstatic.

"We've already won," they told her now.

Himei couldn't even muster a smile.

Min died for her. Lark died because of her.

Now Noora would too.

So Himei won.

She won. She would compete against Cirrus in the quarter finals...

And it didn't even matter.

She tried to ignore Noora as she sang. If she couldn't sing for Tallis, she instead sang at Daiki. She spat vitriol into her mic. She became the poison.

The crowd cheered, she took a bow, the world spun, and then she was on the floor.

Dark hairs were still tangled in Noora's fingers that had been ripped right out of Himei's head before fists and nails rained down on her in a fury, hitting and scratching and pulling. Himei thought she might have screamed, but she couldn't hear it over the sound of the crowd.

Her cheek was marred with scratch marks. Her lip split open and spilled blood. She was in so much pain she could hardly breathe.

She didn't register when it stopped. Everything hurt. Everything throbbed and screamed and burned.

Then Himei felt Noora's breath against her face, harsh and anguished. Something dripped on Himei's cheek. A tear from Noora's startlingly emotional eyes.

"He was my friend," she whispered, shoulders shaking. "He was my friend."

He was her friend, and just like the aliens, just like Daiki, Himei tossed him aside like it was nothing.

A gunshot rang out, piercing Noora's slender, delicate throat. A red arterial spray shot from the wound. Noora was gone in an instant, dead weight against Himei, dying her white suit red.

Get off, Himei pleaded, aloud or silently, she didn't know. She struggled against the corpse. Get off, get off, get off!

She scrambled away on all fours in the pool of blood like an animal.

Wasn't she? A collar clicked around her neck, and she was roughly pulled to her feet.

Aren't I?

Bonus: Sometime Before Round 16...

He'd laid in bed for days, dead to the world.

Needles pumped fluids into his veins. A breathing tube pushed past his chapped mouth into his throat, forcing its way down to lodge behind his breastbone.

When he woke, his eyelids fluttered faintly, the steady beep of some strange monitor next to the bed reaching his ears. His eyebrows twitched, stirring. His eyes widened.

He instinctively reached up to yank the tube out, but to no avail. His hands were tied down to the bed. He made a startled noise, kicking, nostrils flaring in a silent scream. Get it out. Get it out, getitoutgetitout

"Subject 060839 is awake!" a voice shouted. Footsteps rushed in and out of the room. He wouldn't let anyone touch him, jerking and fighting, throat tightening, oh god, he was going to be sick, he would choke on this thing...

"Look, it's me!"

A tall gray-haired stranger entered and waved their arms at him. One of his arms wrested free from its bond in his panic.

"Tallis, it's me!"

He grabbed for the small vase on the table next to him and chucked it at their head.

Cranked this out in an hour and a half, yeehaw

Tov and Agents Pol and Irin belong to @ivanttakethis. Noora and Lark belong to @kamersona and the scene on stage is based on their writing. Daiki belongs to @daiki1k. Cirrus belongs to @cirrusoftheclouds.

[stringofswineteeth]

I feel like we got death and sleep backwards.

We should be allowed to skin and gut and devour ourselves or any number of gruesome activities and drift off in a pile of blood and goo, waking up well rested.

And death should be able to be fought off by smoking meth and fighting to keep our eyes open til eventually we just kinda. Fall over.

I will now be considering your comments, questions, and concerns. Godbless

* This is hypothetical, and I do not recommend smoking meth or removing ones flesh

[snowe-zolynn-rogers]

Good Eclipse: Soooo…Do you like beanbags?

Lunara: VIOLENCE AND MURDER! RUN THE EATTH RED!

Good Eclipse: …Ya like catnip? Because dear god, you remind me of a cat.

[bueris]

remembering how my old biology teacher had a whole speech about how dangerous the acids in the lab were and at the end of it he just dumped a considerable amount of it on his hand and everyone just watched the first layer of his skin schlop off before he washed it off

[roselio-and-the-thorn]

Do not disrespect the king please.

Hiii people! I’m Roselio, I’m also the cook. Umm, the mod told me to share some information about me soooo…

I’m an orphan and was raised by Penelope for a day. My parents died when I was like 6-

(Too much information, Roselio) You said I should share some information so I shared some!

No NSFW and flirting, even though he’s 11 and can probably handle flirting, still no NSFW. You can still flirt, your character just has to be his age.

This blog will most likely contain: mentions of blood, death, alcohol, and drugs. There might be violence and swearing.

Some people I knowww:

-@mini-assassin-osiris: Osiris. He’s a cool assassin and friend. -@carousel-anon-aka-alexander: Alexander. He’s the king and another friend! -@penelope-is-waiting: Penelope. She’s the one that raised me for a while.

(The tags! I might forget to add them on some posts)

#Oh so you want a treat? -Answering an ask

#This is a pretty rose -Post

#Congrats! You earned a conversation -Reblogs

#The thorn has been stabbing -Some angst

#The parasite has invaded -Mind thing’s (Thorn) tag

This is me!

(You look like shit-)

Can’t hear you!

Thorn’s little introduction

[ofhxrror]

HIGHKEY missing all of my old oc’s that are currently taking space in the back of my mind and I keep thinking about them in their fictional little universes. I wanna ramble for a bit so below the cut are where I imagine them ending up at the end of their lives. 

Ophelia Richards (hellstate--rp/hellhqs) - the apple of my eye and the love of my life ( my favorite child let me honest ), i wonder about her the most in her fictional little bubble. she was the most changed and better off them all so like i wonder how she would be fairing in the zombie outbreak of cheyanne. would the zombie’s have died off by now and would she have set up a house with a puppers ( maybe with a certain somebody??? ) or would the zombies be still around and would still be the redheaded rolling stone. i think the zombies would be dying off and she would have a little cabin, a small shop too where she would sell blankets and canned goods; also like two doggo’s that she would maim someone if they touched. maybe a noah ashbury in her life idk about that though- but like she would just be okay. maybe she found her little sister again and they live together. just OPHELIA HAPPY- ( i also hardcore crackship her with my other kiddo juliet kemp don’t fucking at me okay they make sense...kinda ) 

Juliet Kemp (hellstate--rp/hellhqs) - my broken bird ohhh my heart legit aches every time i think about her- like holy mother of GOD i ruined that character didn’t i??? she was such a fucking shit show of a human, like rick grimes level’s of bullshit happened to her. she’s from the same universe as ophelia so going off of the “zombies are dying off” ( i don’t like to think that zombies are supernatural creatures and hellhq lore was pretty clear it was some type of plague so...bodies...rot after awhile and yeah i could babble on about zombies rotting but imma stop because i know some of you guys are normal folks who don’t like to hear about that stuff. ) i imagine her as semi-okay, not AS happy or well adjusted as O but alive and sometimes..maybe even smiling. i can see her living in a big house with room for any kids she finds because that’s her weakness, she loves all the little kiddos and just wants them to be okay. honestly juliet is now your adoptive mom if you don’t have one at the end of the world. she would build gardens for food and paints the whole house to be happy for the kids. just peace is all i want for her and her head. but like lemme be honest she’s your wine mom because what she’s gone through ohhhh boi yeah she’s PTSD for life. ( but like also hi yes my crackship make sense here because them ophelia and her can like have all the outbreak orphan’s together and love each other???? no...yes??? )

 Gabrielle Jackson (hellstate--rp/hellhqs) - ANGEL BABYYYY!!!! she wasn’t my favorite to play because she was so nice??? like i cannot be that nice all the darn time to people (also christianity turns out its a goddamn trigger for me.) but like after I had her get stabbed and lose all faith??? yeah she got easier to play for me, plus anytime I had her with her joker it was funny because oh boi she’s angry 100% of the time. but like in her future honestly she wouldn’t have one, gabby is super one of the muses I can see not making it in the new worlds. she’s clung to tightly to the ideals of a forgotten world so honestly I can see her kinda just dying? like I’m sorry not sorry- she’s so the type to get her ass stabbed trying to help someone. that or might end up on some type of mushroom hippie 60′s aesthetic to cope with her life just going to shit, smoking pot on a cute little farm far away from town and selling handmade blankets because that’s nice right? ALL I KNOW HER AND GOD NO LONGER SPEAK. 

Penny Scott ( hellvt ) - speaking of not talking to god meet my angel child penny! ironically an actual angel, like sent from god wings and all, but hates the motherfucker with all of her being for kinda being a deadbeat father i guess. she’s what you would call a “useless lesbian” and honestly that trait I feel like she would honestly get better with as she spends more time on earth. I can see her ending up with a cute girl in a nice little cottage somewhere, but honestly she might pull a stupid and die protecting someone she loves? idk she has tragic written all over her because she sees the best in the world but the world is a shithole. 

Nathlia Scott ( butterflieshq ) - MY ROLEPLAY AND MY KIDDO! i had to close it because health reasons so we never got to hear nathlia’s full backstory i had planned out and honestly i’m going to leave it up to ??? incase i get healthier and am able open butterflies back up one day but a possible future for the kiddo? she’s a missing person who is persumed dead her future is the up there with my bleak kids ( it goes kenzi, nathlia, and ginger ). but she either ends up dead, alive but in a mental hospital for a good couple years, or [ ERROR TEXT NOT FOUND ]....i thought i fixed that glitch oh well. 

Kenzi Carlson ( ??? ) - my sweet sweet punk child who I loved with all of my heart and still cry over to this day, she was an early-ish muse of mine i believe from a scream inspired roleplay. she doesn’t have a future i can tell you that right now because she was canon fodder durning the roleplay when the admin asked if there was anyone who was willing to let their characters die and I was like sure! ( I now know I will never do that again I fucking hate character death scenes ). she ended up being killed in the same way her mother died and I was like ohhhh boy my sweet baby not even eighteen. so she’s stuck with me for some reason, i call her my ghost. 

Ginger Adams ( ??? ) - My Ginger Fitzgerald inspired muse for an unknown horrror roleplay that i was apart of that never really got off the ground but it was nice while it lasted,  she’s honestly my mess of a kiddo who i love so much but honestly once again i do not make happy people so on this girl is honestly a wreck. unlike ginger fitz from the movie, this ginger acidentally killed her sister in a fight and is on the run after her mother told her she would clean it all up ( which oof to that mom ). i don’t see her having a happy life after that- like honestly nothing good happening for her due to a. the ptsd of killing her sister/becoming a werewolf and b. the fact she is a werewolf. so honestly lets just mark her down as fucked up and move on. 

