#Every time I draw Sal his hair is different

[pumpkiinns]

gasps loudly an dramatically. YOU LIKE SALLY FACE !??!? that is so so awesome

YES I LOVE SALLY FACE HHHH I love sally face so much I love the critters they are silly and I love them I am normal about Sally Face giggling kicking my feet spinning in my chair

[teddyniffler]

Chapter 28: Gaunts and Weasleys

From the very second the Hogwarts Express reached the train station earlier that day, Ominis knew he was dead.

He had picked up his trunk and felt his way off the train along with everybody else, using their voices to guide him. Only when he had two feet and his trunk safety on the ground did he feel a hand gripping the back of his neck suddenly, fingers digging in, gripping the back of his hair to pull his head back.

“Whoa-who!?”

Ominis reacted in shock, his hand reaching back to feel a hand with a large ring upon the back of his neck.

“Home” A furious word snapped.

“Father-what is? Father?”

Ominis couldn’t even think. His mouth had gone dry. All around him came mutterings as his father led him by his neck through the crowd.

Something had angered his father so much he was showing violence to his son in public. All around him, voices whispered, in his heightened panic, he could hear them even over the train still pumping steam.

“Did you see that?”

“Oh my…”

“Is that Gaunt?”

“Shh.”

“Poor kid.”

“Ooh the Gaunts are having trouble with their youngest again. Even such a fine house isn’t safe from mudblood and blood traitor ideologies.”

They had arrived at the front of the queue to the Floo Network, no doubt ignoring the line as normal to reach the grate first.

“Father?” Ominis tried “What’s wrong? Why are you doing this?”

“We shall talk, and I mean we will talk, when you get home.”

“You know where I am going.” His father instructed the statue of Ignatia Wildsmith and a second later Ominis was marched through the flames. His trunk no doubt following them at the hands of a silent house elf. The poor thing was likely terrified, Ominis knew how it felt.

They came out into the Gaunt’s hut, from here Ominis was escorted up the hill at a fast speed. He was disorientated from the speed his father was dragging him up the hill. Inside his chest, his heart pounded. Was this over his failed attempt with manipulating Black? Ominis had heard the many different conversations that had sprung up around his headmaster’s recent beaten state. He knew it was likely at the hands of his father as a result of the attack on Ominis, but would his father really be angry with him over that? As much as Ominis knew, his father and Black were friends, but his father viewed the Blacks as lower than them. He struggled to keep his fear down, running his mind over what he could have possible done to anger his father.

They entered the House of Gaunt and Ominis was taken to the drawing room and pushed down into a chair.

“Where is Sebastian Sallow, Ominis?” came his father’s voice. There were footsteps in the room too, they weren’t alone. Out of sight of Ominis, Marvolo had come in to watch the interrogation. The wild shine in his eyes only heightened more by the fire as he watched the scene unfold in front of him. If his father needed help with the Cruciatus Curse again, he would be more than happy to offer his assistance.

“Sebastian? I don’t know father.” Ominis said. ”He was at St Mungos, but he got out, that’s what the papers said”

“I used many of my resources and my own time getting your precious friend out of Azkaban, he would still be rotting in there without this family. Your lowlife, kin-killing half breed piece of trash is only free because I got him out for you.” Mr Gaunt placed emphasis upon I and you. Ominis held his head up, although his every nerve was screaming at him to hide.

“Imagine my concern, as a father, when the sick boy wasn’t in his bed where he should have been. Imagine my wonder when his twin sister came into the room and ran when she saw me. Why did she run for? Am I not the concerned father who helped get her brother out? Why did she run? Have you and her been planning on removing the Sallow boy from his place of care behind my back? Only guilty people flee, Ominis. Shiva says there was a woman with the Sallows, sadly she couldn’t describe the lady and she didn’t know her. Who is she? Who have you and that Sallow girl been conspiring with? I do not appreciate my hard work to clean up loose ends, all my efforts going to waist. He was safe enough in St Mungos, as long as he shut up, to whom have you offloaded him too now? Tell me and I shall spare them, as long as they know who they answer too.”

Ominis took a deep breath.

“I do not know father, I do not know. The only thing I do know is my friend is missing. I have not spoken to Sebastian yet, he has been unwell and I’ve been at school.” Ominis said in what he hoped was a level voice without any shakes

“Well, we shall see if you are telling the truth.” His father said, Ominis felt movement in the air and flinched as his father raised his wand.

Behind, Marvolo’s face lit up in excitement.

“Imperio” Came his father’s voice, suddenly Ominis stopped thinking. He was sitting in the chair in the most dangerous home any wizard could step foot in and right now everything was blissful. It was no longer important or concerning his furious father was holding a wand at him.

Nothing mattered anymore. It was just bliss. He wanted this feeling to never end.

“Where is Sebastian Sallow?” Came his father’s voice. “Tell me everything you know.”

Ominis was only too happy to comply.

“Sebastian was at St Mungos.” Ominis answered flatly, from far away. “He’s missing now. Nobody knows where he is. At school they think I’m hiding him somewhere, but I haven’t seen Sebastian anywhere at Hogwarts myself, so I believe that’s just a rumour.”

Mr Gaunt glanced at Marvolo, who shot Ominis a dry look.

“Somebody was careful not to tell him anything.” Marvolo guessed, looking Ominis up and down. “They know he can’t really be trusted, it’s what they are like out there, think they are better than us.”

“It’s useless.” Gaunt agreed.

The blissful feeling left Ominis and he blinked in shock, suddenly feeling a rush of thoughts coming back. He swallowed hard as the panic returned in full.

“If you do you hear anything at all, you are to tell me right away, do you understand?” Mr Gaunt asked. “And Ominis, if I find you have concealed anything at all from me. Anything, no matter how small, I will make sure you regret it, but not as much as that boy. Free he may be from the Dementors, he is a marked man among the Gaunts, that sister of his too.”

Ominis nodded.

“May I go?” He asked shakily.

“Not yet.” His father said “Marvolo is here, he wanted to see if you were okay after your headmaster’s vulgar attack on you. You will be pleased to know Phineas now would never dream of touching a single hair upon your head again. Share your gratitude with your brother Ominis, he did a spectacular job. You should have heard the pleading Black did when he thought he was going to die. He will never hurt you again.”

“Thank you” Ominis said quietly. He was feeling pure revulsion by their words.

“Has his nose been uncrushed yet?” Marvolo laughed. “I think I broke it beyond magical means of repair.”

“I don’t know, I can’t see, but I don’t think so from what others have said.” Ominis answered honest, making Marvolo laugh more.

“Very well.” Mr Gaunt said. “Ominis, you can go now, remember what we spoke about here. Tomorrow your Betrothed is coming, it is time we begin wedding planning. You can get to know her more.”

There was a small thud in the room and Marvolo yelped suddenly.

“You will show your cousin the respect she deserves, she is a Gaunt just as much as you, don’t let me catch you doing that again.” Came his father’s voice, his anger now directed at his older son. Ominis didn’t know what Marvolo had just done, but it had taken their father’s attention off Ominis, who quietly slipped out of the room.

“White is a beautiful colour, it will confirm her superior breeding, however green is preferred among our kind for pure blood statues, but gold will bring out the tones of her hair. She is as fair as a diamond when the sun shines upon her.-“

Next to Ominis on the settee, Marvolo give a tiny snort nobody else heard but him as their aunt and uncle talked about their daughter’s apparent beauty.

“- We want the other pure blood families to see we are the standard for quality breeding-“

Marvolo give Ominis’ arm a slight nudge.

“- And that they shouldn’t allow Muggle filth to taint their own bloodlines.”

They were on the 4th cup of tea and Ominis was sitting in the lounge with his family all around him. His intended wife had issued a begrudging ‘Hello’ to him when she walked in and had proceeded to so far ignore him for the rest of the visit, he could not even pin point where she was sitting, as she had so far not spoken again.

Marvolo had been sitting next to him and for the last two hours, he had snorted, nudged and shuddered slightly with silent laughter without anybody noticing as the fine details of Ominis’ wedding day – and to Ominis’ horror – realistic time frames of their wedding consummation and confirmation of children were brokered out before him, with him and his cousin Maelia having no input themselves. He was horrified something so personal and private was being talked about so open. He could imagine himself blushing a bright pink, he wondered if Maelia felt the same. Somehow he thought it unlikely, she believed in their family ways, she would sit dutiful as her parents arranged her entire life, if it meant the Gaunt lines would continue as intended. They had generously been giving the traditional seven months from the wedding night to confirm their coupling with confirmation of a baby. If Ominis had a cup of tea in his hand, he would have dropped it in his horror, Marvolo was now shaking hard with barely concealed laughter. He kept reminding himself that he would not go through with it, he would find a way to run again, he had no intention of marrying his cousin.

“And what of you Marvolo?” Their uncle had asked. “Your father tells me your role at the ministry is going well, I see you as our country’s future leader, but is there anybody special in your life?”

“I may know of a young, very sweetening, young lady.”Marvolo said, only Ominis picked up the significance of the word ‘sweetening’ and knew it meant Poppy, he felt his blood growing cold.

“Pure blood of course, I checked. I may be seeing her soon, in the next fortnight. It is early days, I want to be sure she is the one before I present her to mother and father, and before I met her family, of course. She is one of the many Pinch-Smedley, I believe the Wessex branch.”

“A good family, Slytherins too most of them, although the Durham Pinch-Smedley would be a better choice, closer.” Said their auntie.

Ominis knew Marvolo was lying, he had not been anywhere near the Pinch-Smedleys, he was talking about Poppy just to wind Ominis up.

“I thought you were wanting to date a Half-blood?” Ominis said suddenly, taking the bait in his heightened state “You met her during a recent trip to Hogsmeade, she’s still at school too, a little young for you, Marvolo?”

The effect this had on in the people gathered in the room was instantaneous.

“How dare you!” Marvolo cried out. “Lies! That’s disgraceful of you brother.”

“I daresay that is not true, Ominis.” Came Maelia’s voice at last, as disapproving as always. “Your brother would never date anybody of lower blood statues.”

“Ominis!” Came his mother’s voice

“-About to marry and yet, so immature.” That was their uncle’s voice.

“Ominis, if you speak such vile untruths again, about any Gaunt, and I will take your tongue to match your eyes.” His father said, quieting the room. He didn’t need to raise his voice to bring attention back to himself, his very nature did that. “Never insult the Gaunt family like that again.”

“Go to your room. We shall finish planning your wedding without you present.”

Ominis felt his skin crawl as if a million microscopic Bowtruckles were climbing him, how could his family talk about inbreeding so casually? It always creeped him out to no end.

Ominis sat in his room, his heart pounding again as the stupidity of his words crept upon him, they had just escaped from him. After hours of tolerating the most embarrassing conversation from his family, he couldn’t stand to hear Marvolo being praised after his brother had spent the whole thing quietly laughing at Ominis.

Had he overstepped the mark?

Hour after hour passed, Snakey sensed his unease, Ominis could hear the slight shuffle of his scales moving over the covers as he lifted his noise into the air to sniff. The snake had been given clear instructions to remain as hidden as possible within the Gaunt house. Ominis had been sure Mori had been sniffing around near his door the first night of the Easter holidays, he had sat up in bed, hearing what sounded like a large heavy bodied snake dancing up and down the door as he sheltered Snakey in his hands. It could have been Geer, but the ancient snake rarely moved from the staircase, it was likely Mori. Now Ominis sat, upon the same bed, listening to the hall outside his bedroom for his own safety. His mother and father had no objections to hurting him, Marvolo would love nothing more than to hurt him.

Nobody came.

Hours later, Ominis was still sitting, waiting for any attack that thankfully never came. It was only then he fell into an uneasy sleep.

The rest of Easter passed without incident. Ominis had been informed at dinner the next day – as his parents had been ignoring him for a few hours after he has insulted Marvolo’s ‘honour’– that he would be wearing dark silver robes on his wedding day, with his cousin wearing white and he should remember the importance of continuing this family, so he should be a father himself within the next two years and anticipating a second shortly after.

“If dear cousin has a girl, you should go to her that same night and try again. Only the moment you have a son should you relax, and then you will need a spare. Knowing your genes, you may only have females. They are pointless.”

Marvolo said to him as Ominis felt around his plate with a fork.

“No Gaunt is pointless Marvolo, females just don’t carry the Gaunt name should they marry, hence why we marry within the family. However, Marvolo is right Ominis that you need sons. More than one.” His mother’s voice came from down the table. “With Noctua dead, there was nobody for your uncle to marry, so my sister had to marry her own brother. We need males in this family and females.”

He blocked out their words and once again, a girl with hair the apparent colour of a chocolate frog came into his mind. Brown was meant to be warm, brown was like being wrapped in a blanket. The sweetest flowery smell, the softest touches on his skin. It was a colour linked to chocolate and to the earth that grew food. Her eyes apparently matched, with little brown dots across her checks. She was imaginary, she didn’t really exist, only in his head. He didn’t really know what she looked like. He tried to clear her too from his mind. She was off limits, like a sister to him. She was sick and would die. She-

Was Anne Sallow.

“You look like you’re going to cry” Came Marvolo’s voice. “What’s could possibly be wrong with you?”

“I’m not.” Ominis snapped. “Just because I am blind it doesn’t mean my eyes don’t get irritated, it’s spring. They itch and water.”

“Hahaha, you’ve got a Muggle ailment!” Marvolo laughed.

Finally, Ominis could return to Hogwarts. The two weeks had dragged by, with very little talk over than the wedding planned for next year. Ominis still had no intention of going through with it, but he still had no real concrete plan in motion on getting out of it.

He was determined though, he would cut himself off from this cursed family, a life hiding out in a tiny hamlet in the Scottish highlands, farming his own food was preferred to living in luxury but living as a breeding machine for that family.

It’s all they saw him as, useless, of no great use other than continuing the Gaunt line. Now sitting on the Hogwarts Express once more, Snakey nested in his cupped hand which he held to his face, he could feel the little snake touching his hair. He never intended for Snakey to soothe him, but something about the coolness of his scales was comforting.

“Your parents were used repeatedly, weren’t they, because you all had magical qualities?” Ominis asked him. “Until they made you and your siblings. Then you were all sold to make money. That’s my parents with me. I am their thing that will continue the family line”

Snakey continued to sniff through his hair, he did not comment. He simply didn’t understand Ominis, he never got an answer back if the question wasn’t simple enough for his snake to understand.

“I won’t let them.” Ominis said “I am more than something they can just use.”

‘Friend. Friend’ Snakey hissed ‘We go together’

“Yes” Ominis said. “We leave that house forever, very soon. I just need to finish school, find where Sebastian is hiding out and then we’ll get gold and-“

And it hit him.

It hit him like a hundred Bludgers all slamming into his chest at once. The answer to what he needed to do.

“Snakey, I need you to listen very carefully and try to understand what I’m saying. I need to run something across with you, I need your help, you have answers I may need. Father and mother keep a little object in the house. It won’t be any bigger than maybe my hand. It will look old, as if it’s been passed from Gaunt to Gaunt, for many, many, many years, much longer than you or I have been alive. This item is cold, it’s like a metal, like what a fork smells like. On one end it will look like a cross almost, the other end it will have a loop.”

He remembered once, holding the item. Feeling it, finding a hole in the centre that made it dangle from his finger. His father had handed it to him to hold only a handful of times while he buttoned his cloak or used his wand for some reason.

“It’s called a ‘Key’, have you heard mother and father talking about it? They may have said ‘the key to the Vault. The Key for Gringotts’ anything like that.

Snakey twitched on his head, then his head turned and came down closer to Ominis’ unseeing eyes. He paused and flickered his tongue once before answering.

’Yes’ “Get the key’” your parents have said it. It’s in their room. In a box. Shiva guards it. Bad. Bad.’

Ominis sat there, a feeling rising in him. It made the hair on his arms rise, he would describe it as rebellion.

They all said the Gaunt family was the richest family in all the wizarding world, there was no other family that came close to their wealth. His parents tossed it around so willingly, it was as though the money was endless. They had a double-digit vault only, a sign of an early account with the ancient bank, some newer vaults had numbers reaching multiple numbers now, a whole list. The Gaunt’s vault was deep, deep, deep under the earth, guarded by a dragon as Marvolo had once told him.

Ominis had never been down there as it was not safe for him, not being able to see, but the one time he had went with his father to get gold out, he had simply asked the Goblin for the gold while his father ‘dealt’ with a wizard down in Knockturn Alley.

Crazy ideas ran through his head. He could take enough money to support himself, even Sebastian, for life and his parents would never even notice any of it gone.

They could disappear.

For the first time in his life, a grin like no other spread across Ominis’ face. A way to free himself. He would use his cunningness the way a Slytherin would, his family had always encouraged this behaviour, he would finally live up to his ancestry.

If Salazar Slytherin or Cadmus Peverell were both alive right now, even they would be unnerved by the way their descendant was smiling. His silvery blue eyes seemed more alive than ever before, even Snakey glanced unsure at the expression on Ominis’ face

‘Good? Good?’ the snake asked.

“Yes” Ominis said “I know what to do now, or at least some of it.”

He would liberate himself, by liberating some of his parent’s wealth.

Easter at the Burrow was a totally different affair.

“I swear, it’s harmless, you can trust me.” Garreth reassured Sebastian.

“I’ve seen your- potions and smelt them.” Sebastian said, shaking his head. Almost a fortnight of talking to Garreth, who apparently never shut up when he was at home, had brought along Sebastian’s progress greatly.

“That’s- not safe to drink.”

“It is! How dare you Sallow. I shall have you know I have perfected my G.R.O.IN. Would you like to see?”

Sebastian made a disgusted snort as Mr Weasley paused, then decided not to comment.

“I told you, it stands for Garreth’s Revolutionary, Organic, INcreaser! It’s a male grooming aid. It could double the wavy hair upon your head, give you a full beard without any awkward bald patches and-“

“I’m fifteen, I don’t need a beard.” Sebastian laughed. Upon hearing that, Garreth’s look of glee faded a little as he looked over at his father slightly as Sebastian’s laughter died momentarily as the weight of his missing years hit him again, there was an awkward silence which Garreth quickly covered up.

“It’s never too early Sebastian, imagine how mature you shall look at the ladies with a full chest of hair.”

“Pass.” Sebastian laughed. “Truly. I don’t think stick man with chest hair is desirable.”

Sebastian glanced down at his legs, currently he was wearing robes more suitable for a tall child and even they hung loose on him. He was eating three meals a day now and only being sick a few times, but weight gain was coming slowly. It seemed his body was using everything he was giving it on just keeping him awake during the day, although in the bath the night before, Sebastian could have sworn his ribs were a little less prominent.

“I can develop a tonic for that too! You have inspired me to create a bulk inducing tonic so it looks like you’ve worked out. I shall name it SeFATstian in your honour.” Garreth joked as Sebastian laughed more.

“Pass, again.”

Tessie put her hands over her mouth in shock as Mr Weasley put a stop to the conversation.

“Garreth, That’s enough.”

Professor Weasley called in a few times, sometimes Sebastian had been asleep while she came, others he was awake. Her final visit was the night before term started again, it would be the summer term before the year ended. Sebastian was reminded of the fact he didn’t even make it passed Christmas of his fifth year at school, and now Garreth would soon be ending his sixth year.

“I have news, although you have no heard it from me, and certainly you are not permitted to repeat this to anybody Garreth.” She said, addressing the last part to her nephew.

Sebastian was sitting on the rug by the fire with Garreth, the two had been playing wizarding chess together. Garreth was due back at Hogwarts tomorrow and if Sebastian was being honest, he was going to really miss Garreth. Having him around was like a reminder Hogwarts and all his life before Azkaban had been real, that he had really once just been a schoolboy and not just a sickly young man trying to recover from Azkaban.

Professor Weasley paused. She took a breath, she didn’t want to get Sebastian’s hopes up, Black was sly and slippery, he could still worm his way out.

“The board of Governors have been in touch. Not too long before term ended for Easter, the headmaster had an incident of sorts with a student. The student is claiming foul play and there’s circumstantial evidence to back up their claim, very strong evidence as the student in question was found at the foot of the headmaster’s study. The headmaster is getting investigated and, if he’s found to be culpable, which is looking very likely, as he’s in a terrible rage right now, there is a very strong chance he will be removed from the school.”

All around him, the Weasley’s exchanged cautious happy looks.

“Oh Merlin’s socks! Does this mean we’re getting rid of Black?” Garreth yelled.

“This is good news, we must not get too ahead of ourselves though, we know what the Blacks are like.” Mrs Weasley said to her husband, who nodded.

“He’s the most unpopular headmaster ever, if enough people protested when the board goes to Hogwarts…” He mused.

Professor Weasley meet Sebastian’s eyes and smiled.

“This is good news Sebastian.”

However Sebastian couldn’t link their happiness to her words, his brain was fogging up again. Black being gone from Hogwarts would likely make everybody happier, he guessed.

“Sebastian,” Professor Weasley reminded him slowly. “Professor Black is the only thing standing in the way of your return to school. If he goes, you can come back and finish your education.”

Now he understood why they all looked hopeful. He blinked slowly, if he could go back, he could see Ominis again, he could have his wand back. Maybe be an Auror…

“I can go back if he’s gone?” He repeated, more to himself.

“If he goes, I don’t want to get your hopes up, but if he’s gone, then yes.” Professor Weasley said gently.

When Sebastian went to bed that night, hearing Garreth throwing his trunk down the stairs for tomorrow, he allowed himself for the first time ever to wonder what it may be like to wear

Slytherin robes again, to hold a wand again. Even homework would be so welcome, he would even be happy to ride a broomstick high up in the sky if it meant being back in his own world. The Gaunts wouldn’t be able to get to him at Hogwarts, he could go outside again, live again.

He lay there, longing to see the castle, the lake, even his wand. He wanted it all back.

The next morning, Garreth was looking for a place to sit on the train, there was an empty carriage but Ominis Gaunt was sitting in it, with a madman grin on his face, his eyes wide and staring, hissing to that snake of his. Garreth liked Gaunt, they had many classes together, but right now Garreth would rather ride on the roof than be in there alone with Gaunt. The guy did scare Garreth sometimes, and he knew if he went in there, would he be able to keep quite about Sebastian?

Garreth moved on, leaving Gaunt grinning like a madman and as he did so, he passed Poppy Sweeting who was clutching a letter to her chest and grinning as equally as mad as Gaunt.

Maybe today as a special grin like a lunatic day? If so, he didn’t get the memo.

In the end, he found a carriage with Leander and Natsai.

“Hey” Garreth said, sliding the door closed as he took his seat. He kept his word to his parents and his Aunte, when asked how his Easter had been, he just replied with,

“Oh, normal really. My little sister got picked on by a gang of gnomes again.”

As normal, the train pulled in, the carriages took the students to the school and dinner was served. Professor Black did not grace them with his presence but stayed locked up in his office, still nursing his wounds. Everything was normal at Hogwarts and the summer term was ready to start, the moon rose into the sky and darkness fell upon Hogwarts, with the students and staff all going to sleep for their early starts the next morning.

Yet hours after dark, the doors to the school opened once more.

Poppy knew what she was doing would make her grandmother scowl in disapproval, meeting a boy after dark and on her own was so scandalous, Poppy couldn’t believe she was doing it.

However Marvolo was the one, she knew it. He had been writing to her all Easter, he spoke words to her that resonated with her soul.

He wanted to save all the beasts; he had laid out plans to her about travelling the world to rescue dragons. Tonight, they were going to monitor Mooncalfs to see if they would dance in the late spring moonlight. Marvolo was not only deeply committed to protecting animals, but he was unbelievably good looking and very handsome. There was also something about his surname, everybody had told her the Gaunts were scary, but Marvolo was nothing but charming and beautiful, he was a kindred soul.

She hadn’t told any of her friends that she was leaving her bed tonight and nobody had seen her leaving the school. Marvolo was waiting just outside the school grounds for her, he said he would bring blankets and food so they could stay out all night watching the dance of the Mooncalf. She eagerly rushed down the lawns in the moonlight and there by the winged boar gates, she could see him waiting for her.

She opened the gates and walked outside the grounds of Hogwarts with a large smile on her face.

“Marvolo!” She beamed at him.

He flashed her that beautiful smile of his, his dark hair was reflecting the moon, almost turning it into a shinny dark blue and his eyes reflected back the flames held on the torches, lighting the path.

“Hello sweet, little Poppy.” He said, his head titled slightly as she stepped closer to him, a strangle little grin on his face. His eyebrows moved up in a mischievous way. Poppy giggled nervously, why was she suddenly on edge?

Poppy looked at his grin, there was something unnerving around it, she couldn’t say what it was, but she preferred his smile, it was warmer. His grin was sort of... she didn't like it.

She had just opened her mouth to ask him how he was when she noticed the bag was empty. It hung limp over his shoulder, there was clearly no blankets or food in there, why had he brought such a big bag for?

While she had been standing there, she had never noticed the giant snake uncoiling itself up from the shadows, nor did she notice Marvolo’s wand had been in his hand all this time.

It wasn’t only the moonlight that then shone in Marvolo’s hair, but wand light.

His had moved his wand the exact same time that the snake had struck.

And Poppy didn’t even have time to scream out before landing on the ground.

Yes. That would teach Ominis never to play games with him. His father had asked him awkward questions, leaving Marvolo to admit it was a wind up for Ominis and Marvolo was not going to risk his father's anger just over a joke with his brother.

"Sorry Poppy, but it's just not going to work out, you know I only ever asked you on a date to annoy my brother, don't you?" He sneered as Mori started his work. "It's not you, its me. I'm just too much of a snake like that. I also don't particular enjoy the company of people whose blood is filthy as yours."

He chuckled, then glanced up at Hogwarts in the dark, he knew what he should do next.

The castle was awoken by horrified screams and cries from Madam Kogawa as she went to lay out broomsticks for that morning’s flying class.

When the sun rose once more, Hogwarts had found itself in possession of a grotesque new addition to the Castle’s artwork. Suspended in the air, meters up and hoovering above the lawn was Poppy Sweeting. Her eyes were open wide and staring, her arms that were stretching out over her head were covered in hundreds of bites that dripped small streams of blood down to her robes. Her shoes had been removed and her feet were bleeding.

She seemed to be silently screaming.

[rosemaidenvixen]

Dig your eight graves

Part 2

Ao3

Content warning: Gore, body horror, graphic onscreen death, corpse desecration

It was a shame the girl wasn't blonde.

Sal adjusted the glasses on her face, carefully positioning them so they both looked straight and wouldn’t fall off.

Sure she looked the part well enough; pretty, brunette hair in pigtails, big blue eyes. But there was no substitute for how nuts people went for a blood splattered blonde barbie.

Oh well; lemons, lemonade.

He did one final tug at the rope to check before stepping back to see how she looked. Lifting the electric lantern to make sure he didn’t miss anything.

She swayed from the porch rafter, hanging by her neck. Not really though, he’d found some cloth about the same color as her shirt and used it to make a discreet harness. So while it appeared she was hanging by the neck, there was actually no pressure on her neck at all.

Of course it wouldn’t make a difference to her, seeing as she was already dead.

When the cops and forensics found her and saw the hanging harness they’d speculate six ways to Sunday about what it meant. Some would probably say that it was because the perp’s mother didn’t love him enough, or that deep down he wanted to be caught.

The reality was Sal just didn’t want her face to be too bloated in the crime scene photos.

But hey, more speculation wasn’t a bad thing.

He gave her one more once over, tweaked her glasses just a bit more, and decided to call it good.

Time to see how the others were doing. 

Stepping down from the porch, he saw Laurie over next to the barn. She had dragged the redhead over and propped him up in a sitting position on the stack of hay bales and pumpkins, gaping hole in his neck on full display, and now she was sitting on the ground with a pumpkin in her lap, carving at it with her butcher knife.

“Hey,” he called out, picking up the lantern and walking over to her.

She glanced up “Hey,”

“What’s going on over here?” he gestured to the pumpkin in her hands.

“Gonna carve a face into it and cut out the bottom and put it over his–” she pointed at red head with her knife “Head,”

“Wouldn’t it be easier just to cut off his head and put a jack o lantern on top of his neck? I mean you’re already halfway there since Jess slit his throat and all,”

Laurie shook her head “No way, you have any idea how hard it is to hack through that much bone, not to mention how messy it would be? Trust me, this is easier,”

Sal wasn’t sure about that, but he wasn’t about to volunteer to saw the kid’s head off himself so better just to leave Laurie to it “Sounds good,”

Laurie gave him a thumbs up as he walked off.

Moving on, Sal walked around to the front of the barn, more electric lanterns scattered around the place, spotting the scrawny boy facedown in a full basin with apples floating around his head. That one had been easy, Sid had already drowned him there. Just toss some apples in and bam, a bobbing for apples gag. 

A little closer, propped against the side of the barn, the aisan girl lay sprawled out on top of a pile of plastic skeletons. He couldn’t help but wince, compared to the other ones she was really mangled, her entire upper body covered in deep, ugly looking gashes, smearing blood onto every surface she touched. 

Machetes really did some nasty damage. 

One of her arms had flopped out of the pile, Sal reached down to correct it–

“Don’t,” Allen called out from behind him “She’s practically falling apart, I could barely get her on there in one piece,”

Sal raised both hands in surrender and turned around “Hey if you wanted to pose her more you shouldn’t have hacked her up so bad. Besides, I thought the goal was to kill them without turning them into hamburger?”

Allen scowled at him from where he and Jess were dragging the blonde boy’s body on a tarp. At the far corner of the barn he saw Sid sitting on the ground drawing something on a piece of cardboard.

“Hey the others turned out ok enough, we can afford to have one get a little messy,”

“Yeah don’t apologize,” Sid called out, not taking his eyes off the cardboard “She was the one who stomped on my crotch,”

Jess straightened and raised an eyebrow “I thought you were wearing a cup?”

“Yeah but I still felt it,”

“I told you guys we’d need it,” Laurie walked up to them smirking.

Sal raised both hands in a placating gesture “Hey, I admit it, you were right. Gearing up with kevlar vests, helmets, and athletic cups was was not overkill; but it was hard finding helmets that would fit under the masks,”

It had taken over a month to find helmets that were small enough and masks that were big enough. Sure they’d found them in the end, but the fit was not comfortable, at all. Which was why they’d all ditched both helmets and clown masks in the bed of Jess’s truck as soon as they were finished.

Well, finished with the killing, there was still the set up they had to do.

Sid glowered but Laurie smirked.

“Hey you guys mind giving us a hand?” Jess called out.

Sal turned towards her, Laurie parroting the action, and noticed that Allen was gone “Hey where’d Allen go?”

“He’s grabbing the candy, now will you help me or not?”

Sal and Laurie stepped over to her “What do you need?”

