#But they have now found themselves so deep in the pit that it's very hard to achieve a win win situation | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

the-forests-blessing · 2 months ago

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Chapter 7

There’s something therapeutic about disabling simple traps set out for him. It’s a daily ritual. There’s a muted sense of pride to be felt in keeping the innocent creatures away from harm, and away from the hunters that invade his forest. The hunters that plague his entire life are a sickness he knows that he’ll never truly be free from. Staying hidden in the forest is the only cure when it comes to survival. There used to be some semblance of a sanctuary he found deep within the heart of the forest. Where the shadows are darker, and the fog is thick. The mobs don’t even find safety and comfort in the glittering teal glow of the foliage and knotted roots.

This is where he thrives, this is where he finds his peace and quiet. That is... until these past few moons.

There’s a pesky blond bee that keeps buzzing around his territory, talking to himself and leaving tracks all over his pathways. Wasted efforts in keeping that human out, for he keeps returning and asking more and more questions. Hard to have an opinion on such an unfamiliar face, he’s never seen him amongst Beacon’s guards nor hunters. Nor.. anybody! While the scholar evades the deity’s enthusiasm, he also evades his will to cast him out after that grandiose display of.. something . Something different that Admin has not seen in all his years of haunting these woods. The human seems to care for the wildlife and has no fear of traversing the fog that lay, having.. apologized for the plucked leaf. Although he’s just a mere scholar, for his insistence and determination, the Admin cannot fault him for just being a human. Though he’s loud, clumsy, and very ill prepared for any sort of threat; Admin felt seen, just for a moment. A spark within the author's gaze, the words he had spoken. Admin had taken the first chance he could to leave him alone now that he’s gotten a much closer look at who’s scaring the birds and stumbling through his trails. That excited gleam in his eye, always pointed upward towards the trees.. It’s no wonder he fell into that pitfall. The insolence of those hunters, they never truly realize the trouble they cause or the dangers they put themselves in, with the scholar included. His boots land heavy in the mud as he makes his own tracks toward the familiar depth of his own woods. Everyday is a different path, but one he’s walked before with the decade he’s spent alone. While images of that blond man flash in his mind like static memories, the deity finds the pitfall once more. The pitfall that seems to be the cause of it all. The forest has been much noisier since the scholar fell, his stupidity was blinded by bravery and curiosity. He’s seen the notes, he’s seen the clothes, and he’s seen the man’s inventory. Not a single weapon wielded by this surprisingly brave author. There’s no right reason why the man would be traveling alone during the night in such an unfamiliar place.

The Admin frowns and shakes his head at the feel of an irritating beetle crawling upon his hair. With a few scratches the pesky little bug goes away. His illuminated gaze rises as he takes in the surrounding foliage. Checking for signs of any further.. tampering. He stands motionless as he then peers down, seeing the pointed wooden stakes that now stick up from the muddy pitfall, the mild scent of residual smoke makes him scrunch up his nose. Horrid. These hunters.. They find one of their own citizens, be it very ill prepared, and they return to not only check the pit, but to make it more dangerous. The scholar would die from this newly set trap. No cover, no ropes, no precautions taken while resetting the pitfall. All it would take is another rainy night. Briefly the sun shines through the clouds, the light catching within his gaze. So he looks upward, shading his darkened eyes with a raised palm. It’s been a very long time since the sun broke through this dense fog. Seeing its light, and feeling the warmth upon his face, seems like years since he’s felt this. And only for a moment too, before the sun is shrouded in the clouds and its rays snuffed out. With an exhale, the Admin looks back down to the pit. Using that same hand raised for the sun, he lowers it just a bit, keeping it hovered above the deep hole. The earth beneath his feet begins to shake as the sound of tearing roots and pouring dirt fills the air. In mere seconds the wooden stakes are buried, snapping loudly as the weight of the dirt and mud begins to settle in fast. Without a sound from the deity himself, he turns his wrist and flexes his fingers before tightly closing a strong fist as the trap is completely filled in. With the author in mind, the patch of land has been restored to its former self. The trap will eventually be forgotten, as were the past traps he’s destroyed already. He scuffs his boot along the damp soil.

Naturally, the grass would take some time, but that’s what’s lovely about the forest, it's his domain and his influence runs deep. With another wave of a mighty blue palm, unseen sprouts come to life and bloom within an instant. The grass grows into a small patch of dark green, while soft white wildflowers puff up and bloom. Naturally weeds come in too, while the soil itself decides what is going to grow. The damp moss will be quick to spread with the fallen rain that still lingers within the substrate, so he leaves it alone to bloom naturally. Admin drops his hand, expressionless as he looks over his work, then over his wide palm adorned by a leather glove torn with time and use. He knows the author will return, no matter how often he’s kicked out. A single deep sigh later and he runs his palm down his face. The area hardly looks the same without the massive hole, the flowers hide the scars. So he turns and carries on his way, further into the thicket. When completely alone, after spending quite a bit of time with the little blue creature, it’s strange when the Allay is not around. The skittish little bugger must be searching for its new friend, the lack of trilling in his ear reminds him that it is his own fault. Behaving in ways he doesn’t understand. He recalls how he treated the author the previous day, coming from the shadows and instilling fear. This man has betrayed everything he knows already about humans; how they lie and cheat, and say what they believe will keep them protected. The Admin grimaces. He is nothing but just another trespasser. One who’s.. Shown interest in the forests biome and refused to believe the rumors spun around by the BeaconTown guard. No threats, no pleading for his life, he only.. ‘You.. don’t talk...’ The man had said.

‘They said you’d kill me..’ The thought never crossed his mind. The scholar's eyes were so painfully honest as he continued to speak. Even after throwing him to the dirt day after day.. It was strange, undeniably different and too friendly. Regardless, the blond is still clumsy, stupid, and distracting. Invasive. Something to keep an eye on, for he may switch up when given the chance.. Admin scratches at his hair yet again, having spent enough time thinking about the scholar, it’s slowed his patrol for long enough and he’s not even here yet. There’s plenty of daylight left, it’s only a matter of time.

Lukas wasted no time packing up for another adventure into the woodland bordering Beacon’s territory. The trees are just too tempting as compared to the drab sights BeaconTown has to offer. Seriously, whoever chose to change the town’s vibrant array of colors to this dull mixture of reds and blacks needs a big wake up call. It just makes the place look so… self centered. A vision composed by one person rather than the citizens the town promised to bestow creativity towards. If it’s the mayor’s doing, someone really needs to go to her office with an extensive and well thought out complaint.

The town would probably benefit better if it was gifted the right to create once again.

What on earth is holding them back?

Our author stands at the end of the grassy field, just barely touching the tree line. His attention was briefly brought back to that imposing tower in the sky. He watches the clouds drift lazily overhead, just barely grazing its peak. Such a powerful monument... He wonders if that’s the place where this mayor resides. Afterall, he hasn’t seen her, or even heard of her outside of the quiet mentions of her existence from few willing conversations here in town. Lukas drags his eyes off it, finding it to be nothing but a distraction from his goal.

Yesterday was a massive leap in progress in comparison to the past week since he arrived in town.

While the Admin certainly did frighten him a tad at first, he quickly reassured himself with the reminder that this is the same guy who had made an effort in saving him from the pitfall. He didn’t have to, but the fact that he did keeps Lukas’ spirits high. He’s not sure what the tension between BeaconTown and the Admin is. He wishes someone would just tell him, but he’s quite confident that that knowledge is far out of reach, at least for now. With a town full of neglected citizens, too weary to speak of the town’s true nature, and with an Admin.. This massive, expressionless, and mute god who keeps his secrets to himself. Well…

Lukas can only hope that with time will come understanding.

Today’s focus is… A proper introduction! And hopefully the Admin accepting his advance in establishing a form of communication that he’d come up with the night prior.

The moment Lukas breaches the dense fog, he can already tell something is different. The fog didn’t linger very long, nor did it take him through a maze of twists and turns. The blue mist filled his vision and, within seconds, he was emerging on the other side of the forest. The Admin’s forest.

Today, he took himself down the most familiar route he’s taken thus far. The same one he’d familiarized himself with on his first adventure through the shadowed woodland before his excitement was cut short by an… unforeseen pitfall trap. The only difference this time is he’s well more acquainted with his surroundings and… Dewey isn’t here. His ocelot companion he knows is safer residing back at the BeacInn. He knows Dewey wants to join him, as he makes a show of it every morning with a begging meow and an extending paw before Lukas heads out the door. Lukas’ heart is crushed every time he leaves him, but ever since he fell into that trap, his mind explores treacherous and unwanted thoughts where it’s Dewey who gets caught, and if there’s deadlier traps awaiting him...

Lukas shakes off that thought. He’s safe back in the room. He’s probably curled up on the bed, dreaming of chasing birds while snoozing in the nearest sun beam.

One thing Lukas recognizes is different about the dark forest as compared to the normal one, is that this one here is undoubtedly more wet. Even with the few rainless days he’s been blessed with, there still seems to be a wealthy supply of moisture enriching the soil here. From the damp moss that covers the trees and their twisted roots, down to the muddy substrate that dirties the forest floor, it makes traversing the forest a bit more tricky, especially not wanting to get his nicer shoes wet.

“Mmmaybe today would have been a good day to wear my gear.” He ponders, gazing down upon the muddy ground. It’s not muddy to the point that the ground will grab his shoes and suction against them like the sticky mud in mangrove swamps, but it is enough to make Lukas a bit less confident in where he’s stepping. The blond sighs and gives his surroundings a good look over before he decides to just get over it. What kind of ecologist would he be if he’s afraid of getting a little dirty? Lukas presses forward, simply keeping a close eye on where he’s stepping.

Eventually, Lukas is approaching a familiar spot. Or well, at least a spot that felt familiar before he approached closer and, to his surprise…

Lukas looks around, recognizing this clearing as something familiar but… different all the same. He could have sworn he was on the correct path that led him to the pitfall he’d been fated to discover. He remembers some of the trees and moss placement from when he would glance up from the map he’d been working on, but…

There is no pitfall. There is, however, a nice little patch of grass sprouting from the earth and what seems to be a few delicate flowers protruding from the damp soil. Lukas approaches the patch, kneeling down and gently laying out his palm. He graces the flower with the soft touch of his palm, examining it closely. “Woah… beautiful.” The blond whispers his awe. “Azure bluet? Growing out here?” He draws his hand back and stands, backing away from the patch. “ That’s strange. Not the kind of flower I’d be expecting to see growing in some place so…” He looks around. “ Dark.” He lifts his journal from his bag and jots down a few notes. “Though I guess strange isn’t anything out of the ordinary here.”

Well… He came here today with a goal. The author sticks his journal back into his bag, closing it with a soft pat. He returns his gaze to the foggy distance of the forest, taking a few minutes to work up his confidence. Why he’s suddenly so anxious to initiate contact with the Admin? He isn’t sure. He probably already knows Lukas is here, but knowing now that the creature who saved him and is the soul protector of these woods is a god… Well, it’s just a bit nerve wracking trying to get the guy's attention, because after most of his short encounters with him, he’s not exactly certain the Admin really wants it.

“Admin! Hello!” Lukas calls out to him anyway. Calling the deity’s… name? Or title. He isn’t sure. That alone encourages Lukas to extend his reach further, calling out louder, listening to how the forest of silence is no more with his continuous calls for attention. “It’s me…again!” The hand he had risen up to his mouth as he called the Admin’s name now falls. The blond looks around, and of course, he’s not seeing much. After yesterday’s outburst, Lukas wonders if he’s simply awaiting a challenge again. Waiting for Lukas to say the wrong thing or make the wrong move just to take advantage of the moment and catch Lukas off guard in some way.

After a whole four minutes of waiting, the Admin never shows. “I guess.. You won’t mind if I go deeper into the forest then?” Lukas tries to instigate some sort of appearance. Nothing.

The ecologist sighs deeply, feeling the heavy pressure of disappointment weigh him down. He carefully walks around the little patch of delicate white flowers, admiring them one last time before he begins to press further in. This will be the deepest he’s gone so far. While he was hoping to at least talk with the Admin, he knows that there’s still much exploring to be had. So he continues onto a new trail, the path dark and muddy.

It’s not long before he’s noticing something deep within the dark mud. Lukas stops and stares, recognizing the unmistakable shape of boot impressions within the damp earth. Excitement surges through him instantly. The blond wanders close, kneeling down to examine the tracks closer until he’s realizing… the impressions are heading towards him. Back to that small clearing with the flower patch. His disappointment returns. He didn’t see any impressions on the way to the clearing, so the Admin must have taken a different route, or he simply teleported himself away, leaving no tracks to follow.

In that single moment, Lukas feels a chill breeze glide by. The blond’s skin prickles with goosebumps, and the hair on the back of his neck raises. Though he doesn’t feel fear, his body reacts to the feeling of being watched. Lukas swiftly turns his head over his right shoulder and… sees nothing. …Silence… That uneasy feeling returns again, so he looks over his left shoulder and still… nothing. “Hello?” Lukas stares back behind himself while he stands, his eyes slowly scanning the trees.

Slowly, the blond drags his gaze away from the path he came and– “Oh my gosh-!” He stumbles back a bit, looking at the cheerful blue spirit he’s been so restless to see again. The Allay laughs at his surprise, the sound so heavenly, it immediately eases the human’s tension. Lukas straightens with a relieved sigh. “It’s you… You and your Admin friend sure do like surprising me, huh?” Lukas’ startled expression has softened since recognizing the Allay, watching it flutter around him merrily. “Have you been following me?” He asks.

The Allay merely blinks at him. Its eyes close as it then nods.

“Heh, you and the Admin sure share some similarities then. …Do you know where he is?” Lukas asks and, to his surprise, watches the Allay stop fluttering to tap at its own face as if to ponder a thought. It emotes similarly to humans, he examines. How much experience does this Allay have around humans? What of its origins? Lukas wonders. He watches the Allay turn and flutter back the way he had come, so he follows it. Out of the thicket and back to that little clearing with the flower patch. Lukas stands at the edge of the small circular space between the trees, watching the Allay closely as it flutters around the bundle of flowers.

“Listen, I don’t think he’s around here, trust me. I spent almost five minutes embarrassing myself by calling him and nothing happened.” He tries to explain, but the Allay itself seems distracted by the flower patch. The little spirit flutters around the patch of white flowers, kind of reminding Lukas of how a bee buzzes around flowers when collecting pollen. He doubts this is anything similar to that, because now the Allay returns to him, clutching a flower close to its body, then drops it off into Lukas’ waiting palm. The author looks down at the plucked flower, confused. “Well, thank you , it’s lovely, but I’m not sure this is going to help me here.” He says as he tucks the azure bluet into his satchel and gives the Allay a gentle smile.

The creature doesn’t seem to be paying much attention to him anymore. Its focus is now maintained on the satchel Lukas carries over his shoulder. The Allay makes a move towards it, pulling at its flap. “Well hold on a sec,” the human chuckles, humored by the little creatures' lack of muscle. Seriously, it could hardly lift the flap open with the golden magnetic strip keeping the flap secure against the bag. “Here, I think I know what you’re looking for,” Lukas walks to the grass patch and settles down on his knees, settling on everything but the flowers. “I wanted to bring enough for both of us this time.” Lukas reaches into this bag and draws out a single bundle, offering it to the Allay. “For you.”

The Allay hesitates.

Lukas tilts his head to the side, puzzled by the lack of reaction. Instead, he holds out the bundle further. “They’re sweet berries. You loved it last time, remember?” he asks.

Lukas’ gaze searches the Allay, wondering what’s gotten it so… immobilized, when suddenly– Our author sucks in a sharp breath, his entire body freezing in place, his hand still and unmoving as another hand, much larger and blue reaches down from behind him and gently takes the bundle from him. Lukas and the Allay both look up, the spirit with a lack of expression, meanwhile Lukas is stunned into silence.

The Admin stands behind him. Tall, dark, and extremely menacing. His illuminated gaze locked with Lukas’ own, again bearing an unfriendly glare that would freeze the hearts of any unfortunate soul who dares trespass into his territory. The bundle stays lifted in his hand as they lock eyes.

“Uhh…” Is the most Lukas is capable of uttering until a few more intense seconds pass. “I uh..” Lukas averts his gaze while he stands, noticing how quick the deity is to take a number of heavy, yet slow steps back from him. The distance between them grows once again, and Lukas is stuck in his spot next to the azure bluets while the Allay comes to a comfortable hover near his shoulder. He glances at the trusting spirit, then back towards the Admin. The silent entity stays close to the shadows of the trees, allowing the most of what Lukas can make out of him only to be his glowing eyes.

“H-hey there..” Keep it together. Our writer straightens himself into a polite and proper posture, closing his eyes briefly just to breathe in and regain his professional composure before opening them once again. “About yesterday.. I apologize humbly for my outburst. Today I hope to make up for my wrongdoing by properly introducing myself.” He reaches out, extending a hand to initiate a handshake. “My name is Lukas.”

…

The deity’s eyes sharply glance down at the invitation, yet he makes no move to return the gesture. Lukas feels his chest tighten with embarrassment, slowly withdrawing his hand and laying it back at his side. “Oookay. We can work on that– the handshake I mean.” He says, scratching awkwardly at the back of his neck with his other hand. “Well. Admin… Should I call you that? Is that just a title or your actual name?” Lukas asks curiously, eyeing the deity with wondrous suspicion. The question only seems to make the Admin’s glare strengthen. Lukas backtracks on that question. “Alright. Admin it is then.” He smiles nervously, though the Admin doesn’t make any attempt at correcting him. Jeez.. He could really use a mere nod or shake of his head right about now.

“Did you hear me calling you earlier?

…

Lukas sighs, finally laying his hands on his hips, his eyes descending to the ground at his feet. What do I say to him!? I know he’s understanding me. What do I do here to get a response? Or just… anything! Lukas’ brows furrow, feeling increasingly worried about what to say. Maybe I should just be forward with him? I don’t really have much of an option if he’s just going to stand there and stare at me.

The Allay is the first to make a move between them, fluttering over to the Admin. Lukas watches as the deity turns his expressionless features to his spirit companion, then to the blond’s surprise, lays the bundle out in his massive palm, allowing it to unravel and the Allay digging in, pulling a berry out. The Allay chimes happily, doing a spin before wandering back over towards Lukas. The author is overjoyed to see the Allay finally accept his offer, albeit from the gloved hands of the Admin. Lukas watches the deity himself tuck the rest of the bundle into one of his own pockets on his utility belt.

Lukas blinks, realizing… “You’re the one that took them before?” He asks, then doesn’t pay much attention for an answer he knows he isn’t going to get. “I figured it was just the Allay, but if you like them too, then I can bring more for all of us when I come back.” He smiles shyly and grasps his arm, knowing damn well he’s practically promising the Admin he’ll be back. He wants to ask if that’s okay, if the deity would like that, but it’s hard to see a point in asking if all he’s going to do is be glared at in return.

Instead, he comes up with a solution to cure the awkwardness. “Oh! Hold on a sec...” Lukas quickly reaches into his satchel, shuffling around a bit until he finds his journal. “Okay, so -” he flips a few pages. “Something I can’t help but notice is our communication barrier. You don’t talk, that’s totally okay, but I do, so I figured why not come to a compromise where it’s not me doing all the talking! Because I don’t want everything to be completely one-sided, you know? I’d like to know what you’re thinking too! So…” Lukas opens his journal entirely and offers it out with one hand, his quill in the other. “I was thinking I could do the verbal form of speech and you could do the writing form.” He finishes, giving the Admin the nicest, friendliest and most sincere smile he can muster.

Hesitation… Then finally his heart skips and his hopes skyrocket the instant he watches both the journal and his quill lift from his hands. Lukas clasps both his hands together and lays them in his lap as he watches with unwavering amazement at the visual of the items floating freely in the air before falling into the hands of the silent Admin. Lukas stands there holding his breath in anticipation, watching the pages flip without a touch, his eyes flicking between the Admin’s own averted gaze, then back down at the journal. Even the Allay is wide-eyed and intrigued by the gesture, watching by Lukas’ side.

The deity’s scowl faces the journal, landing on a page and Lukas swears he might explode from anticipation… all until his hopes are shattered and crushed when the Admin snaps his book shut and flicks his eyes back at him.