[cepheusgalaxy]

Helluva Boss analysis:

Why does Barbie hates Blitz?

Tws for blood (described screenshot), drug and addiction mentions and death mention.

Just a big ramble

Ok, so, we got a glimpse of Blitz's family at the end of season 1. He was scrolling on his phone and we got to see a picture of young Blitz with his sister and mother before him putting down the phone and tearing up.

"Barbie? I want to help. Let me help. Please"

On season 2, episode 5, "Happy Campers", we finally got to see his sister, Barbie!

Although she already had appeared in some posters in the background of his office. It advertised "The imp twins!" or something like that.

After that we get another two episodes with bits of Blitz's backstory, plus the first episode of the season with a very long flashback of when he met Stolas as a kid.

Anyways, there is a huge gap between what we know (kid Blitz, teen Blitz and 15 years later adult Blitz) and what we don't (every single thing in between) so I'll list out what we know for sure about the relationship of these two specifically:

Barbie was in rehabilitation, because of substance abuse.

Source: The um. The whole episode.

Blitz used to visit her in rehab before he found out she checked out

Source: He was originally going to visit her at the center when he found out she wasn't there. The nurse welcomed him with a "well, if it isn't the deadbeat?" to which he replies "well if it isn't the nurse pussyface". They know each other and that isn't the firts time Ms. Nurse had to deal with him breaking in

Barbie didn't tell him when she checked out because she didn't want to see him again

Source: The whole episode

Blitzo cares a lot for knowing where and how his sister is

Source: Spent all week solely focused on finding her, at the expense of his business, even (which he values a lot, we know) + checked on her every now and then + first thing he asked instead of an apology was to ask what she had been up to

Blitz and Barbie both have this heart mark on their brows. Someone indicated that they might sign members of different circs or families, since Fizzarolli has one too. Barb's is crossed with white. (We know white sin on imps is usually a tattoo or a scar. Either she did it or someone crossed it for her.)

Source: Visually shown

Blitzo used to "steal his dad's booze" when he was a kid.

Source: Mentioned in ep 6, "Oops", when he asks Fizzarolli to pull up a distraction for their captors. We know Fizz was complicit to this.

Blitzo caused an accident on the circus at Fizz's birthday, which presumedly ended with the death of his mother.

Source: The ep 6 flashback, him crying at his mother's picture

I don't think thats why Barbie hates him tho. I think it happened during those fifteen years between the Accident and the Current Events of the show. (I wonder who got her in rehab?)

I just can't wrap my head about it. I think the part that he used to drink alcohol as a kid is important and will come up later but I can't make a direct connectiom to this. Also, Barb never appeared in his flashbacks? Not even once? I get the impression she wasn't a clown.

Possible reasons I can imagine are:

Blitz accidentally put fire on the tent and their sickly (i suppose) mother died, she's still bitter

They never had a good relationship but Blitz cares for her

The one I'm more inclined to think: Someting else happened in those fifteen years

[wonder-in-wings]

Splash and Slash

TIMING: Current LOCATION: Darkling Lake PARTIES: Parker and Teagan SUMMARY: While out searching for specimens, Parker finds an unglamoured Teagan at Darkling Lake. He decides her tail is a worthy addition to his collection. CONTENT WARNINGS: Drug manipulation [sedatives], medical blood, parental death [mentioned]

The sun was gone for the day, the moon having since taken its place; the perfect time as Parker went on one of his patrols. He covered a minimal amount of space every week, or so he tried to - when he wasn’t busy interacting with the fools of the town or entertaining the questions of children and bored patrons of the museum, he was either in his familiar bunker, at his flat or in the Pines. The Pines had become one of his favored spots as a whole even though it somewhat surprised him seeing as how there was a swamp that was more reminiscent of the bayous Parker grew up in. The Pines, as he noticed relatively soon in his arrival to Wicked’s Rest, wasn’t just a place for the shapeshifters to frequent; he’d met more than one nymph in those woods and had been gifted with some more additions to his collection. This evening, after intensely studying one of the maps he’d picked up some time ago, he noticed there was a lake. Darkling Lake, as it was formally called and for some bizarre reason Parker opted to visit it again that night. It was a large body of water, larger than he had time for in one night so after setting the layout on a graph to make it easier for him, he carefully made his way to one of the farther-reaching corners. The main reason why he went was because when he’d been there before, he saw something out of his peripheral vision and though he was too far away to be able to discern what it was for sure, he knew that it wasn’t a human. Tonight, as he approached the edge of the lake, he kept close to the brush and he dropped to a crouch as his blue eyes carefully scanned the environment, trying to catch another glimpse of the non-human creature he saw before. Parker was prepared for an altercation this time, as well - around his waist was a hardy utility belt with a few pouches and a line of thin straps that looked almost like a bandolier but instead of holding bullets, his waist was lined with several long, thin daggers, no more than a few inches in length and with the sharpness of a needle. Indeed, the handles were peculiar too, seeming to have thumb rests on the ends, also reminiscent of a hypodermic needle. Or a turkey baster, as his brother would call his creations. 

Whatever. He crouched, watching the lake, feeling the comfort of his spiked knuckles clasped to a belt loop and hanging casually from his jeans as he waited for something. Anything. _______

The water lapped against the shore in rhythm, the lake making its own music as the day passed on. Like a ticking clock, the beat was insistent and precise, something Teagan found comfort in whenever she waded idly in Darkling. She hummed to herself, her tail swishing back and forth as she laid on her back to stare at the night sky. The stars’ light danced, and Teagan liked to imagine they liked the way the moon moved the waves. Like it was creating a song they could bear witness to every night.

“Hmm…” Vala snorted, trying to get the nymph’s attention. “What is it, beaut? I’m relaxing a bit. Don’t mess with a good time and get me tampin’,” Teagan teased the kelpie, rolling onto her stomach and swimming toward her friend. The creature dropped a severed arm, sending Teagan into giggles and chortles. “Nice one! I’ll add it to the collection.” Vala replied with a snort, disappearing into the distance a moment later. 

Teagan made quick work of the limb, placing it neatly next to several skeletons of those who dared dirty the lake. Disrespectful lot, they were. No matter. They were taken care of and Teagan resurfaced with a grin. All was quiet, which meant she’d get to head out soon to see Arden. They were supposed to watch some movie about a lost fish in the sea. It sounded strange for a fish to be lost, but if Arden liked it, then Teagan had no issue being a tad confused. _______   Nothing seemed abnormal. Perhaps he needed to shift his perspective slightly. Slowly, quietly, Parker altered his trajectory, remaining as quiet as he could in the underbrush even though he was more suited for the marshy mud of the swamp - forests weren’t his strong suit, all things considered. And normally he would’ve opted to simply explore elsewhere but he had a strange intuition about this location that night. And there it was, the sign Parker had been looking for as he switched locations. After an indeterminate amount of time, he caught movement, the surface breaking ever-so-slightly and he turned his head sharply where his eyes fell upon the creature. It was amphibious in nature, pale as it waded through the water with an unnatural smoothness, not unlike a jaguar in the rivers of the Amazon. It didn’t appear to be a shifter, or if it was, then it was unknown to him but the longer his eyes remained fixated on it, the more he could feel something rippling under his skin. Perhaps it was psychosomatic. Regardless, his eyes slowly swept over the creature before they settled on an object of his instant fascination: the long, beautiful tail that the creature possessed. While Parker was instantly drawn to fae wings of any kind, he realized over the recent months that he could appreciate beauty in other forms, whether it was a chunk of pyrite from an oread or even the horns of an unruly spriggan. He was still unaccustomed to obtaining these magnificent, unusual wonders. He had to have that tail. His brain honed in on it, watching it with enamored obsession. Parker stood and carefully, very slowly walked out onto the lakeshore, approaching the creature wordlessly at first. The closer he got, the more the rippling feeling pulsed under his skin and he couldn’t shake the feeling that this was a nix and he inhaled sharply through his nose with the sensation. “Lovely night for a swim.” He called to the fae. _______

The crushing of wet earth perked Teagan’s ears. She tensed, hands twitching with the urge to attack without much more prompting. Her body trembled under the tension, and she turned slowly to face the man who spoke. Eyes were wide, and despite having claws that could easily tear, Teagan hovered her hand over the blade in her thigh holster.

“Yes.” The nix offered a curt nod, not bothering to glamour herself in case the man was a warden. No use in giving away her disguise. “I wouldn’t come in if I were you, though. I like to swim alone.” Teagan began to wade backwards, giving herself some distance in case the man had other plans. There was a look in his eyes that unsettled her. It was far worse than a look of murderous intention. She couldn’t place exactly what it was, but her body screamed at her to run or tear, and she had sworn to try to be better.

“Please go now, lad. I’m trying to enjoy my time.” _______ The presumed nymph called back, dissuading the Warden from joining her. Non-aggressive but reminiscent of an animal that should’ve been left alone. But he couldn’t. The switch was turned on in his head and Parker’s mind was consumed with little else. His brain was already buzzing with thoughts on how he could artfully arrange the tail, how to turn and model and shape it to look as aesthetically pleasing as possible. “I know better than to get into the water with you, nix.” He said carefully but not shyly as he took a few more rather confident steps towards her. “I want your tail.” All these years later and he never knew how to ask in a more effective, gentle way. He’d tried asking gently before, a long while ago, but it never proved effective; for some reason, all the fae whose wings he’d added to his collection seemed attached to them, even if they didn’t actually do anything. They were vestigial and only a couple of them could hover for a few seconds and even then it didn’t look satisfying. A tail wasn’t vestigial though, Parker thought to himself. He inhaled softly, reached down to pull his feet out of his shoes though he kept his blue eyes on the nymph studiously. “I can make it quick and painless but unfortunately I can’t leave without it.” His voice took a different tone to it and indeed, his expression changed slightly as he looked at her. “The way you move in the water, the way it sways behind you. It’s beautiful, it’s graceful and perfect in form and function.” He took a few more steps, closing the gap between them but staying on the shore. “It’s mesmerizing. I need to immortalize it.” _______

This man was no regular hunter. He had something far worse than a murder in mind, and the cold fear of what that entailed made Teagan’s throat constrict. She felt her body tremble at the look in his eye, her palms growing clammy. She could feel the sensation despite being engulfed in water. 