“I need him,” she pointed down at the blonde boy leaking blood onto the tarp “Up there,” her finger moved up to a long wooden table in front of the barn “I’ll grab the head, Laurie get the middle, Sal you grab the feet,”

They moved into position “One two three, Lift.”

They hoisted him up, with the three of them the weight wasn’t an issue, but there were a lot of limbs flopping all over the place, and a good amount of blood dripping from his chest and head. With a grunt Jess dropped his shoulders on the table, Sal and Laurie following suit, grimacing when she pulled her gloved hand away covered in blood.

“So,” she leaned against the table, wiping her leather glove on the wood “How long do you think it will be before you can get Fier to roll over?”

“Six months tops,”

“I’m betting on three,” Laurie said with a smirk “Did you see how weepy he got when his Fourth of July parade got canceled? One look at this–” she gestured to the bloody boy laid out on the table “And he’ll fold on the spot, heck he might even fall dead from a heart attack,”

Sal frowned “Hey don’t jinx us, if Fier keels over he can’t give you your property,” he leveled his gaze at all of them, including Allen walking up with several large bags “Any of you, and he can’t give me the farm,” 

“Yeah the old man can’t kick the bucket until my name is on the deed to my bar,” Sid said, looking up from his cardboard for the first time “Oh and Sal, don’t forget to do the–”

“On it,” Sal pulled the camcorder from his pocket and pressed the on button.

Allen glowered at him as he dropped the bags on the ground by the table, reaching over and tilting blondie’s head “You’re giving me crap about mangling mine when you wrecked this one’s face?”

“Just half his face,” Sal confirmed that the blinking red light was present on the screen before looking it up “Your girl looks like she was put through a woodchipper,”

Allen’s face darkened, opening his mouth to shout a retort at him, but before he could get a word out Jess cut him off “Oh my god you guys can measure your dicks after we’re finished,” she reached into the bag at Allen’s feet “Let’s just get this done, I want to get out of here before midnight,”

Still smoldering, Allen nonetheless helped Jess heap various Halloween candy on and around blondie on the table, Sal recording the whole thing. Once the bag was nearly empty, Jess pulled out a caramel apple, opened blondie’s jaw, wincing at the cracking of bone as she did, and stuck the caramel to his teeth. 

She wiped her hands together and looked around “I think we’re done here,”

“Awesome,” Sal peeked at her from behind the camera “I just have to get shots of everything, make sure everything’s all cleaned up, fingerprints are wiped, then we should be out of here pronto,”

Jess nodded at him just before he turned around, stepping around the side of the barn with lantern and camera in hand to get close up shots of hanging girl and pumpkin boy, now with jack o lantern in place over his head. Once he was satisfied with the shots of those two, Sal came back around to the front, zooming in on Sid sitting on the ground.

“Here we have Sid Prescott,” he panned the camera over to apple boy facedown in the basin and back again “That your handiwork there? The old bobbing for apples gag?”

“Yep,” Sid only spared him the briefest of unimpressed glances before looking back down at the cardboard “Was up all night thinking of that one,”

He moved the camera over the where Laurie was packing up her crossbow “And here we have Laurie Strode, owner of Arcadia’s top rated bed and breakfast and the best damn shot with a crossbow I’ve ever seen,”

Laurie smiled at the camera, brandishing her crossbow a little “Don’t forget, I also got that girl you strung up on the porch,”

“Can’t forget that,”

Sal stepped over until Allen’s sullen face was on screen “Over here’s Allen Hardy,” he swiveled around until the camera was facing skeleton girl “You think he may have gone a little overboard with the machete here?”

“Get bent Sal,”

Ignoring him, Sal turned to face Jess “Last but not least we have Jess Bradford, tell us what you did Jess?”

She smirked at the camera “I took out the pumpkin king over there, with one swing of this,” she held up the short scythe, shining and wiped clean of blood.

“You sure did,” Sal swiveled the camcorder around again, making sure to get good plenty of good shots of candy boy and skeleton girl as he did, noticing something in his pan “Hey there should be six of them, so where’s–”

“Way ahead of you,” Sid got to his feet, cardboard in hand “Follow me,”

He headed towards the main entrance, Sal on his heels. As they got close, Sal saw the final girl sitting propped up in a chair, the original scarecrow tossed off to the side. Still smiling Sid flipped the cardboard in his hands around towards the camera. The most noticeable thing wasn’t that Sid had spelled ‘Fier’ wrong, but that he’d written the sign in human blood.

No wonder he’d been sitting so close to skeleton girl.

Sal walked around to follow Sid as he propped the sign up in the girl’s limp hands, zooming in to get a good view. The girl took up the entire screen of the camcorder. A straw hat had been shoved over her afro, her dead eyes looked blankly at the camera, seeing nothing, a trickle of blood running out of the corner of her mouth, gashes and bruises dotting her exposed skin, and a cardboard sign in her lap reading

‘Welcome to the Fear Fall Fair’

In sloppy red letters.

Once he was satisfied with the shots he’d gotten of sign girl, Sal walked back over to the others.

Back in front of the barn Allen was still scowling “Don’t forget to get your own face to,”

Oh brother not this again.

“Why don’t you do it,” Sal held out to camcorder towards Allen, forcing his voice to not come out sarcastic “I can never get the angle right when I’m doing it on myself,”

It’s not like they were buddies or anything but Allen had been busting his balls this whole time. 

Allen narrowed his eyes but took the camera without complaint, Sal getting a glimpse of his own sandy blonde hair in the screen for a brief instant.

“Hey,” he gave a little wave at the camera “Sal Hardesty here, property manager of one Samuel Fier, ” he pointed over at candy boy “That one over there’s my doing,”

He turned back to face Allen and the camera dead on “About a year ago Fier told me that he planned to give all his properties to his tenants once he retired, but knowing him that wouldn’t happen for another decade or two. So I got in touch with some other like minded individuals,” he gestured around him, from the corners of his eyes he saw Sid and Jess waving at the camera “To try and speed things along,”

“Yeah some of us have loans to pay,” Laurie piped up “And can’t afford to keep paying rent while that old fart dicks around for another ten years,”

“Right you are Laurie,” Sal took a seat on a hay bale “Fier gets so invested in all the parties and carnivals he does for the town, we figured that if one of them went horribly wrong…well he sure as hell wouldn’t feel like working anymore. So when he bought this old farm last March for his Fall festival, we started planning on how to make it turn out really ugly,”

“And what exactly do you get out of this?” Allen shouted at him from behind the camera.

It took all of Sal’s willpower to keep his smile in place.

What an asshole.

“Well you see, Fier also promised me that when he retired, he’d give me all his tenant-less properties,” he stretched his arms out wide “Which includes this one. Before tonight it may have just been an old dusty farm, but once this hits the front page…”

Sal his grin spreading wider over his face, turning from forced to genuine “That’s when I strike gold. Sure I’ll have to wait a bit before it isn’t in poor taste, but then the real money will start coming in. I’m talking journalists, true crime writers, even ghost hunters and those serial killer groupie freaks; all of them willing to pay top dollar just to spend an hour here,”

“And that’s the truth,” Sid came up from behind him, clapping a hand on his shoulder “A little teamwork, we get our businesses all to ourselves, and Sal here gets a brand new one,”

“Yep,” Sal flashed another smile towards the camera, just because he knew it would piss Allen off “We all chipped in and we all get the benefits,”

There, that should keep Allen off his ass. 

Of course sharing the benefits also meant sharing the risks.

More specifically, what would happen if they got caught.

That was the whole reason behind the video. After the job was done, they shot a video with the bodies, all their faces, and their MO; then they’d get straight in Jess’s truck and head to her place where they’d make copies for each of them. 

This way if the cops came sniffing around none of them could try to cut any kind of deals by claiming they were ‘coerced’ and throwing the others under the bus.

If one of them tried to fold they’d all go down, hard.

He looked around at the others “You guys think we’re done here?”

“Yeah,” Jess called out “We took care of everything we came to,”

“No we didn’t,” Allen, ever the contrarian “Two of them got away,”

“Nope just one,” Sal cut in “I got that last boy in the stomach, plus Laurie crossbowed him, so odds are pretty good he’s dead by now,”

Somehow Allen’s already surly expression got even darker “That still leaves that girl,”

“So? We agreed that it would still work if a few got away, that’s why we wore the masks,”

And besides, having a sole survivor wasn’t all bad, that meant plenty of journalists and news crews hanging around town to try and interview her. And while they were here they just might be interested in seeing where it all went down, and be willing to pay Sal for the privilege.

Of course it may be the case that she’d be too ‘traumatized’ to talk to anyone. Which was too bad for her, but omelet eggs and all that.

When he’d first thought of this whole scheme Sal had never planned on killing anyone, but then the pieces started to fall so perfectly in place, the idea growing on him more and more as their plan took shape.

After all, teenagers got murdered every single day across the country, why not benefit from some of it?

When the time came he hadn’t exactly enjoyed stabbing that boy in the gut, or bashing the other one’s head in, or dragging that girl down to let Allen machete her, but he hadn’t hesitated either.

Allen just glared at him, knowing he had no rebuttal to give but refusing to admit Sal was right.

Patience at its end, Sal held out his hand “Now can I have my camera back? I don’t trust you to find the off switch with your clumsy gorilla fingers,”

His stare turned murderous, but Allen handed the camera back without complaint.

Flipping it around again Sal fumbled to find the–

Wait, what was that?

He squinted at the camcorder’s screen. Over by the barn, right next to skeleton girl there was some kind of shadow mov–

His heartbeat stuttered. That wasn’t a shadow.

Tearing his gaze away from the digital image and towards the actual barn, Sal saw the last girl, the one who’d fled into the woods with the dying boy over an hour ago, kneeling over the dead girl on the ground.

Shit.

Shit shit shit.

“Hey!” Sal shouted, stomping to his feet and striding rapidly towards the girl.

The others jerked at his yell, quickly noticed the girl, and then followed on his heels, weapons in hand and cursing under their breath.

It was one thing to leave the runaways, but for her to come back and get this close this kid had to have seen all of their faces.

The video was fine, that was just a safety net, Sal was confident that none of the others would roll over, he sure as hell wouldn’t, and they’d planned this too well for anyone to trace it back to them.

But a live witness who’d seen their faces–

That could send everything crashing down.

And Sal had come too far to trip up now.

He marched over to her, knife in hand, ready to bring it down and–

“That’s why you killed them?” she spoke up suddenly, stopping Sal in his tracks a few feet away, the rest of them closing in around her “You murdered all my friends, desecrated them, used their bodies like props, just to save a couple of bucks!?”

Laurie scowled down at her “I’m not going to be lectured by some spoiled princess who never worked a day in her life,”

The girl didn’t react to this, or the fact that they had her completely surrounded. She just stayed there kneeling on the ground facing away from them, cupping the dead girl’s face.

“I thought you guys were complete monsters,” her voice was soft but ice cold “Just killing for the sick thrill of it, but you’re even worse than that. You’re lower than scum, you’re not worth the dirt you’re standing on, all of you are selfish, empty maggots,”

Laurie’s face darkened even further, a sentiment that she was far from alone in. Time for Sal to step in so they could end this quick and go home without having to clean up another big mess.

“Ok fine, we’re murderers,” he took several steps closer, the back of the girl’s head less than a foot away now “You want to know what I did? I bashed blondie’s head over there open with a fire poker,” he gestured over his shoulder with his thumb “And your boyfriend, that was your boyfriend right? I stabbed him in the gut, and her–” he pointed down at the dead girl on the ground “I didn’t do that, Allen did, but I helped him pull her back into the basement, and I stood there and watched while he hacked her up. I did all of that and I’m not sorry, and I’d do it again in a heartbeat,”

Sal got ready for her to charge him in a blind fury, he’d taken his mask and helmet off but, his kevlar vest was still on, so he was fairly confident he could take anything the girl could dish out. He braced himself, butcher knife held at the ready, but she didn’t move, just stayed there kneeling on the ground, the fingers of her free hand digging claws into the dirt. 

“So you’re not sorry? Fine then, you will be.”

Sal glared at the back of her head.

Fuck this.

This girl had clearly lost it, watching all the other kids die must have caused her to go completely cuckoo.

Looks like there wouldn’t be a sole survivor after all.

He raised his knife, a few good stabs to the back of the neck should finish her off for go–

A series of sharp cracks echoed from behind him, Sal and the others all whipping around at the sudden sound.

That had to have just been a tree falling, but it sounded like it came from the front gate, but there weren’t any trees over–

He snapped back around, only to see that the girl was gone. 

“Shit,”

The others turned and noticed her absence, letting out swears of their own, looking wildly around for any trace of her.

“I see her,” Jess growled, stomping off around the side of the barn. Running over, Sal saw her heading with scythe in hand towards the hay bales stacked with pumpkins, where the girl who was now crouched down by pumpkin boy.

Jess raised the scythe high over her, ready to tie up their last loose end with a single swing–

Something moved, nearly faster than Sal could track, getting between Jess and the girl and halting the arm holding the scythe in midair.

Sal blinked, not believing what his eyes were seeing.

A massive figure held Jess’s scythe arm gripped tightly in his hand, dangling her off the ground, cobalt skin and ivory horns sprouting from his head, standing at well over six feet tall.

What the fuck kind of costume was this guy wearing?

The blue figure glared at the scythe in Jess’s grip, then moved his gaze down towards her, lips pulling back into a fanged snarl.

“It was you.” his voice was low and gravely, far closer to a growl than anything a human voicebox should have been capable of.

Sal was so caught up in the inexplicable sight in front of him, hearing another series of cracks took him completely off guard. He whipped his head from side to side. Those were a lot closer than the last ones, what the hell was tha–

Jess foundered in the big guy’s grip “Wha– who–”

The guy snarled at her, grip on her arm tightening even further, Jess floundering in his grip, face going pale with pain.

Meanwhile the girl got to her feet and walked away at a leisurely pace, seemingly unbothered by the scene unfolding behind her. Nonchalantly stepping up the porch to stroke hanging girl’s cheek.

She hadn’t even turned to face them once.

“Him!” the big blue guy stabbed a finger down at pumpkin boy “Toby Domzalski! One of the best people I know!”

A sickening crack echoed in the dark farm. Jess let out a sharp wail, arm now hanging from big blue’s grip at a painful looking angle.

“Certainly worth more than you,” he spat.

Sal was so stunned that for a second he couldn’t move. Then the girl started walking away from the farmhouse, right alongside them, hair hanging in her face.

Something about seeing her acting so nonchalant at all this craziness pushed his buttons in all the worst ways. Sal snarled and took two steps towards her before he noticed something else. Something that stopped him completely in his tracks.

The basin apple boy had been lying in was now empty, save for a few apples bobbing quietly in the water.

He was faintly aware of his jaw dropping open.

What the fuck?

Before he could finish processing that another series of cracks came from behind him. A lot closer this time.

Sal whipped around to see just where that sound was coming fro–

His mouth went dry, stomach dropping down into the pit of his gut.

Skeleton girl twitched on her pile.

Sal couldn’t move, a dull roaring sound in his ears. From around him he heard the others gasp in shock, save for Jess who was still mewling in the big guy’s grip.

How could she be moving? She couldn’t possibly be alive, not after taking that much damage, not after losing that much blood. She didn’t even look alive, twitching like a broken marionette with a drunk puppeteer. So how was she–

A powerful spasm shook her, a loud crack emanating as her spine twisted back. Limbs jerking and contorting randomly, releasing more creaks as her joints were stretched to their limits.

Sal watched her writhing on top of the plastic bones, too stunned to react, and noticed something else.

With each twist of her body, the slashes and gouges started to disappear. Not healing, not quite, more like they were just vanishing. Like water on a hot sidewalk.

Soon all the wounds were gone, but the spams didn’t stop, if anything they became more powerful, but there was less randomness to them now.

Not a puppet being pulled by strings, fighting against them.

She pitched forward, propped upright on the ground with badly twitching hands. Shaking on her knees with her palms pressed against the dirt. A sharp keening sound escaped her throat, a powerful spasm rocking her spine. Flopping forward on her hands and knees as wave after wave of convulsions hit her. Then an ear splitting crack, louder than any of the others, echoed through the air. Fabric of her shirt ripping as something tore its way out of her back. 

The girl shakily got to her feet, a slight trembling all that was left of the spasms that had nearly broken her, the new limbs on her back fluttering weakly, glittering red in the lantern light.

Sal was speechless, he had no explanation for what he’d just seen. Couldn’t even believe it even though he was staring right at it. How could a dead girl just get up an– an– and sprout wings of all. This kind of stuff only happened in movies, fairy tales, not in real li–

More cracking sounds echoed ahead.

He whipped his head over to see pumpkin boy spasming on the ground, the same way skeleton girl had been just a few moments ago, letting out a low moan as the gaping hole in his neck evaporated away into nothing. And with a matching sickening crack, wings tore their way out of his back to.

But it didn’t stop there.

He pushed himself up on all fours, jack o lantern tumbling to the ground. Shirt bursting apart at the seams as his limbs grew longer, thicker, bones crackling in protest. Fingers twisting into claws, toes into talons. Skin vanishing beneath red-gold fur sprouting along his arms, legs, and chest just as quickly as it was exposed.

His wing flared out, feathered not insect shiny, his groaning turning deep and raspy.

He snapped his gaze over to them, Sal taking an involuntary step back. Green eyes with razor thin pupils glared at them, a leonine snarl rumbling out–

More cracking and a loud snap. 

Sal spun around again, heartbeat booming in his ears.

Hanging girl had dropped from her harness and was flopping around on the porch. Her legs stretching and twisting in a symphony of sickening crackles, longer and longer and longer until they couldn’t even be called legs any more. Sleek green bloomed on her exposed skin, mangled legs shifting into a rich emerald, a minty cast to her face and arms, hair darkening to a deep jade. Golden eyes no longer bloodshot flashed behind her glasses, her long serpentine tail thrashing against the wooden steps.

Sal couldn’t move, feet rooted to the ground, whipping his head in every direction as the dead bodies around him turned into very not dead monsters.

That’s when he caught sight of the girl again, seemingly unbothered by the hellish scene unfolding around them. Now standing in front of candy boy’s table.

“Wha– what the hell is all this!?” Sid stammered out.

“I told you you’d be sorry,” the girl cupped candy boy’s face, rubbing away some of the blood on his cheek–

Wait…that wasn’t blood, and she wasn’t wiping it away, she was smearing it on him, and what was wrong with her ha–

The strange red substance sank into candy boy’s skin and vanished. Then, just seconds after it disappeared, candy boy’s arm jerked.

Sal could only watch in horror as he ripped back to life, warping into something inhuman as he did. The girl stepped back, making room for his wildly flailing limbs as he twitched and writhed on the table, sending candy spilling out over the edges. Bones shrieked in protest as his limbs lengthened and thickened, doubling him in size. Shouldes popped as he arked off the table. Candy apple tumbled to the ground as his jawbone shot out, teeth sprouting into sharp points, face shifting and elongating to accommodate it. Golden fur sprouting from his stretched, straining skin.

Then what had been a cold corpse just a seconds ago was now a hulking beast. Taller and broader than the horned monster, wolf like in its ears and muzzle. Covered from head to toe in shaggy yellow fur, paws for hands and feet and claws for nails. 

The beast snapped its gaze over to them, eyes narrowing in recognition, letting out a deep, rumbling growl.

That sound triggered something instinctive deep in the back of Sal’s brain and snapped him out of his paralysis.

This was bad, this was wrong.

This wasn’t supposed to be happening but it was, a nightmare coming to life before his very eyes.

He needed to get out of here now.

Sal turned and bolted; lantern in hand and Laurie, Allen, and Sid hot on his heels, Jess still trapped in the giant stranger’s grip.

I got that last boy in the stomach, plus Laurie crossbowed him, so odds are pretty good he’s dead by now.

They sprinted and made to turn past the barn, only to stop dead at the sight of glowing red eyes. Sal watched in horror as a gangly creature the color of ink crept out of the darkness on all fours. Ears flicking back as it hissed in malice.

In the light of the lantern he recognized apple boy’s shirt, soaking wet and pasted to its body.

“What the fuck?” Allen whispered.

A blur of fur and feathers rushed past them, knocking Sid to the ground with a cry. The thing that had been pumpkin boy pinning him to the dirt, sharp claws digging into Sid’s shoulder.

He snapped his head up, glowing green eyes with slitted pupils glared at them, lips pulled back to reveal fangs as he snarled at them.

Recovering from their shock; Sal, Laurie, and Allen sidestepped around Sid and booked it. Ducking around the haunted house, stopping there, panting, constantly looking over their backs and shoulders.

“We– we gotta get to the truck,” Sal gasped “Where did Jess park it?”

“S– south side of the property,” Allen panted.

Sal and Laurie cringed. That was literally the opposite end of the farm where they were. With god only knows what between them and it.

They crept along the side of the house, darting towards the smaller shacks. Keeping their backs to the walls and constantly keeping an eye on their surroundings. 

As the south side of the property got closer and closer Sal dared to let himself feel a glimmer of hope.

They were going to make it, they were going to get to Jess’s truck and get out of–

Light burned to life from around the corner of the shack ahead of them, but not the cool white light of an electric lantern, something…warmer. The three of them halted in their tracks, the light getting brighter as the source rounded the corner.

Skeleton girl stepped out in front of them. Wings flared out to their full size on either side of her, each nearly as big as her whole body, radiating ruby light. 

It was…beautiful.

The closest thing Sal could think to compare it to was Dorothy’s ruby slippers in the old Wizard of Oz movie, but even that didn’t come close.

So rich…so sparkling…he couldn’t look away. He’d been so full of panic just moments ago but now for the life of him he couldn’t remember why.

It was so bright, his eyes were burning but he didn’t want to blink and miss a second of it.

That’s when he heard it, the rustle of something sliding against the dry grass.

The sound cracked the bubble the light created in his mind. Reminding him of the world outside of the light.

Of the danger that surrounded them.

Sal’s vision blurred as his head spun, he knew he needed to get away, keep moving, but he couldn’t look away.

Move.

Rose colored light seared into his retinas, but now the illusion had been broken. He could see skeleton girl staring daggers into him with eyes that were just a little too big, fingers that were just a little too long balling into fists. 

What he’d thought was human at first wasn’t even close. So unnaturally, horrifically lovely he couldn’t bear to look away even as it hurt, even while he knew he was in danger.

Something slithered on the ground just out of sight.

Move.

From the corner of his eye Sal saw an absolutely massive reptilian tail wrap around Allen’s legs, sending him toppling to the ground. From the darkness a pair of honey colored eyes glared murderously from behind glasses Sal himself had placed over them not an hour ago.

From somewhere close behind them, far too close, Sal heard the howl of a wolf.

Move!

He slapped a hand over his eyes, radiant light vanishing and leaving his world cold and dark. 

Part of him was desperate to take that hand away and sink back into that beautiful light. But now the spell was broken and the terror all came rushing back in at once. 

Sal charged forward blindly, from behind him he heard a shout and a scuffle but didn’t dare turn around.

He had no idea how long he ran like that, hand clapped over his eyes, stumbling over countless unseen obstacles, it felt like forever. But he didn’t dare slow down, or take his hand off his eyes.

Then one of his stumbles turned into a full on wipe out, crashing into the ground, his hands instinctively going from his eyes down to break his fall.

The world was dark, he was out of the farm and in the woods, Laurie staggering around just a few feet away with her own hand clapped over her eyes. He’d lost the lantern somewhere in his mad dash.

But that beautiful, terrible light was gone.

“Laurie it’s safe, they’re gone,”

Laurie jerked her hand away, whipping around to gauge their surroundings.

“You have any idea where the truck is?”

Without taking her eyes off the woods around them, Laurie pulled a fob out of her pocket and clicked it twice. Sal’s heart leapt when he heard the honk of the truck’s horn echo in the distance.

He stuck out his hand “Give me the keys,”

Laurie’s expression curdled in an ugly look “Fuck no, no way am I handing you the–”

“Can you drive stick? No? Didn’t think so. Just cut the BS, save both of us some time, and hand them over. You don’t want to get left behind, then don’t fall behind,”

Her mouth puckered, but Laurie nevertheless held out the keys towards him. Sal clicked it again hearing the honk of the horn. Both of them headed in the direction of the sound, not running, too risky in the dark woods, but hauling ass all the same.

Sal glanced around wildly as they went. Keeping his eyes peeled for that terrible light, any trace of feathers or scales fliting between the trees or glowing eyes peering out of the dark, ears trained to catch the sound of footsteps.

Or the howling of a wolf. 

Elation shot through him as he spotted the flash of moonlight on the truck’s windows. They were almost there, they just had to get inside they truck and then they’d be homefree–

A rattling sound echoed out from the woods. 

Close.

Both Sal and Laurie halted in their tracks. Something moved in the corner of Sal’s vision, but when he turned towards it it vanished into the trees. The suggestion of it flickering in the corner of his vision. He spun again, seeing nothing but another shadow in the corner of his eye, blending into the dark woods the second he turned his head.

He whirled around, heart beat thrashing, nearly spinning in a circle, trying to spot the strange shadow stalking him, only for it to vanish any time he turned towards it. Always remaining just out of sight.

“You see that to?” Laurie hissed frantically.

Sal couldn’t respond, mind cycling through the possibilities. It was probably just a fox, it had to be, it couldn’t be any of the monsters. Even in the dark woods none of them were stealthy enough to sneak around unseen like that, all of them either too large or too bright or–

His breath hitched.

He’d seen six monsters rising from the dead, but there’d been seven corpses.

Where was sign girl?

Panic spiking, he whirled towards Laurie, mouth open to ask if she’d seen what sign girl turned int–

He stopped cold, mouth dropping open.

Immediately behind Laurie a dark figure loomed. Deep brown skin twisted with bark-like ridges and knots, tangles of fern leaves piled on top of its head in the unmistakable shape of an afro.

Black eyes staring at him unblinking. 

Sal couldn’t speak, tongue frozen in his mouth, those black eyes piercing into him from over Laurie’s shoulder.

Laurie frowned at him, oblivious to the specter just inches behind her “What are y–”

The figure soundlessly put a hand on Laurie’s shoulder, Sal had just enough time to see Laurie’s eyes widen and her mouth drop open to let out a scream–

Then they were both gone in a blur of shadow, Laurie’s shriek fading rapidly into the night.

Adrenaline surging, Sal booked it, reaching the truck and tearing the driver’s door open. He struggled to get the key into the ignition with badly shaking hands, he finally managed, the engine immediately roaring to life. Relief shot through him but not enough to overshadow the panic. 

He wasn’t out of the woods yet.

Sal put the truck in gear and punched it. Tires spitting up dirt and truck surging forward, racing past the dark trees, not even daring to turn the headlights on.

He just had to make it to the road, Jess’s truck was a beast, none of those monsters would be able to get to him while he was surrounded by seven thousand pounds of military grade aluminum alloy, much less outrun it on the open road. Sal just had to make it to the road and then he’d be in the cle–

The truck jerked to a stop, Sal slamming against the steering wheel.

Scrambling back, a sharp ache in his chest, Sal frantically pressed on the gas pedal. 

The engine revved, but the truck didn’t move.

Heart in his throat, Sal pressed the gas pedal all the way down to the floor “C’mon c’mon c’mon…”

The tires whined in protest, but the truck didn’t move an inch.

In a fit of desperation Sal flicked on the headlights–

Thick black vines encircled the truck, sprouting wickedly sharp, curved thorns and sickly monkshood blossoms.

And through the black thorns and violet petals he spotted her, illuminated by the truck’s high beams.

The vines and the flowers prevented Sal from seeing her face clearly, but he knew who it was.

The girl. 

The sole survivor and the first to return.

And somehow brought the others back with her.

Sal slammed on the gas again and again, engine roaring and tires squealing, but the vines held fast. The girl slowly walking around to the side of the truck.

He gritted his teeth, mainly to stop them from chattering together, keeping the gas pedal pressed against the floor despite the engine’s protests, heartbeat booming in his ears.

Just had to keep at it, those were just vines and this was a big-ass truck. If he just pushed it enough he’d break free eventually. And the doors were all locked so there was no way she was getting to him in he–

The girl ripped the locked door of the truck off its hinges and threw it into the dark forest beyond. Sal was so stunned that for a moment he couldn’t move. Then  the girl grabbed him by the collar and dragged him out of the truck, throwing him hard against the ground.

He hit the ground with a grunt, turning around as the girl stepped closer, getting a glimpse of her face for the first–

A scream ripped out of his throat, scrambling back on the ground.

Her eyes, oh dear god her eyes–

The girl held out a hand, the skin on her forearms was black, fingers tapered into sharp claws, dark veins shooting up her arm. All of a sudden he found himself pulled up to his knees by an invisible force, purple mist encircling whim, his chest surrounded by crushing pressure.

“How many of you are there?”

Sal stammered “Wha–”

She clenched her fingers and the mist swirled, pressure around his chest constricting even tighter. 

“How many. Of you. Are there?”

Sal felt a warm trickle down his lip as blood gushed from his nose. The pressure around him unbearable, he couldn’t speak if he wanted to, but somehow found the words squeezed out of him.

“F– five,”

The girl dropped her hand, purple mist and crushing pressure vanishing, leaving Sal gasping on his knees for breath.

He looked up at her; at those hideous, horrible eyes glaring down at him, her lips twisted in a sneer as she raised a dark fist.

Then a blinding pain erupted against the side of his skull and everything went dark.

---

Claire ran through the woods. Sprinting between the trees with a speed and precision that would have been impossible an hour ago.

She was alone now, for the first time since Jim had died in her arms.

Take them to the clearing, Jim will show you the way, make sure they don’t leave the stone circle, but don’t step in it yourselves, ever.

She’d known that it was a group of killers that had attacked them, hoped that there’d be at least eight of them. But of course it couldn’t be that perfect.

Five. More than she’d had when she’d started, more than half that she needed.

But not enough.

On this night while the veil is thin all souls may exist on this plane, but if you do not bring me the eight before the sun rises the souls of your companions will be pulled back to the otherworld.

Claire’s chest tightened in a way that had nothing to do with her mad dash through the forest.

Her friends were all back. Impossibly, miraculously. But if they were going to be here to stay she needed to make sure the balance was kept.

Eight for eight.

Five down, three to go.

She caught the faint sounds of people’s voices in the distance, pivoting and making a beeline for the noise.

As the voices got louder Claire spotted a steadily growing glow through the trees, stopping just short of where the light penetrated the shadows.

A large bonfire blazed in a clearing in front of her, smaller than the farm but larger than Crom’s stone circle. A group of what looked like around twenty college students milled around it, holding red solo cups chatting and laughing, the air tinged with the faint but unmistakable burn of alcohol. 

