#Exiting The Hall Of Vapor And Light

[rastronomicals]

11:18 AM EDT August 23, 2024:

Locrian - "Exiting The Hall Of Vapor And Light" From the album Return to Annihilation (2013)

Last song scrobbled from iTunes at Last.fm

File under: Experimental Black Metal/Ambient

[negative-ease]

every season is edelclaude season

He could approach or he could wait and be discovered. He could play dumb. She might even believe it.

Fleeing a social event to get some space -- it's not the most original idea.

Back casually into the antechamber in the middle of a laugh, duck out of sight with a nod to the guard at the door, make for the exit on the opposite side of the hall with no trace of hurry. 

Claude performed the steps flawlessly and ticked them off as he went, a sort of countdown until he could feel the welcome chill of fresh air and watch the vapor of a long sigh stream out and fade away. From it emerged a slight figure further along the outer wall, the sight catching his next breath somewhere deep in his chest. 

Edelgard was statue-still, one gloved hand resting lightly on the wall near her head. Candlelight spilled out between the heavy curtains a nearby window to highlight a sharp cheekbone, a few strands of fine hair. Her stance was tense as if she’d paused in the middle of a step, her gaze intent and serious, and away from him. 

Claude hadn’t noticed her absence, but then he had been pretty focused on slipping out himself. He followed the direction of her gaze to see Byleth, strolling toward the Goddess Tower. And he remembered Dimitri’s face, pale and strained, his hand threatening to crumple his tin cup of punch. We can’t all be out here, Claude thought, but made no move to return.

He could approach or he could wait and be discovered. He could play dumb. She might even believe it.

Claude stepped forward, scuffing his feet on the stones. Edelgard whipped around in an instant, candlelight shifting to add a glint to her eye and illuminate the downturn of her mouth. Now, as each time before they faced one another, she looked him up and down, and was not impressed.

It was impossible for him not to react to a withering gaze. The impulse to smile back was ingrained deep inside; a flash of the teeth that held back a cutting response and a crinkle near his eye that promised I’ll remember this. I’ll never forget.

“There you are,” he said in a concerned voice. “Everyone’s looking for you.”

Edelgard narrowed her eyes but couldn’t resist a peek over his shoulder. It wasn’t true, of course, but he couldn’t help but tease her. Everything about her rigid, self-serious presentation invited a little ribbing. He wouldn’t have called it antagonizing her, not then. Not until later.

“I’m sure,” she said coldly. “Because Goddess forbid I look for a little peace and quiet. Your natural enemy.”

His smiled widened poisonously.

“Hurts not to be picked, huh?” he said, nodding conspiratorially in the direction of the Goddess Tower. Something we have in common, he thought, knowing she didn’t see it that way. It was all only more evidence that she stood alone, probably. A chip on her shoulder that powered some sort of force field, pushing everyone else away. 

“Picked… like it’s a game,” she said, but there was a wobble in the disdain. 

“Red Rover, Red Rover…” Claude smiled, though what came to mind was her and Hubert in the empty dining hall, heads bent seriously over a game of chess. 

She looked him up and down again, not in any new light but to emphasize her original impression.

“We can’t all be out here,” she said finally, scolding, and brushed by him in a huff.

Claude watched her leave, then turned back to the starkly silent, unmoving Goddess Tower. Then back to the hall, the promise of warmth and the high note of a peal of laughter a thick comforter over a persistent current of unease. The Goddess Tower, an island impassable. The party, already poised to shift from moment to memory. 

The tips of his fingers were getting cold inside the thin cotton of his formal gloves. He strolled his return reluctantly, the Tower vigilant at his back. If there was a third option it wasn’t here, alone. 

[a-sin-to-be-rin]

The Owl's Test: Tim's Version

Robin is trapped in the Court of Owls' not-so-fun house.

A Gotham Knights choose-your-own-adventure. Pick your favorite character to get whumped, or watch them all suffer :)

Jason's Version

Barbara's Version

Dick's Version

---

“Ugh.”