“No.” There was no room for anything else, and Teagan wouldn’t allow there to be. She sank her body further, until only her eyes were above the water. Danger was in front of her, granting her to toss whatever notion of trying to the wind. She wasn’t looking for a fight that time. Instead, it found her.

“Stay back.” A hiss as she faked out a lunge. Her eyes were full of fire and her teeth were bared for the man to take as a warning. They gleamed in the moonlight reflecting off the water, and Teagan forced her jaw not to tremble under the weight of her terror. Of the way it unsettled her to be seen as an object to maim and preserve. “What right you got, eh? It’s my body, boyo. I’ll cut you apart if you try it.” _______

The nymph lunged and Parker’s quick reflexes, the ones he’d been trained arduously in for over four decades, allowed him to respond quickly by taking a deft step back though it didn’t scare him off. He was light on his feet, he had to be when he lived in the bayou. In fact, he was reminded of his days going after gators in the swamp, treading lightly, maintaining eye contact as they hissed and stood their ground. They were efficient training, though they hit their ceiling in that they didn’t have the luxuries that fae did with their thumbs, long limbs and ability to run. …though gators could be plenty fast in their own right on land. “Fae are so pretentious.” Parker responded, passion not leaving his tone but instead taking a backseat to his clinical delivery. “You live these long lives and care about so little while you enjoy your passions, your deals, promises. Manipulating others with the way you speak.” He didn’t dare turn his back to the nymph, taking careful side steps as one of his hands went to the utility belt that glittered with the metals that hung off it. Even after everything Fae had done to him, to his family, to innocent people, Parker still had his own personal values. “I don’t want to fight.” He said, not dishonestly. “You have so many other things.” This was potentially a lie; Parker knew that fae had proclivities for forming collections of their own, whether it was names, secrets, or physical trinkets. They didn’t ask for most of the stuff they acquired and they hoarded it selfishly. He honestly didn’t know if this nix did but unlike fae, he could afford to lie. “I won’t ask again.” As he spoke now, he inched forward and he hadn’t realized that not once had he blinked since starting his counterpoint argument. “But I’m not leaving without it. I’d prefer for it to be an easy transaction.” He also completely failed to acknowledge that this wasn’t what people did, fae or no. He didn’t have the ability to say that he could leave her in peace, walking away empty-handed. _______

Terror began to mount over with every sway of the water, heart leaping harshly into the fae’s throat as the man pressed on with his speech. Teagan was weighed down by dread, try as she might to force herself to don her confidence once more. She was more than capable of protecting herself, having killed plenty of hunters in the past. Hunter or not, her tail would remain where it belonged.

“We’re pretentious?” Teagan scoffed, rolling her eyes and chuckling at the way she made the man take a step back. She was getting a feel for his reaction time. It was a little too good. She’d have to improvise. But first, Teagan wanted to bite back with her words. “You’re the one putting us on this pedestal, mun. Glorifying us. Immortalizing us. If we’re pretentious, then you’re a lowly peasant trying to get a taste of what true magnificence is. ‘Sides. You didn’t even ask.” Lying was so damned human. 

Teagan glared at the stranger, fear beginning to wane as anger quickly replaced it. He was in for a rude awakening, of that she could promise. “You gonny come in and try to get it then?” A taunt, a knowing smirk tugging Teagan’s lips as she waded even further into the lake. “Think you’ll find that it ain’t so easy. Ever heard of my body, my choice? Or are ya just like every other man?” Her smirk turned devious. “Looks like you’re gonna leave without it, cythrauluffer.” _______ The fear that Parker could almost feel emanating from the nix was dissipating, as it usually did around this part of the altercation. It was almost rhythmic at this point - he would ask without asking, usually get either a swift or gradual rebuttal, then as they talked and he made multiple attempts to get out of this with minimal damage to either of them, they got emboldened and made the first move. Then Parker was prompted to act in self-defense. It was a gambit of sorts, an explanation that he had come up with over the years to warrant being able to tell the truth as he explained the curiosities and treasures he’d accumulated. She accused him of not asking, which he indeed hadn’t and at this point in his life, he was unsure if he could even ask - of course they were going to say ‘no’ anyway so he long since abandoned that line of literal questioning. There was the occasional fae who didn’t know the rules and he was able to manipulate them to get what he wanted the way he wanted… But most of them reacted the way the nymph before him did. She went further out into the water and while Parker rather fearlessly approached her to the point that his socks were starting to get wet as the shore lapped the rocks and dirt, he stopped shortly. He was a strong swimmer, he wasn’t going to deny it but he also knew that no matter how good he was, he wouldn’t have been able to overpower her in her literal element. However, he just couldn’t keep his eyes off the tail. It was an addiction. He never realized it and still didn’t even now; the pull of obtaining something he’d never seen before, something he could already visualize its form and positioning, seeing it on his table as he carefully worked with it and around it. “Not a preferable outcome.” Parker sighed and he sounded almost disappointed as he finally tore his eyes from her figure and he addressed the numerous things on his belt. He wished he could’ve caught her outside the lake but he had to be improvisational. Unfortunately, he wasn’t equipped to his fullest loadout as Parker recalled the wrist-mounted crossbow that sat on his desk at home, half-assembled as he attempted to customize it for further utility. Perhaps he’d have to meet her in the water, anyway. He just needed to get one of his specialized daggers into her before the tide would turn in his favor. Sighing and still standing next to the lake, he started to take off his socks and roll his pants up. _______

Whether the man was a hunter or not was still unknown, but if he was, he was a little too callous and reckless. For Teagan to think that about a hunter? Now that was saying something. Any respectable warden, (and the nix didn’t, ever) would’ve known better than to charge into a fae’s natural habitat. Being quite literally in their element could and would prove fatal. 

A mistake he would not be able to make again because he’d be dead. 

“You takin’ what’s mine isn’t preferable either, mun.” Wading in a circle, Teagan taunted the man with her tail, whipping it back and forth above the surface. Like a hypnotist lulling their target into a headspace of their choosing. For Teagan, it was heedless and rash, and by the looks of how he perused his belt, she wasn’t sure what route he’d take. There was no way in hell she was going to risk much more than time, and there wasn’t much left.

Teagan had a ravenous look in her eye, arms widening open to beckon the lake to work in her favor. It roared to life, a large wave rising just over eight feet. The water slammed into the nymph’s opponent, her miscalculation sending her in a swirl toward him. “Iesu mawr!” Teagan hissed as she was thrown straight into the man. On split-second whim, she took a deep breath and urged the water to continue to thrash, sending them both tumbling into the lake.  _______

Perhaps Parker shouldn’t have been so forward with his request, as she now seemed to use the knowledge to her advantage as she moved her tail, taunting him, pulling him in and for a moment, it seemed to work as the neurons in his brain were stroked by the beauty of its movement. How he longed to gather it in his hands, to sculpt it into something mesmerizing for himself. Fortunately (or unfortunately depending on how one perceived it), Parker was already closer to the water than he should’ve been by the time the nymph utilized her resonance with her element and he was rapidly greeted with a massive wave that crashed into him… along with her. Their bodies collided though not for long enough and the churning water sucked him in, pushing him under the surface. As he was being turned around in the undertow and having taken a quick, but deep improvisational breath himself, Parker curled his legs into him, turning himself into a temporary protective ball as he pulled one of his specialized knives out. The lakewater was impenetrably dark and he was effectively blind as he was rolled in the water. However, his step of pulling one of his daggers from its spot carefully to avoid losing anything else under the waves had been successfully completed and in another stroke of luck he could see just enough of her in his field of view that he lurched his arm forward, plunging the dagger into… some part of her body, he couldn’t tell what. His other hand moved as quickly as it could, pressing down on the end of the hilt and injecting the body with a special tranquilizer. Of course, it wasn’t a perfected art - every body was different - but he released the dagger, now abandoning that goal in favor of trying to surface. _______

The way the man’s eyes glazed over with desire made the nymph’s stomach twist with disgust. She was appalled by his menacing expression, his greed mounting over into something desperate and chaotic. It was brief and he quickly became calculated again, but watching it happen in real-time practically gave Teagan whiplash. 

Back off!

Teagan’s mind screamed, her mouth opening and closing to relay the message. There was no sound, not to whoever that man was. He was only met with bubbling water and thrashing limbs. When Teagan finally managed to get her fins in place, she whipped around, at the ready.

Unlike her opponent, the nix could move easily and see clearly in the lake. It was her element, after all. 

With a smile, she bolted forward, claws prepared to sink into flesh. Teagan didn’t mind if it would burn her, she welcomed it like it was family. In a way, it was. At the very least, it had been the most consistent thing in her life; good or bad. So when she didn’t quite make purchase onto the man’s skin, and was instead met with a sensation she was all too familiar with. Iron. She gasped to herself, realizing something was off. Her limbs began to almost immediately grow too heavy to use, not a sensation she was accustomed to. 

Panic began to stretch Teagan’s chest tightly, her instinct to kick herself away and remove the…needle? Dagger? She wasn’t quite sure. Did it still have liquid in the—oh no. The edges of Teagan’s vision rippled with black, eyes growing too heavy to keep open. She felt cold and prickly, textured in a way that left her feeling unsettled and terrified. But that didn’t last very long. In a matter of seconds, Teagan was consumed with darkness.  _______ Fully prepared for something to make contact with him as he attempted to surface, Parker tried to manipulate his blood to turn him into a last-ditch effort weapon against whatever she would do to him but he couldn’t push it; he was already doing too many things at once and that would’ve sent him into exhaustion quickly. Contrary to his initial belief, however, he had remained unscathed and indeed, his dagger seemed to have hit its mark because the water, no longer controlled by a vehement force of nature like the nix, eased around him. Parker surfaced briefly, looking around to see where he was in relation to the shore. Not too terribly far and he took in another deep breath before he dived. Now that the water was calmer, it allowed him to utilize his own skill in swimming and while he still knew he would never be able to keep up with a creature like a nix or a nereid, his human abilities were still impressive by their standards, or so he liked to think. He couldn’t see effectively so he used broad movements with his arms, searching blindly in the murky depths until they felt a limb. Instinctively grabbing it firmly but not violently, he gathered her in one of his arms and hauled the two of them up where they breached the surface. Breathing deeply and more steadily now, using the techniques he’d learned from those decades in the bayou, Parker pulled her to the shore. He needed to work quickly; the tranquilizers were effective but ephemeral - his longer-lasting tranquilizers were soaked through now, useless as they sat in his pouches. It was fine, it had to be fine unless he could dose her again with another dagger but he only had three more left and he was too far from the Bunker; he’d need to do this now. First, he placed the nix on her side, very gently laying her tail out behind her and almost wasting time with how he looked over it fondly before he left her as she was, going over to his boots for a moment. Secondly, Parker checked his utility belt where he was relieved to learn that his spiked knuckles remained on the clasp in the midst of the roiling water, as did the rest of his daggers and– Perfect. He pulled a new knife from a holster that was on one of his legs, looking similar to an enlarged scalpel in design. Notably, this one wasn’t iron; he wanted the things he collected to be intact, not mottled more than necessary for a single individual performing an impromptu amputation in the middle of nowhere. This was a learning opportunity on multiple fronts. Parker would need to be better prepared in the future but for now he went back over to the nymph, dropped to a crouch and carefully turned the tail over before he made a rather precise incision at the base of her lower back. _______

There were no images, no chorus of noise that welcomed a person so heavy into unconsciousness. There was only a void, thoughts too diluted and muffled to truly reach. Teagan was no longer able to struggle or fight back, body limp and useless against whatever had been injected into her. Even worse, she was useless against the blade that began to slice into her. 