“W-wait.. No. Nonono..” Lukas takes a few steps forward, making the deity tense and his glowing eyes flare, yet he makes no move to stop the author. Lukas comes to a halt just a few feet away from him. “Please.” He pleads. “I just… Something. Anything. That's all I’m asking.”

The deity’s glare narrows on him. Lukas suddenly grows extremely distraught. This was all he had left. He’s exhausted himself trying to come up with ways to go about this. If this doesn’t work… then…

“I just want to be able to communicate with you. A simple nod yes or no would mean the world to me. Anything. I–” Lukas stops, his distressed gaze dropping to the ground.

He doesn’t know what reminds him, but he’s suddenly remembering all of the horrible encounters he’s had in BeaconTown this far. How rude and standoffish everyone seems to be towards him, aside from Radar and Nell of course. These past few days have been some of the worst when it comes to social encounters, and for the very first time in his life, he’s found something he’s grown desperate for information towards. Information that seems so frustratingly out of reach, even as it looms only a few feet away from him. No matter how hard he tries to initiate a positive connection, his efforts are futile.

He’s discovered something an ecologist of his stature could only ever truly dream of, yet this person, the Admin, seems like he truly wants nothing to do with him. He’s a god. Something far beyond Lukas’ comprehension. The act of standing here in front of him is truly an incomprehensible honor in itself.

Unless… he is unworthy of receiving the Admin’s verbal or written judgment. He hasn’t exactly made a very good first impression, has he? He’s shown nothing of value to this deity, only that he’s extremely motivated to come back and bother him in his own domain.

He finds that the situation is painfully familiar.

Is this why he doesn’t want to communicate? Because I'm… a nuisance?

“I…” Lukas takes a few steps back now, then turns away. His voice shakes unevenly as he speaks. “I’ve been going about this all wrong.” His face scrunches up, and he exhales a deep sigh. “I came to BeaconTown to explore its territory and study the biomes here. Never in a million years did I ever think I would be arriving in a town full of such draining negativity. I’ve been to so many cities and towns around the world, hearing from all these different people about how BeaconTown is the best place on earth. How the hero’s who built it from the ground up saved the world and wanted to share in the glory by giving the people the freedom to enjoy the lives we’re so luckily given. ‘A beacon of hope’, some people would call it.” Lukas crosses his arms and shakes his head.

“But that’s not what it is. I’ve been met with nothing but hostility, that I thought my one escape, the place where I would feel the most comfortable, is here.” He opens his arms to gesture around, turning back to the Admin now. “Is here in the forest. With nature. Away from people. ” Lukas practically hisses the word. “But now, I realize my presence here is nothing but the same to you as it is back in BeaconTown for me. I was… relentless in the way I kept coming back. You saved my life and I was so obsessed with that, and then– then I challenged you, because I was being selfish and only thinking of myself and what I wanted.” His hands then drop again, clenching into fists with frustration towards his own arrogance. “I see now why you don’t want to talk to me. I wouldn’t want to either. I may as well be the same as them back in town.”

He hadn’t even thought of how the Admin might have taken his own careless actions. Running around in his forest, acting like he’s got the right to be here. Most forests are public and welcome to all, while there are some that are under heavy restriction due to criminal griefers attempting to hide within them amongst other reasons. This may not be the same case, but the forest is clearly off limits to outsiders. Something Lukas has continuously ignored, too caught up with the need to fill his journals and finish his work to care.

Lukas sighs again, hesitantly drawing his gaze back up to the Admin. The man stands still, unmoved since snapping the book shut.

“I apologize for my behavior. I don’t know what I can do to make it up to you, but I swear my intentions here are only good. S-so please… can I… stay?”

There’s no change in the Admins expression, but the power he exerts lightens up. Lukas has finally admitted what he’s doing, and why he’s doing it. The explosive speech from the day prior matches perfectly with the humbleness and gratitude he shows now. He can see that there is truly more to this human than what he expressed yesterday. He senses no hostility and garners no hard feelings towards Lukas , he simply has no reason to trust him.

Yet, here they both stand. Lukas is standing just beyond the wildflowers that Admin had bloomed not long ago. He may not trust him just yet, but with these patterns, Lukas has had plenty of time to ruin his sanctuary or to attempt and join in the hunt.

Admin looks to the journal, then back to the remorseful author.

Then… grants him a small nod.

Accepting the apology for what it is while acknowledging and allowing Lukas’ need to explore and study.

Lukas is.. different. The Allay seems to enjoy the scholar's presence and the berries he’s brought. That alone is another reason why Admin gives his permission, he trusts the Allay’s judgment. After all, Admin views him as.. harmless. For now. No self respecting hunter would double down so easily, let alone apologize . Hearing him talk, It sounds like Lukas isn't being welcomed with open arms, confirming that BeaconTown has only gotten worse.

Strange how it's still hailed as a community welcoming all considering how long it's been. Drawing people like Lukas in, only to spit at the ground he walks on and tell him to leave. Nobody has ever ventured this far with an honest heart, not without joining the forces he’s so passionately against. There was a time that he’d still try to keep an eye on BeaconTown, but as the fireworks stopped and the lights went out.. there was nothing left for him.

The Admin nods, accepting his apology and… initiating the very first communicative response Lukas has been desperate for. The blond stills, shocked and completely taken off guard by the act. This was not the response he was expecting. Lukas lights up instantly, all of the remorse he’d previously been feeling disappearing from his pale features to make room for the excitement that lights up his teal eyes.

“R-really!? Oh my gosh you mean it!?” Lukas asks with disbelief. Even the Allay is stunned, posing next to Lukas and mimicking his shocked demeanor.

The Admin rolls his illuminated eyes at them both, then turns.

And he rolled his eyes!? This might be Lukas’ lucky day.

The journal and quill blink out of the Admin's hands, and instantly Lukas feels the added weight of their presence return to his satchel. The Admin returns to the shadows of the surrounding trees, making no move to look back when he hears a loud “Yesssss!” from the clearing he’s leaving behind him.

The Allay chooses to stay with Lukas to the author’s delight. While he and the little spirit celebrate this monumental day of progress, he does still wonder… His hands drop and his gaze looks back to the thicket the Admin disappeared in. The same path Lukas was intending to use to traverse deeper into the woodland.

Will he be watching me when I come back?

Part of him really hopes so.

Coming back to BeaconTown feels almost as incredible as the first time he arrived now that he’s finally made a positive connection with the Admin. For all the other times he’s returned feeling defeated, returning to his room to confront his journals and search for new ideas. This is the first time he’s not looking for new ways to enter the forest or finding ways to get the Admin’s attention. He gained his permission, which means he’s more or less welcome to visit whenever he pleases!

He enters through the broken wall just as he usually does every day, avoiding unwanted interactions in town by taking the alleyway to get through the BeacInn’s back door. All is going accordingly, until the author’s arm is grabbed by a strong grip and aggressively turned around. Lukas gasps in shock, immediately clutching at this satchel and holding it close.

“I knew it!”

Lukas’ wide eyes instinctively narrowed on the man, immediately recognizing him as one of the hunters who accompanied the search party the other night. Lukas scowls at him while looking over his appearance.

Super short, choppy brunette hair. Looks quite untidy. A nasty scar on his forehead, as well as his left cheek. He’s got green eyes glaring back at him and a very unpleasant frown to match them. Lukas returns the glare, pulling his arm away from the man and taking a step back.

“You keep going back to the forest! Even after Jack told you not to.” The man growls, clenching his fists and baring his teeth. “What do you think you’re doing in there!?”

Lukas raises a single eyebrow, giving the man a judgmental look up and down before turning away. “What’s it matter to you?”

“What’s it matter to me?” The man takes heavy steps forward, getting far too close for Lukas’ comfort. The author bristles, flashing the hunter with a defiant glare. “You aren’t authorized to enter those woods. Only hunters like me can do that. You’re an outsider.” He scoffs, crossing his arms. “And a stupid one at that.”

Lukas is… absolutely astounded by this stranger’s hostility. He’s definitely the same man from before. The one who’d been questioning that Jack fellow. His name… What was his name again? Lukas searches his memory banks whilst the hunter continues.

“What’s your problem? Cat got your tongue? You know you aren’t supposed to be in there so give me one good reason why I shouldn’t go and report you to Petra.”

Petra?

That’s a new name.

“Psh, I’m not scared of your threats.” Lukas rolls his eyes, releasing his satchel and allowing it to lay back down beside his hip. “If you must know, I’m only exploring the forest for my ecological studies.”

“Ecological studies? What’s that supposed to be? Nerd bullshit?” The hunter steps in closer, causing Lukas’ own uncomfortable expression to strengthen, leaning away. “What have you seen out there?”

Lukas backs away again , feeling increasingly more uncomfortable as the seconds pass. “What have I seen? I don’t know, a pine cone or two.”

“What else have you seen!” The man practically shouts.

“Uhh.. Oh! You know I think I saw a bird too.” Lukas smirks and shrugs.

“Hah.. Okay.. A smart ass are you?” The man hesitates before he backs off, shaking his head with his own cocky, prideful grin. “Then I guess you won’t mind me bringing this up to the mayor. She’ll make sure your little studies are put to an end real quick. You’ll see.” He fixes Lukas with a spiteful glare one last time before sharply turning away, leaving Lukas alone in the alleyway to stand there and soak in what just happened.

“What is his problem?” He draws out slowly.

After a few seconds of standing still to let his adrenaline die back down, the author sighs and turns away. Lukas decides not to linger and quickly makes his way back into the BeacInn. He quietly greets the front desk girl while he heads up the stairs to his room.

His mind is storming, searching his memories of that dark, rainy night. It’s when he gets back to his room and sets his things down and watches while Dewey eats does he stop and remember.

Aiden. His name was Aiden.

That was the name Jack used to refer to him.

Lukas scowls at a random spot in his room, thinking about the hunter and his venomous words. There’s no denying it. This Aiden person is going to become a problem. He seems far more ambitious than the other hunter’s, going so far as to search Lukas out. Wait… was he waiting for him to return? He said he knew it, in regards to Lukas going to the forest, so has he been suspicious of him since the beginning? Or did Lukas fail to leave the town without being noticed?

The blond is stumped, as well as a little worried.

Aiden said he’d be reporting his outings to the forest to the mayor. If that’s the case then he’s going to have to come up with plenty of reasonable excuses.

So much for that amazing feeling he’d come back with. Now he’s ridden with anxiety.

Well… it was only a matter of time.

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kpopsexstories · 6 days ago

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TXT MOST MEMORABLE SEX – Story #7: TOMORROW X TOGETHER (Pt. 2/3)

This is a bonus story for my series Most Memorable Sexual Experiences of TXT. The story is published in three parts over three days.

Story: A (male) stranger catches the boys of TXT in the act and offers to blow them.

Type: UNCONVENTIONAL

Content: Blowjob

Word Count: 3,276 (7,997 including Pt. 1 and 3)

Members: Soobin, Yeonjun, Taehyun, Hueningkai, Beomgyu

Read Part 1.

Story #7: TOMORROW X TOGETHER – Bonus Story (Part 2 of 3)

“Oh,” a deep voice suddenly exclaimed, and it sent a shock wave through all five boys of TXT.

They were in the communal showers of a local sports center, after a friendly 2-on-3 game of volleyball on their day off. They stood naked, lined up side by side along the wall, warm water flooding down on their heads.

By the entrance, where the unexpected voice had come from, stood a man; muscular and broad, with a white towel wrapped tightly around his waist.

Oh fuck!

Though none of the boys were touching each other, ample space between them, they each held a rock hard cock in their hands. For the past ten minutes they had joked, fooled around, and somehow gotten hard in the process.

The fact that they were in a place that could be visited by others despite the odd time of day had escaped their minds completely. Now, reality came crashing down on them. It was horrifying and powerful, like a freight train striking a car.

No one had expected things to go this far. They hadn't pleasured each other, only themselves while the others were watching. But needless to say, the strange man had walked in on something very forbidden, and as he stopped in his tracks by the entrance to the long and narrow shower room, he became speechless.

From the left, closest to the entrance where the man was standing, he was met by the following sight and reactions to his sudden appearance:

Soobin, who became wide-eyed and stopped stroking his cock in an instant as his heart sank to the pit of his stomach.

Beomgyu, who immediately placed both hands in front of his pelvis, but failed to keep his rock hard boner from peaking out behind his wrists.

Hueningkai, whose reaction to the shock they were all now experiencing was to burst out laughing uncontrollably, while pushing his dick downward against his thigh to hide it.

Taehyun, who had a larger gap between himself and Hueningkai, abruptly turned around to face the wall and Yeonjun. He instead exposed his bare ass while water flushed down his back and broad shoulders.

And finally, at the far end, Yeonjun who remained standing in front of his shower head, with his legs slightly apart and hard cock pointing straight out between his fingers.

“Hi,” he said and smiled wide. Humor was his way of dealing with stressful situations.

“We're so sorry!” Soobin exclaimed and looked away from the stunned stranger. He was the mature one, and he knew that they had fucked up royally.

Hueningkai kept laughing. Taehyun wanted to sink through the floor or be flushed through the drain, and remained silent with his face against the wall.

Beomgyu, who frequented the sports center and was the one who had invited the boys, knew that he would never be able to return. If they wouldn't be banned for life anyway he would be too ashamed to ever show his face here again.

The man, however, found joy in Hueningkai's laughter, took pity on the shame and shock he sensed to strongly from the young men, and felt relaxed when his eyes met Yeonjun's grin at the far end. He also felt like he recognized some of them but couldn't quite place them. Maybe he had just seen them around.

“It's okay,” he said.

As it turned out, it was more than okay. He. Found it amusing. He wasn't horrified or angry or ashamed to clearly have caught the boys masturbating in public. Quite the opposite, in fact.

As he glanced from person to person in front of him, the man's heart skipped several beats. Even in the nude, even without makeup, the young men were incredibly beautiful, handsome and sexy. When he saw the buffet of hard dicks he quickly felt a strong tingle between his legs.

He was beyond happy and excited to have walked in on this scene. Even if he was shooed out by the boys now – which he fully expected to be – the mental image would forever be etched onto his brain. He knew that he would probably jerk off to the thought of the five horny young men he once saw in the communal showers, countless times for the rest of his life.

And who could blame him?

None of the boys, however, intended to kick the man out. They were the ones in total shame, who had just been caught doing something totally inappropriate and possibly illegal. Masturbating in public. They fully expected the man to get angry and kick them out, maybe report them.

Fuck, Soobin thought. Fuck!

Will he call the police? both Beomgyu and Hueningkai wondered. They weren't sure how serious something like this was, if it was indeed illegal and what punishment they might face.

Our careers are over, Taehyun knew. If this got out it actually might be.

Damn, he's hot, Yeonjun thought and kept smirking.

If anyone should leave it was them, and they all knew it. The heart-aching shame and gut-wrenching embarrassment most of them felt in this moment was real.

Taehyun was the first to suggest it out loud, that they would leave. Standing at an angle, with his ass and back to the man, he turned his head slightly and glanced with a frightened expression at Yeonjun, who met his eyes. “Fuck,” he whispered. “We have to go.”

Beomgyu, despite not hearing Taehyun several shower heads away, was the first to act on the thought. His dick was growing soft and he suddenly felt brave enough to take a step forward. With his eyes fixed on his feet and his hands over his crotch he prepared to walk around the man, back into the changing rooms outside, and disappear from the sports center forever.

Soobin wanted to do the same, but the exit and the man blocking it was so close he was afraid to move a muscle. He might get punched, if the man was upset and disgusted by their indecent activity. What would he do if Soobin got too close with his dick still hard?

The man, however, reacted very differently than expected to Beomgyu's attempt to get the hell out.

“Wait,” he said without thinking. He instantly regretted it, realizing that he was the one who might be about to embarrass himself. He too wondered if the stranger in front of him would react negatively.

Yeonjun briefly glanced at Taehyun, but he didn't respond to the suggestion his friend had whispered. Instead, the stranger’s odd reaction to Beomgyu made something flip in his head.

Before his brain registered the thought, his subconscious concluded that there was a shot at redeeming the situation and making it out without being officially or mentally barred and scarred for life.

“Wanna join?” he asked and smiled at the man. Instinctively, he started stroking his cock slowly and seductively with his hand.

The man stared at him wide-eyed from across the narrow room. He too spoke without thinking. “Sure.”

This sent another shock through the boy's slim bodies. Yeonjun's gamble paid off.

All this happened very quickly, in mere seconds. Hueningkai was still laughing, but instead of the laughter turning hysterical in the midst of the panic-inducing situation, it now turned calm and became just a light, nervous giggle.

What did they just say? Soobin, Beomgyu, Hueningkai and Taehyun all wondered simultaneously.

Yeonjun, however, had started down a path and now he couldn't stop. “We were arguing about who should suck who,” he said and took a step back, into the water under his shower head, as if the statement wasn't weird at all. The honesty was surprising to say the least.

It was weird, but it was also true. They had joked about and playfully debated whether the winners or losers should suck the other team off; whether it was a punishment or a reward. But only ever as a joke. Never as something they actually expected. Though truth be told several of them secretly wanted it.

The man had to make a split second decision. Was the hot guy at the other end of the room serious? He decided to play it cool.

“Oh,” he said and calmly took a few steps forward, past Soobin and Beomgyu who looked away in shame. He tried to appear casual as if he was just going for the shower he came in for.

The man let go of the towel around his waist with one hand and pulled it away with the other, revealing the entirety of his fit, naked body. All looked away except Hueningkai and Yeonjun, whose eyes instinctively moved to the man's exposed dick. It was still soft, but not for much longer.

The man raised his arm and hung the towel on a hook at the opposing wall, directly in front of Hueningkai. There was a free shower head between Kai and Taehyun, but the stranger was too nervous himself to face either of the men closest to him.

Instead, he kept looking in Yeonjun's direction. His firm ass cheeks swayed as he walked toward the shower head. When he stepped into the water, he turned his back to the wall and calmly started washing his body, as if this whole situation was perfectly normal.

He leaned forward and looked past Taehyun, at Yeonjun who was the one who had invited him. “So, who's winning?” he asked casually. His mind was working fast as he attempted to appear cool, calm and collected.

Soobin, who was relieved that the man had moved away from him but still overwhelmed with the powerful feeling of being scared shitless, felt that getting in on the conversation was a way to smooth things over. “I am,” he said matter-of-factly, fully aware that it would respark the debate with Yeonjun.

This caught Beomgyu off guard. When his friend spoke right next to him, he realized that he found himself at a crossroads. If he too had been acting without thinking – or perhaps if he had actually been thinking more clearly – he would probably have kept walking and left the room quicker than anyone could react.

Instead, he had been standing still ever since the man said “wait”. When Soobin suddenly uttered his words, Beomgyu stepped back into the water as not to stand in the way of an ongoing conversation. Being exposed between the others felt awkward.

Taehyun had felt the man approaching from behind, but now felt calmer when he realized that the man had stopped, and that he didn't seem at all upset. For the first time since they heard the stranger's voice, he turned around and looked straight ahead.

The man, who stood right next to him, couldn't stop himself from glancing down, in the hopes of getting a glimpse of another dick, and to see if Taehyun too was hard.

He was not. Enough time had passed for his body to react and blood to move away from his shaft. Now, he instinctively squirted some soap from a container on the wall and started rubbing it on his body, a strong desire to keep occupied in order not to feel awkward. He too wanted to act as if nothing was out of the ordinary at all.

Yeonjun, however, still had a firm grip around his dick and kept stroking it. He could and should just have stopped, but he had already panicked and didn't know how to handle it. Flirting was his natural reaction.

The man raised his not-so-discreet gaze from Taehyung's crotch to Yeonjun's hard shaft behind it. He could no longer contain himself. Holy fuck was this hot, and damn did he feel lucky! Five incredibly hot boys, naked and horny together. The whole situation felt unreal, but incredibly arousing.

So arousing, in fact, that he could no longer keep his own dick in check. He raised his gaze further, meeting Yeonjun's eyes and and still smiling face. He moved his hand down his stomach and to his cock, which he too began to stroke as the two horny men maintained eye contact.

This was his chance. A decisive moment which could end horribly wrong or work out to be the greatest thing to happen to him this year.

“I could do it,” he said as his cock grew to full size and he kept stroking it slowly. “Suck you I mean.”

This was a moment of truth for the boys too. Hueningkai's reaction was the most obvious to everyone. His low giggle turned into another laugh.