It would be easy enough to drag three of them off into the night.

Never to be seen again.

Claire’s feet stayed rooted to the ground, she knew what she had to do. Gone over it again and again as she raced through the woods, but now that she was actually here….

Four girls in matching glittery tutus played beer pong on a camping table as a crowd cheered them on, hugging and laughing with delight each time they scored a point.

A guy in a denim jacket and a devil horn headband sitting by the fire and making out with another boy with dreadlocks and plastic angel wings on his back.

Someone wearing harlequin makeup posing and taking a selfie with the bonfire and everyone else in the group behind them.

The scene was so achingly familiar it nearly brought Claire to her knees.

They were just regular people, just having fun and living their lives. None of them deserved to die, to have everything cut short. She should go look somewhere else, find three people more deserving.

But how could she possibly decide who was deserving? It wasn’t like people just went around wearing nametags that said ‘I deserve to die’, and she only had until sunrise to choose. How could she possibly make a choice like that? She was better off sticking to what was available.

Claire shook her head to banish the thought.

These were people. People with family and friends and lives of their own. She shouldn’t think of them as available or not. 

She shouldn’t just condemn three random people to death.

But that’s exactly what those five bastards had done to her friends. She didn’t feel guilty in the slightest for what she was going to do to them. They’d hunted her friends down and slaughtered them all just to save a little cash. And if Claire didn’t get the eight lives that she needed tonight, when the sun came up they’d go back to being dead.

But none of the people in front of her deserved to die. They were just out having a good time with their friends, they were no different than them.

But the seven of them didn’t deserve to die either.

Claire was paralyzed, chest clenching, standing at the crossroads of the decision she had to make.

Three innocent strangers.

Or her seven friends.

Who would live, and who would die.

Claire shut her eyes, leaned back against the tree, and pulled in a deep breath.

And made her choice.

Creeping forward, Claire stalked around the bonfire, keeping to the shadows and scoping out potential targets.

They’re people not targets don’t just think of them like targets.

Off in a tucked away glen, just outside the bonfire’s light, a couple sat on a blanket giggling and passing a flask back and forth, the stench of alcohol hanging heavy over them.

She’d start with those two, they were already pretty drunk, so chances are they wouldn’t even feel it.

Claire forced herself not to think about what ‘it’ would entail.

She snuck close, keeping to the shadows, only stepping out of the trees when she was practically on top of them.The couple was so tipsy that they didn’t even notice. Knowing that if she hesitated she’d never go through with it, Claire charged forward, knocked each of them out with a punch to the back of the head in quick succession.

In just seconds it was over. 

She stood there panting, their unconscious bodies sprawled out on the ground in front of her, heartbeat booming in her ears.

Which was why she didn’t hear until it was nearly too late.

“Fran? Jason?” a much more sober voice cut in behind her “What are you guys–”

Claire didn’t think, she just acted, storm inside her roaring. She whirled around with her hands glowing purple, catching a glimpse of a pale face, long brown hair, and eyes widening in surprise before she blasted the intruder with a wave of violet energy.

They slammed into a tree, head cracking into the bark with a dull thunk, before crumpling silently to the ground.

Claire stood there frozen for a few seconds, hands outstretched and fingertips glowing. The sounds of merriment coming from the bonfire continued uninterrupted, telling her that her crime went undetected.

She let out the breath she’d been holding, standing up straight and willing the jitters to leave her arms and legs.

Three people lay unconscious on the ground around her.

Three more souls to keep up her end of the bargain.

Three lives to consign to the flame.

Two she chose because they’d been drunk and distracted, and one because she was stupid enough to be worried about her friends.

Just like me.

Fresh burning surged up behind her eyes.

Three or seven, you made your choice, don’t go crying about it now.

Claire shook her head, swallowed back her tears, and bent down to sling the first one over her shoulder.

She’d make sure they were all well and truly unconscious before ‘it’ started to happen. Claire might be throwing them under the bus so she could pull her friends out from under it, but she wouldn’t let them suffer, not if she could help it.

---

Orange and black flickered in Sal’s vision, the sight poking at a dull pain throbbing in the back of his skull.

A low moan escaped him.

Orange and black, Halloween colors….

“He’s awake,” a voice muttered, who Sal had no idea.

A hand shook his shoulder, and not gently “Sal you gotta wake up,” Laurie’s voice hissed “We’re in deep shit,”

All of a sudden it came rushing back to him; the bodies, the monsters–

Those horrible eyes.

Sal pushed himself upright, an icepick of pain stabbing into his skull. He blinked at the orange and black, trying to clear his vision. The vague shapes of colors clarified into flickering flames against the dark night air. Dull glow of the fire illuminating the shapes of rocks and trees. 

He slowly turned around, Sal saw that he, Laurie, Sid, Allen, and Jess were here. Jess cradling her broken arm and Allen sporting a nasty looking gash over one eye. Sid sat on the ground hugging his knees rocking back and forth. And here looked like a clearing in the woods, large rocks set up around the border where the ring of fire burned.

“What happened? Where are we?”

Laurie bit her lip “Somewhere in the woods…they dragged us out here,” 

Confused, Sal followed her gaze and was about to ask who ‘they’ were–

As it turned out he got the answer to that question pretty quick.

Half hidden by trees, the towering figure of a beast loomed just beyond the edge of the clearing. Standing on its two hind legs, nearly eight feet tall, covered from head to toe in shaggy golden fur and the shredded remains of a pair of jeans.

A single lip pulled up in the beginnings of a snarl, exposing a row of gleaming fangs. 

A caramel apple falling to the ground as the jaw bone cracked and stretched beyond its limits.

Shaking, Sal slowly turned around, scanning the edge of the clearing. Lead ball sinking deeper and deeper into his belly when he saw that the monster wolf was not alone, catching the snap of twigs, flickers of red and green and blue as they moved between the trees.

They were surrounded and not just by the fire.

“They threw us in here,” Laurie whispered “But it seems like they don’t want to step in themselves,”

Sal drew himself to his feet “We need to try and make a break for it,”

“Can’t,” Allen said bluntly “I tried, didn’t even get a foot away from the edge before they knocked me back, plus I got this to show for my troubles,” he pointed to the gash on his face.

Sal winced.

“It feels almost like they’re….waiting for something….” Jess said softly.

“We shouldn’t have done this guys,” Sid blubbered “We never should have gone after those kids, and now we’re paying for it–”

“Christ would you shut the hell up!” Allen bellowed, face red.

Twigs snapped just beyond the clearing, branches rustled as the monsters surrounding them stood at attention, paying close attention to the commotion.

The five of them went dead quiet, none of them even daring to breathe. After a few tense moments, Laurie stepped up to Sal. 

“I counted and there’s only seven surrounding us, that means one is missing and I think she’s the one they’re waiting for,” coming in close, Laurie discreetly slipped a large rock into Sal’s hand “Here’s the plan, when she gets back and steps inside we take her hostage and force the others to let us go,”

Sal looked over at the wolfman towering above them, then down at the rock in his hand “....I don’t think that’s going to work,”

“What!?” Laurie hissed

“Look, I mean– there’s only five of us, and seven of them, and they’re all huge–”

“If you have a better idea please share with the rest of us,” she snarled.

“I think we all need to make a break for it at once, running in different directions,” Sal knew he was babbling but couldn’t stop himself “If we’re fast then maybe we can–”

“So you can screw the rest of us over and get away?” Jess snarled “No way,”

“Well what’s your brilliant solution huh!?”

“Oh fuck off–”

“We shouldn’t have done this, we never should have done this, we killed those kids and now god’s punishing us–”

“Would you shut the fuck up–”

The flames surrounding the clearing surged, rising six feet high and causing all of them to fall silent. Just as quickly as they rose the flames sunk back down, one small patch going out entirely. 

Before he could think about that meant a figure, one that was all too familiar, stepped into the ring, the flames sealing shut behind them, 

Sal’s breath caught in his throat, taking an involuntary step back.

It was the girl.

Don’t look at her eyes, for the love of god don’t look into her eyes.

She was bringing in three people with her. One hanging from each arm, and another slung over her shoulder. All dangling limply, possibly unconscious, or dead.

Walking deeper into the clearing, unbothered by the fact they outnumbered her five to one. The girl came to a halt just in front of the fire pit, letting the three people drop to the ground, one of them letting out a moan and confirming that they were in fact unconscious and not dead.

Laurie rushed her, medium size log in hand and ready to use. Sal forced himself to jump into action alongside her. Charging forward with the rock raised high, aiming it to bring it down hard on her temple–

He hit a wall, staggering, the girl catching his forearm in an iron grip, simultaneously snagging Laurie’s log in her other hand, an unimpressed look on her terrible face–

Her eyes oh god those eyes

Laurie dropped the log and pulled a knife from her belt, moving to bury it in the girl’s gut–

Faster than the eye could see the girl dropped the log and caught her by the wrist, trapping both her and Sal with ease, her apathetic face slowly morphing into a snarl.

Then she tossed them back as easily as chucking two apple cores, Sal hitting the ground with bruising force, knocking the air from his lungs. From the side he heard Laurie grunt as she landed a few feet away.

Scrambling back upright, he saw that the girl was still scowling down at them, but then she moved her gaze towards the fire pit. She shut her eyes and pulled in a deep breath through her nose.

“Come forth…Crom Cruach,”

A concussive wave boomed through the clearing, leaving Sal reeling. He scrambled to his feet, struggling to regain his bearings, when he saw a redness spreading out from the pit. Everything it touched withered, rusty flakes peeling off and drifting up towards the sky.

Sal felt his jaw fall open as the redness rushed underneath him, racing to the edge of the pit and filling the air with a rust colored blizzard. Blood rushed in his ears, guts curdling in on themselves.

What the fuck was going on!? First those dead kids turned into monsters, that girl turned into a freak of nature, now reality was coming apart at the sea–

A wet cracking sound echoed from the center of the clearing.

Sal spun around, a massive hand was sticking out of the now pitch black fire pit, pulling an equally massive arm along with it. Him and the others scrambled back as some…some…thing crawled out of the pit with more horrible cracking.

Meanwhile the girl hadn’t budged an inch, standing directly in front of the pit with shoulders square and feet firmly rooted to the ground.

The thing from the pit rose to its full height, head level with the tree tops and knuckles nearly dragging on the ground. Wet, red flesh shimmered in the fire light. A flayed, skeletal abomination. No mouth, no nose.

Just glowing silver eyes.

The thing ignored them completely and looked down at the girl in front of it. She held the thing’s gaze without flinching “I kept my end of the bargain,” she stretched out her arms “Eight for eight,”

A hisping rasping sound came from the thing “So you have,” its silvery eyes raked the clearing, seeming to notice them for the first time, Sal flinching when its gaze rolled over him.

“Now begins my feast,”

Sal felt his blood run cold.

…..feast?

The thing raised both hands to its face, one from above one from below, digging its fingers into where its mouth should have been, and pulled. A cracking sound emerged from the thing as it pulled, a small crevice forming between its fingers. 

Sal felt himself start to tremble, chill racing across his entire body. As the thing pulled its face even open even wider, tearing open a mouth where none had been before. The crevice becoming a chasm.

More cracks echoed in the clearing as the thing pulled its jaw open impossibly wide, far wider than any proper jaw, wider than any living creature should have been capable of, opening up along its entire body.

Task complete the thing dropped down on all fours. Its mouth taking up nearly its entire body, a gut on four legs. Glimpsing inside, Sal saw rings of jagged, transparent teeth, like shards of broken glass, lining the thing’s gullet in perfect circles, row after row of them leading as far down into its stomach as Sal could see.

Reaching out a long arm, the thing picked up one of the unconscious people at the girl’s feet, a slight flutter of their eyelids the only sign of life.

It lifted them headfirst into its horrible mouth, sealing shut over them with a wet crunch. Slurping them down whole like a snake swallowing a mouse. The snap of bone and rip of tearing flesh echoing out as the thing ground them with its teeth as it sucked them down into its gut.

Sal couldn’t move if he wanted to, those awful sounds echoing in his ears, ice cold terror spiking through him and pinning him to the ground; heart threatening to beat out of his chest, so loud he imagined this thing could hear it.

This couldn’t be happening this couldn’t possibly be real. There was no way this was actually happening–

The thing swallowed, shoes vanishing into its mouth with a wet pop, blood dribbling down its chin.

Then it turned and reached for another.

Around him he heard Allen, Laurie and Jess scream while Sid started sobbing. Getting his bearings, Allen turned and made a mad dash to the edge of the clearing. In a blur of motion the girl caught him by the collar of his shirt, halting him in his tracks, and drove her foot into his knee with a sickening crack.

Jess and Laurie tried to make a break in the opposite direction, only for the girl to catch them and down them with identical kicks.

Hearing those cracks of bone snapped Sal back to reality, turning and sprinting for the edge of the clearing. Head empty except for a burning desire to get away–

From behind he heard Sid’s wails cut off, his cries replaced with the crack of bones and the squelch of fang meeting flesh, driving Sal to run even faster.

Fuck the fire, fuck the monsters, he’d rather deal with them than that thing, anything was better than tha–

Something snagged him by the neck and threw him against the ground hard. His vision cleared to reveal the girl standing over him, sneering down at him with those horrible eyes.

From somewhere behind him he heard more wet crunching and Jess screeching in agony.

“L– look kid I’m sorry ok,” Sal managed to stammer out, the girl’s eyes still boring into him “I never should have messed with you or your friends, w– we can work this out, I can get you money– a lot of money, just–”

She stomped on his calf hard.

Sal howled as blinding pain shot up his leg, rolling around on the ground and trying to pull his knees to his chest. Underneath his jeans his calf bent at a sharp angle, blood soaking into the denim, stabbing him over and over again with a fresh wave of agony with each beat of his heart. He could feel jagged shards of bone grinding against each other every time his leg so much as twitched.

She shattered the bone, this little bitch shattered the bone–

“You.” the girl loomed over him, glaring down at him with those awful eyes of hers “Have nothing that I want.”

Something moved in the corner of Sal’s vision, he snapped his head around to see the thing crouching on all fours at his feet. Its mouth open wide and broken glass teeth wet and dripping with red.

Sal’s heart leapt into his throat, nerves screaming with pure fear, he tried to scramble away, but he could barely move, the pain in his leg pinning him to the ground.

This couldn’t be happening, not to him, not like this. This couldn’t possibly be happ– 

The thing grasped his feet, Sal howling as fresh pain surged up his leg, raising his legs to its mouth.

“I’ll– I’ll get you more people!” Sal didn’t know if he was trying to convince the girl or the thing “Ten twenty one hundred as many as you want! Just let me–”

The thing’s teeth crunched down on his feet, slicing through muscle and crunching straight down to the marrow. Sal’s throat burned as a screech tore its way out of his throat. The agony of his shattered shin bone blending with the fresh, white hot pain of teeth shredding into his feet until everything below the knees was an inferno of agony.

This can’t be happening this can’t be happening.

Sal thrashed and clawed at the ground, fingers tearing gouges into the dirt, frantically looking for a way– any way to escape.

A pair of black sneakers filled his vision, Sal glanced up to see the girl looming over him, fire blazing behind her, illuminating her like some terrible fury of vengeance, fixing him with her merciless, piercing stare, those terrible eyes….

Black veins, looking almost like cracks, radiated out from them. Her sclera were ink black, completely matte; no shine, no light escaping them, dark and bottomless as the pit that thing crawled out of. In contrast her irises practically throbbed with color, twin pools of molten violet unmarred by pupils, glowing with unearthly light. Glaring down at him down at him from above, those purple eyes seemed to peel away at every layer of him, staring straight down into the depths of his soul.

For a moment he stared into those horrible eyes, transfixed, until a fresh wave of molten pain on his legs drew him back.

Another scream ripped out of him, the creature’s teeth chewing into his thighs. Whipping around exchanging purple eyes for silver, no less terrible. Two pits of molten metal, like staring straight into the bottom Hell itself.

Thiscan’tbehappeningthiscan’tbehappeningthiscan’tbehappening

Sal could only scream and scream and scream as the thing chewed its way up his body, its teeth up to his torso now, shredding apart muscle and sinew and crushing bone as it went leaving nothing but white hot pain in its wake. He lifted his head to stare up at the night sky, red blizzard obscuring the stars, a flicker of burning silver and liquid purple flashing behind his eyes, before his world was consumed in agony.

---

“Ok, ready, push!”

Claire watched as Jim and Steve shoved the truck over the edge of the embankment, landing in the hollow below with a crash. The hollow wasn’t really that deep, only about ten feet, but it was in the thick of the forest, far away from any roads or trails, tightly surrounded by trees on all sides.

No one would ever find it here.

Reaching down, Claire picked up a garbage bag at her feet, a weight that would have staggered her yesterday barely registering now, and chucked it in.

She knew they had to get rid of the fireplace grate and the poker, and to avoid standing out they threw the rest of the fireplace tools in the bag to.

Beyond her she saw Toby and Shannon toss in bags of their own.

Both of them full of concrete that was still sticky with Darci’s blood.

From the side she saw Mary tossing in another bag with a sneer. A garbage bag that Claire herself had helped pack up with a camcorder, an electrical cord, a machete, a crossbow, and at least half a dozen bolts.

More bags followed, containing every trace of evidence of the events of this night. Gloves and knives, rope and pumpkins and candy all sticky with blood, cell phones with batteries removed and SIM cards smashed, towels, boots, helmets.

And five clown masks.

There had been a fake deer to, it had been too big to bag so they’d just left it in the truck bed. None of them were sure what the deer was for, but Claire had a sinking feeling it had something to do with Coach’s absence.

She swallowed back the sudden lump in her throat “Let’s pile some branches and leaves on. Just for good measure,”

No one questioned her, all wordlessly gathering loose branches and leaves from the ground and heaping them into the hollow on top of the truck. Darci, Steve, and Jim even reaching up and snapping some particularly bushy branches off the trees to toss in.

With no more effort than it would take to pluck an apple.

After a while Eli stood up straight, red eyes blinking down at the hollow “I think that’s good, it's pretty much covered, and no one’s going to find it, not unless they already know where it is,”

Claire threw down the last few leaves in her hands and then stopped, not even questioning how Eli could see so well in the pitch black woods.

After everything they’d been through tonight, sudden night vision wasn’t that surprising.

Tossing in what was left in their hands, they all slowly stopped, standing there in uncomfortable silence. In the distance an owl hooted.

“We…can’t go home,” Jim said at last, raising a hand and staring at it “Not like this,” 

Claire bit her lip, they’d been so busy cleaning up before, and she didn’t want to get their hopes up and have it turn out to be nothing, but now…

“Follow me guys,”

They all looked around at her and each other, confused, but nevertheless followed as she headed off into the dark woods, hoping against hope she was right.

About five minutes into their trek in the woods Eli broke the silence

“Uh Claire, where are we going?”

“When Cr– when he touched me, he didn’t just give me powers. He showed me things, memories of other people who’d bargained with him,”

Shannon slithered up until she was right beside her “Ok, but what does that have to do with…” she gestured to her waist, everything below the ribs a long serpentine tail.

“Someone else in Arcadia bargained with it a long time ago, and they hid something out here, and if I’m right it should still be–” Claire spotted the large twisted tree from her visions and bolted straight towards it, the others right on her heels.

She slid to the ground, shoving a hand into the hollow she knew was beneath it as the others gathered around.

Please be there, please be there, please be th–

Her fingers closed around a thin piece of wood, heart leaping.

Claire pulled out her prize and held it up for them all to see.

“A…wooden mask? How’s that going to help with….” Mary looked back, her wings fluttering behind her.

Figuring it was easier just to show them, Claire imagined herself from earlier today; happy, naive, carefree, and raised the mask to her face.

A brief flash enveloped her and the others gasped. Claire knew what she must look like to them now. The way she’d been, brown eyes, soft rounded fingers, skin on her forearms a warm brown, not a trace of the black veins marring her face and hands.

“Claire you’re– you-re you!” Darci exclaimed.

She grimaced “Not quite,” she pulled more of the masks out from underneath the tree and started handing them out “I look normal, but it’s only an illusion, skin deep, underneath I’m still…” she pulled the mask off, revealing her cracked countenance. 

The mood dropped, but not all the way, all of them practicing trying on the masks and settling into the illusions while Claire took stock of what was under the tree. Ten masks in total, one for each of them plus two extra, some deceptively unassuming potions in glass bottles, dusty bundles of roots and herbs, more than a few books that she did not want to get into–

Claire leaned back onto her knees and surveyed the hollow beneath the tree, teeth digging into her lip. Even though this stuff hadn’t been found in the hundred years it had been here, she didn’t feel right just leaving it out here knowing how dangerous it was. If only there was some way to lock it up–

The woman smeared in red waving a hand, the apple tree before her bathed in shimmering ruby light.

Claire raised a hand and summoned the sensation, palm tingling with power, then a wave of her hand and purple light washed over the hollow, surging bright before fading away.

Toby crept closer, pawpads silent against the forest floor but wings rustling against branches, eyes wide with wonder “What was that?”

“Another thing that he put in my head, all the spells his past priests and priestesses knew,” Claire got to her feet “I just made it so no one else can get under there, there’s only two extra masks so we all need to be careful with them,”

Jim forced out an almost painful sounding chuckle “Hey, I’m just glad I can go out in broad dayligh–”

Claire staggered, leaning against the tree, images flashing behind her eyes.

Horned bestial figures wailing in agony as the first light of dawn struck them, sunlight burning their skin to a dead grey as they collapsed into cold, lifeless gravel.

“You…can’t,”

“What?”

Claire pushed herself off the tree and took a step closer to him “What…what you are now– it’s not a vampire, but like, it has the same rules about the sun, if sunlight touches you it will burn you until you die,”

Jim blinked at her, mouth hanging open “Then…what do I do?”

“The mask should cover your face, besides that…long sleeves and pants, a hoodie to cover your head, gloves, pants tucked into your socks…”

His gaze dropped, staring down at the mask in stunned silence.

“Wha– wait! What about the rest of us!?” Steve said in a panic.

Claire looked around at them, different images flashing in her mind faster than she could see, but none of them had the same burning under the sun.

“You guys should be ok in the sun,”

“But what about everything else!?”

“I…don’t know,”

“How can you not know?” Mary threw her hands up “Didn’t that thing download all this stuff directly into your head!?”

“He did but…” Claire raised a hand to her temple “There’s just so much up here I need time to sort through it all, I get flashes of things when they’re brought up, like what Jim said about the sun, but when I go looking…it’s like a needle in a haystack,”

They all murmured among themselves before Darci’s voice cut sharply above the others.

“Why did he bring us back like this!” she held out her arms, bark like skin covered in creeping tendrils of vines “Why didn’t he bring us back as…us,” her voice cracked a little at the end.

Claire winced, stomach twisting at the deep pain in Darci’s expression “He…couldn’t,”

“Mr. Crooked literally raised the dead!” Toby threw his paws out, wings flaring in exasperation “But bringing people back to life as, you know, themselves, is too much!?”

She let out a deep breath and took a seat on a log “He told me…that he’s not all powerful, and that dying always takes a toll. He said your human lives had ended, so to come back you couldn’t be human any more. And he…he’s a lot of things, but I don’t think he’s capable of lying,”

They all mulled over her words, the woods buzzing as they muttered amongst themselves.

“Is that why he needed the eight people to?” Eli asked quietly “To bring us back he needed others to die?”

“Guess it’s a good thing there were eight killers,” Steve mumbled.

Claire flinched before she was able to stop herself, hugging her elbows and looking away, hoping no one had noticed.

Unfortunately Mary had.

“They…were all the clowns that killed us…” she took half a step towards Claire “Right?”

Claire’s throat tightened.

They were going to learn the truth eventually, one way or another, no point in dragging it out now.

“No.”

Everyone stopped and stared at her.

“The first five were, but the last three…they were just college students at a party,”

Shannon’s now golden eyes went huge “But…why them?”

“Cr– He said I needed to give him eight people before dawn, they were the first people I found, and I didn’t know if I’d have time to find anyone else, so I just killed them because they were the first people I could grab,”

She choked, burning in her throat choking her and rising up behind her eyes.

Could she even cry anymore with her eyes like this?

Dead silence between the eight of them, the atmosphere strained and tacky until Steve forcibly cleared his throat “Well uh….that’s not…good…but at least we’re done dealing with Mr. Crooked Man,”

Claire bit her lip so hard she tasted blood, black, claw-like finger tips piercing through her arms and stabbing into her flesh as she hugged herself “Yeah…”

“What aren’t you telling us?” Darci said bluntly.

Claire jerked upright “What? I’m not–”

“Claire I’ve known you since we were in kindergarten, I can tell when you’re holding something back, now what aren’t you saying?”

Claire’s stomach rolled, hands shaking, she dropped her gaze down low, unable to look any of them in the eye. 

This was the part she knew was the point of no return. More than being a murder, the thing that made her a real monster, the reason that there would truly be no going back for her.

Once they others learned the truth they’d be disgusted with her, and they wouldn’t be wrong for feeling that way.

“The eight people I gave him tonight were just what he needed to keep the balance, for payment he wanted something else…”

---

 “Then what’s the payment?”

“My price is the same as the toll that is needed. One soul renewed, and seven returned. Eight for eight,”

“Wait, I thought the eight people was just what you needed to keep the balance?”

“This is true for the eight you give me this night, but my price is eight for eight,” he leaned down towards her in a series of jerking, sickening cracks “Eight lives on the night the veil is thin, continued for eight seasons,”

Claire’s breath caught in her chest, heartbeat stuttering, the meaning behind his words slowly sinking in “You mean…I need to give you eight people this Halloween, and eight more every Halloween for seven more years?”

Crom’s gaze burned into her, as searing and merciless as the depths of a furnace “Yes,”

“That’s sixty four people…” she reeled back “I can’t…”

He rose to his full height again “The choice is yours. You stand at the crossroads, banish me and I will vanish from this plane,” he gestured towards Jim “And your loved ones will remain cold corpses, their deaths unpunished,”

Claire’s stomach churned, shaking hands balled into fists at her sides. Sixty four lives…she’d been starting to accept giving him eight, that should be about the number of killers there’d been, but sixty four? So many people…

“Or…” He turned back towards her “Accept my price, have those you cherish returned, and gain the power to punish those responsible for taking them from you…”

---

All seven of them stared at her with their jaws hanging open, Steve’s wolf muzzle practically dragging on the forest floor.

“So that’s it,” Claire mumbled, staring at the ground unable to face them “Not only did I kill three innocent people tonight. I have to give him eight more people to eat next Halloween, and for six more years after that,”

No one spoke, shock and horror practically oozing off of them in waves.

Claire set her jaw and turned away. She knew this was coming, she was a murderess, a killer just like they had been. And any moment now one of them would open their mouths and let her know how monstrous she really wa–

“I– I need to say something,” Toby stepped forward, wings fluttering and lion tail thrashing “My– my grandpa died when my dad was eighteen, Nana keeps his picture on him on the mantle and takes it down to hug it every year on his birthday,”

Claire turned back around towards him, eyebrows crinkling in confusion “Toby wha–”

He held up a hand– paw to silence her “My parents died when I was two, and every year on the anniversary of their deaths Nana takes their photo off the mantle and cries for an hour, she thinks I don’t notice but I do. Now I’m the only family she has left,”

Toby came even closer, green eyes burning but not with disgust “Claire if it wasn’t for you all Nana would have left is pictures on a shelf. If it wasn’t for you she…she would have had to see what they did to my body. I know killing those three people was…bad, it’s messed up, there’s no way around that, and I’m not saying that it isn’t, but…I’m glad you brought all of us back,”

She staggered back, stunned “Toby, I…”

“Maybe that’s not the right way to feel, maybe that makes me a terrible person,” Toby crossed the distance between the two of them, only inches apart now “But you know what, it’s the truth, you kept my Nana from losing the last bit of family she had, and I’m glad you did,”

Claire couldn’t speak, emotion sealing her throat shut.

“Toby’s right,” Mary came forward in a flutter of red wings “It was game over for us, but you brought us all back, killing those people…wasn’t ok, none of it is, this whole thing is at least fifty different shades of fucked up, but I’m really really glad to be alive again, and saying anything different would be a lie,”

Mary put both hands on Claire’s shoulders and stared her dead on “And I’m going to help you get the people for next year,”

Claire felt the air get knocked out of her “But Mare–”

“But nothing, when we were all getting butchered you wouldn’t leave anyone behind, so I’m not leaving you behind,”

“Me either,” Toby squared his shoulders “Count me in to,”

“Guys, I– I can’t ask you to help me choose people to kill,” she swiveled around at everyone gathering in around her “This was my choice, my decision, I’m the only one who has to deal with the consequences,”

“You’re not asking,” Darci stepped forward “We’re telling you, and besides, you’re allowed to make the ultimate deal with the devil to help us but we can’t return the favor? Now way. Plus we have a whole year, we can find eight people at a puppy kicking convention or something,”

“Plus I think I have mind control powers now so it’s not like you can stop me,” Mary added.

Steve stepped forward “Count me in to,” 

“Me three,” Eli piped up.

“I’m in to,” Shannon slithered up to join them “And I’m not just being nice. It’s not that I’m not grateful you brought me back, because I am, I just…”

Her voice dropped low, gaze falling to the ground “I don’t want to find out what happens to us if you miss a payment,”

Claire had to force the words out past a thick knot of emotion “G– guys, no. I made my choice, I chose to kill those people. I’m already a murder, there’s no reason for the rest of you to go down with me,”

A soft touch on her shoulder startled her. Claire jerked around, and came face to face with Jim.

“So what, we’re just supposed to ditch you? Leave you to deal with this all on your own? No. No one gets left behind, and that includes you,”

Jim leaned down to look her directly in the eyes “You did this for us, now let us do this for you,”

He smiled at her, so full of tenderness, and suddenly past the blue skin new angular features and fangs, there was just so much of the same familiar Jim in his expression that it broke her.

Claire felt tears spilling out onto her cheeks, a sob choking out of her; Mary and Darci surged forward and wrapped her in a bear hug while Jim kept a comforting hand on her back. The rest hung back at a respectful distance, as all the horror, everything that had happened, the things she did and the things she was going to do, all tumbled out at once. Claire falling to pieces while the others waited to put her back together again.

---

They all sat waiting by the gate, the same place Coach Lawrence had left them all those hours ago. It was pitch black out, the only light came from the occasional glow of their phone screens, which also let them know it was getting close to midnight.

Every trace of blood and gore from the last few hours had been scrubbed away and thrown down a hole deep in the forest. They all wore their masks, human illusions fixed firmly in place.