Tim’s brain feels like it was run over by a steamroller and then scraped off the pavement with a credit card and crammed into a waffle iron. He tries to sit up but gives up immediately, letting his head smack against the stone he’s lying on. He doesn’t know what day it is or how he got here or where “here” even is, and he almost doesn’t want to know. He just wants to close his eyes and try again later.

But Tim has never been given the luxury of “try again later.” He shoves himself upwards, cringing at the musty decay in the air. His head spins from the change in altitude, but Tim needs to get out of here. There’s no time to waste. He pushes himself off the stone.

And then he realizes that he forgot to swing his legs over the side. He crashes into the ground, head slamming against stone. His world shorts out for a microsecond, and when he comes to, everything hurts worse.

Tim groans, slowly standing up and holding his ground when the lights pulse around him. “Well, if I didn’t have a concussion before…” he grumbles.

When his vision clears up enough to see, Tim takes in the dismal ambience. Two angry owl statues glare down at him, like they’re about to list off his sins. The stone Tim was lying on is now, quite clearly, an altar.

Tim groans again. Altars are never a good sign. And worse still when you’re the one lying on one.

“Where am I?” Tim asks the stone owls. Unsurprisingly, they say nothing.

Tim limps past the owls into the hallway. “Smells like death,” he mutters. Then he pauses, waiting for one of the owls to object or vaporize him for the insult. But they remain silent, and Tim has the pleasure of knowing that he hasn’t angered any malevolent owl ghosts.

“Belfry?” he says, hoping his comm is picking him up. “Are you there?”

The earpiece is silent, and Tim huffs. “Something must be blocking comms.” Which is not great, because it means Tim is not only drugged, kidnapped, and trapped, but he’s also without backup.

And Tim hates being alone.

As Tim walks down the hall, his sight clears up a bit, balance improving, if only slightly. He’s able to walk a bit faster, but he slows down when he notices a deviation in the hallway’s uniform wall. There’s a block of holes against two adjacent walls. It’s a dead giveaway for a spike trap. And the slightly off-colored tiles between the walls further suggest danger. Fortunately, there’s enough space under the holes to crawl under, so Tim gets down and crawls his way across the space. The spikes still startle him when they - shing! - shoot out from the walls and clash at the center, but Tim is safely below the danger zone.

Tim stands up and carries on down the hall, but a bodiless voice echoes through the cavern. “Inside of Gotham’s walls…”

“Rule you one and all…” a different voice finishes.

There’s an animalistic shriek, like a tiger and a chicken roared and squawked (respectively) in unison. Then a dark shadow sprints across Tim’s path and scurries up the wall like the tiger-chicken-squirrel that it is.

“I… don’t like that,” Tim decides. He makes a note to keep an eye on the shadows. Who knows what else is hiding out there?

Tim ducks under another spike trap and comes upon a new room, this one glowing with a warm light. If Tim’s lucky, it’s an exit. If he isn’t, it’s a fiery owl statue-ghost that’s come to exact its belated revenge for Tim’s insolence.

In the end, Tim is neither lucky nor unlucky. He’s downright cursed. Sure, a giant bird of prey hasn’t charred him to ash. But that would be a quicker death than the intricate flamethrower trap he’s faced with. Every tile seems synced to a flamethrower above it. Step on the tile, and you activate the flamethrower, and bam. No hair. And also likely no body, because the human body does tend to burn like a candle.

Tim takes an agonizingly long time analyzing each tile. Stepping just carefully enough. Dodging flames at just the right moment. By the time he steps out into the new corridor, he’s drenched in sweat, heart racing against his ribs.

“Give up,” the voice calls. “It would be so much easier.”

And as if it can hear the voice, the hallway abruptly stops being a hallway, and Tim runs face-first into a wall.