By the time Teagan had seen a hint of a light, it felt like it had been hours, but that couldn’t be the case. She could hear the dull sounds of strain behind her. Oh Fates. Her eyes attempted to shoot open, lids working against the fuzzy and heavy weight that enveloped them. “Mm…G-g…!” Teagan had attempted to say ‘Get off,’ but nothing was quite obeying her yet. She couldn’t even feel the way her skin had been cleanly cut, which was a horror in itself. 

How far had he gotten?

There was no use thinking about the possibilities. He’d had to have been taking his time considering the care he gave to not injure the nix horribly. Lest he ruin what he had his eyes set on, the fae supposed. It was disgusting and the way he had looked at her like a specimen meant for display made Teagan nauseous. He was worse than a hunter. He was a collector. She had to stop him, even if it was just for that night.

Using what little control she had, the nix twisted and dug her claws into the man’s shoulder. She latched on briefly, the rather large scalpel he had a grip on jolting upwards and slicing Teagan on her middle back. Whatever, she thought, continuing to slash. She just needed to get away and live to see another day. This man would be back, and Teagan would be ready next time. There were things to live for now. She couldn’t risk herself by succumbing to her rage, falling into old habits. No matter how her mind screamed to pursue vengeance. Her anger wasn’t worth her life. Or her tail. 

Teagan stood on wobbly legs, the man’s blood burning her hand as it dripped from her claws. “D-don’t come any closer.” She hissed, backing away with her claws tensed and ready as she took an offensive stance. Her visage was tired but captured with rage, the evils of Teagan’s past glimmering in her eyes while her head was tilted down from the weight. She was glowering, no longer willing to be the victim. _______

He was moving slower than he’d have liked, than he needed to to get results. In fact, Parker was moving so slowly that he was still creating an incision wide enough to insert his traditional iron blade to cauterize the wound, intending to separate it from the tail when she stirred back into lucidity. In a fluid motion, her claws punctured his shoulder. He exhaled sharply from the pain and the surge that shot down his arm made him lose control as it tensed up, sending the scalpel smoothly up the nymph’s back. Though he couldn’t control his arm at that juncture, he could manipulate his blood as it rippled beneath the skin, the iron moving in on where her claws were embedded in his flesh - his last-ditch weapon. She didn’t let go and he dropped the scalpel, wrenching his arm from her as he got to his feet. The motion was with strength but it was careless as Parker’s blood sprayed the wet earth beneath them. First, he pressed his other hand against the fresh wound, his nostrils flaring as he felt the lasting sting of her claws in his flesh. His blue eyes looked into hers, his expression narrowed and seeing her emotions dancing in them like an animal. Then they flickered to her stance, her frame, noting the way her legs shook as she was still affected by the tranquilizers. Then they rested on what he could see of her tail, the way it carelessly oozed blood and a flash of anger overcame his features. …No, he went up; he didn’t cut her tail, he lacerated her back. Parker wasn’t even using iron, so she could recover anyway. The anger on his face, while dissipating and making way for more of the narrow-eyed fascination and obsession, was still present somewhat, however. And he could use fluid motions, too. Removing his hand from the injured shoulder, it went down and brushed against his soaking jeans, fingers looping around the spiked iron knuckles that swayed to his side. He yanked a clenched fist back up and there was a snap as the clasp was disconnected. “You don’t control me, nix.” Then it was his turn to lunge and he rushed towards her, drawing his bloody fist back, aiming for the same shoulder she had. The clavicle, ideally to make a break in the bone. Parker wasn’t the type to turn to violence but as the pulse in his other arm reminded him, he didn’t start this.  _______

There was a deranged look in the man’s eye, his desire flowing straight into crazed anger at what he was denied. He’d done this countless times, so much so that he believed he had every right. That was the most terrifying part of the whole thing. How many had he hurt before he fixated on the nix before him? Teagan’s stomach twisted with nausea like a knife, and her heart soon followed suit. He had to be stopped. 

“Fuck you!” She screamed, grief for her cousins that fell victim to that evil man consuming her chest. The woman Teagan had been trying to leave behind washed over her, ignoring the way pain continued to pulse on her skin. “You don’t control me, and you cannot have any part of me!” Rushing forward as the man did, the two of them clashed in a ferocious flurry of fury. 

The way he’d gone straight for her clavicle felt a little like he was attempting balance, an eye for an eye. Teagan couldn’t help but notice that, having revered Fate and balance her whole life. This stranger could never work as Fate did. She was unbiased, not caring about setting things right or wrong, only ensuring all was as it should be. 

It wasn’t this. It wasn’t white-hot pain flaring from what felt like a break to her collarbone. Teagan screamed, her strength waning as the agony from holding her opponent away from her caused something akin to a crunch. The fight had to end or she’d be finding herself dead or…mutilated. Or both. 

Fates, she wanted Arden. 

In a last ditch effort, Teagan brought her knees to her chest, digging her feet into the man’s stomach as she sank her claws in a final time. She dragged her hands down, hoping to leave her mark just before she sent her opponent flying with a kick. Rising to her feet and holding her shoulder, Teagan hissed, “Looks like you get nothing, boyo.” With a final glower, she retreated into the lake, going too far for him to reach her again.  _______ How similar they were sometimes. How both of them assumed control, how they both loved to hoard their treasures and use words to their advantage. And how Parker would never admit any of this, the thoughts not even going through his head as his eyes simultaneously seemed to illuminate with keen observation yet darken with malintent as he lunged forward.

She met him halfway, which was perfect all things considered - her rushing to him meant that Parker didn’t have to attempt to go through any limbs that would be raised in self-defense. Her body hit his own and he advanced on her. While she might’ve been stronger in the water, she wasn’t in the water, as well as coming off the effects of his custom sedatives and he was taller than her. She pushed him, he pushed back but most importantly, his arm that was wound back was faster as it shot out like a bullet for her shoulder

The sound of her bone breaking in the otherwise-still night air was enough of an indicator for Parker that the spiked knuckles hit their target and while he felt one of his eyes twitch as she pressed against the fresh holes in his shoulder but he knew it wasn’t going to last for long so he endured it; he could, he would and he always will. He kept the blood spinning in his veins, pushing it to the surface just under his skin in case.

He pulled back his fist and part of Parker wanted to get another jab in, a show of dominance, control, and for a moment the nymph’s visage was replaced by the one that murdered his father and critically injured his brother. However, one blink later and that fae was gone, one into another and he didn’t have time to react when he gasped as she brought her feet up, her talons piercing his abdomen, her claws in his skin once more and for another moment they were frozen in place. His eyes widened with surprise and yet, he didn’t didn’t yell but before he knew it, she had kicked him back and he was propelled back, flying some odd feet in the air before hitting the ground and sliding back.

Coughing out an exhale as he collided roughly with the ground, Parker scrambled to face her once more but the nix was already partially in the water, holding her shoulder and shooting him a venomous glare before she submerged herself into the lake and leaving him with the remnants of what she said echoing in his aching skull.

He got nothing. He lost.

Or so she said. Now that she was gone his breathing got more shaky as Parker furrowed his brow, gritting his teeth tightly to deal with the pain of her rending his flesh. He got to his feet slowly, pulling his hand away from his abdomen as his blood shined in the moonlight. Nothing he couldn’t recover from. He gingerly walked over to his boots and gathered them up along with the rest of his materials that weren’t lost to the lake before casting one more intense blue-eyed gaze to the rippling surface of the lake before disappearing into the thick trees once more.

She said he got nothing but he left with the one thing more important than her tail.

He knew what she was and where she lived.

[erebius-a]

kellin sent me a meme from my own oc , so here's a drabble between vic and his father. :) Minimal formatting bc this is very long. tw for death , blood , generally depressing shit ——— this is the moment shortly after amos is finally killed.

he doesn't remember leaving amos' body. doesn't remember how they got home undetected , how walt managed to get him up three flights up stairs without the both of them falling back down. in his head , victor is still in the alley behind the shop , still reeling from the echo of a gunshot , trying to hold amos' blood inside him and wake him up. wake up , please , no , dad wake him up wake him up ..

a wet cloth touching his cheek startles him. walt drags it down from cheekbone to chin , and when he pulls it away again , its stained with bright crimson. the room is spinning. victor grips the side of the bathtub he realizes then that he's sitting on , squeezes his eyes shut in hopes that everything will be still , a moment. instead , the spinning gets worse , and a terrible ache in his head makes itself known. he hears water disturbed behind him , following by dripping , then the cloth pressing to the back of his head. were he more conscious , the pain would have made him yelp.

he must have jumped anyways , for walt's voice is quick to break the silence. " fuck , sorry. i know it hurts-----he really fucked you up back here. can you see okay? "

" no. "

" can you be more specific? "

" um .. " eyes open again , and victor inspects the room around him with a pained squint. double vision. everything hurts. " the---the light , is like four times brighter , and you , you're like .. there's two of you , kind of. "

walt's head shakes , a visible wince as he draws back , holds his son's face to inspect him closer. " god damn it. you must have a concussion , the way he was .. do your----your people have special criminal doctor's , or anything? a code word to use at the hospital? "

" we usually just grin and bear it. or amos fixes us up , when we need stitches .. "

at the mention of amos' name , walt's complexion turns a little green , and he turns away to root through victor's medicine cabinet. an orange bottle catches victor's attention.