No one spoke, too exhausted and burnt out for that, just stayed sitting silently in the dark. Claire, Darci, and Mary all snug shoulder to shoulder on a single bale, Claire tucked in the middle. Toby and Jim sat on the bale beside them, leaning into each other, even Steve, Shannon, and Eli all clustered together on the ground by the barn.

All just sitting and waiting in the dark, quiet night.

Then, just after midnight, sounds of a car came from up the road. All of them sitting up at attention as the flicker of headlights flashed through the trees.

Claire leaned forward, all of them did, heart pounding as a minivan pulled to a stop in front of them.

Were their masks working? Did they miss something in their clean up? Did whoever it was in the car notice how something was clearly very very wrong?

Mr. Strickler stepped out of the car, raised a hand over his eyes as he looked over at them, relief washing over him in a tangible wave “Oh thank goodness you’re all ok,”

Claire let herself relax a fraction, even as she had to hold back a bubble of bitter laughter.

He stepped aside and gestured towards the van “Come on let’s get you all home,”

They all wordlessly filed into the minivan. With the eight of them plus Strickler it was a tight squeeze, but they made it work. Once doors were shut and seatbelts buckled, Mr. Strickler turned back to look at them “I’m so sorry you were all left out here alone for so long. Lawrence was in a bad car accident- but don’t worry he’s alright, he’s awake now, and he feels absolutely terrible for stranding you all,”

“Is no his fault,” Steve mumbled.

Mr. Strickler made a three point turn and started heading back up the road “I’m sorry you children had such a miserable holiday. Mr. Fier is to, in fact he’s offered to let you all come to the Fair next year free of charge,” 

He turned back briefly from the driver’s seat, flashing them a warm smile, and hopefully missing the way they’d all simultaneously stiffened in their seats.

“So this year might have been a disaster, but your next Halloween should be much better,”

Claire turned towards the window, watching the dark forest rush by them, her guts twisting in on themselves “Yeah, I hope so…”

[miscellaneous-obsession]

the four Lord's (plus mother Miranda?) with a ticklish s/o?

You got it, now I don't stipulate I write for Moreau or Heisenburg but there is a first time for everything!

Mother Miranda:

Miranda learns by chance that you are ticklish, a moment of deep thought broken when you squirmed in her hold.

Her hand drifted across the nape of your neck, an area of weakness. Unsure of the initial meaning, she peered at your stoic expression, repeating the action only to see it falter.

This newfound knowledge, while entertaining, is not frequently used against you as it is rare for Miranda to indulge in such childish antics.

However, observing your complete submission while laughing uncontrollably brings a smile to her face.

She is relentless in her tickle attacks, hands roaming in tandem with wings, their feathers eliciting squeals from your lips every time without fail.

Alcina Dimitrescu:

A woman of her position prides herself on knowing; having an abundance of information solidifies the power she can wield over others.

Your particular areas of sensitivity are no different. However, being her beloved alters the situation; she never takes advantage of this as her respect for you rivals her pride.

The matriarch adores skating both hands and mouth across the expanse of your skin, eliciting goosebumps and laughter, she craves to replicate at every opportunity.

She is fair and just regarding the usage of power, acting accordingly, knowing full well when you seek more or less. Additionally, as you calm, your beloved showers you in affection, pressing kisses in abundance to reddened cheeks.

Alcina is reluctant to publicly tease you, favouring a more private setting far from the prying eyes of staff and her daughters. 

 Donna Beneviento:

Initially panics at the squeak you let out as she brushes across a particularly sensitive patch of skin.

Worried she hurt or startled you, she leans forward, catching a glimpse of your reddened face, her anxiety mounting at the prospect she had done wrong.

This wasn't the case; rather you were embarrassed but feeling your beloved abruptly tense, you are quick to reassure Donna that she had brought no harm.

From there on, to bring light to situations, the dollmaker teases you, delighted when peels of your laughter reach her ears, it is her favourite sound.

Though, it is Angie who taunts you the most, choosing inopportune times to stimulate squeals and jerky reactions. Despite your glares and attempts to halt her wooden limbs extending further, she continues to be a little menace.

Salvatore Moreau:

Moreau was periodically hesitant to touch you, let alone come into skin to skin contact, fearful that his unpredictable ailment could harm you. Therefore it came as a shock when a brief exposure pulled forth a giggle.

Poor Sal was baffled, unable to identify the source of amusement. With patience and a guiding hand, you explained, allowing him to repeat the motion to learn kinaesthetically.

Given newfound comprehension, he grew more comfortable with the prospect of initiating physical contact, tickling being a firm favourite.  

It amused you greatly to find that he exhibited substantially more child-like glee in these instances, apparent in his laughter, a level rivalling your own as he tickles you.

You indulge both his requests and surprise tickle attacks more than one should, but observing Sal’s happiness convinced you within seconds that you repeatedly made the right decision. 

Karl Heisenburg:

This man can still struggle with the concept that you wish to be with him. He quite literally blue screens as he draws one of the most beautiful sounds he has ever heard, your melodic giggle.

It catches him off guard, having only brushed a loose strand of hair behind your ear. Heisenburg freezes in place like a statue, not even breathing whilst his eyes widen. He'll refute it, but he totally blushed.

His need to hear your laugh once more clashes with the stern, grouchy persona he attempts to maintain. At times the former wins, often in private quarters where neither his inventions nor lords would dare cross.

He never goes too far with a tickle attack, relenting rather easily as your laughter or breathing becomes choked or erratic. Karl will consistently care more for your well-being than his own desires.

You have him wrapped around your little finger, much like he has you. So he isn't overly surprised when you purposely seek him out in the factory, enacting a form of tickle war on your own accord... and yes, you tickle him; hearing his laughter rumbling in his chest is music to your ears.

[shinebrightlikeanarwhal]

So in your drawing it looks like Travis‘s hair is covering his eyes and I’m like going insane over it. so here is my idea once it gets long enough travis starts wearing it so he can cover his eyes because years of trauma doesn’t just go away but Larry, sal and ash just like beg him to wear it so that they can see his face because he is pretty a very pretty boy. And one more thing he has hidden things in his hair. Todd once asked for a pencil and travis just put his hand in his hair then pulled out a pencil and it confused everyone except Neil because him and Travis do their hair together and you can’t change my mind

YES SOMEONE SAW WHAT I WAS GOING FOR!!!

I was worried people would think I was just being lazy ;o;

He would 100% wear his hair out over his face just because he liked the way it looked and it made him feel safe. He didn’t like people looking at his eyes, which people did A LOT. Especially in college when he dressed how he wanted too. A fashionable pretty boy is a treat to the eyes, but sometimes they don’t want you staring at them.

Larry begging and pleading to see Travis’ face after months of long braided bangs and fros over his face. He was absolutely adorable with his hair pulled back in pretty puffs or braided ponytails. Sal always wants to play in his hair before he does it or gets it done.

The best pet of Travis with a fro is him learning all the styles he can do with it and all the protective styles he can get that would look so pretty on him. Like the different braids and the accessories that just look ABSOLUTLEY stunning on him. (I don’t care Snow White hair on brown skin looks so pretty. Especially with gold decor dangling from it.

Travis getting compliment bombed every time they see his face. He’s so shy and embarrassed it’s adorable. They enjoy the cute little embarrassed actions of hiding his face behind Gizmo, pillows, his own hands. Even burying it into Larry or Sals chest or stomach so no one can see. Don’t even get me started on the way they EXPLODE when he gets glasses.

Travis with glasses is a gift from the gods

- a desperate artist just trynna hold hands

[angerstagram]

monster among men // calum (SMUT)

boxer!calum

Pairing:  Calum + Y/N

Words: 4.6k

Rating:  X. For, you know, sex.

Description:  Calum is your long time boyfriend but he’s also a boxer. When his trainer says the two of you can’t have sex before the big match, you find that much easier said than done.

Warning: Oral sex, mentions of violence (for sport).

Author’s Note: I wrote this in one go and haven’t edited it!! Please forgive the typos. Stay tuned for a part two!

——————————————

Calum threw one last punch at the now well-abused punching bag, watching it swing slowly back and forth—toward him, then away, then toward him again—and wiped the sweat off his forehead. The air in the gym was thick with sweat and dirt as men all around him trained against sparring partners, trainers, or a giant bag of sand, like him.

His trainer, Sal, came up behind him and squirted some gatorade in his mouth before helping him remove his gloves. “That was great, Cal. Your form is better than 97% of the guys in here.”

Calum smirked. “My form is better than 100% of the guys in here and you know it, Sal.”

Sal smiled at Calum but refused to boost his ego. “Well your form isn’t gonna win you a belt, Cal. Not on its own. I need you to keep up your power all the way to the last punch.” Sal was talking excitedly with his hands now, throwing fake punches at the air as though it were 1987 and he was back in the ring.

“Don’t worry about my power, Sal. Just get me in the ring and I’ll take it from there.” Calum wiped the towel Sal handed him against the back of his neck and then over the planes of his chest where little beads of sweat had gathered.

“Alright, big shot.” Sal gestured his head toward the ring and Calum climbed in, letting Sal strap the gloves back on once he was inside.

Sal slid on a pair of punching mitts and held them in front of Calum’s face. “Focus on me, Cal. Right here.”

Calum started throwing punches and Sal met them every time. Every time Calum dropped his guard, Sal would take advantage and hit Calum in the face with a mitt until Calum’s cheek was red and starting to swell.

They went on like that for the better part of an hour, before Sal finally let Calum take a break at the edge of the ring.

“It’s that girl, Calum. She’s inside your head. It’s all well and good to get laid when you don’t have a belt on the line. But if you’re spending all your time thinking about what little date you’re gonna go on and picking up a nice bouquet of pansies or some shit, you’re head ain’t gonna be where it needs to be.”

Calum knew that Sal was trying to rip him up and make fun of him by playing on age-old stereotypes, but Calum could’t even hear him.

As soon as Sal mentioned flowers Cal could smell your perfume. He could feel your skin under his fingertips, the soft give of your hips as he squeezed them. It was as though you were standing right in front of him, his mouth pressing soft kisses to the nape of your neck as you worked in the kitchen. He was pulling your back to be flush with his chest, the shape of your ass pushing deliciously into his —

“You’re not even listening to me, are ya?” Sal’s voice cut into Calum’s reverie and suddenly he was whipped back into the gym.

“I get it, no girls before the match. I hear you, Sal.” If the guys wanted to believe that Calum was a womanizer who was bedding a different woman every night, he would let them. But he wouldn’t jeopardize this match for anything.

————————————————

Calum was really, truly planning on staying strong until his match. But then he got home and you were standing there wearing one of his cotton t-shirts, barefoot and swaying your hips in time to the music playing through the stereo. Everything smelled amazing, the food you had simmering on the stovetop, the candle lit on the coffee table, the summer breeze drifting in through the open windows.

He slipped off his shoes and padded into the kitchen while you faced away from him. He knew you didn’t hear him come in over the sound from the stereo, so he had the advantage as he walked up behind you and gave you a playful slap on the ass.

You nearly jumped out of your skin, dropping the spoon into the sauce you had been stirring and letting out a yelp. “Calum Thomas!” you explained, licking the sauce off your thumb where it had splashed when you dropped the spoon.

“Hmmm,” Calum let out a low hum as he nuzzled his face into your neck, just as he had imagined earlier. He let out a soft sigh, the sound of a man who was exactly where he wanted to be after a long day. “Hey, let me have a taste, too,” he murmured, turning your chin between his fingers and kissing you deeply.

You twisted yourself in his arms so that your back was to the stove and your chest pressed against his. You loved when he came home like this; worked up from a day of hard exercise, hair still wet from his shower at the gym, the muscles in his arm thick and corded under his t-shirt where you traced your fingers.

His mouth wandered down your neck, his open mouth warm against your pulse points. You were breathing heavier now and he knew it, pressing his palm against the small of your back and drawing you impossibly closer to him.

“So, um,” you tried to string a sentence together as the feeling of his lips on your skin scrambled your thoughts. “How was work?”

Your little joke passed over him without laughter, his focus unyielding. He was always so focused on whatever task was at hand that he often couldn’t see or hear the world around him. Times like this, that trait came in handy.

You laced your fingers through his wet hair and scratched softly at the back of his head, bringing his focus briefly back to reality. Calum raised his face to yours again and smirked against your lips. “Work was great, sweetie. And how was your day?”

Calum loved playing pretend like that. Pretend like you two were a normal couple; that he had a normal 9-5 job pushing papers behind a desk in a suit and tie and you drove a mini-van or some shit. A joke that made it seem in moments like this that he wasn’t in physical danger 95% of his day and you didn’t spend thousands of hours of your life scared that one wrong punch would be the end of him.

But you couldn’t think about that now, not when he was hooking his hands around the backs of your thighs and hoisting you over onto a clear spot of the counter. Not when he was standing between your open knees and pulling you closer to his chest again, his arms circling your back and his mouth hot and needy against yours.

His kisses were urgent and all-consuming, pulling the breath of you and energizing you all at the same time. You didn’t realize he had pulled your hair out of it’s ponytail until you felt it cascade down your back. He pressed a kiss behind your ear and bit it lightly, causing you to laugh at the aggression.

“What’s gotten into you, Hood?” you asked breathlessly, teasing him for his ability to go zero to ninety in 3.5 seconds. Something in the tightness of his back and the set of his jaw told you something was up, though. “At least let me turn off the sauce so it doesn’t burn.”

Now he was laughing at you, his chest rumbling against yours. “I’m doing some of my best work here, babe, and you’re thinking about the sauce?”

“I just don’t want it to burn! I’ve been building these flavors for an hour, Cal.”

He didn’t stop laughing, but humored you by reaching over and switching off the burners. “Happy now?”

“I’ll be happier when you tell me what’s going on,” you said softly as you rubbed circles against his shoulders in an attempt to loosen the muscles there.

He dropped his forehead against yours and pressed a light kiss to your lips. He knew he would have to bring it up sooner or later, but he didn’t think he would have to say it so soon. “I, um, well.” He rubbed his hand against the back of his neck as he searched for the words. “Basically, Sal thinks that we shouldn’t, um.”

You dipped your head, searching for his eyes. Trying to follow along with his train of thoughts going nowhere. “Sal thinks we shouldn’t what, Cal?”

“Sal thinks we shouldn’t be, um, romantic before the championship match.” Cal almost looked like he was blushing. For someone that was so confident and uninhibited while you were actually being romantic, he often had a hard time talking about it when you weren’t.

Your face was deadpan as you looked at him. “Sal says we can’t fuck before the match,” you paraphrased in an unenthusiastic voice.

Now he was definitely blushing, the color rising in his cheeks and spreading to his ears. “Um, well, yeah.”

“The match that’s in three weeks.”

“Uh huh.”

“Your trainer, a man who hasn’t had a wild night of passion in over a century, says that you and I cannot fuck for 21 days.”

“Yeah.”

“And that will do…what exactly? It will help your form?”

“No, my form is great, actually. It’s my power on the last punch that needs work,” Calum replied, genuinely not realizing that you were being sarcastic.

“Then why the fuck did you come in here and start kissing me like that, jackass?” You swatted at his shoulder and dropped your head to his shoulder, huffing at the injustice of it all.

Calum laughed at your frustration, rubbing calming circles into the small of your back again but you pushed against his shoulders.

“You really can’t touch me if you don’t want me to jump you right now, Calum.”

The look in your eyes made him see you weren’t really joking. Calum felt a sudden rush of conflicting emotions; half feeling guilty that he had done this to you, and half feeling proud that he had a girl who wanted him as badly as he wanted her all the goddamn time.

“I’m sorry. You’re right, love, I shouldn’t have done that. Maybe I wanted a little something to tide me over.” He was smirking now, leaning in to give you another kiss but you turned your head to the side in defiance.

He tossed his head back in defeat, taking a step back and throwing his hands up to signal that he wouldn’t pressure you.

But that’s not what you wanted, either. It was very confusing, really. He had worked you up and then left you high and dry, so you were just as much want and need and greed as you were angry and annoyed.

You grabbed the collar of his shirt and pulled him back against you, shifting forward on the counter. “If you want to tide me over, I’m gonna need a little more than that,” you said against his lips, sliding your hand down the front of his shorts and palming him over his underwear.

Calum groaned and bucked involuntarily against your hand before grabbing your wrist. “Baaabe, we can’t,” his voice almost a whine.

You slipped your hand back out of his shirt obediently and placed it back on his shoulders. “Fine,” you conceded. “I guess I’ll just have to go take care of myself. You can finish up dinner, right?”

Giving his shoulders a light push, Calum stepped back, surprised. You slid off the counter and began walking out of the kitchen toward your bedroom before feeling his hand grab your wrist. “C’mon, baby, don’t be like that.”

He pulled your wrist to turn you around, holding your hand to his cheek and pressing his mouth where it met your wrist. He held it there for what felt like forever, the worlds slowing down and your heart speeding up as you concentrated on the feeling of his lips against your palm. He was looking at you from under his criminally long lashes, all dark lines and tan skin with a single wet curl hanging over his forehead.

“We can do this, together, I’m sure,” he murmured into your skin. “Now can we please eat this beautiful dinner you’ve worked so hard on?”

Breathing in through your nose and blowing out through your mouth, you focused on both calming down and cooling down. You really wished this place came with a goddamn air conditioner.

“Fine. You make the salad.”

————————————————————

A week went by like that. The tension growing thicker each day. Waking up next to Calum and feeling the shape of his body against your back, your front, your legs twisted between each other’s or splayed like snow angels. No matter the position, you woke up hot, every inch of your scorching where it touched his.

It really shouldn’t be this hard. You had been celibate voluntarily or involuntarily, for months at a time not that long ago. You were an adult who could survive a simple 21-day stretch without sex.

But that was all before you met Calum. Before you had been with Calum; known the way his body could make yours feel. Before you knew the way he could play your body like a fine-tuned instrument, his every touch lighting a fire inside of you that threatened to melt you from the inside out.

And it was in moments like this, when the early morning sun was streaming in through the curtains and causing a cold yellow light to dance over his golden skin that you felt so acutely what he could do to you. You lay awake just staring at him. At his long, black eyelashes curling so beautifully over his closed eyes. His messy morning hair curling haphazardly over his forehead. His strong jaw line creating a line that led down his neck to the shape of his collarbone where it stood out over the swell of his bare chest.

His breathing was slow, the rise and fall almost lulling you back to sleep. But then he spoke. “You’re being creepy,” he murmurs without opening his eyes.

“I’m sure I don’t know what you mean,” you replied innocently, swiping his hair off his forehead and running your finger down his cheek to his jaw.

“Staring at me looking all sexy and asleep isn’t going to help your predicament, see cheeks,” he joked as he slowly came into consciousness.

“How do you do that without opening your eyes?”

He turned his face to press his mouth to the pulse in your wrist, one eye peeking open to stare at you in the morning light. “I’ll tell you one day.”

You curled into his side, setting your chin into his shoulder to stare at him up close. “I think I’ve been rather good, actually. I haven’t pressured you even once, even when I really wanted to jump your bones.”

He laughed, curling to face you on his arm, your bodies forming two parentheses barely overlapping each other under the mustard yellow sheets. “You’ve wanted to jump my bones, hmm?” He ran his hand down your back to your underwear, teasing the skin just under the hem of his cotton t-shirt that you had worn to bed.

“Of course,” you said, grabbing his hand and intertwining your fingers with his. “When you come home all sweaty from the gym in those short ‘80s shorts. How could I resist?” Your voice was joking but you really weren’t. Those were the times you really felt like no championship would be worth dying a slow, horny death.

“Well you’ve been very patient.” Calum pressed a kiss to your forehead. “How long has it been, anyway?”

“Eight days,” you replied too quickly.

Calum noticed your eagerness and laughed. “Eight days. Hm. I think you deserve a reward, don’t you?”

Your heart skipped a beat but you didn’t let yourself get your hopes up. Not after yesterday, when he had texted you I have a surprise for you when you get home ;) and you arrived home prepared to see a naked Calum covered in whipped cream or something….only to find him with an extra-large pizza from your favorite restaurant. Granted, that had been a pretty good surprise. But it didn’t change the fact that you only thought of him a tease with no action to back up his big talk.

“Oh I’m certain I deserve a reward,” you replied, giving him a playful slap on the ass.

“Whatever shall we do about that?” he whispered into your ear. Goosebumps rose everywhere his breath ghosted over you.

Calum rolled you onto your back, throwing his leg over your waist to rest his full chest against yours. Maybe you could get excited, after all.

He pressed small kisses against your neck, nipping at your skin to make you gasp. When you moved your hands to twist them through his hair he grabbed them and pressed them to the pillows above your head, twining your fingers together and making your breath come out unsteadily.

He kissed you deeply, the air leaving your lungs. Suddenly your entire body was nothing but a pile of unmitigated need, a live wire that sparked everywhere his mouth touched. And his mouth on yours made you feel like he was breathing your life into your lungs and pulling it back out all at the same time.

It was an effect no man had ever had on you before. The ability to turn you inside out like this. Was it because you were in love with him? So completely in love with him that it made the want and the need and lust and sex and love all mix up with each other in your mind until they were a single force driving you toward peak after peak.

And he had barely even gotten started. He had you pinned between his strong arms, the muscles in his bicep flexing as he held himself over you. He ground his pelvis into yours, your back arching to meet each delicious thrust. God, he hadn’t even really touched you yet.

Calum held himself above you to watch the effect his actions had on you. The way your eyebrows furrowed together as he rubbed against you. The way you shivered when he traced one finger up your arm and over the swell of your chest to cup your breast over your shirt.

“I feel like I’m in high school,” you murmured. “Dry humping my boyfriend while his mom watches TV in the living room.”

“My mom is here?” Calum looked over his shoulder as though he would find her standing right behind him.

You laughed and used his distraction to push him onto his back. “If we’re gonna do this, we’re gonna do it right.” You peeled his t-shirt off of you and threw it on the floor, immediately forgotten.

Calum drank you in above him, pupils blown out with lust, watching you closely to see what you would try to do next. His body looked relaxed but you knew that in reality he was like a predatory cat preparing to strike. That his lazy exterior could spring into action before you could realize what had happened.

Not wanting him to steal your pleasure from you, you acted before he could. First you slid your fingers down your panties and gathered some of the wetness that had grown there before rubbing your fingertips slowly over your clit. Your mouth pouted open into a gasp, reveling in the sensation, grinding harder as you chased that pleasure.

You slapped your other hand to his chest, your fingertips digging crescent moons into his bronze skin as you rolled your hips over your hand, and by extension, his growing erection.

Calum sat up suddenly. His face was still relaxed, but the speed with which he moved gave away how much your action had affected him. He pressed his chest flush with yours and kissed you hotly.

Slowly, excruciatingly slowly, he pulled your hand out from your panties and pressed your fingers into his mouth. His tongue laved slowly over your fingertips, drawing a long moan from you, the air between the two of you growing thick and electric.

“God, you’re killing me, Cal,” you moaned. He ran his fingers down to your hips again, digging into the flesh and rolling you against him. Back and forth, back and forth, rolling you quickly toward an orgasm thanks largely to how long it had been since your last one.

“Do you,” Cal pressed a kiss to the base of your throat, “do you touch yourself when I’m away?” Calum’s voice sounded genuinely quizzical, as though he were discussing the weather or asking you for directions.

“I, um.” Your brain was short circuiting as he pressed you harder and faster against him, your wet panties rubbing against your clit like a tongue. He pressed another kiss to your bare chest, nipping you just under your collarbone before taking a nipple into his mouth.

“Well? Do you?” He repeated, his hot breath causing you to shiver where it met your pebbled nipple.

“No. Um.” The screws were coming loose in your brain. Everything you wanted to do with him, do to him, were flashing over the inside of your eyelids as he drew you to your peak. “Not since, um, not since you said we couldn’t, oh god.”

Calum pulled away and you whined at the loss. He was looking at you intently, as though trying to judge if you were being serious. “You mean that?” He slid his hand down the back of your panties and slid one finger inside you easily. You gasped at how unexpected it was and moaned as he used that hand to pull you back and forth into the grinding motion he had you in before. “You really haven’t had an orgasm for over a week?”

“Yeah, I mean it,” your voice was increasing in pitch and your eyes were shut tight. “Fuck, Calum, don’t stop.”

But Calum did stop. At least, he stopped long enough to throw you onto your back and slide comfortably to rest his head just above your mound. “You’ve been an even better girl than I thought,” Calum praised, his voice still gravelly this early in the morning. “Now let’s see about that reward.”

Calum pulled your underwear off quickly and pressed his tongue flat against you, licking a thick stripe from your opening to your clit. You keened loudly, your back arching when he finally gave you what you needed.

He didn’t intend to tease you. He really did want to reward you for your patience. But it was just so much fun to watch you writhe and moan under him as he teased one finger around your opening and licked figure eights just below your clit.

You were panting as the air of the room pressed heavily against your skin. If fucking Calum was a religious experience, having him eat you out was like leaving earth and going straight to heaven.

“Fuck, Calum. I can’t.” You had been so close to your climax before you felt your mouth on you that your brain was disconnecting.

Finally, he took mercy on you. Diving in to eat you like his last meal. He slid one finger into you, just up to the second knuckle, pressing up against your front wall as he flicked his tongue against your clit.

You bucked up into his face and he didn’t even bother holding you down, just tucked one arm under your thigh to steady himself before shoving two fingers into you up to their base.

He pumped his fingers into you steadily, pressing his tongue flat against you. He alternated his pace, pumping faster when he slowed his tongue and flicking his tongue quickly when he slowed his pumps.

“Oh my god, Calum. Fuck, I—,” you blubbered as your soul left your body. You curled your legs over his shoulders, your thighs shaking as you sprinted towards the high you were both chasing. All the want you had built up for a week had created an ache stronger than you even realized, and the beginning of your orgasm was like stretching an atrophied muscle. “Goddamn it that feels so fucking good.”

When he knew you were going to fall over the edge, Calum slowed his tongue and hooked his fingers to press firmly against your g-spot. He tapped them rapidly against that spot as he sucked your clit into his mouth.

A tear rolled down your cheek as you reached your peak. You clamped your knees against his ears, locking him in place as you finally fell over the edge. Your entire body shook as the orgasm rolled from where his fingers still tapped inside you out to your fingers and down to your toes.

Even as you reached your peak he didn’t stop, pumping his fingers and scissoring them to rub against every wall, running his tongue over you until there wasn’t a nerve left below your waist that he hadn’t annihilated.

It was like his fingers were fucking the air right out of your lungs. Connecting the two of you and unraveling you all at the same time.

“C’mon, baby. I know you’ve got another in you.”

And he was right, really. Except it wasn’t exactly a second orgasm as it was a second wave of the first that had never stopped. He stayed like that for a long time, never letting you come down, pulling one after another from you until you had to shove his face away.

He kissed his way back up your body, holding his hand still against your mound as you came down, its warmth soothing as your body shook.

Finally he pressed his mouth against yours and you could taste yourself. You didn’t have the energy to kiss him back. Your lips just hung open as your breath came out in small pants. He rolled over onto his side and pulled the sheet over both of you.

“You are really fucking good at that,” you said finally, flinging the back of your hand against his chest.

Calum nuzzled his nose against your ear, pressing a kiss to your jaw. “Only the best for my girl,” he laughed, taking the compliment in stride.

You glanced down at the tent in the sheet where it lay over his waist. “Just, uh, just give me a minute. I’ll get right on that.” You gestured lazily toward his obvious erection.

“No, no. Today was about you.” Calum rolled you so that he was spooning you and ran his hand over the back of yours, twisting your fingers together. “I still need to wait until after the match.”

He pressed a kiss to the back of your neck and breathed slowly through his nose to try and bring his own body temperature down. Your thoughts were becoming coherent again.

You turned your head to look at him, really look at him. You kissed him deeply, trying to convey to him the feeling that had overwhelmed you. “I love you, Calum. So goddamn much.”

He smiled but he didn’t laugh. The light danced in his eyes where they crinkled at the corners. He kissed you again and brushed his nose against yours. “I love you, too. Now go back to sleep.”

[corvus--rex]

Semi-abandoned soulmate au. I actually started this one before The Sound of Color, although this is vastly different from that one. This particular au also doesn't have the requirement that soulmates are always romantic (ie Pidge and their soulmate). It jumps around a little, and those sections are marked with dividers. Soulmate strangers-to-lovers. . .

~*~*~*~

Soulmarks. Everyone had one. An indelible mark that bound two people together. Age 13 was when it would start. The mark “waking up” as some called it, and reaching out for its companion mark. Most soulmates were within a few years of each other, so the lingering tingle of a mark searching for its mate usually didn’t last long.

Lance was lucky that way. His mark sprang to life on his thirteenth birthday and quieted three months later. There was no way to know who or where his soulmate was at that point, but he knew they were three months younger than him. He had been getting ready for school that day when the constant tingle in his mark faded.

He’d always liked the quarter note-shaped mark on the inside of his left wrist. What confused him were the numbers that circled it. No two marks were the same, and Lance knew that his soulmate would have something different. But those numbers confused him. 1030211933. Trying to figure it out was a favorite pastime throughout middle and high school, but he never could get there. He hadn’t met his soulmate yet, but he hoped that it would make sense when he did.

Once two marks found each other, the secondary connection opened. The marks on the soul allowed for marks on the body. Words, doodles, full-blown artwork. Drawing or writing on skin would appear on a connected soulmate. Once Lance’s mark had connected, the first thing he did was ask his soulmate about the numbers. They didn’t know either. But he did find out that his soulmate’s mark sat on their right hip, it was a feather, and they didn’t have those numbers but they did have a series of roman numerals along the feather’s shaft that read:

X X X X X X I X I X X X X I I I

They continued to talk for years, learning about each other. They had decided not to share identifying information like names or location, but Lance knew that his soulmate had a twin and that their parents had adopted their cousin when their cousin’s parents died in an accident. They didn’t know anything about the accident because they’d been too young at the time and no one had explained it since. Lance told them that he had three siblings, that he was a twin, too, and that his older sister connected with her soulmate the same day he had.

He lay in his bed in the dorm he shared with his best friend Hunk, rereading the last message his soulmate had sent him about how college sucked and how they already had an in-class performance a month into the semester. He’d responded with a note about how trying to balance classes with rehearsals as the lead in his school’s fall musical was kicking his ass. Lance already knew that his soulmate was studying music at a college close to where they grew up. And they knew that he was majoring in theatre at a college a three-hour drive from home.

Hunk trudged into their dorm room and threw himself onto his bed. “Remind me again why I decided this was a good idea?” he groaned.

“Which part?” Lance asked in return.

“The part where I decided to be a pastry chef and subject myself to the hell that is the one professor I can’t get away from?”

“Because you love baking and always have and one asshole can’t make you hate doing what you love.”