Soobin and Beomgyu looked at each other, not at all sure what to make of the whole thing. Taehyun kept staring straight ahead, slowly washing his body, his distinct nose and lips pouting while he rubbed the front of his body with his hands.

When he heard the man's off-hand suggestion he had no idea if he was joking. But he sensed the man's movements, saw them in the corner of his eye, and understood what the man was doing without having looked to confirm. He instantly felt a renewed tingle between his legs.

Yeonjun too was surprised. But he wasn't at all against the idea. His seductive behavior, which was a reaction to fear, was also genuine.

In fact, none of the boys were against it. They had all just gone through their individual thought processes and internal debates of whether or not they could and should jerk off together, in the minutes before the man appeared. They had all, in silence in their own heads, reached the conclusion that they were more than fine with that.

They had been incredibly horny and hard, aroused and curious. Some of them still were. So by the time a strange – but arguably fit and hot – man suggested he would suck them off, since none of them had expressed a willingness to do that for their friends, their minds and bodies were already in the perfect place to accept the situation.

Yeonjun, who had started down this path and who the boys all knew was someone who would do something crazy like this, made a quick decision in his head. By now he knew that he could probably say no. They could excuse themselves and leave and that would be the end of things. The man wouldn't complain about what they had been caught doing.

But he genuinely didn't want to. Instead, he met the man's gaze, stepped out of the shower to walk around Taehyun, and stopped in front of the stranger at an arm's length. He held his cock in his hand and pointed it right at him, while looking the him directly in the eye.

The man suddenly smiled wide, but the smile quickly disappeared when his brain registered what was about to happen. Holy fuck! he thought, while working hard not to show how happy and excited he really was.

Slowly, he bent a knee. He kept his eyes fixed on Yeonjun's, who followed him down with his gaze. When his face was below Yeonjun's chest, he broke the eye contact and looked down.

Yeonjun's eyes widened, then he shut them and tilted his head back. His drenched hair clung to the back of his neck and he let out of a soft moan.

The man placed a hand on his hip for balanced, and kissed the tip of the dick pointing at his face. Yeonjun held his breath, then moaned a little louder when the man wrapped his lips around the dick head.

No one else made a sound. Everyone was stunned. Even Hueningkai stopped laughing.

What the fuck? Taehyun thought when he finally turned to look at the scene unfolding right next to him.

“What the fuck?” Beomgyu mouthed and turned to Soobin, as if seeking confirmation that what he was witnessing was indeed happening.

Soobin, however, didn't turn to face Beomgyu. Instead, he kept his eyes fixed at the man's head between Yeonjun's legs at the other end of the line, and grabbed his own cock again. Slowly he began to pleasure himself, with his mouth half open as he became fully hard a second time since they entered the showers.

Hueningkai too was mesmerized. For the first time since the man entered, he stopped trying to hide his boner. He relaxed his body and leaned against the wall, while water rushed down his face and he kept glancing in the direction of his friend being sucked by a stranger.

The man, realizing that they had the attention of the room and that all eyes were probably on him, started bobbing his head back and forth as he took Yeonjun's dick deeper in his mouth, and tightened his grip around Yeonjun's thigh.

Simultaneously, he raised his free hand. Without looking, he felt his way to Taehyung's body, and pulled the man a little closer.

Taehyun let it happen. He turned to face his friend, who lowered his head back down and looked at him with a huge grin.

Taehyun didn't smile back, but he took a step closer to the action. Yeonjun put a hand on his shoulder. The skin felt warm, heated for so long by the hot shower.

The man reached up. He grabbed Yeonjun's shaft and took it out of his mouth, then turned in Taehyung's direction.

As if he could read his mind, Yeonjun looked at his friend and said: “Just let it happen.”

Taehyun did just that, and for the first time he too smiled softly, when the man below him grabbed his dick and kissed it. It took only seconds before it was swallowed, and Taehyun felt the great sensation of soft, wet lips around his head, and a tongue reaching out to play with it.

“Ahh,” Yeonjun exclaimed audibly when the man tightened his grip around his shaft and began to stroke it.

The loud moan caused a reaction in all three of the remaining men. Hueningkai, who was still leaning against the wall and watching the scene, let go of any inhibitions he had left and started stroking himself faster. Briefly, he pushed away from the wall and turned a knob to shut the water off, which had gone in his eyes and mouth.

Beomgyu, who had been the first to go soft when they were caught, was fully hard but still tried to hide his boner from the others. Of all the men in the room he appeared the most shy.

Soobin, who was pleasuring himself at an ever faster pace, suddenly realized that they might not be alone. He was the first and only one to think that they should probably check to make sure no one else would walk in on them.

“Someone might come,” he said out loud, to warn the others that their act was risky.

Yeonjun turned to look at him, while placing a hand on the strange man's head. This prompted the man to take Taehyung's dick out of his mouth and return to the original shaft.

“Stand guard,” Yeonjun said, then let out another audible moan as the man began to suck him.

“Oh my god, are we really doing this?” Hueningkai suddenly asked. They already were doing it, but only now did his brain catch up. It had all happened so fast.

“Yeah,” Yeonjun said with a grin. Then he turned to Taehyun. “It feels amazing right?”

Despite having been sucked already, Taehyun too was only now registering what they were actually doing. He hesitated for a moment, then burst out in an enormous grin. “Fucking great!” he confirmed happily.

Below them, the man was smiling wide to himself.

Read Part 3 ➡️

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all-eyes-lead-to-the-truth · 1 year ago

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All Eyes Lead to the Truth | Herrenvolk (4x01)

Through the dull roar of blood rushing to his ears, he can hear everything. The residents of Hegal Place are unwinding, kids are arguing with their parents about wanting to stay up later, the opening music to a show he never got to watch is playing through old speakers, couples in love are discussing their plans for the days ahead of them.

His knee slips in his own blood as he struggles to pull himself to the end of the hallway and he falls forward, his chin hitting the surface in front of him as his body throbs from the force. The smooth leather of his gloves makes it hard for him to find enough purchase on the floorboards to push himself forward. It’s starting to become hard to know what direction he’s facing, where he was trying to go in the first place.

He’d become the very thing he’d always admonished. There was no such thing as playing against these people; by the time you realized what game was being played, you’d already lost.

He might not have been there when they’d disposed of Ronald Pakula, but he’d taken out enough whistleblowers to know what would happen to himself in the next couple of hours. His body would go cold in Fox Mulder’s hallway, scaring the shit out of one of his hapless neighbors, then the syndicate would intercept the 911 call, and some men dressed as paramedics would take his body before driving off in an unmarked vehicle. The only reason that grey-haired bastard didn’t take his body immediately was to send a message to Mulder, but they’d be back.

If he’s lucky, maybe they’d bury a dummy in a plot with the name his father gave him etched into the marble. Realistically, he would be thrown in a pit with the bodies of other people who were stupid enough to think they could go against men who thought themselves gods.

No one would remember him, and if they did, they would struggle to remember a name they were never told. The memory of his existence would remain occluded by the shadows he lived in.

Someone once told me-

There was a man-

A friend in the FBI-

Somewhere along the way he’d lost himself, and these men would make sure there would be nothing left of him to be found.

The bitter taste of copper feels sharp on his tongue. A bead of sweat trails down his face, falling into the corner of his eye before sliding down his cheek in place of the tears he refuses to shed. He swallows. The corners of his vision are blurring, but Mulder’s door frame is crystal clear.

Being a part of this world meant making sacrifices. It was foolish to expect to gain something without giving something in return. Fox Mulder couldn’t get that through his thick skull. His loyalty to Agent Scully was an Achilles heel on his favored leg.

Give or take a few months and she’ll be dead; they said the tumor was likely the size of a golf ball by now. There was a betting pool on when she’d get her first nosebleed.

He could tell she didn’t even know she was dying. His wife hadn’t either, but then again, a bullet to the back of the head was a lot less noticeable than a cancerous growth, even if it was the same hand pulling the trigger.

Mulder would have to learn to live with it, just like he did.

His blood was seeping into the wood, staining the areas where the varnish had worn thin. It would be polished over, maybe replaced with tile by morning.

It wasn’t how he imagined his last act. His hair wasn’t gray, the lines on his face weren’t deep enough. His golden pond was empty and his swan song was out of tune. Unlike all those bastards, he didn’t have any children to live on in his memory — so he would just have to use one of theirs.

Dragging himself over the threshold of Mulder’s door frame felt like nails digging into his flesh. His hands shook as he raised his arm and struggled against the weight of this moment.

The old man didn’t get to choose his successor, but he would.

Their conversations hadn’t extended beyond the lies and half truths they were trained to expound, but he was proficient in reading between the lines. Beyond the prim pantsuits and coiffed platinum hair was a woman who knew the men in charge were no better than children playing with matches.

She’ll know what to do.

S R S G

Read the rest of All Eyes Lead to the Truth on Archive of Our Own!

@gaycrouton

#all eyes lead to the truth #herrenvolk #mulder #scully #msr #x files #fanfic #x files fanfic #x #mister x #mr x #season four #s4 #4x01

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theboysfromaustin · 6 months ago

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Excerpt from The Dogman of Detroit: How I Inadvertently Became an Urban Legend by Gav Mitsuwa-Gabriel.

----

This was my first time staying out longer than overnight. It had been three days, but I knew from experience my family would often ignore me for a week at a time, occasionally sliding plates of food scrap under my closed door. I think the longest was a week and a half, at which point my mom screamed at me, yanking me out by the arm, telling me to “be part of this family.”

Which is both awful and grimly hilarious in hindsight.

I don't know why I'd go back. Perhaps I thought there was some shred of hope that something would click and we'd become the Cleavers. I was in an abandoned neighborhood - I don't recall which one, but half the houses were burned out. Houses that were lit up were allowed to burn themselves out - his was no man's land, and emergency services weren't going to respond for some derelict heap. More than once, I'd sit on top of a house and watch another be burned to its foundation by bored teenagers.

I mean, I was a teenager, but I was looking for food, and occasionally trying on women's clothes. I was young and trying to figure out my sexuality - my son-in-law is a drag queen, so I get it. Anyway, I'd found a house that hadn't burned or collapsed, and I was on the hunt for food I could add to my supply cache, which was split between under a tree in an abandoned lot, and under a floorboard that was under the mattress in my room.

So, I was sorting through canned goods, wondering who actually liked peas, when I heard it. There were sounds that sent me into escape mode, namely approaching vehicles and voices, but this was different - it was a low growl. I froze - I hadn't had much dog experience at this point, but I knew it was a warning.

I'm not afraid of dogs by any means, but I do respect the hell out of them.

I turned, still holding a can of SPAM, to see a large pit bull in the doorway. “Hey, buddy.” Another growl, the dog lurching forward unsteady. In the dim light, I could see he was bloody, torn up, “It's okay.” His eyes were glassy as I slowly popped the Spam open, taking a handful. I knelt, offering it to him, “C'mon, boy.”

With a groaning whine, he stumbled forward, taking the food. Carefully, I stroked him, hand immediately covered in blood, “You're a good boy.” His tail wagged weakly, and my heart hurt for him - he wasn't going to make it. His neck had been opened up, and I could see deep gouges of exposed muscle. I emptied the can, letting him eat. The dog whined softly, leaning on me, and I picked him up. He was very light, and I headed for the first floor bedroom. The bed still had blankets, and I lay him there, crawling in next to him.

I refused to let him die alone.

He lay his head down, eyes open as I stroked his fur. Even bloodied and beaten, he was a beautiful dog, a rich red brindle, undeserving of his fate. I know dog fighting is a huge problem in Detroit, god knows I buried enough of the victims. “You're such a good boy. I love you. People really screwed you up, but you still trust me. You…” I swallowed hard, “You can go now, you don't have to hurt. Good dog. Such a good boy.”

The dog sighed deeply, tail thumping softly. I kept my hand on his side, feeling his breathing gradually stop. I cried for this poor dog - at this point, I didn't really have a great grasp on death or any composure. Still don't, as an adult, Ian was the last, but he trusted me as the executor of his will, so I had to pull myself together.

I carefully wrapped the dog in a blanket, and found a hand shovel and some old wood scrap from a burned house. I'd found a pocket knife, so I could carve it as a marker. My parents would have killed me if they knew I was going to give a dog a proper Christian burial.

I threw what I could in the backpack I'd found my first time out, picked up the dog, and began heading for a lot that wasn’t far off. The digging was the worst part, honestly. The sun was starting to go down, so I had to work fast, having no flashlight. At night, in those areas, you didn't want to draw attention to yourself.

I managed a hole about two and a half feet deep, big enough to place him in and still have decent coverage. The dirt didn't fill it all the way up - never does, so you're left with a bit of a divot in the earth. “You were a good dog, and I wish I could have helped you. I hope my bit of kindness eased your pain.”

Then I stared at the piece of wood. He needed a name, a strong name. I began to carve a name for him, I wasn't letting him die nameless.

The first of the animals I buried - Lazarus.

#oc #original character

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zoetropia · 11 months ago

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Zoetropia’s Top 10 Albums of 2022

I listened to 124 records released in 2022. Here are my favorite. First, an unordered list of albums I really liked that didn't make the top 10:

The Beths - Expert in a Dying Field Widowspeak - The Jacket Margo Cilker - Pohorylle Kevin Morby - This Is A Photograph The Smile - A Light for Attracting Attention Spoon - Lucifer On The Sofa Pinegrove - 11:11 Jim Bryson - Country Wifi Porridge Radio - Waterslide, Diving Board, Ladder to the Sky Destroyer - Labyrinthitis Color Green - Color Green Night Shop - Forever Night Special Interest - Endure MJ Lenderman - Boat Songs caroline - caroline Jake Xerxes Fussell - Good and Green Again

And now for the top 10:

10. Beach House - Once Twice Melody: Beach House always seemed to be a band itching to put out a double album. They even put out two albums back to back in 2015, so just seems like they saved us the two month wait this time around. If you like Beach House, you know what you're getting into here: their full, expansive sound polished into a glittering diamond. And fans will find much here to treasure and rediscover over repeated listens. Some of their finest ever songs are "buried" deep in here. Thus the pleasure of a double LP. And while they're not the type of band to explore a bunch of different ideas across an hour and a half, if you're looking to get lost in their vibe, this is the perfect record to do it in.

9. Deserta - Every Moment, Everything You Need: No matter how popular music trends shift and change, I will always have a soft spot for shoegaze. The more sweeping, dreamy, and cinematic, the better, and I'm instantly transported to late nights lying in bed, headphones on, adrift in a sea of sound. This album brings me exactly that. Tidal waves of reverbed guitar, walls of synths, whispered vocals, you've heard it all before, but it's hard to do it without sounding like a parody or too much of an overt homage. I'm not quite sure what the formula is to avoid all that, but this record does it. And I'm more than happy to be swept away.

8. black midi - Hellfire: There's something about this band's ability to rein in their careening noise with such precise control that really speaks to me, and this record captures the excitement of never really being sure what lies around the next turn. Sometimes this approach can backfire, but here, every choice works for me. It's dizzying but in a good way, less like a tornado and more like a thrill ride. But either way, I'm still paying attention.

7. Witch Fever - Congregation: Nice to have a new band that still makes me feel like I can put these weary bones back in to the pit were I to see them live. This is exactly what I look for in punk music: heavy, angry, and cathartic. Sour might very well be my favorite track of the year, and the rest of the record doesn't lag far behind in making me want to scream along and toss a few people around in a pit. Every year needs a good "fuck yeah/you/everything" record and this is mine for 2022.

6. Horsegirl - Versions of Modern Performance: What do you get when you have a young group that listens to way too much 90s indie (with a heavy emphasis on Yo La Tengo), plenty of music family bonafides, and the quietly revolutionary spirit of being a low-to-the-ground guitar band in the age of poptimism? A band much like this, I would guess. Their balance of tuneful and noisy is always something I always dig, and hell, if you get the cred of Yo La Tengo having you open for them at one of their Hanukkah shows, you are aces in my book. The kids are alright, after all.

5. Camp Cope - Running with the Hurricane: Well if this is going to be it for Camp Cope, they picked a good one to go out on. It's a bit of a shame, sure, as this record feels like they have finally found a sound they could call their own. Georgia Maq's vocals soar as ever and the relaxed instruments let these heartfelt songs speak for themselves. They contain big feelings in a small space, like a lonely teenager in their bedroom. And who wasn't ever one of those? This is music that makes my heart swell to bursting. It hurts but it feels so good.

4. Big Thief - Dragon New Warm Mountain I Believe In You: I was not as quick to crown Big Thief as the best thing to happen to American indie as a bunch of other people were, and my distaste for hyperbole still prevents me from doing so, but I can not deny the strength of the song catalog they have built up over the years. And more importantly (to me, at least), they have started learning how to put together proper albums. And here is the ever important double album, crucial to every rock band's trajectory. Rare for a double album, there's a hardly a bum track here, and easily some of their best. It's hard to hold a listener's interest for almost an hour and a half but Big Thief bounces across tempos and styles enough to keep things interesting throughout and there's nary the stink of filler. This is the work of a band that is clicking on all cylinders and letting themselves stretch out a bit. The looseness suits them.

3. Black Country, New Road - Ants From Up There: A band that figured out how to put it together just to have their lead singer up and quit on them. It may be one of the great "what could have been" stories but that is yet to be determined. At least we have this, an intricate, incisive, lush collections of songs that finds this collective all working at their absolute peak, delivering on the promise of their debut and then some. The songs are just a bit more accessible but still just as maximal, and they crest and crash with a lovely sweeping catharsis. This is big music made for and by people with big hearts, and boy do I love to be caught up in it.

2. Plains - I Walked With You a Ways: The indie country revival (and its continuing to request to reclaim a rich genre from the bros and corporations that have dominated its image for decades) couldn't have much better representation than this record. Jess Williamson and Katie Crutchfield both grew up with and among country music and here, they put their considerable songwriting powers to work carrying the tradition forward while putting plenty of their individual personality into each song. It's a lovely, rich listen, and I do hope it's not the only thing we get of these two working together.

1. Gilla Band - Most Normal: Why do I love this band that sounds like someone having a nervous breakdown in the midst of an agonizing bout of tinnitus? It's not something I can quite put into words. I guess that's why the music is there. It's certainly not for everybody, and Gilla Band is probably my favorite band that I can't recommend to most people I know. But if you ever need a pounding sledgehammer of noise to flood your ears to maybe cancel out the noise that's coming from your brain, this band is here for you. May they always be.

#top 10 #best of #best of 2022 #music

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ofourmaker · 2 years ago

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Andrew ran up the steep slope of the alley, steadying his satchel with one hand and his glasses with the other. The brown brick walls rushed past close on either side, and he watched carefully for uneven places or rubbish that might trip him, while keeping an eye on his watch. But he would surely be able to make it in three minutes, wouldn’t he?

He did. In a square space off the end of a long narrow alley, a place like a pit between four buildings which came together pinwheel fashion, a hidden, forgotten place deep in the old city, there Andrew waited out the last thirty seconds.

His alarm beeped, and he hastily covered it and struggled to silence it, without much reason other than nervousness and a vague fear of being impolite. Somewhere distant a clock was also tolling the half-hour: three thirty.

Andrew had some feeling that he would have to wait, or that the other would never come; but as the far off foggy tones of the clock bell were fading, he saw, and felt in his soul, a movement beginning in the north wall (the alley entered from the west). The movement was like branches being pushed aside, or like pale branching fingers of small clustering creatures.

The other boy stepped out onto the dingy pavement. The sound of his shoe on the grit was low, and so dull it made the hair on Andrew’s arms stand on end. The other boy was not merely transparent, but hard to distinguish, like a very old photograph. He was dressed in a either a dark spacesuit or simply some other darkish baggy clothing; he was bare-headed, his hair was perhaps dark brown, and some of it fell in his face.

“Hello… Sir,” Andrew said, though the other boy seemed almost younger than him: his being “the other boy” commanded Andrew’s respect. When the other boy did not respond, Andrew had a sudden fear he was fading away, and asked hurriedly,

“Did you find it?”

The other boy’s hands and arms were moving, but with any movement it became all but impossible to discern them; still Andrew made out what might have been the texture of a fine chain, and perhaps a glint; then there landed with a sharp tinkle a very solid locket necklace of gilded (but somewhat greasy) brass. Then the other boy stepped back - the deep, thin sound of his shoes on the ground set Andrew’s teeth on edge, but he breathed out in great relief to see that locket again at last.