" give me that. "

" kid .. "

" dad. " it still feels unfamiliar to say. like it doesn't belong his in mouth , to be said in his voice. but he wants to , now. " m'not gonna cut a line and throw a party , i'm bleedin' out the back of my fuckin' head. "

begrudgingly , the pill bottle is opened , a single pill deposited into victor's palm. his eyes roll , but he swallows it dry , wincing and pressing the heels of his hands into his eyes. the pressure helps only for a second , before walt is pulling his hands away , wiping at his face again.

" jesus , kid , you don't need an infection on top of all this .. "

" what? "

a huffed sigh. " you still have blood all over you. like , you're fucking drenched. "

now victor's stomach turns. drenched in amos' blood , spattered over him in the moment of death. he still sees the second of panic in those eyes , the moment the light left them and his grip on victor's shirt became not existent. the sound of a body hitting the ground , the smell of blood , the taste , as though a bucket of his best friends blood had been unceremoniously dumped over him-----

" hey. " walt is wiping his face again , turning him to dip his hands in the bath water , and scrubbing them too. " i know you go away a lot , but try not to do that until we have the concussion figured out. freaks me out. "

victor trembles. what do you care , he wants to say. instead he pulls his hands from the red-tinted water , wipes them on the nearest towel. what a mess. he'll have to call someone later to clean all this up. " i wish you'd leave. "

" you'd be dead by morning. "

" maybe. "

" i'm not gonna let that happen. not now. not after everything i've seen , everything that's fucking happened , victor. i'm not gonna let you push me away. " tossing a ruined cloth to the floor , walt sighs , sits beside victor and wraps an arm carefully around his shoulders. " i can't walk away now , even if i wanted to. and i don't. "

victor leans his head on his father's shoulder. " why? "

" 'cause i'm your dad. ------don't start , don't even say anything. " keeping victor steady and braced , walt begins to gently rock him back and forth , smoothing over his hair to soothe him. just like mother used to. but who learned it from who? " i know i realized that way too fucking late and you hate me , i know , that's fine. hate me all you like , wish death on me , kill me in my sleep , but i l---i love you , kid. and if i let you die now , because of him? ha. your mother would haunt my every waking second. not in the funny beetlejuice way , either. "

sighing shakily , victor gives in: slumps his entire weight against his father , grips onto his shirt with what little strength he has left. and for some reason , he believes him. someone loves me again. he's the only one.

tears begin to well , and he hides his face , voice now muffled. " you killed my best friend. "

" no , he killed your best friend. "

" he killed my boyfriend. tommy was my boyfriend. "

" okay. " walter squeezes him here , places a careful kiss to the crown of his head. " well , i killed someone who was hurting you , then. he wasn't your best friend. he was gonna kill you. "

" i loved him .. "

" i know. "

" i wasn't his best friend .. "

" no , i don't think so. "

victor peeks up at his father , eyes faraway and dulled , all semblance of spark removed from them. it occurs to him now , painfully , that his father is all he has in the world , the only person he still knows that cares about him a little. everyone else is gone. all he has left is someone he just got , someone who didn't want to be here in the first place. he looks away , almost frightened. " you promise you won't walk away again? "

" i promise. " squeezing his shoulder , walt rises from the side of the tub , reaches over to begin draining the bloody water. " i'm pretty sure you're the only person i know who can keep me out of jail for murder , anyways , so. "

amazingly , this comment makes victor snicker , despite everything. in turn , walt smiles , and for a moment everything feels like it might be okay , if they're still able to laugh about things right now. its fleeting , and he's back to the end of the world in but a second------but it was comforting , almost.

when the water is drained , walt starts running a new bath , even checks the temperature like a young father preparing one for the first time. " if i leave you to take a bath , you gotta swear to fucking god you won't drown yourself. i'll be right in the hall. "

" i won't. "

" vic. "

" i promise. " victor turns some , runs his hand through the flowing water to fidget with it. " can you leave my phone with me? i'll need to call some people , get shit sorted out. keep our asses out of jail. "

" are you good to do that , right now? "

victor's head shakes , and he stares at his reflection in the bath water , warped and wobbling. " no. " he feels sick again seeing the red still smudged on his face. he pokes at the reflection to make it ripple away. " but i have to be , right now. i don't have a choice. "

[ohanahoku-ao3]

Whumptober Day 24

Have a little Steve Whump on me. <3

Teen & Up - Gen - Stranger Things

The Truth Spills Out

     The drug that the Russians had pumped Steve full of hadn’t worn off as thoroughly as he’d thought. Throwing up had eased the symptoms somewhat, and the rush of adrenaline had masked them well up to the point that Steve drove himself home. By the time he reached his street, his vision was a little twirly, and Steve didn’t park so much as he ran into his mailbox and stopped in a moment of startling clarity. His car was crooked, half in the driveway and half out, and Steve blew out a breath of relief that he had somehow managed to make it.

     Scrubbing his hands over his eyes, Steve tried to banish the blur from his vision before getting out of the car. His feet felt clumsier than usual, and he stumbled, holding onto the sides of the vehicle as he walked around it, wobbling on weak legs as he moved. The adrenaline was gone, the exhaustion was setting in, and Steve felt too dizzy to move away from the car. He was sure he’d fall if he did, though the pavement was looking comfier with each passing second.

     “Are you drunk?” His mother's shrill voice had Steve’s head snapping up from its drooped position, and he blinked rapidly at his mother. Everything was still blurry, a little off-kilter, like a double-exposed photo taken at slightly different angles. But he could still make out his mother standing under the house lights, and when he turned his head, he could see his parents’ car in the driveway. “Answer me, Steven! Are you drunk?”

     She snapped the words at him, and Steve answered automatically, blinking through the dark at her. “No, m’high.”

     “I told you he was doing drugs, Martha!” His father stepped out of the house, but Steve lost sight of him when his stomach suddenly rolled and forced him to hunch over as he threw up all over their driveway. “This is why we had to cut him off, and look at him! He’s still blowing his money on narcotics!”

     Steve spat on the ground, grimacing. Bile and water were all he had to come up, but the act of heaving was hell on his sore stomach muscles. “Not doing drugs.” He said, wiping at his mouth with his shirt and wrinkling his nose at the vomit and blood already on it. “‘Cotics neither.”

     “Excuse me, young man? Do you expect us to believe that lie when here you are throwing up and telling us you’re high?” His mother came toward him, likely to haul him inside by his ear before he made a bigger spectacle of himself for the neighbors.

     Steve dropped the shirt and straightened up, blinking slowly as her face took on a look of shock. “Not lyin’.” He insisted, blinking harder and covering his eyes as his vision spun. He did not want to throw up again. “You don’ un’erstand.”

     “Oh, we understand alright, Steven!” His father said as he walked over to them. “Stop lying and tell us what you’ve been doing tonight.”

     Steve felt like he couldn’t breathe suddenly. The commanding tone of his father’s voice, the one that demanded obedience, sounded too sharp, and Steve felt like he was back in that blood-splattered room with the Russians.

     “Answer me, boy!” His father barked, and Steve couldn’t help but answer as the truth, all of it, spilled out.

     “I was being tortured!” Steve shouted, hands falling away from his face. His parents both gasped, but Steve continued through their shock. “I was being tortured by Russian soldiers under the mall! The freaking mall, because of all places, Hawkins is the most messed up place in America!

     “It’s got other dimensions and monsters that you couldn’t believe,” Steve said, eyes bright with tears that further blurred his vision, and he lifted his hands to bury them in his hair and pull. “I mean, you really wouldn’t believe them. They’re faceless and made of shadows and melted flesh, and they can possess people, and that is so, so scary.”

     “Steven-”

     Steve cut his mother off, rambling right over her. “Do you know how many times I’ve nearly been killed in the last two years?” He asked, eyes manically glancing between the two blurry figures in front of him. Panic, and fear, and anger were all brewing inside of him as he started to list things off, counting on his fingers. “First, Nancy almost shot me. She was stressed, it’s whatever. Then I nearly get sliced in half from that faceless thing that climbed out of the ceiling.

     “Then, a year later! Almost to the date! I’m attacked by those demodogs and barely make it back to the bus with the kids. Then Billy shows up while we’re trying to save the world, and he nearly kills me for no good reason! Did you know that I can barely hear in my left ear now because of him? Oh, and then there’s the tunnels of death that we had to hike through and SET. ON. FIRE! With those freaky living vines and the monsters, I still can’t believe I’m still alive!

     “Oh, and then this week.” Steve cut himself off as he started laughing hysterically, taking a few unsteady steps in a circle. “I could have died so many times this week. First, when we were on the roof spying on those guys carrying guns around behind the mall, and then when that elevator of death started up, I nearly died from a heart attack. Then there were Russians. RUSSIANS! And they had guns and knives and bone saws and-” Steve sobbed as he wrapped his arms around himself, feeling cold. “And they stuck a needle in my neck- and I couldn’t-” He squeezed his eyes shut. “Then there were more Russians, and that beast made out of people and rats! Then Billy again and- Oh Billy. God, Max is gonna be such a mess over this because he- He didn’t make it.”

     Steve sobbed and fell to his knees as his strength and ire left him. “And god, you’d know all of this if you were ever here instead of god knows where, and I can’t- I can’t-”

     “Hey, hey, it’s okay, now, sweetie.” Warm arms wrapped around him, and Steve blinked at the sudden appearance of Claudia Henderson next to him.

     “Mrs. Henderson?” Steve said numbly, leaning into her embrace. “What’re you… Is Dustin okay?”

     “Dustin will be just fine once you join him in the car.” She answered. “Come on, now. Let’s get you up.” She pulled away and helped him up, catching him as he staggered into her side. “It’s alright, sweetie. Just lean on me.”

     He nodded his head as he followed her instructions, not fully hearing it as the kind woman said something to his parents and shushed their protests before pulling him along with her.

     Dustin was waiting in the car and immediately latched onto Steve’s side as he was helped into the backseat. “I’m sorry. I had to tell her everything, or she wouldn’t come.” He mumbled into Steve’s shoulder.

     “She knows?” Steve asked dumbly after a moment of processing the words.

     “I know, sweetie. You kept my Dusty safe, and now we’ll take care of you for a change, okay?” Mrs. Henderson said, staring at them from the front seat with a soft look.