“I swear she just likes to terrorize us. There’s that guy I told you about – Sal, the one I had a class with freshman year and he transferred to general culinary and now he’s back – she hates him. And I don’t know why. But then, she hates me, too. Pretty sure it’s that bun. It’s so tight she doesn’t need a face lift. But I’m also convinced that Chef Dayak is just evil.”

“Hey, at least you have Shay there with you. Not everyone gets to have their soulmate in class with them all day,” Lance pointed out.

“How’s it with yours?” Hunk asked.

“We’re working our way up to talking about meeting. I know I wanted to wait until after graduation, but I’m getting impatient, y’know? It’s been eight years and I don’t want to wait anymore. But I get that they do. So…yeah. Anyway,” he said, shaking himself out of that particular spiral, “You going to the Halloween party this year?”

“Dude! It’s a month away!”

Lance sat up, turning to his best friend, one eyebrow arched. “Seriously? You say this like there’s such a thing as too early. And no, it’s only three weeks. We need to start now.”

Hunk groaned again, this time in only partial exasperation, and sat up. “Fine. The fuck are you planning this year?”

Lance just laughed. Hunk threw a pillow at him, collapsing in his own fit of giggling when a startled Lance took the pillow directly to the face. Lance’s alarm sounded, loud and annoying. He groaned, throwing Hunk’s pillow back, and fumbled for his phone to turn the blaring sound off.

“Fuck me. I have to get to rehearsal.”

In an apartment just off campus, Keith stopped playing and pulled the pencil out of his hair, making yet another correction to his scribbled sheet music. He started over, again, ignoring the key in the door and his roommate coming back in. He ignored their slight form dropping their overpacked backpack on the floor and throwing themselves onto the other end of the couch with their laptop and notebook. Keith was too focused on his music to pay much attention to Pidge.

Except that Pidge wanted his attention right then. “Hey. Asshole,” they said, throwing a ball of notebook paper at him.

“Yes, hellspawn?” he asked casually, setting his guitar on its stand by the couch, “What the fuck do you want?”

“I’m on the committee for the party. You’re coming,” they said while typing away on their laptop.

“No. I’m not. I don’t go to parties, and you know it. Why the fuck are you so determined for me to go?”

Pidge looked up, fixing him with their stare. “Because I said so. And because Matt’s going to be there. His girlfriend’s going too. You actually like Neve. So you’re going.”

“Including you, that’s three people I’d be willing to talk to. Why should I bother?” he stopped, a dreaded thought sparking as to why they were so hellbent on his going to the party. “It’s because it’s a week after my birthday, isn’t it?”

“What? You mean that thing you ignore every year except for the proliferation of doodles from your soulmate? Why would that have anything to do with it?”

“I'm still not going,” Keith insisted.

“We’ll see about that,” Pidge answered cryptically. They went back to their laptop, typing furiously. They stayed that way, ignoring Keith’s death glare until he gave up and went back to his music.

Eventually, Keith decided that the music portion of his brain was fried and gave up for the night. Pidge was buried in their laptop, writing a paper for their robotics class at top speed. Ignoring them for the moment, Keith opened his own laptop, going back to the English assignment he still hadn’t finished. It was due by the next class, which was two days away, but he’d been putting it off for longer than that. He typed lazily at it for a while before a horrible thought hit him and he realized that his previous assessment had been wrong. He glared up at Pidge over his screen.

“She’s going, isn’t she?” he asked.

“Who?” Pidge asked back, pretending they didn’t know what he meant.

“You know who.”

“If you’re referring to your sister, then yes, she is.”

Keith sighed. “Just because she knows who her soulmate is now, that doesn’t mean that you’re right. Mine could be literally anyone.”

Pidge closed their laptop. “And you’re in denial. I can not believe that your twin sister happens to have a soulmate who has a younger brother who is also a twin and his soulmate has a twin. The odds of that happening are so small as to be inconceivable! Not to mention the part where Acxa’s soulmate and her brother both connected with theirs on the same day.”

“Ok, I’ll give you that it’s weird. But you don’t know anything about Acxa’s soulmate’s siblings, and neither does she. And not everyone’s met theirs yet. You haven’t! All you know is their handle on Steam!”

“So? I also know that Beezer’s on the other side of the country. I know that we won’t get to meet in person until after graduation. All I'm saying is that this is a little too weird to be a coincidence.”

“And I’m not going to let you harass my sister’s soulmate about her siblings on the day they’re meeting face to face for the first time. Leave it alone, Pidge.”

“Fine,” they said, going back to their paper.

Keith knew full well that Pidge would not leave it alone, but there was only so much he could do to stop them.

A few days later, Lance dragged his twin sister, Hunk, and Shay to the nearest Halloween pop-up costume store. None of them had found anything they liked, and Lance was getting bored. Shay had wandered off to the decoration part of the store, and Hunk was making sure the twins didn’t get into trouble. But Hunk had gotten briefly distracted and lost them.

“Jules no.” Ah, there was Lance.

“Jules yes.” And his sister.

“Are you two still arguing?” Hunk asked as he approached the twins.

“Hunk,” Lance said, putting his hands on Hunk’s shoulders, “She wants us to be the Wonder Twins again. I absolutely refuse. We did that once when we were like nine.” He felt something hit his back and whipped around to find his sister holding a Wonder Twins costume. “Ana Julieta Alameda-McClain, get that fucking thing away from me.”

“Oh, fine. You’re no fun,” Jules pouted. She put it back, then turned around, spotting something else. “Ooh! Quicksilver and Scarlet Witch?”

“What the fuck – no! I’m never going Halloween shopping with you again. You’re on your own,” Lance said, wandering off and taking Hunk with him.

Hunk was laughing. “Why do you keep letting her do this, dude?”

“I don’t know. Anyway, I say we go over to The Costume Company. I think I’m done with mass-produced crap.”

“Sounds like a plan. I’ll go find Shay and meet up with you two at the car,” Hunk agreed, heading in the direction he’d last seen Shay.

Lance reluctantly went back to his sister. “We’re going to The Costume Company,” he said without getting her attention.

“Hm? Ok,” Jules answered, not paying attention to her twin.

“Bye, then.” He started to leave without her, getting halfway down the aisle of the Halloween pop-up before she realized what he’d said.

“Lance! Get back here, you ass!” she yelled after him.

He ignored her as payback for her insistence on twin costumes and kept going. She chased him all the way to his car, where Hunk and Shay were already waiting. Lance finally lost his composure, cracking up when he reached his waiting friends.

“Leandro. Alejandro. Alameda. McClain. I am going to kill you,” Jules growled while out of breath from chasing him.

“No you won’t,” he said, “Mamá would kill you in return.”

Shay saw her opportunity and took it. “Shotgun!” she announced, hopping into the passenger seat.

“Shay, I love you,” Hunk said, getting in behind Lance, effectively separating the twins.

~*~*~*~*~*~

“Acxa, just promise me you won’t give in to Pidge. They’re being totally insufferable with this,” Keith said. He lay on his bed, earbuds connected to the call he was on with his twin.

“You know me better than that. Gremlin won’t get shit out of me. And she’s not getting anywhere near V at the party."

~*~*~*~

Links to the rest of the series:

1 | 2 | 3* | 4 | 5* | 6* | 7 | 8 | 9* | 10 | 11 | 12* | 13 | 14 | 15* | 16 | 17 | 18 | 19*

[elysianslove]

Hey sal!! I’d love to participate in your 11k event, CONGRATULATIONS AGAIN. I’d like a male matchup, I can’t decide on a fandom so whoever comes to mind first :)

Characteristics: hardworking, smart, loving, independent, confident, thoughtful, caring. I speak my mind, stand up for myself/others, I don’t care what others think of me, I have anxiety, I have a huge heart and give a lot

Relationship traits: I love to dance so I’ll grab their hand to spin around or dance all the time, whether it be at a gas station or in the kitchen. I’m super good at knowing what someone needs, so my love language differs between the situation or my partners mood (if they need space, a hug, help with responsibilities, etc)

Thank you so much!!! You’re amazing and we love you so much. Congrats Sal <3

hi darling!! thank you so much <33 and i really hope you like this! mwah mwah <3

11k Event/Match Ups are closed!

↬ your jujutsu kaisen matchup: fushiguro megumi !

↬ your fanfiction trope: in denial & drawing it out for forever !

— headcanon: megumi appreciates your intuition unlike any other. he might not always voice it, actually almost never does he mention it because talking about his feelings isn’t entirely his strong suit, but he genuinely is so thankful you’re able to understand and read him as well as you do. you seem to always know whenever he needs someone to rant to without any consequence, or if he needs advice and your personal opinion on a matter, or if he needs comfort in the form of physical affection — your hand in his hair, his head in your lap, on your chest, buried in your neck — or if he needs affection from a distance — giving him water every once in a while, sending him memes while he’s a seat away on the couch, cooking him food. whatever it is he needs and the way he needs it, you seem to always know, and genuinely, he’s so, so thankful for it.

[mrs-hollandstan]

Make Me Love You || Frat Boy!Tom [two]

Warnings: more sexual comments, sexual tension, language, talk of home issues, shirtless Tommooooo

Word Count: 5,827

Author's Note: Here's part two. The teaser didn't do so well but people keep adding to the taglist sooooo ???? Either way, I'm writing part 3 which I'm pretty excited for cause I think that's gonna introduce like a relationship thingy. Lemme know what you think tho. 

Series Masterlist || Add yourself to one of my taglists

Saturday seemed to skate by for you and your three new roommates. After Harrison dropped Ivey off, the four of you made a mess of your kitchen making breakfast. Afterwards, you head out into the streets, the clouds teasing you with small slivers of sunlight every few minutes. At the end of your shopping spree, the girls are asking you about your dad and his endless supply of money he provides you, seeing that your bags are full of winter clothes that they would only be able to afford half of, if that. The rest of the day is a blur, just the four of you enjoying each others company and planning out your school schedules. 

Sunday comes around in a flash, Ivey is waking you up early in the morning to catch Tom and Harrison's golf match. Handing you a coffee to wake you up once you pull yourself out of bed, she giggles, watching you drink from it with droopy eyes,

"If you and Tom become a thing, I'll be interested to see how you make it to games to support him." She says. You hum, climbing into the cold passenger seat of her car, cradling the steaming cup of coffee close to you for warmth as she turns the vehicle on and cranks the heat up. The drive to the local golf course is short and Ivey drives carefully through the fog Seattle is set in. Once she finds a spot and the two of you walk to join the group of people gathered around the competing teams, you and Ivey clapping along, her eyes trained on Harrison and yours trying to avoid staring at the curly haired brunette who wears a different backwards hat, looking delicious in the somewhat tight gray pants and polo he wears, focused on the game before him. In a few, seemingly short hours, the game is finished and your school has won and Harrison is the Medalist for the school's team. Ivey jumps into his arms when they're dismissed, her arms wrapped around his neck, legs in the air as he lifts her from her feet. She squeals, 

"You did so good. I'm so proud of you." She praises, his face turning up as he stares down at her. Setting her on her feet, he steps forward to give you a quick, one armed hug, attempting to avoid leaving his stink of sweat on you. Tom approaches, duffel bag slung over his shoulder, unreadable expression etched into his features.

"Ladies... and Y/N." He remarks. 

"Oh ha ha." Harrison says, reaching out to playfully punch Tom's arm. The brunette boy's tongue comes out as he laughs before he looks to you, 

"Hi. You look dead on your feet." He says, cocking his head. You smile, nodding and pulling the sleeves of a sweater you'd bought the day before down further over your hands,

"I feel dead. I'm never up this early." He chuckles, a breathtaking smile crossing his face, 

"Unfortunately for us, it's part of the game. It's like my own little piece of home so... I'll get up this early if I can remember my family." He informs. You nod, muttering a "nice" before you both avert your attention back to Harrison and Ivey, caught up in each other. She's mid laugh when she turns back to the two of you. She looks between you, 

"I... am gonna reward the Medalist so you two... go off together. Have fun." She says, waving her hand as if to shoo you. You cock your head pathetically, features softening, 

"Seriously?" She raises her own eyebrows, 

"If you had a boyfriend, wouldn't you wanna show him how proud you are of him when he's top winner Y/N?" She chastises. You huff, eyebrows knitting together in annoyance. Tom reaches out to run his fingers along your arm, 

"'S alright darling. We'll go down to Sal's diner, have some breakfast and I'll buy you a new coffee." He says, gesturing to your nearly empty cup of cold coffee. You look up into his soft, genuine eyes. You sigh before nodding, eyes flickering between Ivey and Harrison, 

"Fine... but just know I hate you both and we'll see if you ever drag me to anything again." Ivey giggles before taking Harrison's hand, 

"Yeah, yeah, we'll see you guys there." She says before dragging him towards a faraway bathroom. You and Tom watch them go, Tom letting out a distant, wanting sigh, 

"Can't wait for a girl that gives me congratulatory sex." He says softly, sounding almost disappointed as you both watch Harrison and Ivey hurry off, her hand held in his. You glance up at him after a moment and giggle, his own lips turning up after another heartbeat of your smooth laughter. He lets you wrap an arm around his waist, an arm of his circling your shoulders hesitantly as he leads you towards the parking lot, duffel bag held over his shoulder in the other hand. He's sweaty despite the cold and you both know it and despite you not seeming to mind, Tom does, not wanting you to smell for the rest of the day assuming you don't change out of your clothes. 

"I don't know much about golf, but you did good Tom. Great form." You break him from his thoughts. He snorts, rolling his eyes as he releases you to rummage through his bag to find his car keys, clicking the unlock button to a silver 1998 4runner. The stereotypical douchebag car. 

"I can tell you don't know shit. Every time I caught a glimpse of you during the match you looked fucking lost. And I didn't have good form, I was one of the lowest scoring players for this game." 

"And? You still did good. Better than most of us I bet. I'm not that stupid, I know you contributed to the team winning. That makes you good." You elaborate before walking around and climbing into the passenger seat, waiting for Tom to join you. You turn, watching him rummage through a gym bag in his backseat before he climbs into the driver's side, starting the car to crank the heater up and strip from his somewhat sweaty polo, trading it in for a more comfortable looking, skin tight, army green colored, long sleeved shirt. Your eyes wander the skin of his chest and stomach, watching the muscles beneath ripple with each movement. When he breathes, the muscles in his abdomen constrict and relax, defining his tantalizing body even further. His pecs are thoroughly defined and his biceps flex with each movement of them. You're obsessed with how he looks, having only seen what his clothes allow you, but now that he's shirtless in front of you, it's sexy as hell. His face isn't the only thing that's beautiful, a pang of want coursing through your body. 

You lick your lips, drawing your eyes away once he pulls the shirt over his head, ruffling the soft curls and pulling his cap back on his head, backwards again. He catches you at the last second, chuckling to himself as he finds comfort in his fresh clothes and the heat coursing through his car,

"I don't know whether to be flattered or scared seeing your eyes glossed over like that." He mutters, tossing his polo over his shoulder and clicking his seatbelt around his slender figure. You swallow, glancing up to watch the ice crystals collected on the windshield melt away. Clearing your throat, you blink a few times, trying to erase the distracting images of his body from your mind, but it doesn't seem to work and you're not entirely sure you want it to. 

"I mean… it's kinda flattering seeing you look at me like a fine piece of dessert, but damn it's kinda scary." He continues, further breaking you from your thoughts. 

"Sorry." You finally mutter. He hums, glancing in his rearview mirror,

"You don't have to be sorry. I was starin at you Friday, you can stare at me now. We can like what we see love, it's just what we choose to do with it that matters." He says matter of factly, twisting a few times in his seat to check around you before safely backing out of his parking spot and pulling out into the parking lot and onto the mist and drizzle covered streets of Seattle. The heat doesn't help the flood of embarrassment and want that you have in your body. He clicks the heater down when you push your sleeves up your forearms, clearing your throat as he drives. He chuckles, 

"We could always take the party to the backseat if you’re that hot and bothered by the show. I'm the master of making it like a little domain." He says. You scoff,

"I'm sure you are. Then you'd score and you'd drop me-"

"I didn't say that-"

"You don't have to. I've already been told you're a one night stand type of guy so why would I waste my time trying to get through to you when the second I sleep with you, you'll just... move on?" You rant, trailing off at the end. Silence permeates between you somewhat awkwardly, but Tom's eyes find your figure every few seconds. He licks his lips, bringing his knee not focused on the gas and brake, up closer to his body. He sighs, running his hand up to the top of the steering wheel, drumming his thumb along it, 

"It was a joke. I was joking but uhm... I'm... starting to think that you and I won't be friends. There's too much of a connection. Sure, we want different things from each other, but we both want something from the other. I want sex and you want... a relationship. And I have to be honest, I don't know if you really want that." He admits. You look to him, watching his jaw clench for a moment, eyes fixed on the road before him before you speak up, 

"So you don't wanna be friends?" You say quietly, almost inaudibly. He glances over, eyes locked in yours for a moment before he reaches across the center console to place his hand over your thigh, rubbing soothingly as the corners of his lips turn up and he looks back out at the road, 

"Definitely not what I'm saying. I'm just saying that you and I have this... connection. I know you feel it cause I do too and I'm dumb as fuck. The only thing I'm good at is fucking. Dating me wouldn't do much for you cause I'm... I'm complicated. I'm fucked up and I'll just break your heart. So like you said, why put yourself through that?" He presents to you, hand resuming its position at the base of the steering wheel, arm rested on his leg. The way he avoids your eyes the rest of the drive tells you it hurts him to say something about himself like that. But he's been hurt before and you can tell. He doesn't want to open himself up again and have his own heart broken. 

He pulls into the small dirt lot the diner sits in, parking as close to the building as he can. You mutually climb from the car and walk up the steel steps. You thank Tom as he opens the door for you, walking inside the warm building and smiling at a waitress who greets you both. She leads you to a booth in a corner of the restaurant, letting you sit across from each other before setting menus before you and asking if you'd like to place a drink order. Tom orders coffee for the both of you, watching her walk away before he averts his attention to the menu before him. When you both have thoroughly looked it over, he clasps his hands together on the table, a crooked smirk rising to his lips, 

"We can still learn about each other. You said you were from California, what part?" He asks. You smile softly, relaxing back against the booth at your back, 

"Beverly Hills." He nods, face turning up, impressed,

"Nice. Real pretty there, minus the... snobby, rich assholes that think they're entitled cause they spent too much on a house and car. What's your family life like?" He poses. You shrug, smile etched into your face, 

"Fucked. Like everyone else's." You reply, letting him let out a chuckle before you reach up to tuck hair behind your ear,

"I lived in Beverly Hills so obviously we had money as you so nicely put it. My dad was this... successful CEO for the malls in the area. My mom never worked really. Not from what I remember. She was always home for me and my brother Cole, packing lunches, driving us to school, that kinda stuff." You pause, your eyes looking around the diner, but your mind wanders to the fading images of what your mom used to look like. When she was happy, healthy. Tom cocks his head, watching you,

"You love your mum." He poses unknowingly. You nod,

"Yeah, I did." You reply softly, feeling the pressure of your tears behind your eyes. You cross your arms on the table almost defensively as Tom frowns, waiting for you to continue. Tears collect in your eyes as you think about it,

"She died almost five years ago." Tom's eyes widen and he struggles to pull a napkin from the dispenser against the wall,

"Shit, I am so sorry." You shake your head, taking it from him, 

"Don't be. I don't talk about her often is all." You say. He nods, watching you dab at your eyes before you sigh, 

"My dad had a new girlfriend before her funeral even rolled around. So... it just caused a rift between him and my brother cause we just kinda figured maybe she wasn't something he picked up after our mom had died. We came to the conclusion he wasn't around a lot because he had this new girlfriend and maybe mom knew about, who knows? But either way, Cole moved up here once he graduated and my dad decided when I graduated, he was headed to New York for a bigger business investment. I would've gone if he didn't make it seem like I was holding him back while I was still in high school. He just seemed antsy to get the hell out of dodge and I just... I don’t want to feel like an obligation. I think he wanted a fresh start and I wasn’t going to feel like the burden when it came to that. So it was either him and his new little girlfriend that honestly isn't much older than me, or here with Cole. Guess I like Cole and the idea of actually being wanted better. And he was alone until I got here so... I like being around him." You elaborate with a shrug, glancing up every so often to see Tom nod. He smiles, nodding to himself. He looks down at his arm,

"Damn... I thought my dad was irritating." He says. You smile, shrugging to yourself, 

"It happens. The fight my dad and Cole got in was viscous. I thought one of them was gonna kill the other and then my dad told Cole to get out and Cole left and I was terrified I'd never see him again. I was the only one invited to his graduation. My dad was pissed." You elaborate further with a giggle. Tom smiles, glancing up and leaning back when the waitress brings two cups of steaming coffee and a bowl of creamer. She asks for a food order, Tom watching you as you do so and ordering himself, smiling as she turns to walk away. He finds the sugar he likes in the tray at the end of the table, stirring it in before adding a creamer,

"What about you?" You pose to break the silence between you again. He glances up, eyebrows furrowing before you gesture out to him, 

"Your life, your family. Why are you here? I mean... I've been to London and its gorgeous. Why didn't you stay, or hell... go to New York? That's beautiful too." He shrugs, nose crinkling almost in disgust, 

"New York isn't for me. Too uppity and cramped. And there's only so long you can stay in your hometown before you're sick of it. By the time I was ready for college, I wanted the fuck out and the states were always the plan. Seattle is pretty close to that cold London weather I knew I'd miss so... it was kind of a no brainer." He says with a shrug, fingertips gently strumming along the ceramic mug set before him as he speaks, glancing out the window beside him. Looking back to you, he sighs, shrugging again, 

"As for my family, I've got three brothers, both parents and a dog." He says. You smile and nod, holding your own mug in both hands, 

"Got your whole life together." He chuckles, 

"Yeah... sure. My dad sort of vicariously lives through me and is all over the place with his demands. I would've just come up here, played golf and got a degree in... I dunno... theater or something if I had my way but now I'm studying business. Dunno what I'm gonna do with it." He admits. He sighs, crossing his arms and running his hands up his biceps with a faraway look. He shrugs, eyes finding yours, 

"My mum would love you though. Very defiant with a little bit of sass. She'd love to keep you around so you can keep me in check." He says. You smile, looking down into the coffee in your hands,

"And your brothers? You said you had three of them, so you're like a... a role model figure. Gotta be perfect for your brothers huh?" You pose. He chuckles, pulling his phone out, 

"The fact that you nailed it right on the head is… quite terrifying." He admits before sighing. Flipping through a few things, he turns his phone to show you the party of six, including their dog. You smile, looking through the smiling faces of his family,

"Damn, the whole family's good lookin." You say. He chuckles, turning his phone back to him and zooming in to see the other boys that, now looking at him, he realizes he misses, 

"If you meet them, never say that to the other boys. They don't need their egos inflated any more than they already are." He jokes. You snort, 

"Oh and you do Tom? I don't think your head can get any bigger." You reply. He clicks his tongue, unamused look crossing his face. He averts his attention back to his phone allowing you the opportunity to look over his face again. He sighs as he finally tucks the device away, glancing up finally when you speak, 

"What about Harrison? How'd he end up here?" You ask. He presses his lips in a line, eyebrows set the same way, 

"Just decided he wanted the same thing as I did. His home life's about as complicated as yours. He just wants to focus on himself. Then he met Ivey and... I'm convinced if I hadn't liked Seattle and decided to head back to the UK, he'd stay for her. He... fell hard, and fast for her. It seemed to happen overnight and I'm still convinced she's drugging him with some kind of love potion." He jokes. You smile, admiring what you know so far of Harrison and Ivey's relationship,

"They're adorable. They just seem to be so in love and it's perfect. They're a good balance for each other." You tell him. He nods, smiling to himself, 

"He's whipped as fuck. Can't keep her off his mind. They always plan their schedules out together to see if they can get some of the same classes. I made the mistake of taking one with them once after they'd been together a few months and... lemme tell you, third wheeling with those two is not fun." He informs, eyebrows raising when he looks to you again. You smile, 

"I'm taking a class with her this semester. Should be interesting." He hums, 

"Same here. Im takin a class with him. It's cool when it can link up. I just can't be with the both of them. All they do is sit at the back of the class and kiss and if it's a two person project, you've got to wing it with someone else. I mean, don't get me wrong, it's nice to be out there and meeting new people, but shit, the things you have to put up with from the two of them is a nightmare." He elaborates. You giggle, leaning your chin on your hand. His smile widens, eyes lingering on your face a moment longer than they probably should have. 

"I think she's the same way though. As far as being whipped goes. She's constantly talking about him, constantly checking her phone to see if he's texted her. I think it's sweet. To be that in love." You tell him, glancing away with a distant look in your eye as you glance past him. His eyes look you over, watching you cock your head, 

"Not to be rude or anything but… have you ever actually had a girlfriend or have you only slept around with girls?" You ask as nicely as possible. Tom shrugs, 

"No, I've had girlfriends. I just… I get bored easily. I dunno that it helps that the three I've been with fawned over me for the title. I guess I… wow, this is gonna sound really conceited but uhh… I guess I was what you can consider one of the popular boys. Loads of people liked me and the girls sort of lined up, threw themselves at me to get the chance to say they dated me at one point. Guess I just," he shrugs again, "got bored with that whole thing. Now 'm just waiting for the right girl to come along and sort of reverse roles. I'd love to be able to gush about my girlfriend to people. Talk about how perfect and beautiful and smart she is." It makes your heart flutter, how romantic he makes it sound. You're almost jealous you have the chance to not be that girl he wants to gush about. He sighs, eyes finding you again, 

"What about you, you don't have a boyfriend or anything? You're a sight AND a little daredevil and someone hasn't scooped you up?" He quizzes. You shrug, 

"Not that interested in anyone. All the guys back home are self centered snobby rich kids no one fucking likes." You tell him. He smiles, shrugging, 

"As are the girls, no?" Humming and narrowing your eyes, your smile widens as Tom chuckles, 

"Touche Thomas." He chuckles,

"What about here? None of the guys here are good enough?" He asks, one of his eyebrows quirking. You tilt your head softly, 

"To be fair, I've only been to the party on Friday and a golf match. I've met the same guys two days in a row. Give it time." You reply. He hums, 

"None of the guys you've met have piqued your interest?" He questions lowly. He lifts his cup, sipping from it. You search his face, admiring the full cheeks and sharp jawline, soft curls peeking out from beneath the cap he wears, cute, big ears seeming to hold it in place like a bobby pin. His dark eyes cut up to yours, watching the beautiful Y/E/C of your own dart away quickly. He chuckles, setting his cup down, 

"Gotta be quicker than that darling. You didn't learn that in the car?" Crossing his arms on the table again, you lean closer, his eyes wandering your face again, 

"Are you twenty one questioning it about my love life for your own personal use?" 

"I'd love to use you for my own personal use." He quickly jumps. You stare at each other, the tension between the two of you, thick, the longer you both wait for the other to make a move. His eyes cast down to your lips, watching you lick them, 

"That's not fair." You mutter, watching his own lips turn up, 

"But what are you going to do about it darling?" He poses cockily. He gives a soft chuckle through his nose before he leans in the smallest bit further, 

"Is there something you want me to do? Something you need to say or ask me for sweet girl?" He almost teases, eyes wandering your lips. You so desperately want to say it. Lean in the rest of the way and kiss his soft lips. But it's wrong and you know it. You both know it's wrong. There's something so wrong about already going down this road with Tom where you just know he'll use you. But your body involuntarily moves forward and you're so close to him. You both start to close the distance, and Tom's body screams in agony and want and disappointment when he hears that goddamn voice, 

"Hey guys." You both propel back as if nothing was happening, Ivey standing beside the table now. You smile up at her, 

"Hey." Tom smiles too, glancing up. He softly greets them before Harrison starts to slide into the booth beside him, 

"Oh, uhm, here..." he stands, brushing past Harrison and Ivey to stand beside your side of the booth, "I'll sit with Y/N. You two can sit together." There's confused and awkward mutters before the three people around you slide into their respective booths, Harrison wrapping an arm around Ivey as Tom looks at you, hand slipping between your thighs to hold the inside of one of them. You reach up to hold his wrist, giving it a squeeze, the tension scorching the both of you from what was just interrupted. Of course now, after that, you'd love to head off to his car and lay in his backseat and let him show you what he's working with, but somehow, the world intervened and you're taking it as a sign. But you still want him. And he still wants you. 

"So... what have you two been up to?" Ivey says in a sigh, relaxing into Harrison's side. The both of them look up as Tom reaches across the table to grab his coffee cup, bringing it to his lips to sip from again, 

"Just... intro stuff. Family life, home life, relationships, that kinda stuff." You reply, watching him drink again. When he catches you looking again, there's no cocky statement with it. He let's you, eyes sparkling playfully as he waits for someone else to speak. Harrison hums, 

"Look at you two, tryin all this stuff out. I reckon the four of us will be on double dates in no time." He says suavely. Tom clicks his tongue, 

"Yeah right mate." 

"Seriously. You guys are cute together. I can see it." He reassures. Glancing up at Tom again, he sighs, warm breath fanning over you as he reaches up to throw his arm over the back of the booth at your shoulders as he clears his throat, 

"Drop it. What about you guys? How was your... thing?" He asks. Snorting, you lean back in your seat, crossing your arms. Tom's inner elbow is rested just behind your head and you can feel his heat radiate from him. Ivey looks up at Harrison's face and smiles, 

"So good." She says. Harrison let's out a light chuckle before Ivey squeals and snuggles into him, 

"We definitely almost got caught but-" 

"That was her finisher." Harrison says. Ivey gasps, reaching up to swat his arm, 

"Was not!" 

"Was too." They bicker. You smile, giggling as you watch them and unbeknownst to you, Tom's eyes have wandered. He misses when it was just the two of you. It was easy and fun and he didn't have to hide his playfulness from you. He could say and do what he wanted and get away with it. But now its stalled. He watches you react to the couple across front you, wondering if Harrison's right. He wonders if the two of you could make it work, go out together and be a couple. He wonders himself if you could be the girl he brags about and is proud to be dating. Relationships come and go and you'd both be taking a risk, but he's starting to think it's one he wants to take. You're stunning to him, perfect beyond comparison and the things he feels for you, he's never felt for any other girl that's been in his life. You glance up after a moment, searching his eyes before you uncross your arms, one of your hands wandering to his lap. You give his thigh a squeeze, sighing as if it's comfortable for you to be like this. He glances down at your hand, before his opposite hand reaches out to trace along your fingertips with his own. You let out an inaudible gasp, focusing back on Ivey when she engages you in some conversation, but Tom is so focused on the way you react to him. Its electric and he wants more. His eyes trail up your body to your profile, sighing through his nose at the look of you. 