“I have the money here…”

He worked a folded stack of bills out of his satchel, and put it on the ground beside the locket. The other boy came forwards and bent to pick it up - seeing him bend when so indistinct gave Andrew a queer feeling, as though he was witnessing some preternatural transformation, so that he didn’t notice when the bills faded into the same indistinctness. There was further movement, which must have been the counting of the bills, then other boy turned to go. Andrew broke out of his timidity on an impulse,

“Wait! What’s your name?”

The other boy seemed to move his hand rapidly in the air, then came a foggy, muffled voice that hummed in Andrew’s ears but could hardly be understood:

“Close your eyes.”

Andrew swallowed his fear and closed his eyes. Behind his eyelids he could read, as if burned there by a bright moving light, the name:

JAKOV

When he opened his eyes again, the other boy, Jakov, was already stepping back into the shivering tendrils of otherworldly matter and vanishing away behind them; Andrew called his thanks after him, then waited some moments after he was alone before stepping forwards and picking up the locket. He hid it in an inner pocket of his jacket, but even more thrilling to his blood was what he held now inside himself: he knew “the other boy’s” name.

Worms of crystal powder drew themselves through the cosmic static layers, sheets pulled tight by small hands. Interactive displays of wisdom like dew on the piled hay of fallen wires: answers skipped from place to place through them, and found their way out at the end of the maze everywhere. A belt of clouds revolved slowly and silently around our nest, the forgotten comfort in the alchemy of the wheels of many heavens.

A broken walnut, a sea-urchin with dark fur, at the foot of a sixty-foot pillar crowned in the distance. The songs sung to it gathered in a drying clot, ready to fall, as Andrew raced home to write in his journal.

2022/11/14 #dailywrittenoom

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landinoandco · 3 years ago

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Hey could you do one with max verstappen, where the reader a fight about him not helping around the house (witch he doesnt do because he is just tired from working hard but the reader dont know) so they yell at max and he suddenly walks away but then they find him crying in bed, because hes overworked and feels like hes never gonna be good enough at being a driver and the readers boyfriend. And feels like he can only dissapoint the reader, his dad and cristian. But the reader comforts him. Tnx

Because I'm not good enough...

Max Verstappen x Reader

Warnings: angsty

Word count: 2 k

Requests are open :)

You were sat at the dining room table, staring out at the empty seat in front of you. Your arms crossed across your chest and your lip in between your teeth. You had been sat there for an hour - in the grand scheme of things an hour didn’t seem like such a long time but it was his final warning and an hour was just long enough to allow for your anger to boil over.

Dinner was in the fridge - the same dinner you had cooked an hour ago, your phone lay screen up on the table - the same phone you used to call Max two hours and a half hours ago, he told you he was on his way home. Home whilst you were in the UK was 25 minutes away from the Redbull HQ. This was becoming a regular occurrence, some nights he would come home so late that you had already taken yourself to bed. The atmosphere in the house seemed to freeze over whenever he was around even though you were yet to come out of summer, there was something hanging over the pair of you - unspoken feelings and as of now a red hot anger that threatened to escape from your usually composed nature.

Ever since the championship had taken a turn in the favour of Redbull, Max had started to become much more distant. It started off with him not inviting you along to the races, leaving on the Wednesday before race weekend and sometimes not seeing him until the following Tuesday and that was on a stand alone race weekend. On the triple headers, it could be nearing two weeks until you two were spared 5 minutes alone and even then it was a brief conversation before he rushed back to the factory or to train.

You thought you knew what you signed up for and since yours and Max’s relationship and that was three years ago so you thought you had seen it all - been through it all with him, witnessed every high and every low. This was a new territory and you knew that if it wasn’t tackled soon -

The click of the door lock echoed in the hallway, you straightened in your seat - eyes locked ahead of you and your knee bouncing.

Max sighed loudly and wiped his hand over his face, it had been a long day - he had been at the factory up until Christian had invited him out to lunch, it was nice to catch up with his boss and Max felt like he owed the man so much; guiding him through the years that had led up to the moment they found themselves in. Max felt like over the past years he had matured as a person, sometimes still short tempered but being an F1 driver it wasn’t necessarily a bad trait. After his lunch with Christian, his dad had called him - the less said about the conversation the better. By the time you had called, the last thing he wanted to do was come home and risk upsetting you. He had taken himself on a run - to clear his head and focus on what he was going to say to you because he felt like something definitely needed to be said.

He also owed a lot to you, you had put up with so much over the years and standing by his side even when he had made a mistake - although you were very quick to tell him when he was in the wrong. You seemed to be on his level, a blunt and forward look at life - there was no time for dawdling about when you had things to be done. Life was short and there was no time to waste.

Recently however, he was putting so much pressure and stress on himself about work that the hours slipped away from him and so did the time spent with you. He felt the atmosphere change around the pair of you - as though he was always walking on thin ice, the cracks beginning to show. The guilt he felt was nothing like he had ever felt before, all he wanted to do was talk to you but he was scared of pushing you away - which is ironic because not talking and letting the pent up anger build up was having the same effect. He was never that good when it came to talking about how he felt - as much as he wanted to he felt as though he would be a burden and that he would put too much pressure on you. He could never tell you what he really felt like inside. It was embarrassing, he knew that a professional athlete should never feel what he felt. It weakened him and having weaknesses in a sport like Formula 1 was not an option.

Max shrugged his coat off and walked through to the main room of the apartment - the room where you were sat waiting to pounce as though he was your unsuspecting prey.

He offered a tired smile, in response he got a sneer. Swallowing hard, you felt the anger take over, like some monster escaping from a cage.

“I have been sitting here for an hour, Max -” You shot to your feet, pointing at the table, your voice cracked slightly. “For months, you’ve been leaving me - it’s me who’s been cooking for us both, cleaning, washing - everything, Max. By myself.” You were shouting now, your heart threatening to break free from your chest. Max just stood there, a blank expression on his face - his gaze fixed to the ground. “I don’t understand what went wrong, Max. We were happy, hell, we spoke to each other. Now, I’m alone. In fact, I may as well be alone if this doesn’t change.” The words had fallen out of your mouth before you had any time to consider them - or the consequences. Your eyes went round with shock and you fell back to your seat. A loud silence filled the room.

Max, too, had not expected the words that had initiated the silence. He opened his mouth, eyes still on the ground, then closed it again before raising his head and looking you dead in the eye.

“You don’t mean that.” He managed to mutter, barely being able to raise his voice any louder. He felt a tired emptiness, this was the last thing he had wanted to happen.

“That’s all you have to say to me.” You rounded on him again, angry tears threatening to fall from your eyes.

“No - I -” He stuttered, then closed his eyes, inhaling slowly, “I just don’t think we should talk things through whilst you’re angry -” He saw you about to interject, when he raised his hands. “You have every right to be. That’s not what I’m saying. I think we should wait to talk about it so we don’t say things we are going to regret later.” Max could feel his throat constricting, he was battling to keep his emotions at bay.

You sniffed and nodded slowly, placing your head in your hands - hot tears escaping and shoulders tensed.

Max swallowed thickly, his eyes swimming with tears. He made a move and after no interruption left the room. He had only made it to the stairs before he collapsed, the fatigue getting the better of him. He was such an idiot, a fact he was certainly aware of now, how could he have let things get this bad. Did that make him a selfish person?

He couldn’t hold it in any longer, a harsh sob escaping from his mouth - fingers shaking and his head a loud mess.

As soon as Max had left the room, you had gotten up to get some water - when you paused, a sound catching your attention - a deep sounding sob. You waited, a line appeared between your brows. Slowly and carefully, you inched towards the door - waiting with baited breath for the sound again.

It was coming from the stairs and there was only one person it could be. Regret instantly pooled in the pit of your stomach, you hadn’t meant for him to cry. You were just so angry and he needed to know that.

“Max.” You called out softly, unsurprisingly there was no response. You went in the direction of the stairs and hunched over in front of you was your boyfriend - attempting to stifle his sobs. You rushed forwards, placing your arms around his shoulders and pulled his body into yours. Instinctively he wrapped his arms around your waist. You kissed the top of his head, stroking his hair as he continued to cry - you allowed him to empty his emotions out; some tears of your own betraying you entirely.

“I’m sorry, I really am.” Came a muffled voice. Pausing, you released your hold of him and placed your hands either side of his face - offering him a watery smile. Then, using your sleeves you wiped his tears away - he watched your every move, waiting for you to say something. When you didn’t, he braced himself - lips trembling; he knew it was now or never. He had to tell you how he really felt.

“I’m not good enough.” He stated simply, his eyes glossy. Your forehead furrowed. “I’m never going to be good enough to take the championship, I’m going to let everyone down. Everyone that has ever believed in me - it doesn’t matter what I do, how much work I put in - I’m never good enough. And you -” He paused, meeting your gaze, a lump forming in the back of your throat. “I keep letting you down, time and time again. I was the one who caused this, I’m never going to be good enough for you.”

“If you believe that -” You began, kissing the newly formed tears away, “Then I will eat your race shoe.” You moved to sit next to him on the stairs, pulling him into your side. “Why didn’t you tell me that’s how you felt.”

You felt Max shrug, the side of his head resting on yours. “I didn’t want to burden you with all of my problems, you already put up with so much.”

“I will always have time for you, Max.” Grasping his hand in yours, “You are enough, you are more than enough. You are Max Verstappen, the fastest, strongest guy I know.” You chuckled lightly, “I know it may sometimes feel like that and that’s ok. You are putting yourself through so much - maybe, it’s time to give some consideration for your personal life. It’s unhealthy to work all of the time - then we run into issues like these.” You spoke softly, almost whispering but you could tell he was hanging onto every word you spoke. “I love you, Max. I don’t know what I would do without you.” You admitted, turning your head to look at him. He chewed on his bottom lip, processing your words.

“I love you too, more than anything.” He murmured, placing his forehead on yours. You lifted your head slightly to leave a soft kiss on his nose, earning the corners of his lips to quirk up.

Closing your eyes, you relished being in his arms again, to have him close to you. You had missed it. You had missed him. Both of you knew you had a lot to work through, that it wouldn’t simply disappear but both of you were going to do it together. Hand in hand. And that was more than enough.

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desmondellis · 1 year ago

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“Oh you’d probably just nurse me back to health and tell me the whole time how defiant I am.” He presumed, probably correctly. She was so concerned with his health, and all he wanted was to regain the ability to stand alone. It felt debilitating, feeling like he had all the catching up to do in the world, unsure if come morning he’d be able to do much of anything. It was one of the first times he’d ever had to lie to such an extent, to weave around what would be a proper explanation for it all had the truth been more appealing.

Other than the situation ceasing to happen, Des never cared enough to continue lying, not enough about anyone to even continue a conversation that was without purpose. For some reason, maybe the debt of his life, he felt bad for lying and even worse for not being able to tell her the truth. As it stood he already broke several of his own rules, rules that if anyone else dared to break would be met with swift discipline. This person he was with her, it was the very definition of hypocritical, a stark contrast from the individual he was outside of this house.

Whether or not she would ever come to know the truth, Desmond imagined the storm would soon subside and that it would become a non-factor or at least, that was the hope. “Unfortunate for you that you did,” he chimed in, not letting on how annoying it was that he needed so much of her help. “Would’ve been a nice and peaceful evening inside for you.” A smile, one not accompanied by an anxious laugh, genuine.

Perhaps due to the fact that he was not 100% or maybe from his most recent fall, he hadn’t been paying all that much attention to how they now sat in the tub. It wasn’t that the thought never occurred to him or that those desires didn’t still exist in some deep part of him, but the truth of the matter was that he’d long given up on companionship. There was no feasible future that he could see himself putting another person at risk, and who he was was less than desirable. He never delved in anyone longer than necessary, better to leave before getting too involved.

But he was stuck here for the night, settled under a beautiful woman at the bottom of a warm, porcelain tub. With little left in sight, he watched as the mouth that was usually full of words lacking them and hanging open, eyes impulsive in their travel. He felt the warmth in his cheeks and knew nothing could be done of what was happening in a much lower part of his body, but he didn’t have to guess. Jazzmyn was already pulling herself out as a rush of water cascaded below her.

Both of their clothes now covered in water, Desmond did something he hadn’t done in years. He felt something bubbling in the farthest reaches of his chest, and his eyes that had been trained to levels of expert focus now found themselves unable to look, the same way she’d done to him. He met his attraction with as much resistance as her aid, not wanting to succumb to the very easy temptation. Something that might have been easier had she not been so pleasing to look at. Up close, her eyes were a light brown, mouth sharp as it pursed then blossomed into a smile, one that he’d been clocking since he’d opened his eyes. It would be so easy to fall into this trap, he knew exactly how to retreat, but he was stuck in a room of corners with nowhere to run. Whatever defenses he had in place had already betrayed him. Being nice was a task in and of itself, but now something else joined in tandem, a fear rising in the pit of his stomach.

It was hard to deny it, now that it took form in a way that his body told quite clearly, afraid for brief moments that she felt him growing underneath her. It was probably for the best that she left now, even just her shifting above him nearly earned her a disgruntled groan. Now it was his turn to look up at her, sitting up in his spot. “Take one for yourself,” he urged, prying his eyes away from her and blinking the thoughts away, gripping the edge of the tub to lift himself. Des watched her bustle out of the room with a bunch of towels, littering then along the floor the others tucked in the curve of her arm.

Once she’d left and closed the door, he lifted himself from his slump, filled the tub again and slipped in this time on purpose and without clothes. He took his time, or at least it felt that way, because when he got out his skin was a patchy pink, ears and tips of his fingers candy red. She’d been nice enough to leave a copious amount of towels, and clothes to the side which looked mismatched but probably enough to fit. As he slipped into the spare articles of clothing, he walked out from the bathroom paced slowly, rubbing his hair with the towel. “Thank you.. for that, it was… actually really nice.” He added with a smile, trying to chase away the sudden feeling of embarrassment. It felt better to walk on his own, even if it was at a glacial pace. “Can I at least help you with the food?”

Desmond listened to her words as they filtered down to him, who had slumped his head and shoulders it would seem in admitted defeat. He was still unsteady on the porcelain of the edge of the tub, feeling the shift between his own imbalance and the one growing with her. Of course she sounded upset, and even though he knew little of her he knew that was already on its way as he picked her up and struggled to sit.

There was a scrunch in the curve of her nose and her face tightened in upset, but her tone told him everything he needed to know. It wasn’t as serious as she was making it out to be and so he dismissed it, practically before it ever came out of her mouth. “Not much to impress when I barely have use of my legs and need you to carry me.” He added between her rantings. He knew he wasn’t doing much of making anywhere near a good impression, and Jazzmyn would never know how different a man he was outside this interaction. For now, he just looked stubborn and distrustful.

As much as he would have loved to prove his competence and make right on the goodwill that she had offered to him, it would also come with the alternative end to a knowledge he didn’t want her to come in contact with. Outside of being almost entirely evasive with human contact, Des restricted most of his interactions to those who knew he was a hunter, most a part of the organization. Outside of that was a liability, and she was already doing too much to keep him alive as it was.

Moments later, when her words had blurred and mingled with the depths of his thoughts, he felt her unsteady wiggle, fingers clasping him the same way he’d just done moments prior. She was slipping and took him with her, Des feeling the wind and open fall as he anticipated his back clashing with the bottom of the tub. In trend with the rest of this night, Jazzmyn rushed her hand to hold the back of his head before they met the water, soaking each end of the bathtub to the floor as it pooled over the tiles.

Almost instinctively, Des hissed. But not because he was in any pain himself, though he could feel the sharp pain in his back that only added itself to the growing list of things that were of no fault of her own. “Yeah I’m fine,” he grumbled. “It’s just water.” He’d learned to redirect his pain, focus it somewhere else which might have been easier had she not been so adamant on relieving it. The sound of discomfort formed a groan in his chest, breath coming out hot.

“Your hands.” He chastised her, his turn to reprimand her for her help. “Are your hands okay?” He felt her appendages on the back of his head and reached for them, sloshing the water around them in ripples as he ignored her worried questions. He pulled them from cradling his head, bringing them forward for further inspection and thumbing over each limb carefully. He saw no bruising and looked up at her with a tired sigh. “I survived half dead in the Romanian sea, I could’ve hit rocks on the shore..” he mused, returning her hand back into her possession, eyes flicking back up to hers. “You think the bath is gonna take me out?” He gruffed, adjusting himself in the tub, suddenly aware of how she was positioned above him.

She had already buried his face in his chest and coddled him, but it felt more jarring now they were face to face. “Really just taking no for an answer, huh?” He chuckled through the nervousness. One of his hands moved to adjust her at the waist but he was too weak to pluck her from the tub, groaning at the action itself, laughing again out of how little control he had of the situation, smiling through the sting of passing pain. “I feel like you’re trying to injure me so you can bathe me yourself.” Flushed and embarrassed his hand even made the movement towards her waist to move her, he ran his hand through his hair from getting in his face.

#des always has the longest replies lmaoooo #around 4am I almost wrote him in walking with just a towel jfc

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yeraskier · 3 years ago

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the one with the bad almost-first-time, a deep conversation, and a phenomenal actual first-time in which stede and ed discover new things about each other and themselves (5k words, explicit)

read on ao3

The first time they fall into bed together doesn’t go quite the way Stede had imagined it would. It starts out a lot… rougher.

He’s spent an embarrassing amount of time daydreaming about this— alongside other Ed-centric fantasies— and this isn’t at all how he pictured it. There are no flowers surrounding them, there is no soft light of the sun to heat up their skin, and there are no sweet words exchanged.

They’re on Stede’s bed, which had been left unmade that morning. It’s nighttime, and so the light of the moon peeks through the window making it cool in the room. There are barely any words being spoken at all, let alone sweet ones.

Ed yanks at his clothes and uses too much teeth when they kiss, and he grips Stede’s hips too hard and— well, the manhandling is actually quite a turn-on, but there are aspects to this. Stede knows he isn’t trying to hurt him, but it doesn’t do much to ease the unpleasant pressure rising in the pit of his stomach.

And alright, maybe the flowers in his fantasies were a bit much, but Stede thought it might at least feel more romantic than this.

The fact that this is Ed he’s doing this with already makes the act far more sacred and special than nearly anything he’s ever experienced, but still… something’s missing.

Perhaps, it’s the fact that they still don’t know how to be them again. There wasn’t much of a them before Stede left, but the brief moment on that beach was gentle and tender. It’s the moment that he had modeled all the imagined future moments after, and Stede had simply assumed that it would be that way once they found their way back to each another. He was wrong.

And it’s not like he’s some prude. Stede has thought about the gentle slow sex just as much as he’s thought about Ed possibly throwing him around a bit and vice versa, shall Ed ever allow it. The problem doesn’t lie in Ed’s actions per se, the problem lies in the general aura in the room.

The problem lies in the way Ed kisses Stede quiet whenever the pirate so much as compliments him. The problem lies in the way Ed subtly moves away from more tender embraces. The problem lies in the fact that their bodies are plastered together yet Stede can still feel the distance between them.

And now, Ed lays in between his legs with his lips wrapped around Stede’s cock, and Stede is staring at him, and Ed is staring back, and that playful gleam that’s usually in the pirate’s eyes isn’t there. Instead, his eyes crinkle at the corner the way they do when he’s worried and that’s not the way someone looks when they’re enjoying sex.

“Okay, stop,” Stede says, lightly tapping on the hand Ed has on his upper thigh, “stop.”

Ed moves away swiftly, kneeling between Stede’s legs once all contact between them has been broken. “Is everything alright? Did I do something wrong?”

“Did I?” Stede counters as he sits upright on the bed to lean his back against the wall.

Ed frowns. “No.”

Stede frowns back. “Ed, I can tell you aren’t exactly comfortable with this.”

Ed’s frown deepens, “Why would you think I was uncomfortable?”

“You seem uncomfortable.”

“Did I say I was uncomfortable?” Ed asks, and suddenly, he sounds irritated. That is not good. This conversation is not good— yet another thing that is not going the way Stede expected it to.

“No, but—”

“But what?” Ed snarls as he crosses his arms over his chest. It’s a bit distracting.

“Ed.”

“Do you not want to have sex with me, Stede?” And now he’s very confused as to how this went from a short break to discuss a few things to that question.