     Hot tears filled Steve’s aching eyes, and he hugged Dustin back hard as he nodded, letting them spill over with a sob as the night caught up to him at last.

[shes-some-other-where]

June of Doom Day 3, Day 6, Day 13, & Day 22

“Well, well, well…” | Hiding | Ambushed | Flinch | “Wait!” | Poison | Bedridden

<<< previous | next >>>

Contains: royalty whump, lady whump, death, murder, blood, fantasy drug/potion

WC: 765

What savagery is this?

The night the royal family fell to ruin

“Well, well, well.” Soldiers surged inside. “I knew there was another prince that needed killing, hiding somewhere, but it looks like my work is done for me.” The invader scoffed as he approached, leaving crimson footsteps on the floor. “What did you do, princess? Poison him so he wouldn’t have to taste defeat at my hands, too?”

She flung herself in front of her brother’s prone form, keenly aware of how the hulking warriors, approaching with their blades drawn, dwarfed her puny frame.

She watched the swords, not the faces. The invader believed her brother was dead already; perhaps that would be what saved him. Sinking their weapons into his flesh while he lay senseless and vulnerable would be a pointless endeavour. What honour was there in slaying a corpse already going cold?

Their folly, however, would do little to save her.

“Leave me to grieve my brother,” she said. “Then . . .”

Then, what?

“Then do as you will,” she choked.

She raised her gaze, unable to disguise her quivering lip and quaking limbs, just in time to see the invader’s mouth curl upwards.

Had he not been drenched in the blood of her family, courtiers, servants, and soldiers, she might have found him striking: sandy hair, sleek with sweat, pushed back from his glistening forehead. Eyes like silvery slits—eyes of moonlight—watched her, glimmering with bloodlust, alight with the spiteful pleasure he took in seeing her tremble.

“As I will, hmm?” He seemed to ponder these words, letting silence creep over them both save for the drip, drip, drip of blood splattering to the floor from the soldiers’ blades. She flinched with each soft sound. Suddenly, the handsomeness of his face vanished, leaving behind only the red splotches on his armour, the flecks of gore across what little exposed skin she could see.

“My lord,” said one soldier, pointing to her brother’s chest. It rose and fell evenly as he lay, undisturbed, in his unnatural slumber. “He lives.”

The invader’s smile widened. “The little princess is a little liar.” Without pausing for a breath, he ordered his soldiers, “Kill him.”

“No!” As the nearest soldier raised his sword, she hurled her body atop her brother’s. “No! Wait! Please. Please. You can’t. He’s sick. He’s ill. You can’t.”

“Of course I can,” said the invader calmly. “That’s why I’m here.”

“Where’s your honour?” she cried, grappling fruitlessly to cling to her brother’s motionless limbs as a soldier clamped onto her arms and wrenched her away. “Butchering an unconscious man? What kind of savagery is this?”

Scathing laughter swelled around them, hot breath and blood mingling in the air, tightening around her like cords and chains.

“Pretty words for a pretty thing,” said the invader. “No perfervid pleas will save you, however. Still, I’ll afford you once last choice. Shall I slit your throat first so you don’t have to watch, or would you like to attend the former crown prince’s last breaths with blood still flowing through your veins?”

When she didn’t answer, he shrugged and gestured to his soldiers with a single wave of his hand: Do it now.

The princess screamed.

“Wait!”

Looking more entertained than irritated, perhaps knowing that her shrieks would only delay the inevitable and that his victory was at hand, the invader held up his hand again. Halt.

“Look at the bottle,” she gasped. “Just—just look!”

“It’s a trick,” said the soldier who held her, wrenching her head back and gliding a blade over the skin of her throat. She felt it split, felt the heat of blood oozing toward her collarbone like scarlet honey. “Hold your tongue, girl.”

But the invader merely watched, impassive, as she whimpered and struggled to escape the bite of his soldier’s blade, to no avail. Neither fear nor suspicion marred the blood-flecked features of his face; he seemed, of all things, curious—and, of course, still cruelly amused.

“Tell me what’s in the bottle,” he said lightly. “You may speak.”

He, a brute and a usurper, giving her, a princess, a woman of royal blood, leave to speak. She jerked involuntarily against the soldier’s hold, and the man yanked her head back again.

“Say it, then,” the soldier hissed. “Do as your prince commands.”

Not my prince.

But she choked out, “It’s a sleeping potion. Dreamless sleep. He needs it. Do you know why?”

What a traitor she was. Her brother would never forgive her.

The invader prince lifted his eyebrows. “Speak quickly, princess, before my curiosity depletes. Your time is running out.”

June of Doom Masterlist

<<< previous | next >>>

@juneofdoom

All my writing is original. Feel welcome to interact/comment/reblog. Pls don’t steal or repost.

[jacoboh]

* limbo

when: february 19th, midnight

what: solo of this plot drop

triggers: car accident, drugging, kidnapping, blood, mentions of death

He was thankful that the worst of the storm seemed to be over. Because as much as Jake had been glad to help out, he missed the comfort of his home and the small moment of peace that awaited him. He supposed he'd always been that way, the one to help without a fuss. It didn't seem productive to ever think too much about the toll it'd put on him, caring for everyone around him but himself, but it was who Jake was. It was what everyone had always expected of him. And for his entire life, he'd never exactly struggled. Attractive, good at school, good at sports, friendly, level-headed. In every way, he was the picture of an ideal person. Except to him, he'd never felt that way, silently bridled with the belief that whatever he felt came second to those around him. He'd grow to be the shoulder people cried on, the source of comfort to those he was close to. Jake would never dare to let it show that sometimes, he almost preferred to be alone. In some ways, he'd already felt that way, alone in his emotions, alone in his mind.

Jake had found himself to be one of the last to head out after the storm had ended, doing a bit of cleaning up before he'd head home. Seeing as he'd already been stuck in the school for all these hours, an extra one wouldn't really hurt, right? By the time he'd finished, the parking lot was mostly empty, not an entirely unfamiliar sight to Jake as he got inside his car, setting his bag in the passenger seat and turning on the ignition. Though just as he'd begun to put his seatbelt on, Jake was grabbed from the back, mouth and nose covered by some type of cloth. He grabbed onto the person's hand, attempting to pull away. But he could practically feel his strength give out, his body beginning to feel sluggish and tired within seconds, and his hand fell back into his lap as his eyes closed.

He wouldn't remember much, surroundings hazy as he sat in the passenger seat of his own car, slipping in and out of consciousness. The world around him would fall black despite the moving pieces around him, car trailing mindlessly around town. Any idea of who grabbed him was completely lost on Jake. In a typical fashion, he'd try to hold on to any sense of consciousness in the beginning, trying to force himself to wake up despite the black spots covering his memory only mere moments ago. But any attempts would be futile, slumping into the seat of his vehicle as darkness overtook him fully.

Had the storm not happened, maybe someone would have noticed, even given the late hour. It felt calculated that whoever had done this had chosen the perfect time, residents of Nightrest eager and rushing to get inside their homes for the night. The streets were empty, with no eyes to see an unconscious body right in front of them. And of course, it seemed that his kidnapper was fully aware of the fact, taking the liberty to display their work around town, driving through the small town with an unconscious body in the passenger seat.

The world around him had been black for too long, the moment he'd woken up only caused by pain coursing through his body. His leg, his arm, his chest. Every part of him was hurt, jolted awake to find himself in an empty car, tilted downwards and impacted by a tree. Even so, Jake wasn't entirely sure how he'd ended up there, or really anything that had happened since he'd gotten in his car. The only thought on his mind was the pain.

The pain.

There hadn't been a sense of shock, a moment of adrenaline where he was spared from the agony, and a guttural scream left his mouth as he felt fully conscious for a moment. Choosing to avoid looking down at the blood, he'd glanced around at his surroundings, finding himself at the bottom of some hill, smoke from his car fogging what little picture he could form of where he was. And even if the smoke hadn't been present, his blurred, hazy vision wouldn't help his case either.

He never thought he'd experience the feeling of losing blood, as the hoodie he'd been wearing was stained red, and another sound of agony echoed to an empty area as he grabbed his stomach, making a feeble attempt to stop the bleeding. His head hit the back of his seat, trying his very best to stay calm. Except for the first time in his life, it had felt like a real challenge, Jake thought to himself that the most realistic outcome of this situation was him dying in the middle of nowhere. Maybe it would be from the blood loss or the pain in his leg and arm. Or maybe it would be because of the pounding in his head, already finding it hard to stay awake. He was trying so incredibly hard to stay calm, but he didn't want to die. His life had barely started, he couldn't die here. But it seemed his body and mind couldn't control what he wanted, already beginning to feel the same weakness he'd felt earlier.

He had to get out of this car.

Smoke emitting around him, that's the thought that was on Jacob's mind. He used what little strength he had left to open the door, wincing at the pain of doing so, his arm shaking and bleeding throughout. After the first few tries, it wouldn't budge. But he had a feeling if there was any chance of him making out, it wasn't from him being a sitting duck, so he pushed again, ignoring the pain and using his shoulder to open up the partially-wrecked door, a sigh escaping his lips at a successful attempt.

But the problem was, his body wouldn't move, the lower portion glued to his current position, and before he could blink, everything began to become dark around him again. No, no... He was repeating to himself, that this couldn't be it. He couldn't give up here, his mind was stronger than that. But as willful as he was, it wouldn't stop his eyes from growing heavy, letting darkness overtake him.

And for a moment, it felt peaceful. The feeling Jacob had been once longing for. To be alone, to be at peace. He found himself in some space between unconscious and conscious, mind partially awake but unfeeling to the pain he was in. For a brief moment, Jake found himself in a state of nothingness, void of pain or feeling or any thought at all.

It felt good. And he hated it.

[a-chaotically-small-lunta]

Impulsive defense

This is a short-ish story of Blair, a young child who David took in as his own. After receiving a note from Micheal, David made his way to the city.

Warning: mentions of abuse, drugs, alcohol, blood, death, and fights.

The city was loud, cars rumbling around and people always having someplace to be. David had a love hate relationship with cities. On one hand it was where he was raised and provided so many resources to borrowers that no one would miss. Not to mention people who see borrowers in the city think they’re just large rats. On the other hand though, the city was dangerous. Too many people not watching where the go or what they do, all the cars and vehicles, not to mention the rats…both human and animal.