When the waitress returns with your food, asking Ivey and Harrison for an order, you glance up at Tom, your hands moving from each other. Your lashes flutter as you give him a soft smile, and cross one leg over the other, turning back to your breakfast in front of you. Tom steals glances at you throughout breakfast, smiling at all of the little jokes you crack and all the times you reminisce over funny stories relating to whatever you're talking about. By the time the four of you are done and argued over who's paying before the boys insist, splitting the check between you and Tom and Ivey and Harrison, Tom snagging the tray from you and slapping his card down with a wink, 

"It was a date babes, I pay for dates." He mutters to you. You roll your eyes before following the rest of your small group out into the parking lot. You and Ivey turn to face the boys, Harrison smiling down at Ivey as she sighs, turning to face you after another moment, 

"Well boys, this was fun and all but Y/N and I have to go finish getting our shit together for classes to start tomorrow." She says. You look up as Tom groans, 

"You just had to bring up classes starting this week didn't you?" Tom says, head tipping back. Your group laughs, your eyes lingering on Tom for a moment longer. Ivey snuggles herself into Harrison, letting him kiss the top of her head. Tom sighs, rolling his eyes, 

"Disgusting. I hate couples." He mutters. You smile, reaching out to lightly punch his stomach,

"So why've you been askin me about my love life Holland?" You tease. He licks his lips, 

"So I don't have to worry about some sort of boyfriend beatin the shit out of me after I fuck you." He mumbles somewhat seductively, creeping forward. Reaching out, he runs his fingers along your arm and hand, raising his eyebrows at you. You click your tongue,

"In your dreams Holland." You mutter. He chuckles, pulling back and tucking his hands in his pockets. He looks to Harrison when he sighs, 

"Was nice seeing you again Y/N. Thanks for keepin Tommo here occupied." He says, rubbing up Ivey's arm. She smiles as you look to Tom, the two of you smiling, 

"Of course. He and I got to know each other a little better. Thanks for paying for my breakfast Tommo." You tease just slightly. Tom nods, holding his arm out, letting you give him a friendly hug,

"You're welcome darling. I appreciate you putting up with me." He says. You smile, laying your head against his shoulder for a moment before you and Ivey both step back, her eyes lingering on Harrison as you look between the boys, 

"See you guys later, okay?" Harrison says, leaning in to kiss Ivey before the four of you part ways. You follow Ivey to her car, Tom and Harrison walking side by side. He turns and glances back at you once, Harrison scoffing beside him. Tom's eyes follow the noise to his best friend's face, knowing smile etched into his features. He glances at Tom, shaking his head, 

"What?" Tom mumbles. Harrison shakes his head again, 

"Ballsiest asshole I know and you can't even ask her out." He tells Tom. Tom clicks his tongue, 

"Fuck you. Never said I wanted to ask her out." 

"You don't just wanna fuck her either. I see the way you look at her, it's different than any other girl around." 

"It's cause she's new." 

"No it's not," Harrison squeals, climbing into the passenger seat of Tom's car, turning his body slightly to face Tom when he resumes his place in the driver's seat, "half of the girls you've hooked up with have been new. If it was because she was new, you'd be trying your damnedest to get into her pants before you moved on but you talked to her. You told her about yourself, opened up to her, and when we walked up on you... you were definitely about to kiss her. You don't catch feelings, you fuck with them, and you're definitely catching them." Harrison lectures. Tom rolls his eyes as he pulls out onto the road leading back into the heart of Seattle,

"She's a nice girl. She's cute. All of the girls I fuck with are cute. But she's just like the others. I'm not catching feelings, and just like Delilah Rhodes, I'll do what I have to to charm her pants off... and then I'll break it off." Tom says. Harrison narrows his eyes, 

"Sure Holland, sure." 

"Seriously." Tom reassures. Harrison watches him, knowing more than anything that his best friend is lying not only to Harrison, but himself. The way he reacts to you is like no other. He's never treated a girl the way he's treated you, been around a girl the way he's around you unless he's trying desperately to fuck her. But as far as he's concerned, it's never been brought up, the idea of sleeping with you. The way Tom looks at you, listens to you, laughs and smiles at you, briefly but meaningfully touches you is like nothing else. Harrison knows more than anyone, by the way his best friend acts, Tom won't be single for much longer. And it won't be a fake, to get into your pants love, but a serious, whole hearted love that you'll both share.

Permanent Taglist: @embrace-themagic @delicioustommy @spiderman-n @winters-beauty @smexylemony @lolabean1998 @musiclover1263 @xxtomxo @chillinjules @sincerelyfan @justkeepdreaminganddreaming @spnobsessedmemes @holland-aisesauce @saltysebastianstan @7x-7x @motherhyuckerdude @counting-eyerolls @princezzariel @martinimendes @happytappy02 @lilya-petrichor @20coldhearts 

Series Taglist: @maybemona @spideyyeet @princess-chocolate-drop @andreuskystuff @cxptain-capsicle @motherhyuckerdude @kthemarsian @itsrecklesscalum @thenoddingbunny-blog @likeit-or-leaveit @packsforu @chaos-rising @gioandreolli @random-fandomer

[sambergscott]

the best thing is you

just jake, amy, and their favourite things about being parents

There are a lot of things Jake loves about being a dad: stealing his kid’s food when he can’t finish his plate, sleepy cuddles before bed, putting on voices for all the characters in his books, and wearing matching Adidas Superstars. But if he had to pick his absolute favorite number one thing, playing with Sam’s toys would come out on top.

Luckily, their apartment is filled with toys, organised by type, colour and size into various bins and baskets and labelled (Santiago Style!) so he always knows where to put stuff during tidy-up time. If Jake so much as accidentally puts one red Lego block in the yellow Lego container, Sam tuts, rolls his eyes and snitches on him to Amy later.

He has lots of toys but it’s not like he’s spoiled or anything; Amy has a big family and he gets a lot of hand-me-downs. Amy helps him write thank you cards every time he receives a new toy, they constantly remind him how lucky he is and donate his unwanted items to less lucky girls and boys.

(During one decluttering sesh, he puts his favourite truck in the giveaway pile for another kid to play with and Amy almost cries. They’re biased, but they’re pretty sure that Sam is the best kid ever).

They re-enact Ninja Turtles scenes with his action figures, roam the apartment with his dinosaurs and play shop (which consists of Sam selling Jake tinned goods that he already owns).

Both Jake and Sam’s favorite thing to play is the appropriately titled Detective Daddy game.

In short, Jake wears his badge and a tie (even over his t-shirts because, as he explains in his Grandpa Holt voice that never fails to make Sam fall over in a fit of giggles, wearing a necktie in the workplace is very important) and interrogates the three year old until he confesses to his crimes.

It usually goes like this.

“Princess Mommy has been kidnapped!”

Dramatic gasp.

“And I think you took her.”

“Me?” He clutches his chest, feigning innocence.

“I found her tiara in your bedroom, I checked the baby monitor security footage and you weren’t where you said you were and most incriminating of all, I found your fingerprints on her Amy water bottle.”

“My name’s Amy!”

(He often confuses the fact that they share one of the same names and thinks his name is Amy, not Santiago. It’s kind of adorable).

“I checked your file,” he brandishes a manila folder he stole from work and drops it on the dining room table, “and your name is Samuel.”

He gasps again. “I didn’t do it, Officer!”

“Just admit it,” Jake growls playfully, leaning forward to intimidate the suspect.

Sam climbs onto the table and closes the gap all the way, booping his nose against Jake’s and making him break character for half a second.

“Admit you kidnapped Princess Mommy,” Jake insists, tickling him until he finally surrenders.

“I did it! I did it!” He cries. “I kidnapped Princess Mommy and Queen Karen!”

Cue Jake a dramatic gasp from Jake this time.

“You’re going to jail for a long, long, long, long, long, long time!”

Jail is a pillow fort in the corner of the room.

(It’s actually cosy and super comfortable; Sam sent Jake there one time when he played the role of detective the morning after Jake had worked a night shift and he may have fallen asleep until his son decided to jump on him to wake him up so they could have more fun).

Jake scoops the dangerous(-ly cute) criminal into his arms and throws him in pillow fort prison, then rescues his Princess and Queen from the couch.

Sam can’t get enough of cop related games. It warms both Jake and Amy’s hearts that he’s so proud of what they do; it makes all the late nights and time away from him totally worth it.

Victor and Camila buy him a Police Station Lego set for Christmas and, after constructing it with mommy and daddy, it sits pride of place on top of his dresser next to a framed picture of the three of them. The next time he visits the Ninety-Ninth precinct he brags to Rosa, Charles and all the uniformed officers about how his police station is way cooler than theirs.

That very Christmas, he plays cops and robbers for the first time and kicks Santiago cousin butt. Amy high fives him in front of her brothers, thrilled that Sam is continuing her legacy of being the best at the game.

Jake will come up with elaborate (kid friendly) cases that Sam is obsessed with, for example, “oh no! Someone stole a pizza from Sal’s and is getting away!”

“Not Sal’s!” Sam cries because even at three years old, he is aware that Sal’s is the best pizza place in Brooklyn. Like father, like son.

He chases his police cars around the living room, making siren noises and eventually cutting the bad guy’s car off before he can escape towards the bedrooms down the hall.

(They’re going out for a walk when their elderly neighbour offers him one of her grandson’s fire engines that he’s got too old for. Sam declines because firefighters are for losers and the FDNY suck. Amy shoots her an embarrassed smile and herds Sam away).

When it’s time for bed and all the toys have been put away, Jake tells him the story of how a cool, leather jacket-wearing detective married the youngest female Sergeant in the history of the Nine-Nine.

Sam asks to hear it again every night.

--

There are a lot of things Amy loves about being a mom: baking chocolate muffins and pretending not to see when he steals some of raw mixture (even though he has chocolate all round his mouth), sleepy cuddles before bed, singing to Disney hits at the tops of their voices and trying not to cry when he brags about his mom being the youngest female Sergeant in the history of the Nine-Nine to everyone they meet. But if she had to pick her absolute favourite number one thing, teaching Sam to read and write and count would come out on top.

She was always good at school. She got the highest grades. She loved crawling into her dad’s lap and reading to him, glowing under his constant praise. She didn’t need any help with the big words unlike Tony and it wasn’t long before her teacher advised that she skip fourth grade.

She studied Art History at college, topped her class, and was the best in her group of recruits at the Academy, too.

As her brothers started having kids, she loved helping them read and, as they got older, helping them with homework. She especially loved when they would confide in her that she’s smarter than their dads. Beating her brothers, even as an adult, was still her greatest joy. Until she fell in love and had a kid of her own and beating her brothers was demoted to third spot.

The Santiago genes are just as strong in Sam.

He’s like Jake in a lot of ways: his dark, unruly curls, his nose, his sense of humour, his penchant for dramatic reveals.

(Running into their room at 5am shouting, “Mommy! Daddy! I didn’t wet the bed last night!”, for example).

But he is smart. Santiago-level smart.

He learns to count to twenty before all his friends, is a super reader and bilingual.

Amy has been singing him Spanish lullabies since he was a newborn, teaching him his “Por favor”s and “Gracias”s, whispering “Te amo” as she kisses him goodnight. She cries so hard the first time he says it back.

It’s very important to her that he can speak Spanish so they have  lessons with daddy on Tuesday nights. She buys a textbook and makes them sit opposite her at the dining room table like they’re actually in school.

“¿Cuántos años tienes?” She asks him after their first lesson.

“Tengo tres años,” he responds with a proud smile that has Amy gathering him into her arms and smothering him with kisses.

Rosa has been teaching Jake Spanish for a couple of years but his brain is so full of case details and Die Hard quotes that Sam quickly surpasses him, joining Amy on her side of the table.

“Tell mama she’s pretty,” he instructs.

He furrows his brow, immediately looking to Amy for help.

“Luces bien.”

“That was it!” He snaps his fingers. “Luces bien, Ames.”

She blushes, tucks her hair behind both her ears and flicks to the next page of the textbook. She’s only in one of his hoodies and leggings, she’s not even sure when she last washed her hair, but her husband makes her feel beautiful. Always has done, right back to the time he said her dress makes her look like a mermaid.

Along with Spanish, she teaches him basic geography. He knows that Cuba is the largest island in the Caribbean, that Havana is the capital city and can draw the flag with his crayons. He shows off to Camila the next time they visit and earns himself an extra cookie.

He can write his name, too, and she remarks that at age three his penmanship is already better than Jake’s.

(Jake sticks his tongue out at her, even if it’s true).

Like Amy, he loves books. Loves the silly voices Jake makes as he reads, loves reading along with Amy and love love loves reading the book of Jake and Amy (illustrated by Terry) that Jake has made for his fourth birthday.

“Don’t you want to read a different book tonight?” She questions foolishly. They’ve read it three nights in a row.

“Nope,” he grins. “Mommy and daddy’s book.”

Her heart melts as she opens the book and he snuggles into his arms.

“It was her first day at the Nine-Nine...”

--

After an interrogation that went on longer than expected, Jake missed dinner and bath time and had to break several speed limits to get home in time for his bedtime story and goodnight kisses.

He locks the apartment door behind him and follows the sound of Amy’s voice to Sam’s bedroom, recognizing the story immediately.

“I’m hearing wedding bells!” Amy reads, doing a spot on impression of Charles’ voice.

Jake stifles a laugh, leaning against the doorframe and listening to his wife recite the story he knows so well.

There are a lot of things they love about being parents, but at the end of the day, watching Sam play and learn and cuddle their spouse is the best thing of all. And soon they will get to watch them do it all over again with Baby Peralta 2: Peralta Harder.

[bileshroom]

how do you feel about the new sally face chapter?

Im glad you asked! under a read more for spoilers for chapter 5

Myself and Fox are giving our opinions in this post so it will be very long

There were things i really liked and things i really didnt like

for example, the swapping dimensions and the changing art styles were very neat! i liked some more than others, like the rubber hose style for sal could of been a bit different in my opinion, @shinysnek did an edit/drawing and tweeked the tiniest thing and made the design alot more palatable 

and the minigames were… really repetitive and sometimes very confusing ? esp todds door, the plus’s were almost impossible to notice! slightly darker grey against light grey just makes it look like part of the door :/ and the 3d bits were a bit hard to control during the later part of the game

and the writing,, it felt super rushed as if he just wanted to saddle alot of the damage onto native americans??? that completely came out of the blue, like he couldnt come up with some sort of cop out for why the cult is doing what they do

and still with the weird queer baiting with larry? like he made them brothers but is still pushing it, if steve wanted sal’s love interest to be ash why not have moments like ‘that’ with her instead?? it feels very uncomfortable in my opinion especially with him saying he was still,,comfortable with the ship which REALLY rubs me the wrong way

and the ending,,, dont even,, TALK to me about the ending, it honestly made me so upset?? like, and the epilogue to go with it,,, like okay cool the worlds still fucked over and todds still corrupt and larrys just gone??? for no real reason???????? hes just gone :| okay 

gnome larry was funny tho, didnt really explain why Larry got super old while megan stayed a 7 year old, i suppose you can explain it with like when ghosts arent bound to a place they can wither and age? i dunno whatever chapter 5 sucked and it felt like steve just didnt want to do it anymore

—

my turn! alright im going to be typing my opinion from a fellow writer and programmer’s POV.

the beginning of the game kinda drops you in which was a little surprising, considering the other chapters were very rich with exposition which is one of the things i loved about SF. 

It had this way of bringing you in even though you didnt know what the heck was going on. It made you want to learn more and it felt like you were THERE with sal. 

But this opening with just… ash tossed in fell a little… flat. yeah… graveyard… lets toss in some epitaphs as a reminder of who died, ok… cool. 

next lets talk a little about the general story. im not going to lie, this felt like a TOTALLY different game to me and I played them all in succession again to remind myself of the other chapters. 

It was so… plain. It didnt have the eerie-ness of the bologna incident, it didnt have the intriguing mystery of the first chapter where it started you off in the hospital as a little boy with your face hidden, it didnt have that heart wrenching storyline of the 4th chapter.

it was just…. “i need to end this game quick”. 

there was just a unique feeling to the other chapters, something that made you feel gritty and floaty, like you were a dirty teenager hunting for ghosts.

Saddling the natives on the unexplained reason as well… BIG YIKES, steve. the silent hill movies pulled this crap too, and we can all see how flat that fell in comparison to the actual silent hill 3 game. 

There are so so many things you could do instead of that tired (and lets face it) racist stereotype. 

I thought it was going to have a deeper meaning, like… people have had cults for decades that didnt have to do with the natives. hell, he could have even kept with the weird alien theme he was going for. calling an ancient alien creature? that would be pretty badass.

The ending… fell disappointingly flat. ok… everyones dead? so you tortured sal and his pals for literally no reason? granted i didnt press the c4 button so im not sure how that path goes, but i doubt its any more satisfying. 

not to mention the constant queerbaiting that, at this point, makes me so uncomfortable.

yes we get it, steve. you think adopted brothers can fuck, and yeah, theres nothing TECHNICALLY wrong with it (and im using technically by definition, its still wrong in my eyes), but come on. can any of you tell me that wouldnt make you intensely uncomfortable? Its not ok what he did imo and i know its his characters, but steve? either dont make them brothers or stop fucking pushing their romantic interactions.

oh and lets talk about the only other canonly gay couple with any screen time! he killed the black one.

yep… just… let that sink in for a second. did he need to? absolutely not. at least not in such a pointless way.

didnt even give neil any character development tbh, just… token black gay man that needed to be there to be the motivator to search for todd. ok thanks, steve.

and travis (another not white character. no do not argue that hes “blonde”, sal has fucking blue hair and i WILL color pick travis if i have to). he was the other gay character who… yep, lemme look at my notes… died.

he didnt even get much of a redemption tbh, yeah he was secretly helping them, but… wow. toss him in the hole! we dont want to write gays!!! (unless we’re taunting people to get them to play under the guise of “lgbt representation”)

also larrys a gnome and is just… gone forever. just say you hate larry, steve. you didnt have to do him so dirty man.

now then, lets talk about the gameplay.

i was playing with an xbox controller so im going to be from that POV.

the controls were… ok for the most part. the 3d part was a bit hard to see and i got stuck trying to walk past the trees a lot. 

to be honest, the 3d is my only complaint with controls. the mini game later on where youre 3d and shooting tentacles was very hard to control, half the time it wouldnt move fast enough and the other half it would zip past the diagonals. i DID beat it, but i am a very good gamer. to other people who might not play games constantly, might have a bit more trouble and get frustrated.

the puzzles were bland and repetitive. im a horror puzzle game writer and i would NEVER do something this blasphemous in a horror style game. it removes you from the game to think “wow…. THIS puzzle AGAIN?”. it makes you feel like its insulting your intelligence, like “oh here you go you fucking baby, move the shape to match the other shape”

and one of the only other puzzles was that fucking door number puzzle. he made the pluses almost impossible to see for starts, and i KNOW other people had trouble with this. Wanna know how to fix this? make the pluses easier to see and make it so the input pad can only except the number of numbers that the code it. dont make me sit there like a jackass, typing in every conceivable way to order the numbers given.

all in all though, the gameplay was plain, the storyline was bland, the puzzles were mediocre and the only reason to play the chapter is to close up the story and to find out what happened to sal and his mom (which tbh was the only good part because i was actually surprised and excited that it was that that injured him)

i hope in steves next projects he actually figures out how to write an ending and doesnt rush it (and please keep in mind this was rushed even though he had multiple people helping him)

-fox

[dandequill]

novel prep tag: blackbird

i was tagged for this by @magicalwriting! thank you so much!

in this tag, there are a lot of questions going in-depth about the wip in question (i’m choosing blackbird) and because of the detail i must warn that it’s rather long! also, because i’m still rather new here, i don’t really know many people to tag, so I’m just going to pick a few at random from my followers:

@three-seas-writes @the-moving-finger-writes @rewrit @anika-writes @spirit-of-helimire

and so we begin!

first look

describe your novel in 1-2 sentences (elevator pitch)

maria quintana (vain, moody, and a loser) and ingrid piuma (owner of one outfit, carefree, and also a loser) clash paths when on the run from a stuck-up aunt and stuck-up sister, respectively. they hit it off and have a lot in common, or so it seems; maria is yet to learn of the complex web of holy curses, familial trauma, and quest to halt an impending magical catastrophe which sets ingrid apart from her.

how long do you plan for your novel to be?

i don’t have much in the way of a length-goal for the novel in particular, but more generally i think the story could work well as a duology, with one story focused on maria and the other on ingrid.

what’s your novel’s aesthetic?

ooo, that’s a fun one. i have a pinterest board which does a decent job of encapsulating it, but think along the lines of gritty detective drama meets urban fantasy meets sweet sapphic romance.

what other stories inspired your novel?

the very earliest, basic idea of kids hunting a sleeping magical figure came from the raven cycle, but the story has spiralled drastically beyond that since then so the link has become very, very tenuous. other influences include fairy tales such as fitcher’s bird (+ a variety of other ‘rescued by the sister’ types).

share 3+ images that give a feel for the novel

as mentioned prior, there is a pinterest board with more images, but here are a few favourites i have selected:

main characters

who is your protagonist?

i consider maria and ingrid to be joint-protagonists, so here is a brief run down of both-

maria quintana:

- naive + sheltered; not much experience with the world beyond her hometown, so being forced to spend her summer in a big city in a foreign country isn’t exactly her idea of a good time

- daughter of two artists who rebelled against their families to be together; they want her to be better, she wants to be the same, and her cold-hearted aunt wants to warp her into something else entirely

- tall hipster lesbian gf

ingrid merlero piuma:

- laid-back + ‘eccentric’; changed entirely by the death of her mother a year before the events of the novel to become more aloof and self-focused, motivated by spite for her father

- middle of three sisters, all of whom have an agenda against their tyrannical father and rebel in different ways; she uses laziness as a weapon to diminish his control over her

- short punk bisexual gf

who is their closest ally?

maria and ingrid act as each other’s allies, plus a small gaggle of strange boys maria ends up living across the hall from (matei, evan, sal + dajuan) and ingrid’s sisters, sirena (elder) and jordana (younger)

who is their main enemy?

maria’s personal enemy is her aunt arabella, who drags her away to a highly academic summer school in a distant city in the hopes to mould maria in her own image (what maria actually gains from this trip is a quirky girlfriend and intimate experience with the darker strains of magic); ingrid’s primary enemy is her father, whom she suspects of being involved in dubious criminal activity as well as more generally being a control-obsessed patriarch; the sleeping sorcerer at the heart of said dubious criminal activity is the eventual enemy for both.

what do they want more than anything?

maria wishes to follow her own heart and desires unhindered, living a romanticised version of life in which she avoids all pitfalls and suffering; ingrid wishes to move into her own place and not have to worry about generational curses any more.

why can’t they have it?

maria, as one might guess, is more entrenched in fantasy than reality, and has yet to understand that reality is more complex than what she desires and therefore she can never live entirely free of hurt; ingrid’s father is into some dodgy stuff and she and her sisters feel an obligation to stop him from hurting anyone else before they get on with their own lives

what do they wrongly believe about themselves?

maria believes she is infallible and untouchable, beyond the touch of the harsh realities of life which affect everyone around her; ingrid feels obliged to act as a saviour and impede every one of her father’s schemes, as well as having a myriad of self-esteem and confidence issues stemming from the trauma of her father’s emotional abuse and manipulation

draw your protagonist! (or share a description)

whoops i may do digital art but i am yet to draw either of these babes-

maria: lanky lady (5”11), hispanic-coded (story set in a fantasy world, not real world), the fluffiest hair imaginable on a human being, eyes that she considers dull and pebble-y but which ingrid cornily compares to the pristine cuorren sea, freckles everywhere, makes and patchily mends her own clothes to imitate her parents’ messy artfulness

ingrid: short queen (5”4-5), hispanic-coded with a slightly darker complexion than maria, shoulder-length black hair (often twisted back into the smallest ponytail on the face of the earth), lighter green eyes, also peppered with freckles, wears the same plain jeans and shirt everywhere, every day, much to the chagrin of maria

plot points

what is the internal conflict?

maria must come to terms with the harsh realities of life and the flawed way in which she sees the world; ingrid must overcome family-related trauma and not project her pain onto maria

what is the external conflict?

maria’s family conflict with her aunt; ingrid’s struggle against her father; the eventual conflict with the (no longer) sleeping sorcerer

what is the worst thing that could happen to your protagonist?

maria could have her romanticised illusions of life shattered suddenly and horrifically as opposed to broken down gradually (ie a sudden tragedy befalling herself, ingrid, her parents); ingrid could be forever trapped by something or someone even after she escapes her father, cursed to never have her own personal freedom

what secret will be revealed that changes the course of the story?

i haven’t settled on the specifics yet, but it will be ingrid revealing one of her many personal secrets to maria in a way that completely changes maria’s view of her and, subsequently, their relationship; this could be the death of ingrid’s mother, the abuse from her father, her father’s madness and obsession with the sleeping sorcerer, or another, slightly smaller secret

do you know how it ends?

i have revised a few potential endings, but am yet to pick on the specifics; so far it is still a vague idea

what is the theme?

found family, fantasy vs reality, personal freedom vs duty to community, different types of love and relationship, death and mortality

what is a recurring symbol?

imagery of birds may be stereotypical, but it’s my favourite, and features heavily in a novel called ‘blackbird’ (this... should not be surprising) - different birds are associated with different characters and relationships, and are used to signal/foreshadow events attached to their respective characters. blackbirds themselves are attached to ingrid.

where is the story set? (share a description!)

the name of the city where it’s set is cuorren, which i once described to a friend as ‘seaside rome with a gang problem’ - here are a few images i assembled on the pinterest board which have inspired the setting:

do you have any images or scenes in your mind already?

i know the opening scenes more or less off by heart; i also have maria + ingrid’s first kiss, the first time maria visits ingrid’s troubled house, and a few other cutesy scenes of them together (i... should probably write more off this story beyond romantic escapades...)

what excites you about this story?

the themes are very important to me personally and i love that i get to express them through the medium of sapphic romance and dark fantasy, two of my greatest joys in life!

tell us about your usual writing method!

it doesn’t exist

uhhh... i have a planning document on the go and the first few scenes set out, but honestly every time i try to write beyond them, i panic and feel like i don’t know what i’m doing and go back to the plan. so i guess that makes me a planner over a pantser. which, believe me, has not always been true!

if you have made it this far into the post, thank you so much for reading! i hope this has been a good insight into my favourite of my three projects.

- m.b.

[eunkimmie]

Pink Lacies [Sal Fisher x Reader]

(Name) was Sal Fisher’s girlfriend. His girlfriend that wouldn't hesitate to jump at anyone who dared to speak ill of him, his girlfriend who turned the music up to full blast, and his girlfriend who had more than a colorful mouth. This is what he loved about her, though. Her willingness to try new things and to be bold in each and every aspect of life. (Name's) philosophy was that taking risks and trying things out of your comfort zone could either give you the negative outcome you were expecting or pleasantly surprise you. Even though this mindset got her into a bit of trouble at times, she was perfectly content with it. She was the type of girl who looked good in ripped up jeans and black lipstick, but could also rock some red gloss and high platform heels that, if Sal were to ever try on, would only result in a broken ankle. 

He loved her, no matter how wild she could get. He loved her for her loud and out-there singing voice, he loved her for her ability to stand up for what she believed him, and he loved her for her badass attitude that he aspired to have. Alternatively though, he loved her for the kindness and compassion that she showed towards others, and the emotional understanding that she seemed to grasp so professionally. He loved her soft side that she would show to him, spending hours playing with his hair and pressing soft kisses to his face and down his body. 

(Name) had a gentle side, like any one else, and Sal loved that just as much as he loved her extroverted side. Despite the fact that she had a soft side, (Name) had a certain fashion style that she upheld to her own liking. It could be described as 90′s grunge type fashion, Doc Martens and fishnets to boot. She was comfortable with her own style, and it was something that Sal found undeniably attractive and even wished to try out for himself.

.

.

.

Sal sighed as he entered his home, his housemates apparently out. He had just came back from visiting his father at the apartments that held so many memories. No matter how many memories Addison Apartments held for him, he couldn't help but find comfort in being able to get away from it—the odd neighbors and mildew smell alike. 

He scanned the house for a moment before walking to his room. When he got there, he noticed that the door was shut, and Sal didn’t recall shutting it. Thinking no further on the topic (as he was well aquatinted with the world of the supernatural and he believed he could handle whatever life threw his way) he opened the door up and stepped inside, closing it behind him. A soft humming sound drew his attention to his bed, the sight laid before him causing a wave of heat to wash over his face and ears.

(Name), his badass and dark centered aesthetic girlfriend, lay sprawled across his bed, stomach side down with her sock covered feet swaying in the air to the rhythm of the music evident through her earbuds. One of Sal’s t-shirts covered her torso, but from the way she was laying, it was clear that it wasn't enough to cover the rest of her. Resting snugly on the curve of her bum were none other than pastel pink panties, white dots patterned on them. White lace lined the hem and drew back to two small bows on the sides of her hips. 

“Oh!” (Name) chirped, removing her earbuds. “Sal, you're back. I hope you don't mind—while I was waiting for you, I made myself comfortable.” 

Now, it wasn't all that uncommon for (Name) and Sal to walk around the house in their underwear when it was just the two of them. But never had Sal seen this particular set that contrasted so heavily from her usual grunge themed style.

“I-I don't mind at all!” he sputtered. He tensed as his girlfriend rose from the bed, arms wrapping around his neck as she pressed a kiss to his lips. “Well, I’m glad you're back.” She pulled him down on the bed before snuggling her face into his chest. She started talking about music and what she was listening to, and despite trying so desperately to concentrate on what she was saying, Sal couldn't help but trace his hand down to the garments of his attention and draw his finger over the lace. At this, (Name) jumped.

“Sal?” 

“Are these...new or something...?” he whispered, evidently embarrassed. (Name) stayed silent for a moment before laughing, hugging him close to her as she did so. “Mmm...I guess you could say that. I found them and I thought it would be funny...And I was right, of course.” (Name) leaned back, studying Sal’s prosthetic before lifting it up slowly. It slid off his face and down from his hair as she placed it carefully on the nightstand beside her.

“I like your reaction,” she mumbled, smirking at Sal’s flustered expression. He averted his gaze, fingers twitching in embarrassment. “It’s...Different.”

“A good different?”

“An amazing different.” (Name) chuckled at this, her hands pressed against his upper abdomen. Her lips pressed hotly against his neck before drawing back, her eyes scanning his face. 

“I think they'd look better on the floor.”

[leakinghate]

Lets B-b-b-break it Down

I got me a cam vid of that NYCC trailer for VLD s8. Wanna tear it apart with me?