“Ed,” he says again, firmer this time, “that isn’t at all what’s happening. You just don’t seem to be enjoying yourself and I’m—”

“I’m not enjoying myself?” Ed repeats, bewildered. “You’re the one who told me to stop.”

Ed doesn’t get defensive easily, but in this moment, Stede can tell clear as day that the pirate is getting defensive. He’s just not sure as to why.

“Yes, because it seemed like you weren’t enjoying yourself.”

“Well, I was up until you told me to stop,” Ed hisses through clenched teeth. And then, he’s getting off the bed, which is the last thing Stede wants.

“Ed,” he calls out after his partner’s retreating form, “Ed! Ed, please, can we just talk about this?” Stede begs, but it’s too late, Ed’s already left the room, also leaving Stede highly confused.

He misses fifteen minutes ago, before the argument, before they even fell into bed together. He misses when they were walking through the door, giggling into each other’s mouths as they stumbled towards the bed. He misses that.

Fifteen minutes. That’s all it took for this to become a colossal, pardon his language, fuck up.

Fuck.

—

They don’t talk about it, which sucks, because Stede desperately wants to talk about it, but they don’t.

In fact, they spend several days barely talking at all. Ed still kisses him good morning and lets Stede read to him and they still sleep in the same bed, but things have remained strained for the most part, until, “I want to be good for you.”

Stede opens his eyes. Ed is looking up at the ceiling.

“I’m sorry?”

“In bed.”

Ah. He had been dozing off just moments ago, and the weight of the day is still wearing him down, but this is too important. This is Ed.

“In the past, I never cared about… being good. I wouldn’t say I was selfish, I would still do what I could to make sure the other person was having a nice time, but it didn’t really matter. Most of the situations were one-and-done, they were strangers, fleeting pleasures. What we have is nothing like that.” Ed turns his head to face Stede, then. “I want to spend the rest of my life with you, Stede. I want this to be good. I want to be good.”

Stede opens his mouth, ready with his response, but Ed goes on. “And truthfully, I don’t know how. Technically speaking, I’m phenomenal in bed,” he comments, completely casual like it’s just common knowledge. Stede grins. “But I’m still… anxious when it comes to us. I’ve already done so much damage during our time apart, and then again when we reunited. I don’t want to mess this up, too.”

The guilt Ed feels towards the things he’s done after Stede left has remained a heavy presence in their relationship. It’s something Stede tries to amend, but fails at doing, and truly, he hates it more than anything.

“Ed.”

“And there’s the fact that you’re so gentle and say the sweetest things and I’m not used to that and I don’t even know how to react to that kind of thing,” he continues as if Stede had said nothing at all.

“Ed.”

“I usually do, I think, but sex is a whole other situation. I’m used to, you know, we just want to get off sex. All the talking we do is with our bodies. Even then, it doesn’t involve all the caressing you’re into, and it’s not like I’m not into that, it’s just that I’m not used to it.” Ed rubs a hand over his face like it hurts to admit it. It breaks Stede’s heart. “What I’m used to isn’t love-making, but that’s what I would be doing with you, isn’t it? Because I’m in love with you and you’re in love with me. I don’t know how to—”

Stede lays a hand over the center of Ed’s chest and presses down, not hard enough to put too much pressure, but firm enough to catch the man’s attention. “Ed,” he says again, and it works this time.

Ed doesn’t do rambling. He usually isn’t bothered by or excited by enough things to ramble. He has rambled in the past, the first time being the first time Stede read to him and Ed wasn’t too pleased with the actions of the protagonist. The following times— there were three— were all because Ed was nervous. It’s a quirk he has, and Stede finds it endearing, but it pains him more than anything that Ed would be nervous about this.

“First, I would like to tell you that I want to spend the rest of my life with you, too, though I’m sure you already knew that. At least, I hope I’ve made it clear.” Ed offers a nod, it’s a small thing but it’s an assurance he needs.

The thought of his neverending love and admiration for this man not being clear would undoubtedly trouble him. Ed deserves to be loved, it’s all Stede wants for him, and that the Gentleman Pirate is the one who gets the honor to do the loving, well, that’s not something he’d ever want to slip on displaying.

“Secondly, I really wish you wouldn’t blame yourself for what’s gone wrong in our past. I left, and you reacted. And none of that matters now. It’s a part of our history, but it has nothing to do with our future. We’re happy, now. Please, love, please try to no longer put yourself down for any of that.”

Ed latches onto his bottom lip with his teeth, and that alone tells Stede that he’ll probably continue to blame himself anyway. It’s okay, they have time to work on that.

“And lastly, what we have may be different from your past relationships, but that’s no reason to be nervous,” he assures. “This, you and me, is good for me. So, when we eventually have sex, simply being with you will be good for me too, as long as we’re both comfortable and happy in the process.”

Ed’s eyes grow big and round, the same as they were the night Stede last saw him at the English camp. There’s a light in them the population wouldn’t expect from the infamous Blackbeard, but Stede gets to see it every day. Ed’s so beautiful it makes everything within him ache.

He has half the mind to reach up and rest a hand upon the man’s cheek, but his hand stays where it is. Ed still hasn’t said anything, and he remains wordless for so long Stede half expects the pirate won’t say anything at all. That, or he has another small rant bubbling from within. Stede’s learned that Ed’s often quiet for a long while before he starts those.

He isn’t worried, though. They’re working this out. They’re communicating. He has no reason to be troubled by Ed’s silence. Ed’s lingering, rather long-lasting silence.

God, he isn’t worried but he sure is getting antsy.

Ed looks at him, then back up at the ceiling, then back at Stede, then he frowns before looking back up at the ceiling, then back at Stede. Then back to the ceiling. Back to Stede. Off to the side. Sigh. Back to the ceiling. A frustrated puff of air. Plays with his beard. Eyes back on Stede, again, and then, “eventually?”

Stede blinks. “Pardon?”

“You said… when we eventually have sex.”

“Yes…? Is that… an issue?”

Ed shrugs, bottom lip jutting out in a way that Stede really shouldn’t find adorable. “I don’t know, you just… make it sound so far away.”

He is thoroughly confused by where this conversation is headed. “Make what sound so far away?”

Ed rolls his eyes, “the next time we have sex, Stede.”

“I— Oh. Well, I didn’t mean to assume…”

“Assume what?”

“When we’d have sex again… if you wanted to have sex again.”

“In what world would I not want to have sex with you again?” The genuine expression of puzzlement across Ed’s face is heartwarming. Stede smiles.

“I suppose that was another assumption I made,” he amends, “I will not assume anymore. Whenever you’re ready, I’m ready.”

“And if I’m ready now?”

Oh. Oh.

“I mean, I wouldn’t be opposed.” Stede offers, finally allowing himself to reach out and touch. It’s a gentle lay of his hand on Ed’s chest, but it still makes his lover crack a smile.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” It comes out a little strained, a little desperate, which is fitting for the way he feels right now. “You don’t know how many times I’ve thought about this.”

“And what did you think about?” Ed questions. “Tell me more.”

“Well…” Stede begins as he props himself up on an elbow. The hand on Ed’s chest travels lower. “I’ve thought about being able to touch you wherever I want.” Stede his time unlacing the neat bow Ed has made with the tie attached to his robe. He pushes one of the sides of the robe open, only slightly. “I’ve thought about getting my mouth on you, getting my mouth around you.” The way Ed honest-to-God trembles when Stede begins circling the tip of his index finger around his belly button is absolutely delicious.

Stede leans in, sure to have his lips graze the shell of Ed’s ear when he whispers, “I’ve thought about having you inside of me.”

“And if I said I wanted you inside of me?” Ed gasps out when Stede runs a thumb over one of his nipples.

That… catches Stede slightly off guard. He stops his advances and takes a moment to… to look like an imbecile as he gapes at his boyfriend. He’s as red as his favorite chemise right now. He must be if Ed’s chuckles are anything to go by.

“I… wouldn’t know what to do,” Stede says truthfully. And okay, it’s not like Stede knows nothing about what sex between two men would be like. He understands the mechanics of it but he doesn’t know what would happen if he were to put it into practice. A spark of shame settles over him at the realization.

It’s stupid, he shouldn’t feel ashamed. He’s never been with a man before and it’s not like Ed isn’t aware of this, but it’s still unsettling. It’s even more unsettling when he reminds himself that Ed has copious experience with men, something he discovered during one of their more drunken late-night conversations.

Ed seems to register his unease, and reaches out to gently squeeze the side of his neck. “We don’t have to if you don’t want to,” Ed says lightly, “I know that regardless of who’s in what position, I’ll enjoy myself, and I want you to be able to, too. If me topping is what will make you more comfortable, that’s what we’ll do. It’s alright.”

“I want to… be inside you,” Stede rectifies in a haste, tugging on Ed’s waist as if they aren’t already close enough. “I’m just afraid I’ll disappoint.”

“You wouldn't,” Ed promises, “you won’t. Besides, I can give some direction if anything. Sex is about learning what your partner likes, yeah? You won’t be learning much if I don’t tell you anything, would you?” Ed’s brows go up teasingly, Stede wants to kiss them. “Or, I could just… get on top… if that would be better.”

God.

“What a lovely image that would be.” A lovely image indeed, but. “But wouldn’t it hurt your knee?”

Ed shrugs. “I know a few ways to avoid the pain,” which suggests that he’s done this before and Jesus, Stede is going to die.

The answer seems so simple, then. “Okay, yes. Yes, I would like that very much.”

Ed grins at him and rises from the bed, his robe flowing behind him like a cape as he rushes off to the other side of the room. When he comes back, he holds a rather large vial of oil and Stede finds himself wondering how he even managed to hide that.

“Just how much sex do you plan on us having tonight?”

Ed rolls his eyes. “We could be at sea for weeks, I like to be prepared, Stede.”

“How very attractive of you,” Stede hums as he pulls his lover in by the tie of his robe.

Ed huffs but closes the distance between them to kiss Stede anyway. It doesn’t take much effort to pull Ed down on the bed with him, and lay him on his back. It’s even less effort to slip Ed’s robe off his body.

“Jesus,” he whispers, running a hand down the soft center of Ed’s stomach. “You’re so stunning.”

“I’ll look even more so when you take these off,” Ed tells him as he tugs at the hem of his nether garments.

“Oh, I have no doubts about that, love.”

“Then what’s taking so long?”

Stede presses his index finger to Ed’s lips. “Patience, my dear.”

Maybe he should be surprised by the fact that the pirate quits his complaining after one final huff, but he that surprised at all. Ed never really has a problem listening to Stede’s commands, a part of him suspects that Ed actually enjoys it.

The pirate’s watching him now, silent and waiting. He’s squirming slightly, constantly readjusting his position, rolling his shoulders, and turning his head this way and that. He’s restless, but he’s being patient. Because Stede asked him too.

“Bend your head back a bit,” he utters, testing. Ed bends his head, allowing Stede to press a kiss over his Adam’s apple.

“Spread your legs for me.” Ed spreads them without hesitation, letting Stede slip between them with ease.

“Put your hands above your head.” Ed does so with a smile.

“Keep them there.” And that’s what Ed does. Even as Stede peppers kisses down his chest and abdomen, even as Stede sucks a bruise into his hip bone, even as Stede licks a stripe across his pelvis, even as Stede slides his underdrawers down his legs, Ed keeps his hands above his head. Like a good boy.

“Good boy,” Stede croons, and Ed whines, the sound several octaves higher than any Stede’s ever heard him make.

It’s the same sound Ed makes when Stede rubs a well-oiled finger against his hole. This time, the pirate does slip up on the command, but he catches himself just short of touching Stede’s hair. Ed’s hands go back to where they’re meant to be after that. They’re latching onto the pillow, but at least they’re above his head.

They don’t move even when Stede breeches him with a finger.

“My good boy,” he says again, “taking direction so well.” And then he crooks the finger— a suggestion that was bestowed upon him during a particularly uncomfortable and not one-hundred percent welcomed conversation with Lucius.

Stede’s not quite sure what he did, but it has Ed’s hips bucking off the bed so it must’ve been pretty good. So, he does it again. And again. And again. And again.

“Fuck,” Ed breathes, “another finger, please.” Truthfully, Stede had taken so much joy from watching Ed writhe in pleasure that he had completely forgotten there’s meant to be an end goal here.

He presses an apologetic kiss to the inside of Ed’s thigh as he grabs for the oil. The pirate seems to take two fingers better than he took the first and Stede… doesn’t exactly know what to make of it, but it does make for a very pretty sight.

He learns a few things throughout the process of opening Ed up with his fingers.

One: consistent pressure against that spot that makes Ed’s spine melt is better, so he takes to rubbing instead of tapping.

Two: Ed prefers excessive use of oil which probably explains the size of the vial.

Three: Ed’s cock is too big for Stede to fit all of it into his mouth, and he doesn’t have any experience so he doesn’t exactly know what he’s doing, but sucking on the tip of it as he fingers Ed is very effective.

Four: the fullness of three fingers mixed with the massaging of that spot inside of him and Stede tending to his cock at the same time will have Ed moaning like… well, a whore. And he’s a gentleman, so he doesn’t use the word lightly, but there is no other way to put it.

The fifth thing, Stede discovers completely by accident. He’s going about trying to ring as much pleasure from Ed as possible when his thumb accidentally brushes against the patch of skin directly under his lover’s testicles. He may be hallucinating the feeling of Ed’s cock jerking against his tongue, but he’s definitely not hallucinating the mewling that comes from above him.

Stede strokes the area again— a firmer touch, a small experiment. The reaction is almost immediate, Ed’s back bows off the bed as he yelps. It’s the single sexiest view Stede’s ever had, so of course, he does it again.

He does it until Ed begs, “please, please, pleasepleaseplease, more. Oh my fucking God, don’t stop what you’re doing.”

He does it until Ed pleads, “Fuck, you need to fuck me. Fuck me. Stede, God. You’re fucking killing me.”

He does it until the pleads turn into threats. “If you don’t let me sit on your dick right now, I’ll strangle you in your sleep.”

And that’s when Stede decides to let Ed do just that.

He lays flat on his back, grabbing one of the pillows to lay it beside his right side as a cushion for Ed’s left knee. It’s the only thing that gives Ed pause, has his eyes growing stricken and serious, but only for a moment before he seems to remind himself of what he’s in this position for.

Ed is in such haste that he nearly forgoes putting any oil on Stede’s cock, and when Stede wins their glare-into-submission match, Ed drizzles so much oil onto his prick that it pools beneath his arse on the bed.

Stede can’t exactly care about that, let alone complain about that, when Ed begins sinking down on his cock. There isn’t much he can do other than gasp along with Ed.

He hadn’t spent much time thinking about being inside of Ed— most of his more explicit fantasies had occurred with this going the other way around— but now he fears that this is all he’ll be able to think about for the rest of his days.

And when Ed actually begins to move… God. Oh, God.

The movements are slow, at first. Ed gyrates in places, leaning a little more on his right side as he gets comfortable, but it doesn’t take long before his hips begin to move in full circles.

“Just like that,” Stede groans, “roll your hips just like that. God, you look amazing. You’re perfect.” And the moans Ed lets out from that sentence alone makes Stede go dizzy.

He calls Ed perfect again, for science, of course, and Stede is about ninety-nine percent sure the entire boat hears the sound Ed makes. He’s also ninety-nine percent sure that that isn’t an exaggeration.

His lover leans forward to steady himself with a hand on the wall, and perhaps that should have been enough warning for what’s to come next but Stede’s still unprepared for the way Ed began bouncing in his lap with renewed vigor.

“Fuck,” Stede gasps. His sanity is beginning to slip, he thinks. Though, who could fault him? No man, living or dead, could hold out from going absolutely mad in the face of the gift that is Edward Teach. “You’re a wonder, you know that? You need to be studied. There need to be odes written to you, books written about you. Not about Blackbeard, you. Christ, Ed. You feel so good—”

“God, how are you still able to talk?” Ed huffs, but he’s smirking.

“Do you want me to stop?” Stede quips as he slides his arms around Ed’s waist.

“Might have to kill you if you do.”

“Don’t know how me being dead would work out for you if you don’t want me to stop.”

Ed chuckles, “sex turns you into a cheeky little fuck.”

Stede grins before tightening his hold on his lover’s waist and planting his feet on the bed. He doesn’t exactly know if this will work, and he’s slightly embarrassed to admit that he only knows of it because of that one time he walked in on Lucius and Black Pete, but it’s worth a shot.

So, he keeps his feet flat on the mattress and lifts his hips off the bed and— and Ed yelps as his head tips back. Hm.

Stede doesn’t intend to hold Ed down and in place, but it’s what ends up happening as he thrusts up into the pirate’s heat. He thought the constant slap of their bodies colliding was lewd before, but somehow, this act only magnifies that. It’s the filthiest thing he’s ever heard— it’s music to his ears, and so are Ed’s cries of pleasure.

“Fuck!” Ed shouts, “fuck! Stede, Stede, St— oh, fuck.”

He won’t be able to keep at this long. He’s never been the fittest man, and while his life as a pirate has helped some, he still doesn’t have the greatest amount of strength or stamina. Still, Stede carries on as long as he can because Ed seems to love this, and he’s not moving as much which puts let stress on his knees.

Stede keeps it up for as long as he can, but his lower back hits the mattress a little heavier than it has been, and he struggles to lift it as high as he had been, Ed seems to get the message quickly. The pirate sits firmly on Stede’s thighs, disconnecting his hand from the wall to press it against Stede’s cheek.

Ed leans in and kisses his nose. When he pulls away, he’s smiling. “That was so sexy.”

“Yeah?” Stede whispers.

“Yeah,” Ed whispers back before kissing him again, this time, on the lips. It’s sweet and slow, different from the way they had just been moving, but fitting for the way they move now.

Ed goes evenly, taking his time as he rocks his hips back and forth, letting out low whimpers every few seconds. Stede steals the sound from his mouth each time, drinking them up like water isn’t the one thing he has an endless supply of at sea. Ed’s cock drags against both their stomachs every time he moves, and Stede thinks that he may like that even more than Ed does himself.

“You feel so good,” Ed murmurs against his lips. “This feels good.”

And it does. Stede could stay like this forever if his body would allow it. It’s lazy, languid love-making, and it’s perfect. It’s even more perfect when Ed begins to suck bruises into the skin of his neck. They’ll make more furious reds and purples than the ones Stede left on him, by the feel of it. He’s pleased by the knowledge.

“Stede,” Ed gasps directly into his ear, and fuck, Stede’s holding on by a thread. He grinds down a little harder on his next motion, and it drives Stede insane.

“Oh, God,” Stede whimpers, “you have to come, Ed. Please, you have to.”

“Make me.” And Stede knows he can’t do what he had been doing minutes ago, his hips and thighs may never forgive him, but his mouth works just fine.

“You said you wanted to be good for me,” Stede begins.

“I do,” Ed moans.

“You are. You’ve made me feel so good tonight. Taking orders so well, riding me into oblivion, kissing me just the way I like. You’ve been so, so good, Ed.” It’s delicious, the way Ed’s hips stutter at the words. Stede drags a hand up the man’s spine until he feels hair, and then he tugs, forcing Ed to lift his head from the crook of Stede’s neck. “And you want to keep being good for me, yes?”

Ed nods, hands slipping over Stede’s skin as he tries to hold on, tries to keep his composure, but his movements are becoming sloppy and he’s sucking in air like it’s a challenge. There’s a furrow in his brows and his mouth is wide open as he pants.

Stede commits all these little signs to memory. There’s no way to know for sure that Ed is close, but just in case.

“Then come,” Stede whispers, “be a good boy and come for me.”

As it turns out, those were telltale signs of Ed nearing his climax because the pirate is coming before Stede has even finished his sentence.

Life as a pirate has gifted him with many beautiful sights, but none quite as astounding as this. Ed, with his head tossed back and his eyes scrunched shut and his body shaking, is the most beautiful sight of all. And for all the noise he’s made so far tonight, his orgasm seems to snatch his voice right from him, his lips left parted with nothing but a breathy exhale escaping them.

Stede is so enraptured by all of this that he barely even notices his own orgasm sneaking up on him until he’s dead in the center of it. He doesn’t really notice until his toes have curled, until his back has arched, and until his grip on Ed is sure to leave bruises.