David eyed the alleyway waiting for the group of drunk men to leave. He was planning on visiting his friend, Micheal. Micheal was a borrower David had met while traveling around the city looking for anything useful and to spot any safe places for other borrowers. They met after David entered the human’s home and noticed the walls weren’t just filled with the usually dust and scraps, but rather were clean, had tools, places to rest, and many other signs that there was a borrower living here. David was invited to stay with Micheal and his wife Yael. They all bonded quickly, David was even invited to meet the birth of their child, Blair.

Once the drunk men had left, David quickly made his way across the alley and behind the large dumpster. Scanning the wall he found the small broken brick. He moved the small piece, exposing the inside of the walls. Quickly he ducked in and moved the piece back in place.

As David walked along he thought about why he was invited. Micheal said his wife had passed away, and that he just needed a friend for comfort. David understood all to well the feeling of losing a loved one, so when he received the message, he quickly made his way to the city off in the distance with the help of Laura who offered to take him after he told everyone about the note. A storm was going to pass by and she was willing to get a hotel for the night.

Eventually he found the small wooden door and knocked. Rustling could be heard from the other side until the door swung open revealing Micheal. He looked terrible, sickly even. His usual bright brown eyes were darkened and his dirty blond hair was a mess, with parts sticking up at odd angles from unknown substances. David didn’t want to know or even ask.

“Oooohhhh David! What are you doing her bro??” Micheal said leaning against the doorframe and slurring his words.

“Uhh ya sent me a letter talking about Yael, I thought I’d come by and ya know support ya.”

Micheal paused and stared off for a few seconds, “oooooohhhhh Right.” His voice sounded harsh before quickly changing back, “well come innnn….”

David, a bit confused, walked in while watching as Micheal flopped back onto the puff balls of a couch. Looking around he noticed that the house was a mess, tools and items scattered across the floor. A few pieces of furniture were flipped over and broken. The place didn’t used to look like this, it was a nice house and now everything was destroyed and gross. David noticed a dresser made of a matchbox and other materials was pushed in front of one of the doors that lined the wall.

“Uhhhh kinda let ya-self go huh?” David said glancing around trying not to stare at the globs of mold and food in the corner of the room and the ceiling.

“Brooooooo….yea maybe. Yael has been gone for awhile.”

“Yeah…when did she die?”

“Like a few months ago”

“Ohhh, and ya only told me now? I mean that’s fine and I’ll be here for ya but I would’ve been here earlier to help ya out and stuff”

“Nah nah it’s fine, soooo fine….”

“Okay…so you okay?”

“yeeeeee dude I’m TotAlly fIiinnnee. Happier toooooo wooooooo”

David paused a bit confused, perhaps he’s just drunk right now, his mind is lost a bit, “Mmh…where’s Blair by the way? How did they take it?”

“Who? Oh!!! Yeah he’s fine…but he uh is grounded right now”

“Oh…why?”

“Mmmmh lil dude almost got us caught the other night, so he has to be grounded…dude you want something to drink?”

“Uh no thanks…”

“Nahhhhhh bro lemme get ya something”

“Micheal” David said in a stern voice, “are ya okay? Ya seem out of it”

Micheal froze and stared at David, his eyes seemed to never focus fully on David.

“Yea..yea…I’m fine just…need a pep up or something…” Micheal got up and walked over, “stay here, make yourself comfy I’m gonna grab some stuff…it’ll be a sec…good stuffs in the storage heh” as Micheal clumsily walked away David looked around the torn up house. What happened here…it’s a mess. He seems way out of it…like he’s been drinking but where’d he get the alcohol? Jeez I didn’t think he’d let himself go so fast. Only a month and it looks like he’s been out of it for months. His muscles and body are thinner too…man what did you do.

David sat and thought as Micheal walked away, the second the door clicked behind Micheal a small knock was heard. David whipped his head towards the knock, which seemed to come from the blocked door. Another knock was heard and a soft muffled cry came from the other side.

David quickly walked over and shoved the dresser out of the way, unblocking the door. He pulled the door open and in front of him was Blair but the poor kid looked terrible. Blair had brown eyes and dark brown hair but usually the kid seemed so bright. On David’s other visits the kid would happily bounce around and looked full of life. Happily talking about adventures and asking David about any cool new stories. The Blair in front of him looked drained. Their hair was matted, they look like they haven’t had sleep in days. Their skin looked sickly and they were covered in bruises.

“Blair? What happened to ya kid?”

Blair stood and glance at the door Micheal had left through before looking back at David, who had crouched down to be even with the kid.

“Da-d…”

David froze in shock, “what do ya mean?” Blair froze as if terrified to say anything, “it’s alright, ya can tell me. Ya can tell me anything okay?”

Blair took a shaky breath and looked at David, tears threatening to fall out of their little sad eyes.

“He..for a-awhile he’s be-been finding stuff…st-stuff that ma-m-makes hi-m act weird… he start hitting m-me…and m-mommy… mommy tried to d-defend me whe-when he got tha-that way…he said if we let you kn-know that he’d h-hurt us…hu-hurt us worse…dad…he…he hurt mommy too much…sh-she stopped moving…I…I” tear spilled out of the kids eyes as he cried out, “I WANT MY MOMMY!!!”

David was shocked when the kid ran and wrapped their arms around him. He gently wrapped his arms around the kid. “Hey it’s okay…I’m here. I’ll protect ya…I have so many questions but I’ll ask ya later..” He held onto the sobbing child, how long has this been happening? Years??? Why did Blair tell him now? Were they desperate? What made them break out of their father’s forceful grasp?

“Let’s get ya ou-“ David paused as he felt the child grip onto him tighter as the door clicked, revealing Micheal

“What did you say” Micheal’s voice was stern, serious. In his hand was a homemade glass bottle…it was filled with a clear liquid that had a thin layer of powder on the top. David didn’t know everything about alcohol or drugs, but he knew enough that mixing them was not good.

“WHAT DID YOU TELL HIM?!?!” Micheal shouted at Blair, stepping forward. David quickly moved the kid behind him.

“Enough! Back off Micheal! You’re not okay, whatever you’re doing is not okay. You need help. I’ll help you but I can’t let you near them.” David stood firm as Micheal glared at him.

“YOU DON’T KNOW SHIT! IM THAT BASTARDS DAD! I DECIDE WHEN TO PUNISH THEM! And it needs punished.” Micheal started to step forward and David slowly backed away. The small child whimpered gripping onto David.

Micheal smashed the bottle, flinging glass and alcohol everywhere. “BACK OFF DAVID…Don’t make me hurt you too. Back off and listen to me. Unless you wanna get hurt too”

He shock his head, David wasn’t gonna leave the kid alone. He wasn’t gonna hand them over to them. He felt torn, his friend was lost…he wanted to help him…but he needed to get Blair out of here. When he didn’t move, Micheal started to run towards him.

David froze, everything felt in slow-mo. Micheal running towards him, the child screaming. But David’s mind was racing.

No no no. I can’t.

*Step*

“Don’t try anything fucking insect”

*Step*

no no…don’t hurt them please…they were just protecting him.

*Step*

Can’t let him hurt them. Won’t let them hurt them.

*Step*

Images flashed in David’s mind. Seeing his friend in a drunken rage, and seeing that drunken bastard’s fist dripping with blood.

The second his friend was readying to strike a punch with the bottle, David drove a fist right in Micheal’s face.

Micheal stuttered and looked back, astonished at what happened.

“Get to the door Blair. Don’t look back.” David whispered. Blair quickly ran to the door and Micheal tried to chase him only to get punched in the stomach by David.

“No no, ya ain’t going anywhere. Ya staying here to sober up…get help.”

Micheal slashed the bottle cutting David’s face. David tripped Micheal and grabbed his blue knife, holding it in defense. He’d worry about any cuts and bruises later. His body was shaking.

Micheal glared before chuckling, “oh using your mommy’s knife??? Mmmmmmh???? Are you scared David? Of me? All drunk like this? Remind you of something?”

David glared and tightened his grip, “Ain’t gonna let a drunk fucker ruin another child’s life. Don’t care if you’re their dad, don’t care now.”

“Ohhhhh David, what are you talking about? I’m fixing it.”

David quickly wielded his knife to block the lunging bottle.

“You aren’t like this? What happened?”

David pushed forward, staggering Micheal a bit.

“What do you mean? I’ve always been like this! I’m just a good actor. Ever since that kid came into my life, shits always been about it. Never on me.”

He couldn’t believe what he was hearing. Was the man he knew just a facade? Something to make life seem normal? Why would he do that?

“Micheal we can work this out, we can find you help”

“I DONT NEED HELP!!!” Micheal lunged and tackled David to the ground. Trying to stab his face with the bottle. David was quick and blocked the bottle, earning a long cut on his arm. They stared into each other’s eyes.

“I just need you to join your parents. Ironic that’ll you’ll die the same way the did…just at a smaller scale.”

Why would he say that? WHY WOULD HE

David lost it, he threw Micheal off him and slashed the knife at him. Aiming for his chest. David slashed and slashed in blind fury, he thought he was seeing red before, but now it was brighter. He didn’t care anymore. He was on edge when he first saw him and every second this Bastard talked pushed him closer and closer. He finally snapped. Telling Micheal about his past was something he thought would strengthen their bond, show his trust. And he used it against him.

The two men wrestled around knocking things around and off places. Smacking each other’s heads into furniture and walls breaking most of them. David punched and slashed, eventually shattering the bottle with the knife with a well placed stab. With his weapon gone Micheal became more furious and tried scratching and biting David, but David quickly dodged and using his knife as a shield blocked most attacks. Sometime during the fight he pulled out the other knife and duel wielded them against his former friend. He pushed Micheal around until he managed to stab one of his knives into Micheals hand against the floor, causing a scream of agony to fill the air. David held Micheal down and with a knife to Micheal’s throat leaned down and whispered “I’d kill ya, it’d be like putting down a sick animal. But I’ll give ya a chance to fix yourself. Doesn’t matter if ya do though. Ya ain’t ever gonna see me or Blair again. So stay down, or I’ll keep ya down forever. You know it’s not my first time killing someone. Don’t make me add to my count.” David hissed out the last part before, slowly backing off the exhausted man. He yanked his bloodied knife out of Micheal’s hand and shoved his foot onto his chest. Glaring down for a second before walking to the door.

Micheal didn’t stand back up, and laid on the ground breathing as David walked out the entrance. He looked over and saw Blair against the wall, covering their ears and curled up.

“It’s over kid…let’s get out of here.” David said, extending a hand to the kid.