Cool.

Major SPOILERS below the cut. Not joking. This is like, all the spoilers. Every single spoiler that currently exists regarding VLD s8 is discussed below the cut.

1. The trailer starts with rainbow colors flying by as if we’re traveling through a tunnel in space. Honerva fades into focus center screen, her eyes are closed and she’s outlined with a purple-pink glowing aura. The colors in the background transition to a starscape. A few scenes transition in and out overlapping with each other and this one in visibility.

2. Honerva/Haggar in a hospital bed - reminiscent of her flashback from s5e2. Two figures stand at the foot of the bed, probably Zarkon and the doctor from the s5 flashback. Kova sits atop her where she is reclined.

3 .The doctor is holding baby Lotor; he is crying. It appears that the doctor is attempting to prompt Haggar to hold her child, but she is turned away, eyes open and unresponsive. 

4. Adult Lotor is on his knees, his back to us, watching a planet explode. The view draws back and Haggar and Zarkon can be seen watching him. None of their faces are visible. It seems likely that this is the destruction of the mining colony Lotor told Allura about while they were in Oriande.

5. The screen whites out and we’re in a new scene. A Galra cruiser can be seen in the Patrulian Zone, approaching the White Hole.

6. A crowd of at least 23 Alteans are in Oriande, standing on the walkway in front of the temple, facing it. The walkway is framed by 4 (possibly 6 with 2 partially obscured) visible White Knight mechs.

7. A White mech is crouched, holding its spear vertically, surrounded by a pink glow. It fills the screen.

8. A shot of Honerva from the chest up, her arms out to the sides, face stern and teeth grit in concentration. Pink energy rushes around her, partially obscuring her at times. She flashes through four different faces of herself: her Haggar look from the end of s6, Honerva pre-rift, what is apparently her new look for s8 as the Altean Commander, and one we have yet to see in context. Her unknown look is potentially herself as Empress of Daibazaal; she appears to be wearing a pre-rift empire uniform with a prominent ‘V’ on the chest, and she wears a crown reminiscent of Allura’s with a large, dark, diamond shaped crystal in the center and two extra points in the band above her temples.

9. Allura stands on the deck of the Atlas at a teleduv terminal, back to us. A wormhole sparks into existence out the viewport in front of her. The image fades into one of a different Altean - probably Honerva - standing in the same position in Oriande. They appear to be on the walkway in front of the temple facing away from it. The walkway appears to descend down a set of steps in front of them with a crowd of Alteans at the base of these steps watching on.

10. Two paladins are flying through space into something that is spilling out streams of blue-white light. Their feet are towards us and it is difficult to see them clearly. The one on the left is Hunk, the one on the right is probably Lance but may be Allura. The view zooms into the light. it resembles, but is not identical to, the phenomena encountered by the paladins in s7e6 - that ultimately transported them near to Earth.

11. Honerva in pink light flickering between her forms is briefly on screen again.

12. Voltron is diving downwards through several rings of clouds along the path of a bright pink-white beam. there are floating rocky islands viewed from above going past in the background. The scene is pink tinted. This may be in Oriande.

13. The Green Lion is dodging pink-white laser blasts in the foreground. The landscape is rocky and grey with a large base of some sort taking up most of the background. The base appears to be the same color scheme as the white mechs we have seen. It is white with pink lights reminiscent of the ones found on Empire structures. The base is mostly low-lying with a large double pointed tower in the center. Several large claw-like towers surround it in what looks like a ring, the curve inwards towards the center. At the very end of the clip the Blue Lion can also be seen.

14. A low view below a group of 4 people watching Voltron ascend upwards towards a large glowing pink-purple vortex. The people’s pointed ears mark them as Alteans. The sky is starry behind the clouds. Voltron disappears in a flash of white light.

15. The Robeast Myzax from s1e3 ‘Return of the Gladiator’ appears. Four of the lions, Green, Red, Yellow, and Blue, fly past it from right to left, firing and dodging its attacks. The lions appear partially transparent and phantom-like. The Robeast is solid, but shaded predominantly purple. This looks like it takes place in the astral realm or something akin to it.

16. From inside the Atlas the doors open, showing a figure silhouetted against a landscape far below partially obscured by clouds. The figure is wearing a spacesuit and helmet that look reminiscent of Garrison tech in color scheme. They have something across their back from their right shoulder to lower left side with lights on it. The landscape below them is green when visible and dominated by a base with a white and pink color scheme. It looks like the same base from the clip with Green and Blue; we see the same double pointed tower in the center of a ring with four spokes leading to it. One claw-tower is briefly visible.

17. The Atlas in robot form swings its arm forward and an MFE fighter launches from it. The camera follows the fighter as it flies across space towards the White Hole where it joins several other fighters in combat with a White Knight mech. The mech is firing pink lasers and holding its double ended spear. It appears to be guarding the white hole and a circular glowing pink structure that has been built around it. The circle is firing three continuous beams out into space from equidistant points along its circumference.

18. Voltron is fighting in the pink and purple sky of Oriande bearing double swords. It launches ten missiles, five from each leg.

19. A White mech is crouched, plunging its spear into the ground in a green field full of pink flowers. The field looks like the juniberry one we have seen in projections of Altea and in the Dome Romelle was found in. Pink light glows from the spear’s point of contact with the ground and the edges of the green field grow dark.

20. Eight blue-white object rocked across space trailing light, they converge in a circle where they halt in a circle surrounding a much smaller object too far away to make out. There is a structure of some sort floating in the far background in front of a glowing pink-purple vortex in space.

21. Five of the space pirates from s6e3 ‘The Way Forward’ stand atop a cliff looking cool. The one at the front is Zethrid. Immediately to the left of Zethrid is a cloaked figure dressed differently from the pirates. The figure appears to have a tail. The figure appears to be the bounty hunter that Pidge and Matt fought in s4e2 ‘Reunion’.

22. We see Honerva from behind with her hood up; she’s inside a structure of Empire build, with purple walls and pink lighting. She lowers her hood and turns around; she’s wearing a crown made of dark material with a large diamond shaped yellow crystal in the center. The crown itself is reminiscent of the headgear Zarkon wore in s1 & s2. She is glaring and looks displeased.

23. A pink-white laser beam is impacting a rocky planet causing boulders to float into the air. A person is mostly obscured in the foreground; the brown cloak and longer shaggy light-brown hair suggest that this person is Matt.

24. Two paladins in the middle-distance stand in a grey and dead looking forest, skeletal trees rising around them. The paladins appear to be Pidge and Allura. Pidge sinks to her knees on the ground, leaning forwards with her hands on the Earth.

25. Three aliens of an unknown race kneel on the ground, their eyes are closed and their hands in contact with the earth are glowing. The landscape is rock spires with veins of glowing blue crystal. An enormous blue crystal glows in the background. It looks similar to the scenes we observed on the Balmera back in s1 and s2.

26. The Altean from the end of s7 sits on a hospital bed, knees drawn up to her chest with her arms wrapped around them. Her head is bowed and her gold eyes are open. She is wearing her space suit and has a sheet covering her legs. Wires run from her arms and back going off-screen.

27. A large crowd of mixed garrison and Coalition members is gathered around the table in the conference room at the Garrison. Shiro and Veronica stand at the head of the table. At the side of the table best visible sit, from right to left, Keith, Allura, Hunk, Lance, Coran, Romelle, and Iverson. Behind them stand the MFE pilots; Rizavi, Leifsdottir, Griffin, and Kinkade. Pidge can be seen leaning in on the opposite side of the table, but most of the others on that side are either obscured or have their backs to the viewer. Slav and Bezor are on the near end. Other recognizable characters in the crowd are Krolia, Kolivan, Vrepit Sal, Nyma, Olia, Matt, and Matt’s mysterious masked girlfriend.

28. Voltron is floating in space in front of a wrecked and derelict Galra cruiser. It appears to be a debris field of some kind with something large glowing in the background.

29. Allura and Lotor are somewhere inside a Galra structure with purple walls. Allura is in the foreground, slightly out of focus, facing forward, and only visible from the neck up. She is wearing a Garrison uniform and her expression is shocked/horrified with her eyes wide and her mouth closed. Lotor stands behind her, in focus, he is turned to the side looking towards Allura and down. His expression is resigned and sad. As the shot pans, Allura is more to the right side and Lotor is more central.

30. A section of a transformation sequence of a purple-toned mech we are as yet unfamiliar with.

31. A clawed hand comes to rest on a glowing ball of light secured in something. This looks like it may be part of a control interface.

32. Honerva is in a spacesuit looking determinedly into the camera. Her eyes start closed and when she opens them her irises are glowing yellow-orange like fire.

33. The Black Lion is flying towards an enormous mech that is silhouetted and partially whited out by a blinding light behind it. The mech is really huge, it reaches out a clawed hand to either grab or block Black and the hand is the size of the Lion itself.

34. A panning shot of Shiro looking heroic in a new black and white Garrison-styled uniform. He looks really good. There are at least five people standing behind him but two are obscured, the other three are Coran, Veronica, and Romelle. They are in front of grey-white panels - probably the Atlas.

35. The Atlas in ship form is floating horizontally across the mouth of a cave which people are exiting out of. Our view is from inside this cave which is a dark rock veined with glowing blue crystal. Small full crystals litter the ground. There are at least 23 people in the crowd, and they look to be from an as yet unknown alien race. They all have their backs to the camera.

36. Five Alteans are inside the Atlas around the ship’s crystal, one hand each stretched towards it. The crystal is shooting a beam of light upwards and the Alteans’ eyes are glowing yellow. The Alteans’ hair is blowing back from the force of the energy radiating off the crystal. Two of the Atlas’ crew are also in the shot, braced watching the action. Both are wearing Garrison uniforms but one is human while the other is a Unilu coalition fighter than has been seen but unnamed in prior seasons. The Alteans in the shot are the five in white and green uniforms in the NYCC poster that was given out. This is very interesting, as these five are unambiguously allied with Honerva according to the poster, yet whatever they’re doing in the clip is apparently in accordance with the crew of the Atlas. Seems that at some point these characters are convinced to switch their allegiances.

37. A very brief shot of eight large objects arranged in a circle floating in space. Glowing, sparkling light connects them and a beam is being shot from each towards the center of the circle. It resembles the spokes of a wheel. Whatever is a the center of the formation is glowing too brightly to be seen.

38. Five lights illuminate and flare on the headpiece of a new, previously unseen mech. The shot zooms into the largest, central light before it changes.

39. Several shot in quick succession that look to be happening in an astral realm of some kind. Pidge’s face looking alarmed. Allura swinging her whip to block a laser blast. Hunk holding his bayard weapon as the screen floods with yellow light. Lance firing his gun repeatedly while he screams.

40. Keith in the Black Lion’s cockpit as he’s hit by something. The ship rocks and pink-purple lightning flashes all around him. He recovers and shoves the right hand control arm forward.

41. A pink shield parts and an ominous pitch-black haloed mech extends an arm with massive scythe-like claws. It fires a blast of pink energy from its hand. Sincline is visible partially obscured on the left side of the screen, at the black mech’s right hand side. Something is not right with it, as all of its external lights apart from its eyes appear to be dark. A white diamond shaped structure reminiscent of the architecture in Oriande floats between the two mechs, with a second one just barely visible at the bottom of the screen.

41. Honerva appears in a cloud of black smoke between the feet of a mech. She is wearing a space suit. The scene is painted orange by what looks like a sunset. The mech may be Sincline, as it has a tail, but the design looks slightly different than what we saw in s6 - though it’s possible that time spent in the rift may have altered it. This scene was luckily released as an HQ screencap for promotional purposes!

42. Voltron slashes through two structures orbiting a planet with its double swords. The two structures simultaneously explode. Interestingly, it appears to have both it’s booster wings and the double swords activated. Combinations which have, in-show, required Keith & Lance, and Lance & Pidge respectively to use their bayards. On closer inspection, the ‘swords’ may in fact be a single spear, similar in design to the ones the White mechs have been observed to wield. What combination of paladins this requires has yet to be seen, but if I had to guess I’d say it may be Pidge & Allura - as Allura was shown to have proficiency with a staff in season 2.

And that’s the trailer!

How exciting. Let’s see what we can make of this, shall we?

43 scenes, I’ve numbered them for easy reference.

Some of them are fairly self-explanatory - the Garrison ones are likely first or second episode and connect with the end of s7. Those would be 27 and 34. I’m also going to include 26 in this group, as the surrounding architecture seems to be in the Garrison color; it also makes sense that the Altean would be placed in a hospital-like setting after being freed from her mech.

For the rest, first off, it’s obvious that 8 and 11 are just one scene split in two; they might very well even be the same scene repeated.

But that’s not the only group of clips that might go together; there are actually several that seem to be part of, if not the same scene, then the same episode.

Starting with 19, 7 looks like it could be that same mech seen from the front. And that’s not all. We know from s7e13 that those mechs drain quintessence with their weapons - likely what’s happening here. So what happens when you drain the life from something? Well, it could very well look like the scenery depicted in 24. Which of course shows Pidge and Allura on a mission somewhere. And since VLD doesn’t usually repeat character teams multiple times a season, it’s likely the same mission we see the Green and Blue Lions on in 13; which features the same structure seen in 16.

Here’s the hypothetical sequence: 16, 19, 7, 13, 24. This order is based on both a logical sequence of events and the time of day shown in the image.

It’s also plausible that 10 might belong to this episode as well, probably the paired plotline - since it features Hunk and Lance apparently alone.

Taking the visuals and the characters into question, it looks like the setting for this string of clips is a colony - whether it’s one of Lotor’s or a new base built by Honerva is yet to be seen.

Speaking of Honera, she’s got both new duds and a new ride. I’d bet good money that 30, 31, and 32 are all part of the transformation sequence for the spooky black mech showcased in 41 - we also see its headpiece light up in 38.

Also in 38 is Sincline, apparently retrieved from the rift. But, there’s something not quite right about it. The mech is partially obscured, but from what can be seen it appears that the external lighting that was visible in s6 has all gone dark. The eyes alone appear to still be alight. Whatever it means, it doesn’t bode well for Lotor. Who, by the way, also makes an apparently present-time appearance in the trailer; in 29. I TOLD YOU SO YOU FUCKERS I TOLD-

There has been much speculation as to whether or not Lotor is really there or if the brief clip is part of a flashback. In my own opinion; it’s both. Lotor is not an illusion as he is the character in focus in the clip, but as it is Allura’s reaction that is initially front and center it appears that the scene is equally between the two of them. If anything, I would guess the specific clip we have is transitory in nature; Allura is reacting to something off-screen and Lotor is now about to offer some commentary on the thing in question. Notably though, the architecture this scene happens in is the dark purple of the Empire; and I would argue that if anything this is the part that isn’t real.

While it’s certainly possible that 4 is a part of Honerva’s flashback, I think it much more likely that this is a memory of Lotor’s as the event shown was referenced as having been a formative experience for him. We already have two examples in canon of one person viewing another’s memories ( when Haggar revived Zarkon and when Keith and Krolia traveled through the Qunatum Abyss) so it wouldn’t be a stretch for it to happen again.

Even so, since we do unambiguously see Sincline, debating exactly how ‘real’ 29 is is a moot point: Lotor’s back, baby! All you haters leaving anon messages in my inbox can suck it, who’s delusional now assholes? I doubt we’re off the pain train yet, but vindication station is in sight! don’t count your chickens before they hatch don’t count on anything oh GOD this train could yet derail. Fuck. Fuck! But this looks good. It does. So far this is exactly what I expected, stay calm.

Anyway.

25 and 35 seem to feature the same landscape and new kind of aliens. It looks similar to the Balmera, and might simply be another one and its residents. Or, it could be a different kind of crystal-producing creature altogether.

And it looks like we’re in for some fun times in the astral realm! With both 15 and 39 pretty unambiguously set in the nebulous ‘quintessence vision’ we’ve seen a handful of times throughout the series. It looks like some previously defeated foes have come to visit as well! Only time will tell if they’re constructs of flesh and steel or mere memory.

But we’ve saved potentially the most interesting clips for last. First, 20 and 37 are definitely the same structure, showing respectively the formation and activation of it. Eight objects arranged in a circle around a central point. But what are they? It’s admittedly very difficult to make out, and we probably would deed access to a HD trailer to say for sure, but I’ve got a good guess. What else shoots through space trailing a tail of light but a comet?

Hey! It’s the right color scheme and everything!

Huh. Y’know what else shares that color scheme? That dark rock with thin, green-blue glowing veins?

This place.

Now, I’m not saying they’re all the same thing. But I wouldn’t rule out a connection. Balmeran crystals are what Alteans historically used to power their ships and likely are rich with quintessence, trans reality ore is associated with the rift, which is full of quintessence. There exists a plausible connection.

Also in 20 is a swirling purple vortex-like gate. I call it a gate because we can actually observe Voltron entering a similar looking structure in 14. And, while it’s easy to miss, it actually seems to be what the Black Lion and the huge unknown mecha are in front of - and possibly falling into - in 33.

I’d like to thank @legendofcarl for pointing out in this post that Honerva is actually piloting the temple in Oriande (in 9 here) as opposed to opening a wormhole. Because taking that into consideration, the white pyramidal structures in 41 are not just reminiscent of Oriande, they are Oriande. Specifically, the temple: it’s a ship. And it’s what is floating in front of the purple vortex in 20.

Which would indicate that the fight involving Sincline and the black mech in 41 is probably happening in front of that vortex and the wheel of comets as well. And those Alteans seen in 14? They’re likely on the Temple ship.

Why not tie some more in? The shots of identity-shifting Honerva clearly powering something off-screen in 8 & 11? They’re not the black mech from 41 - we see the inside of that one in 31 and 32. It might be that she’s inside the unknown mech from 33.

And it might be the robot she’s standing in front of in 42, because the more I look at it, the less it looks like Sincline.

For one, the colors are wrong. It’s not possible to tell the true colors because of the orange tone of the image, but Sincline’s legs are grey, its feet blue, and the pointed edges on the feet are bright orange. This mech clearly has the same color feet and legs, and the edging on the feet looks to be a lighter silver-white of some sort. The shape of the ankles and feet is off as well, if this was sincline there should be an extra piece incorporated into the joint at the front where the foot and leg meet. The ankles also look too narrow in proportion to the feet as well. Finally, Sincline’s tail is opaque, and we shouldn’t be able to see the sunset between the segments. The end of the tail, while indistinct in the screen, also looks to be either the wrong shape in general or have one fewer points than it should.

Can mechs fuse? Because if you meshed Sincline and the black mech together this is about what I’d expect. Darker color scheme, familiar yet different designs - and if it’s the same one as in 33, approximately twice the size of Voltron.

There’s a lot of exciting things in this trailer, and much to consider. But after laying this all out? I think this is probably all from the first few episodes. Because when you string it all together, there’s only a very small collection of scenes here. This probably doesn’t even include the mid-season event.

Oh Boy! I’m Excited!

I can’t wait for December 14th!

But I can’t leave you all without a few predictions can I? Just based on what we have here, what would I project for this section of the plot?

Well... The first episode should be spent on Earth, seeing how our paladins lives have been now that they’ve reconnected with their families, getting filled in by Matt and the rest of the coalition fighters on what exactly has been going down in the wider universe. Either the tail end of that or the beginning of the next episode should throw the Altean and whatever info she brings into the mix, and that info should be what prompts the team to return to space.

I’d wager they’ll head for the Altean Colony first thing - at least Allura will. This may be where the shots of Allura and Pidge on a mission will fit in, and on the flip side where Hunk and Lance will once again pair up and tackle something else pressing. That section with the pink and white base is probably the/an Altean Colony.

This is also where we will begin learning the truth about what is actually going on. That will put everything that I and the rest of the Lotor-fans have been theorizing to the test. No idea as of yet what side of this Romelle will shake out on, but here is where it will happen.

Oh, but whatever they find at the colony, it looks like Honerva’s already taken all the Chosen Alteans to Oriande. Oops, Paladins, you’re too late.

Honerva is out to retrieve Lotor from the rift.

She had Sendak attempt to capture the Lions in s7 because she needs a trans-reality comet as well as Altean Alchemy to access the Quintessence Field. Sendak was fine with this because he needed to prove Lotor was dead to enable someone else (himself, yo) to become Emperor, and Lotor has kinda been Shordinger’s Cat in this situation: simultaneously alive and dead because you can’t know for sure until you open the rift.

Honerva was probably watching through Sendak the same way she had been Shiro and Narti; when she saw he’d failed she sent the one mech she had prepared in attempt to catch the paladins while they were still weak from their battle.

But she lost that too.

Now, she’s either got herself some more trans-reality ore, or she’s found a substitute that just might work if you put enough of the stuff together. That’d be that lovely space-wheel we see.

The paladins realize she’s already left Oriande and catch up to her just in time to see Honerva rip open a hole in reality and haul her son back into the plot. That’s why Sincline appears to be powered down in that shot; it’s just been removed from the rift.

We’re missing some major pieces here, but SOMETHING happens during that showdown to split the Alteans’ alignment away from Honerva, change the appearance of her mech, and probably prompt Voltron to follow her through the spooky purple vortex in the sky.

And hey! What’s on the other side of a Hole in the Sky?

Other realities of course.

...

OMG OMG! Lotor is back, guys! He’s back! YEESSSSSSSS!

[jevald]

Satellite: Chapter One

Pairing: Sal/Larry Rating: Explicit (for later chapters) Warnings: Explicit sexual content in later chapters, recreational use of marijuana Read on Ao3

Sal had known he was screwed when he first received Larry’s selfie showing off his pretty cheekbones and warm eyes, but this is too much.

Luna

Sal stands on the front step of the apartment building studying the graffiti and stickers on the door phone. Someone slapped a band sticker on the top, now barely legible it’s so worn. He’s seen a couple of the tags around town before, but he doesn’t recognize any of the other markers.

He winds his scarf around his throat tighter with trembling hands. Realizing he’s shaking, if only slightly, he flushes and clenches his jaw. It’s not particularly cold today but he’s feeling it more than usual. Shoving one hand in his pocket, he steps closer to the door phone. The button is icy beneath his fingertip, and he almost jerks his hand away before he’s properly pressed it. He doesn’t let himself.

A woman leaves the building, eyeing him suspiciously all the while. A ruddy light lingers around her face, bright enough Sal’s eye burns. She makes certain to close the door firmly behind her.

Sal ducks his head, jaw tightening further. He can’t go anywhere without responses like this. It was different when he was a kid—people assumed the mask was just a stupid joke for the most part—but not anymore.

“Hello?” The voice that comes through the speaker is deep and rasping.

Sal suspects the static is contributing to the latter quality, but it’s still enough to have him shaking harder. He’s unsure what he was expecting but hearing him makes what everything more real.

For the past month, an ache or a cramp or something has been plaguing him. It’s settled right behind his ribs, where his stomach is. It grows worse every time he leaves his apartment, so he’s been even more shut-in than usual, much to his friends’ chagrin. When it began, he didn’t join in their usual meetups and avoided going to the grocery store or any restaurants, but at this point, it’s so bad he hasn’t been out in a week and a half. Living on ramen isn’t anything new, anyway. He’d really be fine if it weren’t for the cramping. He’s almost gotten used to it by now, even, but it still makes him dizzy when he thinks about it too hard.

He steps closer to the push plate, swallowing down the anxiety rising within him. “Uh, hey. It’s—I’m Sal. I’m here for the appointment.”

“Oh! Hey, dude. I’ll buzz you in now. Sorry, but you’ll have to take the stairs—the elevator is out again.”

Sal laughs nervously. The door hums, lock clicking, and Sal stumbles to slip inside.

The building is only slightly nicer than his own; that edge, no matter how small, is enough to add to his uneasiness. It’s just another reminder he shouldn’t be here. The tile in the foyer is yellowed from age, and the lights are all honey gold. The mailboxes display signs of abuse: scratches, graffiti, and more stickers. The elevator at the center of the room has caution tape crossed over it. He bypasses it in favor of opening the door marked “Stairwell.”

The staircase is cramped and smells faintly of chalk of all things. Somehow, it’s colder in here than outside, with the concrete stairs and metal rails covered in chipping, yellow paint.

Sal goes slow, not wanting to trip over himself but mostly out of anxiety. His goal is on the fifth floor, so he has plenty of time to get it together. At least, that’s what he tells himself.

This isn’t something he’s done before. A year or so back, he tried a similar arrangement which immediately blew up in his face, no pun intended. He’d been stupid enough to think showing up to the woman’s apartment without his mask would alarm the woman he hired less than if he came with. After that, Sal has avoided feeding almost entirely.

Just thinking about it has his stomach churning and knotting. He ends up faltering on the third-floor landing, something unyielding trapped in his throat. The railing is like ice beneath his fingertips and flakes of paint flutter to the floor when he curls his nails against it.

The man he’s hired, Larry, doesn’t have any experience with incubi or succubi—he admitted as much as soon as Sal told him what he was looking for and why. Still, Larry hadn’t assumed Sal was looking for sex—assured him, even, that he knows incubi can feed on things other than sexual pleasure when Sal tried to explain.

It made Sal feel something he can’t really name, like safe but not that, not exactly. Maybe it was a certain brand of relief. He’s never been good at this sort of thing. Emotions, even his own, are almost distant to him when it comes to putting them into words.

If Larry had responded any other way, Sal wouldn’t be here right now. At least of that, he’s sure. Hell, more than that, if Sal had any hope of getting a proper meal otherwise—if his last feeding hadn’t been over six months ago—he wouldn’t be doing this.

He drags a hand through his hair letting his nails catch at his scalp. With a sigh, he takes the next step, and the next. The ache in his belly urges him to the top of the stairs, down the hall and ultimately brings his knuckles to tap at Larry’s door.

They exchanged selfies after they had discussed the arrangement, yet Sal still isn’t prepared for Larry Johnson. He’s a damn giant—it’s not hard to be taller than Sal, but Sal doesn’t think he’s met anyone taller than Larry in his entire life. He’s all wiry muscle, too, judging by the arm he rests against the doorframe and the build of his shoulders.

He has tattoos in a wild sprawl across the back of his hands, up his forearms and slipping beneath his tee. Some are of symbols Sal recognizes: alchemic and occult, holy and profane. Beneath the stretched collar of his shirt, Sal can see the barest hints of more tattoos across his collarbones.

Ordinarily, Sal has a hard time seeing life energy. With the increase of his hunger, it has become easier. He’s heard many of his kind claim it’s beautiful, but usually it just gives him a headache. Larry’s energy, however, is silvery-soft just beneath his skin—a ghostly sort of mist, barely there, but still more clear to Sal’s senses than any other person’s life-force has ever been. Despite the clarity, it’s soothing rather than glaring brightly—like peering at the moon versus the sun.

The Moon. It’s cheesy, and yet it’s the best way Sal can describe what he’s seeing.

Sal had known he was screwed when he initially received Larry’s selfie showing off his pretty cheekbones and warm eyes, but this is too much.

“Hey, Sal! Thanks for coming.” Larry steps back from the doorway, motioning for Sal to come in. “Make yourself at home, dude.”

Sal is in such a state that he drifts inside instead of turning tail like he should. His head feels foggy, and his throat is so dry it hurts. The whole apartment smells of Larry (and weed, but mostly Larry). The room is cramped with a large, worn couch taking up most of the space. It’s a toxic green color with some sort of floral pattern going on. Larry has piled a couple of fluffy blankets on one arm and a couple of pillows are tucked next to them. The sight of it sends Sal’s stomach tumbling over itself.

A blue and grey tapestry hangs behind it, lined with Christmas lights shut off, clashing terribly. The coffee table is covered in papers and spilled ash as the ashtray there is filled to the brim. Next to it, there’s a pretty bowl shaped like a little animal of some sort.

Catching him staring, Larry laughs and cards his fingers through his hair. “Yeah, sorry I didn’t clean up. Time sort of got away from me. If you want, you can share a bowl with me, though. Or I could clean up real fast.”

“No,” Sal says quickly. “No, it’s okay.”

“If you’re sure, dude. It would really be no trouble.”

Larry rolls his shoulders back and his shirt stretches with the movement, showing off the definition of his chest. Sal thinks he might just die.

Considering Sal is a halfling, he doesn’t need to feed as often as a full incubus does. Still, he’s let himself go far, far too long and suddenly it’s hitting him all at once. His limbs are heavy and his jaw aches with it. He fully intends to head to the beat-up couch just a few feet away, but instead he lingers in front of Larry, gazing up at him and the moonlight within.

Frowning, Larry tilts his head. His hair is gorgeous, spilling over his shoulder and brushing his cheek with the motion. Maybe Larry will let him touch it.

“Everything okay? If you’re uncomfortable—”

“No,” Sal croaks and shakes his head. He takes a step back for good measure, but he can’t bring himself to go far, not when everything in him is screaming to touch Larry. “No, I’m sorry. I just—I haven’t eaten in a really long time. I’m sorry. I don’t want to creep you out.”

He doesn’t mean to say half of that, and yet it comes spilling out anyway. He sounds like a nut and he knows it, babbling the way he is. He drags a hand through his hair again and closes his eyes. He should leave. This was a mistake.

The door clicks as it closes. Sal’s breath shudders out of him but he keeps his eyes shut.

“Hey… Sal, it’s okay. You’re not creeping me out,” Larry murmurs, shifting closer. He smells good—like the forest and sweat and sleep. “Like I told you, we can do as much or as little as you’re comfortable with. But uh, you’re shaking, and I think you need to sit down for a minute, okay?”

Sal blinks down at his hands. It’s true, he’s trembling again.

“I’ll make you some tea or something, alright?” Larry continues. His voice is a little raspy but it’s warm, like he cares. He must be good at his job. “Is it okay if I touch your shoulder?”

Sal drags his tongue over his cracked lips. He nods, slow and jerky.

Larry’s hand is big and warm, his touch gentle. He squeezes Sal’s shoulder so softly Sal wonders if he imagined it. Larry takes a step towards the couch, drawing Sal along, but hesitates.

Sal can’t bring himself to meet Larry’s eyes or even look at his face, so his gaze settles around Larry’s throat. He watches as Larry’s Adam’s apple bobs and bites the inside of his cheek hard.

“Am I—I mean, are you shaking because you’re nervous or cold or-or hungry?” He squeezes Sal’s shoulder again, a little tighter this time but nowhere near enough to hurt.

Sal laughs, the sound tight and full of nerves. “I’m not even sure anymore.”

Larry’s chuckle is breathless and warm. It makes Sal’s chest tighten.

When Sal meets Larry’s eyes, he finds them hooded and warm. Larry’s lips quirk, his smile kind rather than mocking. Some of the tension that’s been building in Sal’s shoulders slips away.