He’s never experienced a sensation quite like this, like he’s floating. He’s lightheaded and his head is pounding but his body is screaming praises to all the Gods and Stede didn’t know orgasms could be like this. Maybe it’s just an Ed thing. Anything is possible with Ed.

When that weightlessness fades, Stede opens his eyes and there are stars in his vision.

It takes him a moment to become reacquainted with his surroundings, but when he does, Ed is beaming and there’s that glint in his eyes again.

“Back with me?” Ed teases.

Stede grins, sliding his hands down to the globes of the pirate’s arse and he squeezes, reveling in the way it makes Ed gasp. “I think so.”

“That wasn’t very gentlemanly of you,” Ed tsks as he brushes a strand of hair from Stede’s face.

“What can I say?” Stede pulls him closer, just enough to place a kiss on the corner of Ed’s mouth. “You bring it out in me.”

#i keep fearing that im not doing them justice through my writing and its slightly stressful but i want to keep writing them #i will grow i promise #blackbonnet #our flag means death #ofmd #edward teach #stede bonnet #my writing #gentlebeard

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quindolyn · 4 years ago

Note

can you write a james potter smut with a lot of choking, hair pulling and degradation :))

Patience Pays Off || James Potter

Word Count: 3834

A/N: I haven’t written in forever but this was for @randomoutsiders because it’s her birthday today. I know that I’m posting this after midnight her time but it’s still 9 here so I’m still celebrating Isa’s birthday. I love you baby. I’m still getting the hang of dom Jamie because in my head he’s my little sub and I have a hard time as seeing him as anything but the softest dom so this isn’t perfect

Warnings: rough sex, degradation, face slapping, spanking, dumbification, slapping reader’s tits, I think that’s it?

Masterlist

You were proud of yourself for making it through the entirety of the day without a major incident, since your first class of the day a fire had been burning in your belly, beginning as a mere flame before erupting into a blazing wildfire. Consuming you from the inside out.

The littlest thing made the fire burn hotter and brighter, the way James’ muscles flexed under his uniform as he walked through the hallways, shoulders back and arm around your waist like he owned the place.

You couldn’t help but whimper, catching a glimpse of his toned abdomen as he stretched his arms upwards, loosening himself up after being hunched over a desk all day. You felt your heart skip a beat in your chest watching his hand grip his quill, jotting down notes in his sloppy handwriting.

All you could think about was how many better things we could do with those hands, how wasted they were on Transfiguration.

You couldn’t bear the thought of having to sit through dinner, watching his hands flex as he shoveled food from his plate into his mouth, eyes trained on his lips as he licked them clean of the remnants of his meal. It sounded like hell, but when you’d tugged on his sleeve right before the two of you entered the Great Hall, murmuring into his shoulder about how you just wanted to go up to his dorm you’d been shot down.

Knowing why you were so desperate to escape up to his dorm James simply told you to be patient as he tugged you into the hall, quickly ushering you over to your usual seat with his best friends and roommates.

The whole endeavor had been just as hellish as it had sounded and by the time James was leading you up the stairs to his dorm, Remus and Sirius having disappeared to the Astronomy tower together.

As the door latched behind you you threw yourself at James’ chest, grappling for his shoulders as you smeared your forehead against his strong shoulder.

“Daddy,” You mewled, feeling your pussy throb at the very feeling of his body under your hands as you dug your fingers into his shoulders.

James’ deep chuckle sounded from above you and you could feel the vibrations against your head, “Someone’s needy,” His large hand reached up, his fingers combing through your hair before anchoring themselves up towards the root of your hair.

Using his hold on you he pulled your head backward so that you were forced to peer up at him, eyes wide and hazy from hours of being teased. Tears were beginning to well in your eyes as the sexual frustration of the day began to wash over you.

“M’not needy,” You whimpered, pushing yourself into him because even though you were pressed together it wasn’t enough. You needed more.

“No baby? Not needy?” He asked, cocking his head to the side as hazel eyes held yours, the very feeling of his eyes on you had you squirming.

“No Daddy, not needy,” You insisted.

What succeeded that was so abrupt that you almost didn’t register it but James lifted his hand, bringing it down against the side of your face, pulling a pathetic whine from you as the pain from his hand blossomed across your face. Instinctively you brought your hand up to soothe the warming flesh of your cheek but James caught your wrist before you could get too far.

“Don’t lie to me slut,” He growled, eyes darkening as he gazed down at you, said gaze hardening considerably,

“That hurt,” You sniffed but the boy paid you no mind.

“You’ve been needy for me all day, spent all of Charms hanging off my arm, ready to take my cock right there where everyone would’ve seen you. But you were too needy to even think about that.”

You felt shame pool in the pit of your belly at his statement, because no matter how much you’d try to deny it he was right. You would’ve let him take you right there if he wanted to. You could hear James’ voice ring through your head, Daddy’s needy girl.

“Am I wrong baby?” He asked almost like he could read your mind.

You shook your head but quickly remembered that you were to answer him verbally, “No Daddy, you’re not wrong.”

“There we go,” He cooed, bringing his thumb to the seal of your lips before pushing past it and letting his thumb rest against the flat of your tongue. You began sucking on the digit the second it landed on your tongue, humming around his finger as your eyes fluttered closed.

“Eyes open,” Your eyes were startled open as his rough fingers pinched at your clothed nipple through your uniform top and bra.

James was silent as he let his eyes drag over your form, face open and pleading, your chest was heaving from the effort it took not to collapse onto the floor, your legs looking like they were about to buckle as your trembling knees knocked against each other.

“Were you horny all day baby?” He wondered as though the idea had just dawned on him.

You nodded, James' finger still lodged in your mouth before he slipped it out, wiping it clean not on his clothes but the material of your skirt.

“On the bed bunny, and get all these pesky clothes off, I want my pretty whore naked for me.”

You scrambled to comply with his command, fingers clumsily pulling buttons through their respective holes before shrugging the garment off your shoulders allowing it to land somewhere on the floor around you. Your bra quickly followed and having already shed your footwear that left you only in the uniform skirt that had ridden up your thighs to the point where it was useless, barely even covering your panty clad pussy much less your ass.

You didn’t dare glimpse up at James to silently plead for help, knowing it would only ensure more mocking and teasing and you weren’t quite sure if you would be able to stand it. Instead, you stayed struggling with the difficult clasp at the top of the skirt’s zipper, slippery fingers struggling with the small hook.

“What? Can’t get it undone pretty baby?” James asked you from where he stood at the foot of the bed, you stood to the left of the mattress, brows furrowed as your head was dropped to examine the hook.

Your eyes flashed upwards, meeting James’ lust clouded gaze, hazel eyes trained on your face, he was doing little, if anything, to mask the sly smirk forming on his face from watching you fumble uselessly.

“It’s hard,” You insisted, quickly returning your eyes to the task at hand.

“I’m sure it is when you’re a dumb baby.”

“M’not dumb!” You raised your head in indignation, glaring at the boy who stood there as cockily as ever.

“What was that?” His tone was harder than it had been mere seconds ago, the cocky smile slipping from his lips, “Who do you think you are, talking back?”

“You called me dumb Daddy,” You mumbled pathetically, casting your head down as the boy approached you, meeting your smaller figure in only a few strides, “And m’not,” Your voice stalled as your eyes lifted to meet the somber look on James’ face, “M’not dumb.”

James’ following silence was worse than any physical punishment he could dole out to you, the longer you stood there, eyes locked on James’, the louder your heartbeat became in your head.

“Not dumb, huh? Then why is your skirt still fucking on? Did I say you could stop?”

At his words, your eyes dropped back down to the clasp where you found your fingers had stilled, almost shaking due to the intensity of his stare but no longer working on the task you’d been assigned.

Your fingers began to twitch again, trying to figure out the complicated clasp (though it was really only complicated thanks to the fog that had seemed to settle over your mind) but before you could make any progress the piece of fabric was torn from your waist with a force that had you reeling.

You could barely register the stinging along the skin of your waist and hips, all you knew was that there was a rush of slick flooding your pussy at James’ impressive show of strength.

“Fucking useless,” The dark haired boy murmured, ��Have to do everything myself.” As the words tumbled from his lips his large hands found the mounds of your breasts, squeezing them to the precipice where pain overrode pleasure.

It took everything you had in you to not let your head tip back at the stimulation and let out the most pathetic whine. Knowing James would only use it as fuel was the only thing that kept you contained.

“Can get your panties off can’t you?” His right hand trailed down your form before encountering the waistband of said underwear, slipping a finger underneath it to pull the strap away from your hip before letting go and letting it snap back against your skin.

The contact stung but not enough for you to argue it with him, having wanted him all day you needed him, and you needed him now. Not even the wanting to voice your disdain for his action was going to get in the way of that.

“Yes, Daddy,” You murmured obediently, sliding the panties down your hips before stepping out of them. A swift pat on the ass had you scampering onto the bed where you positioned yourself on your knees, hands clasped in your lap as you awaited James’ instruction

“Look at you,” The brunette muttered, a strong finger catching under the curve of your chin and using it to direct your visage upwards towards his, “On your knees for me like you know you’re supposed to be.”

“S’because I’m your good girl,” You mewled, trying to lean into James’ touch, seeking the comfort that came with it but sensing your intentions James quickly pulled his hand back, leaving you desperate for him to touch you.

Your thirst for said touch was quickly satisfied when he gripped your jaw in his hand, pushing your cheeks together, your lips forced out into a pout. You were sure that the grip he had on you was melding bruises into the side of your voice but you couldn’t summon the energy to care.

You were embarrassed to admit that the rough hold James had on you sent a tingle down your spine, a familiar throbbing in your pussy.

“Gonna see how good for me you can actually be,” With those words James pushed your shoulders back onto the bed where you landed with a soft thud, straightening out your legs so that James could grab ahold of your ankles and wind them around his waist, pulling closer to you to trail his lips up the length of your torso. Leaving sloppy open mouthed kisses until he came to your tits, pinching each nipple between his fingers.

He delighted in the little whine you let out at that, using it as an invitation to roll the rosy buds between his fingers before palming your breasts, his large hands engulfing them. James groped the flesh before releasing your tits from his hold, an involuntary whimper leaving your lips at the lack of stimulation before he brought the palms of his hands down against them, smacking them harder than he had your face.

“Fuck,” You breathed, attempting to clench your thighs together but met by the resistance of James’ hips positioned between them.

“Watch your mouth,” James scolded absentmindedly as he returned his mouth to your body, sucking hues of yellow and blue and purple into the soft skin before soothing the marks with his tongue. This gentle touch immediately followed by him nipping harshly at the forming bruises was jarring, jarring enough to have you bucking up into his hips.

“Daddy please,” You’d had enough of the teasing touches and mocking smiles, you’d had enough of it all except for the one thing you really needed, his cock.

“Use your words slut, tell me what you want.”

“Want you please, want your cock. Need it so bad Daddy, so so bad,” You begged unabashedly, scratching your fingernails along his shoulder blades as you tried to pull him closer and closer to you.

“Desperate little cockwhore, want my cock so badly,” James grinned as he pushed himself off both you and the bed, peering down at your frame as he made quick work of the belt of his buckle. The clinking of metal was music to your ears and enough to have you propping yourself up on your elbows to watch him as he disrobed, shedding his clothes faster than any human reasonably should be able to.

Your mouth dropped open as James shed his last piece of clothing, inching his boxers down his muscled thighs until the length of his cock was able to pop out, escaping the restraints of the underwear.

Though he hadn’t been letting on, his prick was all you needed to see to know he was as turned on as you were, just much better at hiding it. A good 8 inches in length his cock stood proud and tall, already engorged with blood the tip was a pretty rose color that seemed to be darkening by the second and you couldn’t help but lick your lips at the very sight of it.

James took immense pleasure in watching your face as he worked his fist up and down his length, relishing in the way your eyes darkened considerably every time the head poked out the top of his fist.

“Hands and knees for me pretty slut,” You pushed yourself into the requested position, arching your back like you knew James would want you to, making sure to push your ass as far up into the air as possible.

You inhaled sharply as you felt the mattress shift, knowing that it was James settling in behind you you felt your pulse speed up, the anticipation was palpable as James smeared the leaking head of his cock over the globes of your ass.

“My whore, letting me rub my cock on her ass, making her all sticky and messy,” James punctuated his remark with a slap to your ass, though not the first time his hands had come down against you that night it for certain came with the most force behind it. You jolted forward at the impact before quickly sliding back into your position.

You could feel the blood rushing to your ass as it warmed under James’ hand which was now rubbing the afflicted area in attempts to soothe the skin. All efforts were in vain though when the hand was drawn back once again and brought down on almost the exact same spot.

This time he managed to pull a strangled gasp from you, the pain only contributing to the heat beginning to boil in the pit of your belly.

“Please,” You whined, arching your back even more and pushing your ass up against James, needing for him to relent and fill you up like you knew he could, “I’m done being patient I just need you.”

“Like you were ever patient, to begin with.”

“I was, I spent all day waiting for you to get up so you could fuck me and-”

Your bratty words had gotten you just what you wanted, James cut you off mid sentence as he pushed his cock into you, not even easing himself in he simply impaled you on his member. Hands found your hips and pulled you back to meet his so that your ass was still high in the air and he could be as deep inside of you as possible.

“Happy now you fucking cockslut? Happy now that Daddy’s fucking his pretty pussy?”

“Y-yes Daddy, your pussy” You stuttered out as the force of James’ thrusts dropped you down from your hands to your elbows, your hair tumbling in front of your face and effectively obscuring your vision.

This issue was quickly fixed as you felt James tug you up by your hair, using it to stabilize himself as he thrusted in and out of your ribbed walls. The friction his movement provided felt incredible, accompanied by the feeling of being full of his cock had the pleasure in your belly continuing to simmer.

If the distinctly wet sound of your pussy was any indicator you were absolutely soaked, James’ rough handling of you only reminding you how big and strong your boyfriend really was, how if he wanted to he could break you.

The pleasure in your belly was building quickly, with every sound of skin slapping against skin you felt your pussy ache, no matter that you were already stuffed full of his cock already. You needed more, you always needed more of him.

“Slutty bunny,” James grunted as he planted his hands on your hips to hold you into place as he lifted his hips, able to reach deeper and deeper inside of you, “Such a whore for my cock, drooling over me all day. Is this what you wanted baby? Wanted Daddy to fuck you?”

“Yes! S’what I wanted, feels so good.”

“Of course it does, cock sluts just need to be full of Daddy’s cock, is that what you want bunny?”

“Yes, Daddy!” You screamed as you felt yourself being pushed further and further towards the edge of orgasm. Dancing dangerously close to the precipice of pleasure, so close you risked cumming without permission, and after hours and hours of desperation, you couldn’t afford to disappoint him.

“Can feel you clenching around me slutty girl, you feel so fucking good around me, it’s like you were made for my cock.”

“I was Daddy, was made for your cock,” You were ready to say anything you needed to in order to get James’ permission to cum. Having abandoned all embarrassment, all shame, you didn’t care how much of a fool you’d make of yourself you just needed to cum.

“That’s right slutty baby, you wanna cum? You wanna cum for Daddy?”

His offer was enough to have you squealing if you weren’t gasping for breath with every powerful thrust, but you summoned the breath from within you to speak just a few simple words, “Yes please, wanna cum, let me cum please Daddy, have needed to cum all day I need it I need it please.”

Taking pity on you due to the desperation conveyed through your words James grunted his assent as he continued pistoning in and out of you. Eyes clenched as he felt your walls spasm around him, not wanting to cum quite yet.

You released a string of curses as you allowed yourself to tip over the edge of pleasure, putting up no resistance as it swallowed you in your entirety. You felt warmth rush through your every nerve as you became painfully aware of every sound and texture around you.

The sounds of James’ low moans, the feeling of the silky sheets against your swaying breasts, the heat that emanated from your partner’s palms which had found sanctuary on the small of your back. It was like it was all sharpened to maximize the pleasure already coursing through your body, the feeling of James still moving in and out of you was intoxicating as your vision began to white over.

The briefly sharpened senses faded, the noise in the room seemed to quiet to a low hum as you came down from your orgasm. But relief wasn’t what you were met with, instead it was James, still buried balls deep inside of you, allowing you to ride out your orgasm completely around his cock.

“Made such a fucking mess,” To prove his point James’ fingers dipped into the slick that had gathered at the apex of your thighs. Bringing the cum covered hand up he swiped the wetness off onto your back, adoring the way you looked covered in your own release.

“Thank you, Daddy,” You blubbered, “Thank you for letting me cum.”

“Not quite done bunny,” James expertly flipped you from your knees onto your back, eyes watching hungrily as your tits bounced, nipples still hard from him playing with them earlier, “Daddy hasn’t cum yet, thinking I’m gonna cum on your pretty tits, look so hot when they bounce for me.”

Once you were settled in on your back James resumed his movements in and out of your cunt, he too was quickly approaching his release and the feeling of you around him was absolutely heavenly.

“So fucked out for me baby,” James grunted as his right hand found your throat, long fingers curling around your neck easily before squeezing lightly, watching the way your eyes went wide, “Stupid slut’s dumb on my cock. Giving you what you asked for and you’re too dumb to even try to work for it, I’ve gotta do all the work.”

You whined out at his degradation, squirming underneath him as his assault on your cunt overstimulated you to the brink of a second orgasm.

“G-gonna cum again Daddy,” You warned him, eyes fluttering shut as pleasure overwhelmed each of your senses. Even the room reeked of sex.

“Are you there baby? Gonna cum twice before Daddy’s even cum once, greedy little thing,” James squeezed harder on your throat to the point where your mind became even fuzzier and a new sort of cloud settled over your mind. Just as the fuzz was beginning to get to be too much he released his hold on your throat.

Feeling himself approach orgasm James pulled out of your pussy, his hand quickly finding his cock and pumping it up and down as quickly as his wrist would allow him.

“Gonna cum on your tits baby, gonna cum all over your titties,” He moaned as he straddled your waist, continuing to work his cock in his hand.

“Fuck, m’gonna cum,” You closed your eyes as rope after rope of hot, white cum was shot across your tits, a few landing higher up on your body decorating your neck and one even reaching the side of your cheek.

“That’s it, that’s a good girl.”

You whined as the cum decorated your skin, making you even more pathetic looking than you already were.

“My slutty baby looks so pretty covered in my cum,” James smirked, collecting a line of cum off your chest on his finger before bringing the digit to your already parted lips. You dutifully sucked the digit into your mouth, swirling your tongue around it before he pulled it from the warm cavity.

“M’not slutty,” You insisted.

“No? What kinda good girl lets her Daddy cum all over her then?”

You were silent, too gone to even begin to pick that fight.

“That’s right like I said, you’re my dumb slut.”

tagging:@randomoutsiders @weasleyposts @amourtentiaa @kittykylax @superbturtlemakerathlete @oliviashea05 @pinkandblueblurbs @st0nesnglitter @thatvenusbabe @itsmentalillness @zzzfour @greenlyblue @emmaev @temporaryissue @gubleryum @msmb @miraclesoflove @velmasteas @drachoesimp @ashlovesthemarauders @artemis1orion @skaratjung @ava-brooke-blog1 @fairyprettygirly @ohwowimlonley @padfootswife @roonilwazlibswhore

#James potter x reader #James potter x you #james potter x y/n #james potter fanfic #james potter fanfiction #harry potter fanfic #harry potter fanfiction #marauders #marauders x reader #harry potter imagine #james potter #marauders fanfic #James potter smut

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vulgarmaw · 1 year ago

Text

Dremel peered over the large ravine to the small city that had cropped up almost overnight. They couldn't remember when it started being built, but there was a lot they couldn't remember so that wasn't that unusual. A cough behind them interrupted their thoughts.

"You're late." The demon of ash and decay wheezed out. "Off wandering the land when your suffering has only begun."

Dremel cowered slightly and tried to make themselves as small as possible. "I was just thinking. I'll be on time next..."

The sudden movement forced them to stop and tremble. The demon grew twice its size and removed its own rib. It glowed with a heat that could only come from the pits.

"You'll follow now. You're lucky we even allowed a break worm." Its hand latch a red hot chain to a metal collar and dragged the wandering soul back towards the pits.

***

Dremel found their way back to the ravine, back to the cursed hope that had become the human city. They wondered if it was all a ploy. A new form of torture to make them think they had a chance to end their suffering. Only to have it taken away at the last possible moment.