“Di-did you k-k-kill him?” Poor kid looked worried over their father. It made sense, though. They did love their father and just wanted the best for him, even though his father didn’t love him back.

“Nah kid, just knocked some sense into him. He’ll be okay, but for now I’m gonna watch over ya until he’s better alright?”

The kid looked down almost sad but relieved about the news. The kid nodded and grabbed David’s hand.

“Alright, let’s go then. I got a friend who brought me here, and she’ll bring us back to my home okay?” They nodded and David paused, “just so ya know…they’re a bean,” he watched the kid stiffen in fear, “but don’t worry, she won’t hurt ya. I trust her fully. She’s a good one, promise” the kid loosened a bit but still seemed on edge.

David guided the kid back towards the alley and walked through the walls of each building until they came across the hotel. He was grateful that Laura had offered to bring him to the city due to the bad weather. Flying a bird in a storm is never the best idea, and David only did that if there was no other options and he needed to leave. David watched the kid, noticing the kid eyed some of his cuts. Oh yeah…wounds…forgot about those..whatever.

Eventually the pair made it into the hotel walls. Heading up, David looked into each room trying to find Laura. He knew the floor she was on but had forgotten which room. Soon he found her room by peeking in and seeing her laying upside down on her bed. Her long curled brown hair a frazzled mess as she had a bored look on her face. Her rectangle glasses were on the verge of falling off but she didn’t seem to care.

Carefully David stepped out of the wall, holding onto Blair and giving them a gentle rub reminding them that everything was okay.

Once near the human David shouted, “Hey Laura! I’m back!”

Laura was startled and instantly slide off the bed, hitting her head on the floor. She glance over and smiled, “ow, you’re back that was quick, so ho-“ she froze spotting the child, “did you kidnap another kid?”

“First off, I’ve never kidnapped a kid. I tend to find them alone or abandoned, secondly…yes in a way but it’s fine…I’ll explain everything later.”

Laura made an annoyed face before awkwardly pushing herself off the ground and back onto the bed. She swung her legs around and got out of the bed before she lowered herself onto her stomach in front of the pair, “alright well you better explain, but for now.. Hello there, I’m Laura. You must be Blair, David’s talked about you and how you’re so brave and have this call to adventure.”

Blair stood behind David, clearly terrified of the bean, but as she softly spoke he slowly poked his head around and started to get closer.

“Don’t worry I won’t hurt you. Even though I’m a bit of a clumsy mess,” she chuckled, “hey you look hungry,” and with a glance towards David, “and like you’ve been through hell. Want something to eat? I got snacks and stuff”

The kid shyly nodded and with that Laura pushed herself up to a sitting position before extending her hand onto the ground, “go ahead and climb on. I’ll set you two on the bed and grab the snacks okay?”

With a small nudge of encouragement from David the pair of borrowers climbed onto her hand. Once they were secure and settled, Laura slowly lifted them up and onto the couch, not once standing. They both walked off with Blair still holding onto David, Laura stood up and walked over to a bag that had been thrown into the corner of the room. She returned with a small water bottle and two clear bags, one filled with snacks like pretzels, chocolates, nuts and the other with bandages and creams.

She set the items down and opened the bag of snack and water, setting them both down in front of the pair, “go ahead and get what you want, just don’t eat too fast” she smiled and watched as the kid cautiously approached the bag. Reaching in they grabbed a few things and snacked on them. Sitting next to the bottle watching the bean.

David walked closer to her grabbing some bandages to treat his wounds, “so you’ll tell me what happened?” She asked.

“I’ll give ya a summary, Dad’s a drunken addict who abuses the kid so I fucked him up a bit”

“Oh…oh, you okay?”

David paused as glance at Laura who was giving him a concerned look, “I’ll be fine…”

“Talk to me if you aren’t okay?”

“I will.”

“You’re lying but okay.”

David glared at Laura who only smirked, “what it’s true,” she said defensively, “you usually don’t like talking about stuff like that and that’s okay. I’ll be there when you want to.”

“Yeah yeah, I’m just worried about the kid is all.”

They both looked over as the kid was enjoying themselves with the snacks.

“It’ll be okay, we’ll figure it all out tomorrow. It’s late and you guys look like you need some sleep”

David simply nodded as he worked on bandaging himself up.

Eventually Laura laid onto the bed next to the pair yawning, “alright it’s probably best we get some shut eye, so…”

Laura squeaked as she felt a hug around her finger, which was causally laying on the bed near the borrowers. She glanced down at her hand to see the tiny child holding onto her.

“Thank you for the snacks”

Laura smiled, “it’s no problem. Here may I try something?”

The child nodded, and Laura gently scooped the child up and moved herself to laying on her back. She placed the child right on top of her heart as she laid back against the pillows and pulled the blankets back over her lower body.

“You okay there or do you want to sleep on the other pillow with David?”

David who had already laid on the other pillow looked over to see the scene. He shook his head. Laura knew that her heart beat was soothing to kids, hell David knew it was soothing, he just didn’t like being held for so long. Made him feel powerless.

The kid listened to her gentle heartbeat and shook their head, “this is nice” they snuggled up and Laura gently placed the thinner sheet over their body as a blanket. It didn’t take long for the kid to knock out.

“I’m surprised they took to ya so quickly” David said

“Well you showed them I was trustworthy so I guess it was easy to build trust up with them. Poor kid though…with everything that happened…”

“Yea…” David glanced away

“Don’t worry we’ll talk about it later.”

“We’ll have to ask the kid for more details. I don’t know much. Hell I don’t know who or how that letter was sent. Ugh I’m so confused and frustrated!” David pouted angrily.

“Hey calm down, you have your reasons for what you did. Just rest for now okay?”

David sighed and nodded. With a smile Laura took off her glasses and laid down to fall asleep, one hand carefully over the sleeping child. David however wouldn’t fall asleep, he stayed alert watching the shadows and walls for a few hours. Making sure Micheal wouldn’t come out of them. Eventually David passed out, he’d have to deal with this tomorrow morning sometime but that’s for later. The kid was safe now and that’s all that mattered right now.

[mcrtyrdomsarchived]

;; TASK TWO — POLICE INTERVIEW.

date: june 28th, 2023; early morning. location: nightrest police station.

mentions of blood, injury, death, and trauma beyond this point. :)

Where were you last night, June 27th? Can anyone confirm this?

blood; blood dripping from the walls, a dark smear traveling the length of the stairs, puddle on each step - a lake surrounding azra’s still body. gabe didn’t know it could get so dark - like staring into the night sky, the paling girl a rigid moon. blood; blood on his hands, so so much. sticking to the bottom of his shoes, on the knees of his jeans; sticking sticking stick. stuck.

“huh?” gabe gazes up at the officer, eyes tired and dark. “are... are you shitting me?” he’s slow to speak; a combination of coming out of shock and sobering up. “i switched shifts at work so i went out to medusa’s. nothing like getting drunk on a fucking... tuesday night, am i right? i dunno - fucking, ask anyone at the club. check the cameras.”

How do you know Azra Nadir?

he’d slipped away to the sanctuary of an empty hallway; ears ringing from the music inside the club, sight blurred and shifting and moving and crawling and vibrating. they were too high for this, for the eerie silence that felt almost unnatural, especially in a place like medusa’s. fuck - did he need to piss. maybe curl up outside the bathroom, wait for the acid demons to stop cornering their eyesight.

“everyone knows azra.” their brows furrow, hands busy picking out the dried blood from beneath their nails. “she’s like, loud as shit and very um - she’s got a big presence. big personality. i’m not like, fucking besties with her but we grew up in the same town. are you new?”

When and where did you last see her, or speak to her?

it’s still fresh, the blood. fresh enough for gabe to choke on the metallic scent as he gets nearer and nearer. “what the fuck?” he voices aloud - almost echoes - as their eyes hone in on the shapes before them; twisting and turning and yet not moving at all - not even a little. they move closer - can’t help it, almost trancelike as they stumble towards the body. “azra? oh, fuck - fuck.”

they don’t answer for a few moments - eyes narrowed in on the officer, wanting to say so much but not having the energy to do so. they sigh, “besides last night ... i dunno - the festival, probably. it’s hard not to notice her. we don’t speak a lot - different, um, vibes i guess.”

Do you know anyone at all that she did not get along with?

“azra - azra, are you there? stay with me,” she’s unresponsive but they keep trying, keep talking to her, as they press down on where they imagine her wounds to be; where the blood collects the most, though it’s hard to tell when everything’s a sickening red. the blood doesn’t stop with their hands alone - they don’t realize they’ve taken off their shirt until it’s being pressed against her body, only moments passing before it too is red. “you’re fine - you’re going to be fine. i’m not going anywhere. i promise. azra? are you -”

“this is fucking stupid.” gabe interrupts, leaning their head into the palms of their hands, arms propped up against the cold metal table. if they pressed against their eyes hard enough, they could see shapes behind their eyelids - and if they left it too long, they could make out the shape of azra’s body; the awkward position of her neck, her arms, her legs. “do you have a fucking conspiracy board back there? how many rolls of fucking - red string have you used? this isn’t some isolated accident - azra - azra almost died, like everyone else. and you’re what - just now trying to figure it out?” their voice is hoarse - a rising croak protesting against their throat.

Do you believe they'd be capable of hurting her like this?

she’s so cold; so so cold - or maybe warm, or maybe their hands are cold, and the blood is warm; gabe’s head swarms and bends and shapes. “please - there’s been - there’s been a stabbing,” they speak towards their phone, perched on the last step of the stairs. “i don’t - i don’t know how long she’s going to - please. it’s medusa’s.” salt reaches their mouth, sliding between hiccups and isolated sobs and the repeated chant of the club’s address, “please hurry. please -” his vision spots once, then twice - can hear the distant sirens now, cutting through the too-still air. he just has to keep pressing down - keep pressure on the wound; don’t let go, don’t let go, don’t let -

“on the record? go fuck yourselves.” they stand, then immediately sit again - legs buckling from beneath them. fuck - they were so tired, so so tired. this was too much - all of it, every single murder and injury and police interrogation. how many times were they going to go through this? how many more deaths, how many more graves - grieving families, must they go through? “i don’t know. i don’t know anymore - okay? i can’t even trust that my own reflection won’t fucking stab me through the mirror. go call the fbi - useless virgins, fucking bitches - can i call my mom, now? i - i need to go home.”