This time, Sal’s laughter feels better—more natural. “Sorry I’m so awkward.”

Larry’s grin goes broad and crooked. “No need to apologize, man. It’s an awkward situation. Is there anything I can do to help? To make you more comfortable, I mean?”

Before he can psych himself out, he asks, “Can I hug you or is that too much?”

Immediately, he’s drawn to Larry’s chest, warm hands rubbing circles over his back. Sal can’t help but shudder when hit with all of Larry’s warmth, his scent, and the closeness of that gentle light. It flutters like another heartbeat in response to Sal’s hands settling on Larry’s back. Larry isn’t forcing himself to do this—he enjoys the contact.

Sal melts into him, breathing in the burst of energy Larry releases in response to his touch. It’s like a shock to his system and he’s back to shivering beneath Larry’s touch. It doesn’t have a taste, not really, but rather comes with a feeling that Sal can only conceptualize as softness.

In ways, it’s incongruent with Larry’s sharp edges and cool demeanor. But anyone so willing to hug a stranger, even if it’s for money, must be pretty gentle.

“Hey,” Larry murmurs, breath stirring his hair, “you okay?”

Sal nods, tucking his face against Larry’s shoulder. “I, uh, I just had a little of your energy.” He squeezes his eyes shut, feeling like an idiot for narrating it like that.

“Yeah?” Larry sounds curious. His hand smooths down Sal’s back. “Is it true it has a color? Like, you can see it?”

Humming, Sal nods again. “Yours is…” Soft, he thinks, but holds that back. “Yours is really light. Sort of white and grey.”

“Oh, well, that’s not very exciting,” Larry says with a chuckle.

“No, no—it’s like…” Sal’s cheeks heat. “It’s like moonlight.”

Sal can hear Larry’s throat click as he swallows.

Larry holds him a little tighter, his mouth drifting over his hair. “That’s really cool, dude,” he says gruffly, sounding truly pleased.

Sal takes a deep breath, stomach lurching as Larry releases another bright pulse of energy. The faint light meets him like waves against the shore. It feels better than anything Sal has experienced before. He’s never had energy that made him feel so quiet and good inside.

Despite the content, sleepy feeling growing inside him, the pain that has been lingering in his center only grows worse rather than better—story of his life, really. With the ache comes a moment of painful awareness of how goddamn weird this all is. Even though he came into the situation intent on getting up close and personal with a total stranger, it’s still bizarre to be in the midst of it. At least he knows this isn’t any more awkward for Larry than usual, being a “professional cuddler” and all. Still, he feels too big in his own skin and dizzy all over again.

Is it really okay to hug Larry like this? And when the hell is he supposed to stop? Right now, he’s tempted to just stay like this, if only to save himself the embarrassment of lifting his head.

He came here to feed, though, and that won’t happen if he’s a coward.

“What can I do?” Sal asks, hating how croaky his voice comes out. “To make you—you know.”

“Oh, uh…” Larry swallows again then laughs a little breathlessly. “How do you feel about braiding hair?”

Withdrawing slightly, Sal tilts his face to meet Larry’s eyes. “Dude, do you see my hair?”

Larry’s proper laugh is rumbling and warm. He withdraws slowly but never once removes his hands entirely, letting his fingers drift down the backs of Sal’s arms.

“Alright, before you take on your hair duties, let’s get you out of your jacket. Sound good?”

“Sounds good.”

Sal tugs off his scarf and jacket, dropping them on the beat-up chair nearby.

“Do you want some tea? Or anything else to drink?” Larry asks, kicking a pair of shoes under the coffee table.

“Nah, I’m okay. Thanks, though.”

He watches Larry move, all gangly limbs and fluttering hands. He’s almost birdlike, and yet, despite how lanky he is, there’s something solid to him. His presence is grounding.

Larry fiddles with the television for a moment, turning it on but hastily setting the volume low. “Most people like to have a movie or something on. Some like music. Some just want to sleep. We can do whatever you want.”

Sal can’t help but laugh. Larry’s job is making other people feel good and content. He’s not just going through the motions, either—this is natural for him. He’s legitimately kind. But for Sal to get what he needs out of this, he has to be the one taking care of Larry’s wants for a while.

“Like I told you,” Sal says, thinking of their lengthy emails, “it’s gotta be what makes you feel good.”

Blinking a little owlishly, Larry looks from Sal to the television as if he’s seeing it in a new light. Sal can’t help but wonder when he last lit up. Larry ends up putting on music, something a lot quieter and softer than what Sal would have expected Larry to like. When he thinks about it, he realizes it shouldn’t come as a surprise; of course, Larry is going to have plenty of calming music suitable for cuddling and dozing.

Grinning shyly, Larry takes a seat on the couch, slouching down. He seems to read Sal’s mind without even catching a glimpse of his expression, explaining, “I don’t usually listen to this sort of thing, but I like it when I’m trying to relax, y’know?”

Sal nods, shifting closer to the couch but hesitating.

“C’mon,” Larry murmurs and motions him over. “Treat this place like it’s yours, seriously. You don’t have to mess with my hair if that’s—"

“Could we…" Sal swallows thickly.

This is about getting himself fed. He needs energy. His aching stomach is a good reminder of that. Still, he finds himself wanting to curl up against Larry’s side instead of worrying about it.

When he first heard about professional cuddling, Sal had asked himself just who would want to cuddle a stranger let alone need to. Now, it’s all too apparent he’s one of those people who could use some physical contact. He’s never really had a chance to cuddle anyone, not since he was a kid. He’s had a couple of partners, but none of them were particularly affectionate. Hell, before considering the option of hiring someone like Larry, Sal would have insisted he’s not a cuddler. Despite that, almost as soon as he came across Larry’s ad online he couldn’t stop imagining being held for a while.

Larry’s expression goes soft. “We can do whatever you want. Whatever you need,” he adds. “We can do as much or as little, as fast or as slow—whatever makes you comfortable.”

“And you?” Sal asks, voice small. “Like… what about you? What makes you comfortable?”

Dragging his teeth over his lip, Larry considers him for a moment. “Well, I won’t do anything that makes me uncomfortable. I’ll let you know, okay? But… I really like having my hair played with and, well…” His lips quirk. He leans over, patting the spot on the couch next to him. “Come sit down, man. At least get comfortable while we talk about it.”

Rubbing the back of his neck which feels far too hot, Sal does just that. He keeps a healthy distance between them, but his skin is still tingling at the proximity. He’s used to humans being wary around him—hell, everyone is wary around him, considering the mask. It’s just that many nasty perceptions about incubi and the like persist, so people like keeping a wide berth.

Larry is different, that much is obvious, but habits are habits.

“I don’t want you doing anything that makes you uncomfortable, either,” Larry intones.

It hits Sal strangely and his mouth dries. He’s unsure how he managed to find someone as thoughtful as Larry, but it’s surreal. Part of it must be that Larry has to be nice for his work, but people can’t just fake kindness like this.

Larry seems to sense his response, his expression softening again. “I’d like it if you’d play with my hair,” he says quietly. “Even if it’s just while we’re cuddling. If cuddling is something you’d be okay with. I actually really like it, and honestly, I’m feeling pretty worn out today. I bartend, too, so I had a late night.”

Sal inclines his head, uncertain how his voice might come out.

“I don’t know how this works for you—like if you can feed while I’m asleep, but if I doze off feel free to elbow me awake.”

Larry scratches his cheek. “Would you be up for, uh, laying down at least? Or maybe I could put my head in your lap?”

Sal immediately imagines curling up against Larry’s side beneath one of his fluffy blankets and his heart lurches in his chest. “‘Laying down?’ Uh, like… spooning?”

Eyes crinkling, Larry shrugs. “Sure, we can spoon. Have you cuddled much?”

Sal shakes his head, looking away. “I, uh, I’ve never had any chance to.”

Shifting closer, Larry touches his shoulder again, thumb tracing over the tight muscles along the side of his neck. Sal can’t hold back his shaky sigh or stop himself from slumping closer to Larry. Larry, bless him, takes it in stride. An arm is quickly draped around Sal’s shoulders, easing him closer to Larry’s chest. Larry’s hand drifts to the other side of Sal’s neck, massaging lightly.

When Sal lets his forehead press against Larry’s shoulder, his energy thrums in response. Sal nearly jumps at the rush of it. He breathes it in, lips parted. It leaves him pleasantly warm. Finally, the pain in his middle begins to ease, if only slightly.

“I’ve been doing some research, not going to lie,” Larry says, laughter lacing his voice. “According to the internet, incubuses—incubi?—need lots of physical contact. That true?”

“Dunno,” Sal slurs, nuzzling closer to Larry.

The light spikes again and Larry practically giggles. Sal doesn’t fight it when Larry tips them over, pulling Sal to lay on top of him. His giggling turns into another bright laugh and his energy is like a halo around him, filling Sal’s lungs.

As if in a trance, Sal pushes himself up, so he hovers over Larry. Larry, with his silver glow and the feathery sprawl of his hair against the dark color of his pillow, looks like something angelic. Sal’s mouth has never felt dryer. A demon and an angel. He almost laughs, but he bites back the sound, knowing very well it would come out sounding like a sob.

Larry grins up at him, shifting to pull his legs up on the couch and knocking his knees against Sal’s own to get him to shift. Somehow, Sal ends up on the inside, against the back of the couch with Larry at his front. Sal doesn’t know what to do with his arms or his legs or anything, really, but Larry is still gleaming like silver, so he just lets it happen.

Sneaking an arm under Sal’s neck, Larry happily guides him even closer until he’s comfortably tucked away from the world. Larry feels impossibly big and broad like this--so much so Sal questions if his string-bean appearance is some sort of illusion. Sal can’t help but press closer to Larry. He enjoys feeling small in his hold as it’s joined by a sense of safety that only strengthens when Larry’s other arm curls around his waist.

Each time Sal wriggles closer, nuzzles his face against Larry’s collar bone through his shirt, or presses his thighs against Larry’s own, Larry gleams a little brighter. It doesn’t once become overwhelming, instead lulling Sal further. Feeding off Larry really is unlike anything Sal has experienced.

For a moment, he considers calling the experience intoxicating, but that’s not it. There’s no buzz or risk to this, just softness. Yet that’s not right, either: Now that he’s felt this, even if he’s merely had it for a few moments, he’s running the risk of never being able to give it up.

 Chapter Two

Sal can’t remember the last time he was this close to a person for such an extended period. He forgot what it’s like to be held: the warmth, being able to smell them, the intimacy that comes with feeling another person breathe and breathing with them. Larry is broad and warm at his front, and the couch at his back keeps their heat trapped. The tight quarters ensure that Sal feels Larry’s every move, even his breath in his hair, and hears his heartbeat.

It’s almost overwhelming—almost scary to be in a person’s space, especially a practical stranger. But Larry is kind and warm and Sal is awestruck by him, really.

It feels so good Sal can’t help wriggling, fighting to get closer though he knows it’s impossible. He even imagines, if only for the briefest moment, what it would like to feel Larry’s skin against his own. Larry’s throat, now pressed against his mask, would feel so soft against Sal’s cheek.

If things were different, he would love to experience more.

Larry is kind enough to not say anything about his embarrassing behavior, simply stroking his back. He squeezes Sal’s waist each time his squirming dies down as if to reassure him. There’s no judgement—somehow, it’s clear in each touch though Sal can’t explain it.

“This still okay?” Larry asks. His thumb traces the notches in Sal’s spine as if learning them. “If you’re uncomfortable—”

“I’m not. I’m really… I’m really comfortable.”

It’s true. Hell, it’s an understatement. Sal feels like he might just float away if Larry were to release him now.

He’s never felt like this before. He doubts he’ll ever get to feel like this again.

Sal clears his throat. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m good. Is there anything you’d like, though? As far as cuddling goes? Or anything else for that matter.”

Sal laughs breathlessly. “No, I…”

“How’d you imagine it?”

His tone is soft in a way Sal has never heard from another person. It pierces Sal, hitting deep behind his ribs. He’s not used to kindness from strangers, especially not kindness like this. He tries to keep himself quiet, but he still sighs out a pathetic noise that’s enough to make him wince. Luckily, Larry is Larry and he just pets Sal with more enthusiasm.

“C’mon,” Larry persists, though he maintains that softness, ensuring it’s not pressuring. “It’s okay, whatever it is.”

Sal swallows only to find it difficult. “Could we switch? Like, could you use my chest as a pillow, or… whatever?”

He immediately winces again. He sounds like an idiot.

“Sure, dude. Sounds good.”

They shift, Larry withdrawing his arms and shifting further down the couch. Sal scoots as far up as he can, biting at his lips when he realizes he’s basically just asked Larry—tall, tall Larry—to cramp up his legs for him. Sal’s a dumbass.

“Usually, I’m the pillow,” Larry jokes, his smile going lopsided. “This is a nice change of pace.”

The light shimmers enough that Sal knows it’s true, Larry doesn’t mind a bit. The anxiety that was biting at his heels again eases up.

Sal tries to mimic what Larry did for him: arm under his neck, the other at his waist. Larry easily fits himself against Sal’s side, face tucked against Sal’s shoulder, and one arm draped over his side. Sal feels a little lightheaded having Larry’s face right against his throat—such a delicate, intimate place. Larry’s skin does prove to be soft and his nose presses against Sal’s neck in a way that’s undeniably adorable.

Releasing a snuffly, sleepy noise, Larry squeezes Sal’s waist. It makes him feel good like Larry is letting him know he’s here. Eager to please—to give Larry a little bit of that pleasure, too—Sal returns the gesture. Larry’s laughter is barely there but enough to give Sal goosebumps.

Hesitant, Sal tilts his face to press against Larry’s hair. He can’t feel it, not through the mask obviously, but he can smell Larry’s shampoo and that’s more than enough.

Larry is all alight, too, with his moonlight glow sparkling within him. When Sal gives his waist a squeeze, the light pulses. When Sal strokes down his spine, Larry sighs and gleams. When Sal presses his palm flat to the small of Larry’s back, Larry nuzzles against his throat and his energy flutters within his chest.

The light—The light is unlike anything Sal has ever seen. Even his mother’s was a brilliant, almost shiny pink that was hard to look at for too long. It’s moth-like and welcoming where others are like warning signs to Sal. He really can’t get over it. What are the chances of finding such a person, anyway?

Sal had been terrified to follow through with this, but he’s so fucking glad he did.

Sal closes his eyes and takes it in with deep, slow breaths. “Thank you,” he whispers. “Seriously, thank you.”

Humming in response, Larry pets at Sal’s lower back. His body feels heavy and loose against Sal’s own. Realizing he’s falling asleep is enough to have Sal preening. Sure, Larry said he’s tired, but it still means he’s comfortable enough to actually rest.

Maybe he’s projecting, considering his insomnia and nightmares, but Sal knows sleeping with someone requires trust. Probably even more than usual when that stranger is masked and free to poke around the apartment. To someone else, it might not seem like that big a deal, but considering everything it means a lot to Sal. Larry is trusting him to respect his space and his body while he’s not looking. Most people don’t even trust incubi to breathe the same air without manipulating them.

Sal’s not even sure what he did to deserve this faith. Larry doesn’t seem like the naïve type, though many might mistake his kindness for a form of weakness. Sal knows better. They have messaged each other pretty extensively, and Larry was careful, asking for Sal’s information such as a pic of some official identification, but there was nothing particularly remarkable about those exchanges.

Staying quiet, Sal lets his cheek rest against Larry’s head. Even something so simple feels wonderful.

When he’s desperate to feed, Sal usually goes to Ash. She’ll ask him to braid her hair or simply play with it or even to rub her shoulders. Sometimes, she’ll give him permission to feed on her contentment when she eats things like chocolate or hugs her girlfriend. Sal will breathe in the sharp turquoise of her being and everything will be okay, even if only for a few minutes. It’s never much. Nothing he gets is ever much.

When his mother was alive, they fed each other. She would hold him close, stroke his hair, or hold his hands. There was a constant stream of energy to feed on. And if his mother wasn’t available for some reason, he could get energy from his father who would ruffle his hair, pat his back, or thrum with pleasure after eating his mother’s famous French fries.

Back then, he didn’t realize how good he had it. Now, he longs for that time more than anything else.

After his mother’s death, his father was reluctant to look at him let alone touch him. His mother was the succubus, too—the one who really understood. Without her around, it often seemed as if his father was lost, unsure of how to handle his son in every sense. After a point, he was too busy with his drinking to worry over much of anything.

Sal fed on whoever he could after that, but always refrained from taking without permission. In addition, he could never bring himself to feed on the barely-there pleasure his father would experience from his first sip of alcohol each night. His mother told him there are things that just shouldn’t be done and feeding without permission was around the top of the list. He refuses to go against those guidelines she put forth, even when he’s starving.

Larry mumbles something soft and indiscriminate. His lips brush Sal’s skin, making him close his eyes and suck in a breath. There’s something amazing about the softness of Larry’s body. He’s just so relaxed. His fingers curl loosely, clutching sleepily at Sal’s shirt as a child might. Unsurprisingly, it makes Sal feel giddy. Like a child. It’s sugary sweet, so much so Sal feels it in his aching teeth.

This really isn’t what Sal expected of this encounter—it’s so fucking tender it’s more like a fantasy than reality. It makes him prickle all over with embarrassment, but a smile, small and foolish, is hidden beneath his mask.

Larry’s breaths are slow and even with sleep. It lulls Sal, clearing the lingering unpleasant thoughts from his mind. He recognizes that he’s dozing off in the way his own breathing softens and deepens, the melty feeling in his legs and his middle, and how hard it is to keep his eyes open. He probably shouldn’t, but he lets himself slip deeper anyway. It’s too great a temptation to deny.

He feels silly about it, but he’s wanted to sleep by someone’s side for a long time. He didn’t consider cuddling much in the past but sleeping next to someone is an intimacy he’s been longing for. He’s not sure what it is about it beyond him feeling it’s such a sign of trust or maybe it’s something ridiculous like he’s connected sleeping together to comfort after sneaking into his parents’ bed as a child. Now that he’s presented with the chance to experience it in such a new way, he’s going to enjoy it.

Sal is used to struggling to sleep—his anxiety, depression, and nightmares all work together to make sleep remarkably difficult for him. Hell, he’s even anxious that he might drift off into a nightmare right here, waking to find he’s creeped Larry out by sweating and mumbling about his dead mother in his sleep. But he doesn’t expect to do much more than doze, especially considering how hungry he still is.

Despite everything, he’s soon drifting off. Sleep comes and goes. He’s never deeply under and when he blinks awake again, he tugs his phone from his back pocket to find he’s still got time. He promptly dozes off again.

When Sal finally breaks out of his bleary, dreamy state, he feels like he’s been transported to another world entirely. Everything feels distant and appears soft around the edges. That yawning hunger that had been brewing in his stomach has finally quieted. He feels as if he’s been reborn.

God, Sal feels like an idiot, but he can’t even be bothered—not when he feels so fucking good.

Larry is still revealing his pleasure through the beat-beat-beating of his inner-light. It could be brighter—Sal could be giving him so much more pleasure. This is his role, and even if he’s paying Larry it’s not much. In Sal’s humble opinion, Larry is owed more than 40 bucks considering he’s provided Sal with a feast and more.

He draws his arm from Larry’s waist to reach for his hair. This was Larry’s one request and he intends to do it, but he hesitates.

Larry is still so soft and sweet with sleep. Sal feels honored to be given this moment. It’s silly, he keeps telling himself that. Still, he can’t shake the warmth and tightness in his chest that blossoms in response. Because this is Larry showing him trust, at least in some sense, and Sal would hate to do something to make him regret it.

Sighing quietly, Larry noses against Sal’s throat. His hand shifts from where it’s been wrapped up in Sal’s shirt over his belly to curl under his chin.

Sal’s not sure how to handle such an intimate thing as stroking a person’s hair in general let alone with a stranger. Even being practically wrapped around Larry, showing affection like this seems presumptuous or something. Larry asked for it specifically, though. The soft, almost sugary sensation of breathing in Larry’s energy proves more powerful than his anxiety.

He keeps his face tucked against Larry’s head. Sal touches the pads of his fingertips to the hair above Larry’s ear. Larry nuzzles into Sal’s throat in response. Emboldened, Sal feels giddy and warm as he cards his fingers through Larry’s hair, following the curve of his skull. It’s soft, especially behind his ears.

Larry shivers and hums. The light within him goes electric and sparkling. Sal breathes it in, in, in. The hole that had slowly eaten its way through Sal’s middle feels as if it’s finally mending itself, frayed edges softened by Larry’s pleasure.

This is his favorite sort of pleasure, too: the pleasure from simple things. It’s different. It leaves him feeling satiated in a way feeding from sex, the couple of times he tried, never did.

Smile sweet against Sal’s skin, Larry mumbles, “That feels really nice. Thanks, man.”

Sal’s cheeks absolutely burn. He eagerly continues, carding his fingers through the hair at the base of Larry’s skull. He’s careful with any small tangles he encounters, gently working them out with subtle movements. Larry sighs and noses at Sal’s collarbone in response, his body going lax against Sal’s own.

He had seemed so relaxed even before, it’s strange to realize how much tension he was actually holding.

“Why cuddling?” Sal asks faintly, hoping it doesn’t come out the wrong way. He can’t help being curious, especially as a participant.

Maybe Larry was starved of any sort of contact before, like Sal is still. It would explain why he responds so nicely to Sal’s touch. It’s not as if Sal is good at this: He’s never cuddled anyone to have experience with it. It can’t be Sal’s expert skills.

Even considering how badly he wants to be touched, Sal can’t imagine being able to do a job like this—he couldn’t do this with just anyone. It can’t be easy. It takes more energy to be gentle than to be rough, after all. It’s difficult to be this attentive. Hell, if he were Larry, he wouldn’t have accepted a client like himself, masked and creepy, and that’s just the tip of the iceberg.

This feels wonderful, though, and Larry is obviously enjoying it enough for his energy to respond. It leaves Sal reeling.

Still nuzzling at Sal’s shoulder, Larry lets out a breathless laugh. “I was hard up for money and happened to hear about it on the news a few years back. When I started doing it, I figured there would be lots of creeps, y’know? But instead it’s mostly just lonely people. I can actually relate to most everyone I’ve worked with. Made some friends, even.”

He gently brushes his fingers against the side of Sal’s throat. It’s goddamn tender. When Sal shivers and unthinkingly tugs at Larry’s hair, Larry only laughs more, good natured.

Larry nudges his knee against Sal’s own. Sal answers with a questioning noise.

“Hook your leg over mine?” Larry nudges again.

Sal awkwardly complies by slipping his ankle over Larry’s. It takes strain off his lower back, so he lets Larry work his knee between his own.

“You’re really an expert, huh?” Sal mumbles.

Larry makes another soft noise and rubs his hand in a circle over Sal’s lower back, careful not to ruck up his shirt though his pinky inevitably slips across his skin at some point. Sal can’t help the way his breath shudders from him in response. Larry seems to like it, though, holding him closer still.

“I’ve been doing this a while now. Got a trick or two.”

“Yeah?” Sal titters and scratches behind Larry’s ear.

“Yeah. I’m worth every penny.”

Sal’s smile is so broad it aches.

“I don’t usually cuddle like this,” Larry says, as if to himself.

Sal huffs out a quiet laugh. “Because you’re always the tallest, right?”

Larry pinches his side gently. “Yeah, yeah—I’m a giant. I actually meant, like…” His fingers smooth down Sal’s side. “Usually it’s more awkward. It doesn’t happen this way. It’s not… It’s not this natural, you know what I mean?”

Hearing that this isn’t just in Sal’s head—that it’s not just him feeling so unusually comfortable—has his heart picking up speed again.

Larry continues, “Most people think the whole cuddling thing is one line crossed after another.”

Sal hums in response.

“But there are things I try to avoid. Like, uh…” He laughs, self-deprecating and yet somehow sweet. He taps his fingers against Sal’s neck. “Necks are generally a no-go. Too sensitive.”

Oh.

“I’m sorry,” Sal croaks. “If I—crossed a line earlier.”

Larry withdraws, and Sal can’t help but physically wince back and away. Larry’s worried face is immediately hovering over his own and a gentle hand strokes over Sal’s chest.

“Hey, it’s okay. That’s not what I meant.” He smiles, bright and honest. “Like I said: If you do something I’m not comfortable with, I’ll tell you. Promise.”

His eyes shift from Sal’s and he gently curls a lock of Sal’s hair around his fingers. Sal shudders, closing his eyes. His heart skips around some more when Larry sucks in a breath.

“It’s just that… Well, even when we started talking online, it felt like I’d known you a long time.”

Sal peeks up at him, throat once again going dry. It feels unspeakably good to hear that from Larry. So much so it’s like a punch to the gut.

Sal is in too deep.

“I don’t hate my job—I actually like it,” Larry continues. “But I don’t think I’ve looked forward to an appointment like this since…” He laughs, eyes meeting Sal’s once more. Larry holds his gaze like it’s the easiest thing in the world. “I’ve never looked forward to an appointment like I looked forward to meeting you, dude. It’s really unprofessional, I know, but—”

Sal hooks a hand around the back of Larry’s neck and tugs him down. Laughing and shining like a star, Larry returns to Sal’s side. He wriggles one arm under Sal’s waist, which can’t be comfortable, and the other is slung around Sal’s back. Larry seems all too happy to return to using Sal’s shoulder as a pillow.

“I don’t want to be rude,” Sal mutters, “but this doesn’t seem like the type of work that requires much professionalism.”

Laughter bursts from Larry’s chest. He rolls onto his back and Sal is sure to curl his arm that’s been serving off and on as Larry’s neck pillow, keeping him from falling off the couch. He’s full of starlight now—so bright Sal can almost feel its warmth.

It’s hard for Sal to believe he’s not glowing himself, he’s so flushed and giddy.

Larry looks at him, eyes gleaming. “You’re a little shit.”

“Better than a big shit.”

His smile grows impossibly wider only to soften. “It doesn’t make you uncomfortable, right?” His eyes are searching. “I get that this is, uh…”

“I feel the same,” Sal confesses in a burst, hopelessly eager to tell him.

Larry just smiles.

They quickly return to cuddling, with Sal rubbing Larry’s back and Larry nosing at his throat. Larry’s back is as muscled as expected and he feels so warm beneath Sal’s hand he might as well be a furnace. Larry mumbles something and reaches over their heads to grab a blanket; together, they get tucked in, laughing all the while.

Sal really could get used to this, which is dangerous as fuck—he knows it is.

“Is the meal alright?” Larry’s voice ticks up with amusement and he’s back to gently pinching at Sal’s waist.

Yes.

“It’s—” Sal’s voice cracks and he silently curses himself.

Larry rubs his fingertips over the place he pinched in apology.

“This is the most I’ve fed in years,” Sal confesses quietly.

Larry goes carefully still, hand a warm weight at Sal’s hip.

“And I… I usually hate it. Especially since… Well, since I was a kid.” Sal can’t stop himself from holding Larry a little tighter. He doesn’t want to broadcast how much it fucks with him, but he also wants the comfort. “The energy—it looks like light, right?”

Larry pulls his face back, if only a little. “Uh-huh?”

“Yeah. Like how yours is… like moonlight. Yours is the first I’ve ever seen like this—I’m serious.”

Chuckling softly, Larry rubs his thumb over Sal’s hipbone through his jeans. “Cool.”

“Yeah, it is cool.”

Larry rubs with just a little more pressure.

“I don’t know if it’s because I’m only half or what, but the lights have always been… annoying. They’re so bright. It’s like having flashlights constantly shined in your eyes.”

“Oof.”

“It sucks.”

Larry gives his hip a squeeze. “Sounds like it. So, mine… does that too?”

Sal shakes his head. “Yours is the only one that hasn’t. It’s not hard to look at—nah, it’s just pre—uh, well, cool.”

Larry’s head rolls back and he laughs and laughs—dorkish and hitching. “It’s okay, man. I’m not going to be upset over being called pretty.” He leans back further, meeting Sal’s eyes. “You can’t have hair like this and throw a fit over shit like that.”

Grin spreading like fire, Sal says, “Okay, yeah, it’s pretty.”

Larry preens. “Thanks.”

“Just telling the truth.”

He releases Sal’s hip to scratch at his jaw, expression going thoughtful. “Is it seriously the only one that hasn’t… been annoying?”

Sal nods. “I’m not even exaggerating. It’s like rave lights or some shit.”

Larry winces.

“Yeah, exactly.”

“Well, I’m here to serve as something pretty to look at whenever you need it,” Larry says, batting his lashes.

Sal’s giggles spill out of him. Larry laughs with him, the sound rumbling and warm.

Even with Ash and his other friends, communication is never this easy—this natural. He can’t say everything he wants to, instead needing to monitor himself. He doesn’t want to make them worry—is never sure when something is going to be too much. Larry being a stranger certainly factors in, but there’s something more. Sal even sent him a selfie, though it was with his mask on, which he’s usually wary about. It was easy to tell Larry about his nature as an incubus, even. Maybe it was the anonymity the internet offered.

Chapter two, Ganymede, can be found on Ao3.

This has been up for a while on Ao3, but I thought it would be worth sharing here. Please drop a like, tell me what you think, etc. Thank you for reading :)

[beholdthemem]

There is a word for people who don’t like Ash Campbell and that word is COWARDS.

Why can I never draw her hair the same way twice. WHY.

From top to bottom we have: 

-Buzzfeed Unsolved AU Ash harassing the spirits and personally turning every hair that Sal and Larry posses between the two of them a premature gray

-Ash with princess hair because I figure the gang had to go to at least one dance at some point and what is the point of having long hair if you never do anything with it

-College Ash having some serious doubts about whoever she’s looking at

-Middle school Ash having a My Best Friend’s Hot Moment shortly before before going home to have a crisis about it and then proceeding to avoid Larry for the next three days. Thirteen year olds are masters of emotion. (Larry, having noticed none of this, was confused and kind of hurt. “Are you... like... mad at me or something? Did I do something wrong?”)

-And college age Sal attempting to be a Mature Young Adult while Ash has absolutely none of it. I like to imagine that once upon a time Sal was one of those ‘Very mature for his age!’ type kids who’re really just like that because outside circumstances required them to grow up too fast- and that the gang just. Immediately took it upon themselves to fix that after getting to know him properly. There will be NONE OF THAT. WE’RE KIDS, WE’RE GONNA BE STUPID AND WE’RE GONNA HAVE FUN. By the time they’re all in college Sal’s sort of learned to chill and be a dumb twenty-something like everybody else, but every once in a while Ash catches him doing the weight-of-the-world-on-my-shoulders thing. Fortunately, six years of friendship means she’s figured out a lot of different ways to make him laugh.