They heard the wheezing of the demon before they could feel its presence. The raspy breath and dragging chains caught their attention almost immediately. They spun around, hoping to be wrong, but were only quick enough to see the chain being clasped around their neck once more as they were dragged back.

"You deserve this worm." It half laughed half coughed. "If it weren't for you your parents would still be living. They're here with you though, they're suffering because of you and this is the cost of your failure."

***

Dremel stood and looked over at the city, wondering what its name was. If it had a name at all. They wondered what types of people would choose to live this close to despair.

A hand, barely perceptible from this side of the cliff waved at them. Or maybe it just waved in general. Why would someone wave at a monster after all.

They stared watching the hand and thought about waving back. Still their hands kept to their sides as they did their best to look small. They could hear the wheezing again, it had been behind them for some time.

***

The last round of torture had been worse than any other. Each round seemed bad, but everytime they were caught near the ravine it only got worse. Dremel still couldn't keep themselves from coming here though.

Maybe this time the hand would wave again.

Maybe this time they would have the courage to wave back.

Maybe... The chain locked around their neck before they could finish thinking.

***

Dremel peered over the large ravine to the small city. The hand was once again waving at them. It had begun to wave each time they were there. It was a small comfort in an otherwise cruel existence.

They felt a spark in their chest. A feeling they had long since forgotten even existed. The burning sensation of what could be if only they believed hard enough. The feeling of hope just as the chain latched onto them and dragged them back to the pits.

***

The ravine looked so deep from this high up, deeper than even the pits. The other side seemed far too, further than they remembered ever traveling before. That burning feeling was still there though, deep in their chest.

"How many times are we going to do this worm? How many times will your suffering increase before you finally give in?" The demon coughed and grabbed onto the edge of the chain.

It was ready to drag them back again. Back to the pits. Back to suffering.

Dremel turned, their heels resting on the very edge of the ravine. Closer than they had ever gotten before now. One false move and they would plummet down to certain death.

"This will be the last time. I promise." They responded while trying to make themselves as small as possible.

It took a step forward. "Good, you deserve to suffer, and suffer you will."

Before it could latch the chain onto their neck they slipped. The wall of the ravine gave out and they began to fall. They didn't feel the impact, but the darkness that took them felt consuming enough by itself.

***

"They're awake!" An unknown voiced called to someone.

Dremel open their eyes and felt the bed they were lying it. They couldn't remember anything feel quite so soft before. They couldn't remember a lot of things.

"Of course they are dear. What else did you expect?" A different, deeper voice called back to the first.

"Where am I?" They finally responded as they opened their eyes.

The room they found themselves was nearly barren, but seemed more like home than any home they could think of. A young boy and what looked to be their father where standing over them. Smiles were clearly visible on both faces.

"You're in the Last City." The father responded. "You're safe now, well safer. Most demons are too scared to cross the ravine. And the ones that do already know that it takes courage. They won't mess with you here."

"I'm so glad you decided to come." The boy added. "My names Luke. I was the one that kept waving at you!"

Dremel wept. That's all they could remember to do.

I just had a dream about humans building a city outside of hell to befriend the tormented souls.

#Tw torture #Tw hell #Tw death #Tw depression #I think that's all I can think of #I hope you like it #I didn't have a lot of time to polish it up so it's pretty rough

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asmo-baby5 · 4 years ago

Text

Burned

Request: @seerachii-art

Description: Mc had gotten very used to the Devildom and would wander around by themself now. They had pacts with the seven highest ranking demons right after the Prince himself and they were close friends with the angels, the powerful sorcerer, and Barbatos and Diavolo themselves. They never accounted for a lower ranking demon wanting to attack them for these relationships.

CW: mentions of burns, slight gore (not a lot)

Lucifer-

•he had gone out looking for Mc after they never showed up for dinner.

•he was very pissed that they went out alone, but he assumed if they really needed help they would call or use their pact to summon him.

•he walked through the Devildom with a very calm demeanor.

•of course, that was right up until he actually saw them.

•Mc was sitting outside of RAD with Barbatos hovering over them like a worried mother.

•"Mc, it is past time for dinner. What are you doing still at..."

•his voice faded out as Mc looked up at him.

•they were holding a damp towel over half their face and tears were flowing freely out of their open eye.

•his normal calm demeanor gave way to an eerie calm.

•"what happened?"

•his voice was low and made Mc flinch away from him.

•they looked so pathetic...

•Barbatos tried to explain what happened but he looked straight at Mc, waiting for their recount of events.

•"he was saying, saying bad things about you." They somehow got out through all the crying.

•lucifer was starting to fill in the blanks himself, but he still needed to assess the damage in order to decide what punishment would befit a lower demon who dared to harm this human.

•Barbatos helped Mc to gently pull the towel away from their face and show Lucifer the large burn covering over their eye.

•the cold towel had stopped the skin from pulling away from their face more than it already had.

•needless to say that calm demeanor quickly turned into burning hot (no pun intended) anger.

•with the help of Barbatos, who had just so happened to be leaving RAD at the time Mc was attacked, Lucifer was able to get them home.

•he offered, more than once, to fly back but they refused so he settled on just carrying them back.

•every fiber of his being wanted to go after the demon that harmed Mc, but he knew he had to get them home and settled before he could even think about leaving their side again.

•Mc refused any magical treatment, so Lucifer took them back to the human world for medical treatment.

•they ended up with a scar over the eye they had unfortunately lost sight in.

•everytime Lucifer saw that scar he'd get very irritated and would be stuck to Mc's side up until he physically could not have them with him for work.

•would pass them onto Simeon so he could keep an eye on them because he didn't trust any of his brothers to keep them completely out of harms way.

•the demon who hurt them was currently (and for the next few centuries) being used as a chew toy for Cerberus.

Mammon-

•rarely let's Mc out of his sight,

•so when they somehow manage to give him the slip one day he starts to freak out, rightfully so.

•not only that but his pact mark was starting to heat up, that only happened when Mc was in trouble.

•he retraces their steps from that day hoping to find Mc at one of the places they had visited.

•he smells them before he actually sees them.

•a mix of tears, sweat, and burnt flesh drew him towards a corner just outside of RAD.

•Mc was holding a sopping wet cloth up to their cheek and was wiping at the tears falling down their face with their free hand.

•every so often they would grimace as they moved the cloth around.

•Mammon was frozen in place looking at his human crying and shaking.

•he could practically feel their pain and their fear.

•he snapped out of it when he caught a glimpse of what was under the cloth.

•"Mc, who the hell burned ya?"

•he tried to keep calm, but let's be honest, being calm when the one person he loved above others was hurt was not exactly easy.

•"who. Burned. You?" His tone dropped to a threatening low growl.

•when Mc flinched at his tone he did calm down a bit though.

•he had to take care of them first before looking for revenge.

•when Mc explained that they were cornered by two lower demons and then lightly burned before they ran away, Mammon had to literally fight to keep from growling.

•it was bad enough for Mc to be attacked, but to be cornered by two demons was the most cowardly thing he had ever heard.

•when he checked the burn his heart clenched.

•there was a good chunk of flesh missing from their cheek.

•he flew them home and tried to convince them to get it magically treated so it wouldn't take as long and there'd be no scar, but Mc refused.

•he didnt leave their side after that incident.

•if you thought Mammon was possessive before, just wait until you see him now.

•he sleeps in Mc's room

•walks with them to school

•constantly texts them when in separate classes

•and goes with them wherever after school

•he doesn't trust anyone else with Mc's wellbeing.

•seeing the scar on their cheek ups his protectiveness and he will follow them around like a puppy.

Levi-

•he knew something was wrong when Mc never showed up for the new episode of an anime they were watching together.

•he was immediately anxious but tried to reason that maybe they were just caught up doing homework or maybe getting snacks and Beel cornered them for the food etc etc.

•yeah, his reasoning quickly turned into overthinking.

•he was about to go looking for them when suddenly he felt a pit in his stomach.

•he could just feel that something in the House of Lamentation was wrong.

•he opened his door only to be met with panicked shouts from floor to floor and the sound of running footsteps.

•like he thought, something was wrong.

•"Leviathan!"

•angry Lucifer shouts were coming from downstairs, so thats where he headed to see what was so wrong.

•he stopped in his tracks though as the view of Mc curled into a ball on Mammon's lap with a towel over their face entered his field of vision.

•he was supposed to be looking after them and the pit in his stomach only grew as he watched Mammon make very small and soft movements with Mc, something he never did ever.

•"Mc...?"

•Levi's voice was small as he got closer and could finally smell it,

•the burnt flesh on Mc's face being held together by the cold towel.

•he almost gagged, and would have if Lucifer didn't suddenly grab his shoulder pulling his senses away from the smell and sight.

•"where were you!?"

•is all Lucifer had to ask for Levi to realize that Mc got hurt,

•they got hurt on his watch,

•he couldn't protect them.

•"I- I'm ok, okay." Mc had stuttered out, the pain made it hard to string words together

•it took a moment for Levi to compose himself, and even when he did outwardly he was an utter MESS inside.

•do-dont lie, Mc..." he slowly made his way over to them, but kept his distance from them.

•they got hurt because he wasn't competent enough,

•there was no way he could let himself ever indulge in their presence after this.

•he would of course take revenge against whoever dared to hurt Mc,

•but when they reached out and gently held onto Levi's hand, their's still trembling,

•he finally decided that being with them was the only place he wanted to be.

•as much as he wanted to absolutely decimate whoever hurt them, Mc needed him there more,

•and his Henry always came first.

•besides, he was fairly certain Lucifer was already making preparations to take care of the demon.

Satan-

•he was out with Mc looking for some new books from a bookstore that just opened.

•the two got separated for barely two minutes,

•but it was more than enough time for a group of demons to walk over and taunt them.

•Mc's already poor relationship with the other demons in the Devildom had recently got worse.

•its not like Satan didn't know this,

•he was hyper aware of the fact Mc was being targeted more often by lower demons for petty jabs.

•that's why losing them in a new store caused anxiety to creep into his body and sit like a rock in the pit of his stomach.

•Mc had expressed their fear of these demons (cowards, as Satan kindly referred to them) trying something more than jabs,

•so he felt very protective over them since then, wanting them to feel safe when they were with him.

•But safe was the exact opposite of what they were now.

•Satan quickly found Mc, but he also witnessed one demon slap them,

•hard.

•hard enough that they left a burnt handprint scarred onto Mc's cheek.

•Satan could barely process what had happened.

•before he knew it his vision had gone red and he could feel a low growl coming from deep in his gut.

•he was about to go after the demons who did this but Mc stopped him with a whimper that immediately brought him back.

•he wasn't really the most calm all the time,

•but in a crisis he was the best demon to go to because he could keep a surprisingly cool head.

•once his temper had cooled down enough for him to stop clenching both his jaw and his fists, he set to work caring for them.

•As he took the time to properly dress the wound the human way, Mc explained to him what happened.

•the group apparently confronted them about Satan's reputation.

•he was once known as the cruelest and scariest demon right after Lucifer,

•but apparently rumors had started to spread that he had become soft.

•many demons blamed Mc for this change because they had a pact with him and Satan was most definitely not known for having pacts with anyone.

•as he listened to this his anger started to spike again, but he pushed it back down enough to swiftly carry the Mc home.

•he didnt want to have to rely on Lucifer for anything, but only he could come and go between the human world and the Devildom,

•and Mc needed burn treatment in an environment that would promote healing for humans.

•once he knew Mc was being well taken care of though, he finally let his anger rise and bubble at the surface.

•he got a pretty good look at the demons who hurt Mc, and Satan NEVER forgot a face.

•once the Mc had come back, the scar left by the demon made Satan's rage come back anew every time.

•he even requested that Asmo try any and all facials and treatments that could get rid of scars.

•and as for the group of demons?

•well,

•let's just say,

•you should never make the Avatar of Wrath your enemy...

Asmo-

•he and Mc were on a date.

•clothes shopping, tea, sweets, spa, and hairdresser.

•everything was going great,

•Asmo was having the most perfect time being with Mc for so long without his brothers interfering.

•that is, up until their hair appointment.

•the two were separated for a bit because they each needed different treatments done to their hair.

•Asmo didn't think much of it.

•he had taken Mc to this particular hairdresser many times already, so he never thought anything bad could possibly happen to them.

•he was proven wrong when a scream came from the other side of the building,

•the area where Mc was.

•Asmo shot up out of his chair and practically teleported to where they were.

•what he saw made this normally pretty calm demon's blood boil.

•one of the workers was bowing and apologizing repeatedly as Mc looked at them dazedly.

•but what really got to him was the intern hiding behind a corner, laughing.

•"so this is funny, is it?"

•he had snuck up behind them and asked, his voice unusually low.

•"this particular human is under the complete protection of Lord Diavolo, would you like to explain to him why there is now a burn covering half their face?"

•the intern paled at that and shook their head.

•"I would not think so. Now explain to me how this happened."

•the intern explained that they dipped the cloth that goes on Mc's face in scalding hot water.

•they knew Mc was a human and they wanted to test their limits,

•but they adamantly maintained that they never intentionally harmed Mc.

•Asmo was furious, especially because this happened in a place where he was only a few feet away.

•but he did give up on grilling the intern, deciding he'd give their name over to Diavolo and Lucifer later, in favor of comforting Mc.

•they were coming out of their daze but that meant the pain was starting to set in.

•Asmo was able to carry them out of the shop and quickly home before they could scream again,

•or cry.

•he would definitely go on a rampage if Mc started crying and killing a demon in broad daylight was not a good look for his cute image.

•he informed Lucifer what happened and trusted he would then take it to Diavolo.

•Asmo carried Mc to his room and set them in his low hanging seat so he could tend to their burn.

•thankfully it wasnt bad enough to be cause for major concern,

•but it was bad enough that Asmo was worried about some scarring.

•he was able to clean the skin around the burn and then apply a few different treatments to lessen the scarring process.

•he promised to use all kinds of facials on Mc, once they were feeling up to it, so the scars would heal quickly.

•once Mc was taken care of, he couldn't even think of leaving their side,

•so he opted to lie down on his bed with them.

•Mc fell asleep rather quickly, the trauma making them exhausted.

•Asmo couldn't fall asleep for a while though as he spent time blaming himself for the injury.

•he would never, ever, forget this day...

Beel-

•he was out to eat with Mc as usual.

•there was an all you can eat buffet that had just opened up and Beel was all willing to pay for both of their meals if Mc went with him.

•of course they did.

•it is way too hard to say no to Beel.

•while he was on his fifth plate of food, Mc wandered of to the bathroom for a small break.

•they accidentally ran into a group of demons on the way there and got into a small altercation.

•they started badgering Mc and complaining about how the nicest demon brother was no longer able nor willing to hang out with them because he'd rather be with Mc.

•it was a small, petty, argument that unfortunately ended up in a small burn that ate through the first and second layer of skin on Mc's cheek.

•the demon that did it freaked out because they knew humans were weak by my god they're way too weak!

•the group ran away, out of the restaurant, leaving Mc staring wide eyed at the floor, the pain from their cheek slowly starting to register.

•they walked calmly back to the table to grab Beel.

•"B-Beel, Beel, we need to, to leave." They had stuttered out.

•the pain was making it hard to form sentences.

•"Mc, I can get a free meal if I finish this..."

•Beel's sentence had faded off as he finally looked up.

•Mc's eyes were glazed over from the pain and blood was dripping down from the pretty sizeable hole in their cheek.

•the big demon was up and out of the restaurant in no time, carrying Mc with him.

•he didnt really know what to do in the moment but he did know Mc needed help, fast.

•he went to Solomon first because his magic is the first thing Beel's panicked mind landed on.

•Solomon immediately went to work cleaning and bandaging the wound.

•because of his medicinal herbs, he had learned a fair amount of human medicine and knew how to care for a burn.

•Beel refused to leave their side, only doing so when Solomon convinced him to call Lucifer and inform him of what happened.

•After Solomon had taken care of the burn, he talked Beel into letting Mc stay at Purgatory Hall for a few days so that the rowdy demon brothers wouldn't interfere with their healing.

•Beel was over every day, almost every hour, to check up on them.

•once the burn had healed a fair amount, Solomon was able to use his magic to prevent any scarring.

•Beel 100% blamed himself for the injury, he felt he had once again failed to protect an important part of his family.

•it took a lot of convincing from Mc and Belphie for him to stop blaming himself so much.

•he was never focused on revenge against the demons that did this as his full focus was on Mc and their recovery,

•Lucky for him, Solomon and Lucifer weren't as focused on Mc..

Belphie-

•he never really left the house and he wasn't super overprotective of Mc like the other brothers were.

•he knew their strength but also knew that if they needed him they would call for him.

•so when the pact mark he had with Mc started to heat up and quickly started to burn, he knew that was them calling for him.

•they needed his help and he was more than willing to give it.

•he left the house in a hurry as the mark started to burn more and more.

•despite trusting Mc to pretty much take care of themself,

•he couldn't deny the worry and concern rapidly growing.

•the pact mark between a human and their demon is supposed to connect them and one is supposed to be able to find the other through this mark

•but Belphie was new to pacts with humans and he wasn't quite sure how to use it to find Mc.

•this did not help his concern as he realized they could literally be anywhere in the Devildom.

•he decided to just go to all their favorite places to see if he could find them.

•he eventually found them pacing right outside the planetarium.

•it was their place, the two of them, so he mentally slapped himself for not checking there sooner.

•"Mc, whats going on?"

•he walked over to them but they turned away from him.

•he froze as one of the worst smells ever finally reached his nose.

•it was awful.

•"Mc, what happened?" He tried to reach out and grab their shoulder but he stopped when he noticed them trembling.

•"Uh, um, its nothing, nothing bad."

•their voice was trembling just as much as their body and Belphie had finally reached his limit.

•he spun them around and was about to say something but he froze.

•Mc was crying while holding their jacket over one half of their face.

•Belphie grabbed the hand that was holding the jacket and gently pried it away from their face.

•Mc grimaced with every movement and Belphie swore under his breath, hating that he was hurting them.

•once the jacket was fully gone his sleepy eyes widened and any left over drowsiness from earlier was completely gone.

•there was a large burn over their eye and the skin around it was pulling away.

•he realized that's where the smell was coming from.

•"What happened?"

•he repeated his question from earlier but this time there was no way anyone could ignore his threateningly low voice.

•"N-nothing, seriously, Im taking care of it. And I, I called Solomon and he's on, on his way to help. I'm okay."

•Belphie felt his heart drop as Mc said this.

•either they didnt trust him enough to let him help or they didnt love him enough to tell him what happened.

•he really hated both of those options.

•"I'll stay here with you until he shows up then."

•he'd feel even more awful if he brought it up and made Mc feel guilty on top of their physical pain though.

•he sat with them silently for a few minutes until Solomon showed up.

•Solomon took them back to Purgatory Hall to clean and patch up the burn.

•Belphie went with and held their hand as Solomon had to get rough to fully clean it.

•he stayed with them the whole time, swearing to never leave their side again.

•once they finally fell asleep he took it on himself to go after whoever dared to touch, let alone harm his human.

•they would pay.

•he wasn't nearly as cruel, or strong, as some of his older brothers,

•but he sure knew how to hold a grudge.

•and that promise of never leaving their side could hold off a few more hours...

#asmo obey me #beel obey me #levi obey me #obey me #obey me beelzebub #obey me belphegor #obey me belphie #obey me headcanons #obey me leviathan #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me satan #obey me requests #headcanon requests #angst #tw burns #burns #cw burns #obey me angst

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archetypal-archivist · 4 years ago

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Tommyinnit and Hermitcraft- Heartstone

So this builds off of the whole "Tommy has somehow found himself on Hermitcraft after the exile arc" thing that got really popular with @redorich and @petrichormeraki on tumblr. Basically it's an excuse to give Tommy therapy and 20+ parent figures. One thing that's a common thread in those stories is that Tommy is shocked that Hermitcraft has infinite respawns and all of the hermits are quick to reassure him that he really won't perma-die in their world. And I had the thought- well, what if he wasn't in their world anymore? And thus came forth 1500+ words of angst~

It begins like this. Evil X is stuck in the void, alone and with no one to talk to. He misses daylight, he misses touch, he misses hearing voices other than his own. One day, he sees something get shot through the void as if by slingshot, leaving a trail of code in its wake, tethering the whatever it is back the way it came. This is Tommy, and while he begins to get adjusted to Hermitcraft and company, Evil X watches as the string of code begins to imprint itself into the void, and eventually learns that he can interact with it, albeit only on the most superficial of levels. On Tommy's end, he slowly begins to heal from his time spent in the war zone that is the Dream SMP, making fast friends with Grian and several of the other hermits in the process. He goes pranking with his newest, winged older brother figure, laughs at the antics of Impulse, Tango, and Zedaph, builds a cobblestone tower with BDubs, etc. But for all that he's healing, such a process isn't linear. No one on the server can truly understand just what sort of stuff he has been through, and so he often finds himself alone, trying to deal with his wildest emotions by talking to himself.

One day, however, a little voice in his head starts talking back. It's rough and gravelly and not very nice at first, but it's faint enough that he chalks it up to his imagination and moves on with his life. He follows Stress around like a duckling for a day, plays squire for Welsknight, and has a roaring panic attack after an unfortunate spar with False leads to him getting flashbacks to the Pit with Technoblade. He retreats back to his tower for a good cry, and in the midst of his tears, he hears the voice again. This time it's a bit nicer, sounding unsure and a bit panicky as it tries to encourage him to stop crying, god this is awkward, kid, it'll be fine. Wait, are you a kid? You seem tall for a munchkin.

This time, Tommy knows that it isn't his imagination, but half of his old server seemed to have voices in their heads so he really isn't all that alarmed that he seemed to have developed one of his own too. And he does something that no one else does when Evil X reaches out- he starts talking back. It's rough going, at first, especially since both of them have abrasive personalities, but eventually they settle into a rough estimation of friendship that means more to them then they are willing to say. From Evil X's perspective, this is the first time someone has actually listened to him and hasn't been turned away by his violent streak, his bad manners, and lack of proper social skills. For Tommy, this is a chance to vent to someone who seems to understand his pain. It helps that neither of them are inclined to ask too many questions. Tommy, on his part, has no clue that Evil X is an actual person and not a voice in his head, while Evil X can't bring himself to ask why Tommy has left a trail of code in the void and why it's all so glitched. He especially fears asking about the perma-death clause that seems to naturally have occurred in his code.

He will come to regret this choice.

The day is like any other, at first. He begins his day with a slice of sweet melon and then flies off to whatever hermits are awake at the time to "share a meal with them." Really, it started as an excuse to make sure that Tommy was eating at least one meal day, even in his most dissociative of states, but has since turned into an opportunity to eat weird things in front of people to see their reactions. (Etho is his favorite. He's always up early and half the time, asks to try a bite of whatever Tommy is having. They both agree that spider eyes taste a lot like sour boba.) From there it's off to the shopping district to restock his dirt shop and claim his share of the profits from the hole-digging service he runs with Grian. After that, there's just enough time to complete an order or two and collect more cobble and dirt before he has to meet up with Grian to go on their biweekly End Busting session. The two usually have a lot of fun as they go about it, Tommy jokingly shoving Grian off the platform only for his adopted brother to catch himself and fly up to join him on the narrow platform spanning the emptiness once again. Every once in a while, Grian mock-threatens to do the same in return, but he knows better than to actually attempt it after he did it once and had had to catch Tommy when he started screaming and even after they had gotten back to solid ground, he wouldn't stop for the better part of half an hour.

On habits die hard, after all. Tommy may have been told time and time again by everyone on the server that infinite respawns are a thing, yes really, but he still has a hard time believing it. He actually has a rather insane number of levels racked up- even more than Xisuma, which is impressive- because in all the months that he has been on Hermitcraft, he hasn't died once. It's a combination of survival skills taught to him by Philza and his own paranoia which has kept him alive for so long, and most of the hermits agree that it is rather impressive, if not entirely healthy for him to be so scared of dying. (Doc once offered to kill him as evidence that yes, it really is safe here and you will respawn, but for all that death by crazy redstone machine might of been cool, Tommy took a hard pass on that. Grian low key took exception to Doc offering to kill his adopted little brother, really man? Not cool.)

Anyway, Grian and Tommy meet up in the End and start off bridging with the insane amount of cobble that Tommy has stored up. Usually Tommy is in front, placing the stones, and Grian is in back, watching out for any sign of a slip up, but this time they decide to switch it up a bit, head in a new direction, play around with who's doing what this time. It ends... poorly. They bridge out into the black, on and on and on, farther into the void than they ever have before. Slowly, the islands of floating white stone stop appearing with such frequency, but they become larger in size and stranger in shape. Every once in a while Grian will see what he swears to be a glowing white mountain of Endstone in the distance, although Tommy calls bullshit each and every time. They chalk it all up to bad luck and going nuts from boredom, but really, neither one of them knows how to quit while they're ahead. As the islands disappear altogether and all that remains to orient themselves is the tenuous lifeline of cobblestone beneath their feet, the unthinkable happens.

Grian slips. And Tommy, taught compassion by the very world that will now kill him, reaches out to save him.

For one, brief moment, the two brothers clasp hands- and then Grian's weight pulls Tommy right over the edge and down, down, down into the void below.

Grian fell out of the world.

Tommy fell out of the world... and into a new one.

----

Xisuma wakes up late that day. He's been doing that a lot, if he's honest, given how late he's staying up most nights finishing up builds and the like. Those hours of sleep have to come from somewhere, after all, and he's far from an early bird. He gives into the impulse to relax a bit, drinking some tea sweetened with just enough honey to rot his teeth, and then heads off to his computer room to start up his duties as admin for the day. It's the red lights that alert him to something being wrong, and at first, he thinks it's just one of hermits' cam accounts being buggy again. Perhaps it got shut off while the hermit was bridging through the void and the hermit in question simply hadn't retrieved it yet? But who would name their cam account Tommyinnit? The looming dread sits cold in his gut as he flicks his fingers to open up his admin panel... Best to check, just in case.

The death messages are clear enough- Keralis had just perished to a ravager yesterday, likely Tango's from Decked Out if he had to guess. Zedaph had been slain by a piglin twenty minutes ago. And Grian and Tommy had fallen into the void. But if that were the case... why had only one of them respawned?

On Grian's part, he comes to with a lingering chill deep in his bones and an awful headache. The bed underneath him is warm and the sheets are a soft rosy color, likely one of the ones in Scar's magical village if the persistent smell of spruce is anything to go by. He winces against the light filtering through the window and turns to the side, squinting at where Tommy had placed his blue bed right next to his, apology on his lips for his stupid mistake. The sheets are undisturbed. Huh. That's weird, he could have sworn that he and Tommy had set their respawn points at the same time. Maybe Tommy had just forgotten and he was back in his base or at spawn? Grian rises to his feet slowly, giving his body time to adjust to the colors and sounds of the Overworld, then flaps his wings and takes off to go looking for his Tommy.

He doesn't find him.

---

The reactions to Tommy's "death" are many and varied, although for the most part, the hermits are split into two camps- those that think Tommy is gone for good, and those that think he may still be out there somewhere. For the first few days of Tommy's disappearance, most everyone is in the latter camp. Xisuma spends hours upon hours scanning the code, becoming increasingly more frazzled and terrified as his lack of sleep gets to him. Tango and Doc join him in the endeavor, although none of them have any luck or are able to spot the piece of code that caused the problem. No additions, no changes to the text, nothing. Grian leads the other team, those who set out on foot and one wing and with pick in hand to scour the world for their youngest charge, taken from them too soon. They begin in a grid pattern, setting out in ones and twos to search the whole world, but as the distance increases, the neat, orderly flyovers turn into frenzied boosting as panic starts to get the better of them. Some of them hold onto their composure better than others, but Grian ends up flying over the same patch of forest three times because he can't see for his tears. False, Impulse, Welsknight, and Beef cross the Nether, fighting their way into Bastion after Bastion and leaving Nether portals in their wake. In their tracks comes the fliers- Grian, Ren, Iskall, and BDubs. Each one takes a portal and does a sweep through the corresponding patch of Overworld before picking a direction to continue the search. Cubfan, iJevin, and Scar take to the seas, Mumbo, Stress, xB, and Zedaph to the End, Etho down into the depths of the caves below. Strangely enough, there are a few hermits who don't join the search- Keralis, who got the unlucky task of taking care of Xisuma and the others searching through the code, Tinfoilchef, who doesn't provide a reason but everyone gives him a pass because of his age, and Joe Hills and Zombie Cleo, who refuse to explain themselves.

Eventually, the searches dry up. Eventually, some of the hermits admit defeat. Hundreds of thousands of blocks out from spawn, down to the bedrock below, beneath sea and sky and every place that lacks the sun. How far is too far? For Xisuma, enough is enough. Tommy is dead. The search is over.

He stops looking. And soon, others do the same.

And the tone of the server... shifts.

For the first time that any of them can remember, a person has perma-died. Sure, they've all heard the rumors, of servers where infinite respawns is not the norm, of servers where the world glitched and a creeper is supercharged enough to damage a player down to their code. But they'd never thought that one of their own would be on the receiving end of such a curse. And to the hermits, the possibility of dying themselves suddenly becomes all too real. The constant flying is the first to go, and for those that insist on it anyway (outside of Grian, who has wings), checking the elytras' durability becomes more than just a habit. Eating spider eyes and other junk is out of the question, now it's golden apples or nothing. The Nether is all but abandoned, as is the End, and everyone on the server either groups up so that they are never alone, or retreats into their bases, becoming true hermits befitting of their server's name.

The joy that had once been so characteristic of the server is gone, and in the hearts of all, there lingers the dread that any one of them might be next- although, there are still those that hold on to hope that Tommy may not be as gone as he seems.

---

The hermits who think Tommy is dead for good and have stopped searching: Doc, Etho, Xisuma, Welsknight, Grian, BDubs, Cubfan, TinfoilChef, Stress, False, Iskall.

The hermits who think Tommy is still out there, alive if still missing, and that the search should continue: Keralis, Mumbo, Tango, Vintage Beef, Impulse, Zedaph, Joe Hills, Zombie Cleo, Scar, Rendog, xB.

Doc and Etho are old. They don't like to admit it, but they've been around since the beginning, back when players were first learning how to jump servers and communicator technology was undergoing its first upgrade. They've seen a lot and know well by now that dead is dead. Tommy is dead. All that is left to do is mourn and move on, and they have shed their tears already. Call them cold for it, but in the face of a kind of drive that can keep a man going after his entire server has burnt down around his ears (Mindcrack will be missed), they know they need to keep moving forward. There are enough broken messes on the server these days, and it is through their efforts that shops remain stocked and the torches don't burn out. They hold onto normalcy with an iron grip and hope that some day, the rest of the hermits will join them in rationality.

Stress too has a comparatively healthy approach to all of this. She doesn't want it to be true, god no, but so far everything is pointing in the direction of Tommy being dead for good. She eats a couple dozen bowls of ice cream, has a some good cries, doesn't leave her base for a week, and even afterwards she can't bring herself to wear pink for a while. But she's mourning. She's accepted things. She lets her heart break, and as time passes, she lets herself heal. And that's enough for her.

Scar is of the opinion that Tommy is still out there, and while he clings to that hope with all his might, it's fragile and Cub just knows that his best friend is going to be cut to pieces when that hope inevitably breaks. So he takes Scar aside for a quiet conversation, to break his heart before the world can break it for him. Afterwards, Scar stops talking about Tommy as if he's coming back, but his smile is never as bright as it was before. And Cub's heart breaks too.

Team ZIT swings the exact opposite way as the rest and are firmly of the belief that permadeath is impossible and thus Tommy must be alive. The three of them aren’t known for their impulse control at the best of times, and with so many hermits having given up, the trio is rightfully vicious about the fact that the others, in their eyes, have abandoned their friend. Zedaph, Impulse, and Tango all kind of feed into one another and start doing lots of dangerous stunts, as if daring the universe to permakill them and prove them wrong. If one of them does something, the other two join in and escalate things, which gets impossibly dangerous very, very fast. Tango is furious, Impulse is bitter, and Zedaph is straight up heartbroken that his other friends would give up on another of their number. They do things like fly incredibly high, go cliff jumping in the Nether only to catch themselves at the last minute, and sprint across the End bridges. If they have doubts, they never voice them. Even when Tango feels like he’s burning up from the inside and wonders at his newfound hate. Even when Impulse is utterly terrified but goes along with things anyway because Tango is doing it and he can’t bear to leave a friend alone. Even when Zedaph looks at his friends and can’t help but feel scared of and for these strangers wearing the faces he knows so well. Even then.

Team ZIT often gets dragged into and starts lots of screaming fights with the other hermits who believe Tommy is dead, especially Doc, BDubs, xB, and False. False especially gets vicious, as while pvp is no longer permitted on the server, her tongue is as sharp as any blade. She believes firmly that the others are trampling on Tommy’s memory by insisting that he isn’t dead and she is determined to make them stop. And if they refuse to give up their foolishness? Well, all she might have left is her words but with them she will make them bleed.

xB and Vintage Beef are as close to neutral as you are going to get from those that get into regular arguments. xB thinks Tommy is dead until proven otherwise, while Beef thinks the exact reverse. As some of the more chill hermits, they often get dragged in to play negotiator so that the fights don’t turn physical. And some days, when someone says something particularly hurtful, they’ll close themselves up in one of xB’s bunkers and drink until they can no longer remember why they ought to be enemies. It’s hardly healthy, but they both agree that it’s better this way. Better to forget than to hurt, after all.

Grian is… somewhat the same. Sort of. He was traumatized by Tommy, the boy he adopted as his little brother, dying before his eyes, and he can’t help but blame himself. That is, when he can remember that Tommy is dead at all. After the fall, Grian’s mind was badly broken and he couldn’t accept that his little brother was dead for the longest time. He fell into two weeks of deep depression, barely eating or drinking, and eventually Iskall came and took care of him when he realized that he hadn’t seen his buddy in ages. Iskall nursed Grian back to health, only to feel his heart shatter in his breast when Grian turned to him, eyes feverishly bright and tone childlike, asking where Tommy was. The winged man’s mind couldn’t cope with the loss so it had shut down entirely, making him forget the tragedy that had occured. Iskall had deflected then, frantically trying to figure out what to say, but after a few days of Grian wandering about in a dreamlike state, his memory came back to him and he collapsed in on himself once more. The winged hermit is now locked in a loop of this, while poor Iskall is stuck trying to keep his friend alive and relatively sane.

Iskall, for his part, thinks Tommy is well and truly dead. In part because of his own certainty, in part because anything else would be even crueler for Grian. He doesn’t resent his friend for his break downs, just quietly bundles him up and clutches him close, coaxing him to eat and bathe, to put down the guilt and realize that it’ll be okay, the world won’t end with Tommy gone. He gently tries to nudge Grian down that path of acceptance of Tommy’s fate, and though he faces many setbacks, he tackles each one with a special kind of patience born of platonic love. They’re bros, despite everything. It’s only right.

Mumbo is, weirdly enough, on the side of Tommy being alive. Iskall doesn’t exactly approve and while he and Mumbo sometimes get into whispered arguments over it, they try to keep their little disagreements from Grian. Both of them only want to see their friend happy again, and will do just about anything to make it happen. For Mumbo, this means putting together crazy redstone contraptions to try and find Tommy again, as he’s certain that Grian’s little brother is still out there somewhere- and he has a piece that might prove it. Iskall comes over one day, face drawn and haggard from a night of soothing Grian through another set of screaming nightmares, only to find Mumbo waist high in redstone wiring, all hooked up to a strange portal design that looks too much like Doc’s infinity portal from season 6 for comfort. At the top of the arch is Tommy’s compass, needle whirling about like a hurricane, and while the portal isn’t lit, it does give off a faint blue-black glow. Iskall is frightened that Mumbo is tampering with something that could get him killed and Mumbo rushes to reassure him that no, the compass was specifically linked to Tommy so if Tommy was really dead, it would have been reset, right? He’s merely borrowing that tie to try and figure out where the two ends lead. Iskall is less than sure about this, especially since Mumbo is just as drawn and pale as he is, if a bit more covered in redstone, but they agree that fighting is pointless. They care about each other and about Grian too much to put any of them through that sort of pain- and besides, there’s more than enough fighting on the server already.

Ren too thinks that Tommy is alive and he is one of the ones who gets into regular fights. He’s a lover, not a fighter, but something about this whole situation just burns him up. When the pressure gets too much, he goes flying, tracing over those old familiar trails they searched so long ago, trying to see if there is anything they missed. There never is.

Welsknight has made his peace with Tomy’s death, though the server tends to forget that he and Tommy were closer than most. He alone knew that Tommy was once upon a time a boy called Theseus (a name given to him shyly when Tommy had asked him if there were any great heroes with that name that didn’t die). He alone knew Tommy’s love for horses, or that he would spend hours whispering horror stories to them when he thought no one would hear. Tommy was his squire, and although he had accepted the tragedy, he still wept for the hurt it brought him. He alone knew of the little grave he had dug under the willow tree in his castle courtyard and the headstone he had placed there, engraved with Tommy’s true name, death date, and supposed date of birth. He couldn’t have been more than 17, and perhaps that was what hurt the most. Every morning at dawn, Welsknight brings a bouquet of flowers to that little grave and says a prayer before disappearing into the morning fog. The flowers are always the same- forget me nots, for remembrance, violets, for devotion, and clover. (Think of me).

Tinfoilchef stays out of it- always has and always will. He’s too old to rush about searching or to feel as wildly as the others do. He feels, of course, but more so as the mountain does, steady and strong despite the winds that tear at its surface. Tommy is dead, but then, so are many of the people he has known in his life. It’s best to just keep plodding along.

BDubs is a mess. He had never spoken of it, but long before he had come to hermitcraft, he had had a daughter- a beautiful baby girl whose heart was too big for her chest, and she had died for that difference. He had grieved for years, but eventually the peace of the hermitcraft server had left him soothed, if a bit different than before. Tommy had been another chance at fatherhood, not that he could ever bear to call the teen that, even in the privacy of his own mind. Instead, he had taught the kid to build cobblestone towers that weren’t entirely offensive (if shaped a bit oddly) and had been the first to volunteer any time Grian was out and Tommy needed a place to spend the night when the nightmares were particularly fierce. They had so many fun sleepovers like that, and staring at those awful cobble towers in the distance, BDubs can’t help but bawl his eyes out at the memories. He waffles between taking the towers down or leaving them up- they really are ugly, and the feelings in his chest that they inspire are even more so, but somehow, he can’t bear to see them gone. Instead, he dries his eyes, flies off to grab a shulker of cobble, and sets about adding a few more to their number. A final remembrance for the boy he would have gladly claimed as his own, if only he hadn’t been too late. (He ends up building a lot more than a few).

Joe and Cleo are somehow the only ones who are actually neutral in the whole mess. Whenever they are asked their opinion on if Tommy is truly dead or not, the pair simply smile mysteriously and refuse to comment. Joe always seems to know more than he lets on and Cleo is his closest confidant, after all. Despite the anger and tears directed their way for refusing to commit to either side, the two keep their silence. (They know the truth of the matter, after all. Everything will be okay in time).

Xisuma has given up. Tommy is dead, and there is nothing he can do but spend days and days going over the code with a fine tooth comb, trying to find the glitch that cut the life of their youngest member short. Keralis takes it upon himself to take care of his long time friend, but it’s not an easy task, not when the other is so determined to make sure that such an incident never happens again. And Keralis can’t find it in himself to complain, especially since he is laboring under the impression that Xisuma agrees that Tommy is still out there and is trying to find him. It is only when Keralis mentions it in an aside, thanking the admin for his dedication, that Xisuma breaks the illusion and explains. Tommy isn’t just dead, he says tiredly, his very presence is well and truly wiped from the world’s code. All that is left of him is the faint impression his code had left behind, and trying to read it and understand what went wrong is a bit like trying to read small letters that have been drawn out in dry sand. Even for a voidwalker like himself such a task is near impossible, and Xisuma can only do so much. The needs of the many above the needs of the few- best to secure those he can now than worry over those that are gone beyond his reach. And Keralis can’t help but look at his friend with new eyes, a fleeting sense of betrayal in his heart. He had thought better of his Shishwammy, and he says as much.

He cries while Xisuma watches on in solemn, mournful silence.

---

TBC :)

#hermitcraft #minecraft #fanfiction #dream smp #hermit tommy au #angst #My writing #i'm proud of this one

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