“Ughhhh,” Tim groans, carefully prodding an already-swelling eye. It’ll be black before morning. (If he survives until morning, of course.) “This is so not fair.” He stands up and doubles back. He’s hoping that maybe he missed a turn after the torch room. He does not want to dance through that trap again.

But when Tim arrives at the antechamber, it’s not the same room as before. Instead, it contains a series of spinning pillars, each lined from ceiling-to-floor with saws and rotating spikes.

And this? This, Tim is fine with. Comfortable, even. This was one of the first obstacle courses Bruce ever put him through during his Robin training. He can do this with his eyes covered and hands tied. (And he has done this with his eyes covered and his hands tied.) It takes less than ten seconds to clear the room, and then he’s back to running down hallways.

Tim slows briefly as his comm crackles unhelpfully. “What is going on with this thing?” he wonders, but until it starts working, Tim needs to find a way out of here on his own. He can’t rely on the cavalry this time.

“I should never have recruited you.”

This voice is different than the others. Tim knows this voice.

Bruce.

The lights become brighter, colors smeared across Tim’s vision. His balance wavers, and he slows to an uneven walk, gripping his head as he tries to move forward. There’s something up ahead. Something… not right.

Tim manages his way to the new room, and yep. This is so messed up.

“Where were you, Robin?” Bruce is screaming. Furious.

Bats fly past Tim in a swarm, revealing a large, cold headstone and a closed casket. Tim doesn’t need to read the headstone to know whose it is.

“You were supposed to be by my side!” Bruce seethes. “Maybe then I wouldn’t be dead!”

“It’s not real,” Tim assures himself, but it certainly doesn’t feel that way. He shakes his head, taking the hall to the right.

There’s another shadow figure hiding in the corner, but this one is clearer. Less ambiguous. And it’s wearing a pale owl mask and the Robin suit. The suit Tim is wearing right now.

“Who are you?” Tim asks.

And then the fake him charges. Tim pulls out his bo staff, quick to defend himself, but the figure disappears in a puff of black fog.

“You begged me for the chance,” Bruce growls. “You begged me to be Robin. I should have known you’d fail.”

The words cut deep, but Tim pushes past it. His vision is blurring again, though, and his chest grows tight. He forces his legs forward, nearly collapsing from the effort.

Ahead of him is a familiar antique gramophone. An old, warped record plays, its flat, damaged notes leaving Tim uneasy. An armchair sits on either side of the gramophone. Tim manages his way up to the chairs but doesn’t dare sit down. He can’t rest. Not right now.

Cautiously, reverently, Tim runs his fingers down the fabric of one armchair. They look like the armchairs from the living room. In fact, there’s a dark red bloodstain on the arm of one, exactly like the stain from when Dick and Tim’s brotherly roughhousing had turned into an accidental bloodbath. Alfred had nearly had a heart attack when he saw the ruins of the chairs. But Bruce had laughed. He’d told Alfred that it was a parenting hazard and that he’d try to keep the children apart in the future. Then he’d put a record on the gramophone, likely in an attempt to ease the mood.

Alfred calmed down eventually. But here, with the chairs, listening to a demon version of a childhood song, Tim just feels nauseous. He moves on quickly, trying to escape the haunting tune, even as it chases him down the hall.

“You’re Robin now. You got what you wanted. Are you happy, Boy Wonder?”

Tim used to feel safe and loved when Bruce called him that. But the way he spits the title makes Tim’s spirit die a little. Did Bruce ever see that as a fond nickname? Maybe he’d always used it as a way to compare him to Dick and Jason. As a way to remind Tim of how inadequate he is.

Tim keeps running.

The Batcomputer is sitting in the next antechamber, every screen glowing the same blood-soaked red and populated with foreboding figures in owl masks. As Tim gets closer, the chair in front of the computer spins around, revealing a mangled man slumped over the arm. Tim frowns, squinting against the harsh lighting.

“Wait… Alfred?” And he’s right. The man in the chair, while disfigured beyond human survivability, is now obviously Alfred. His neck is tipped too far, lips stained with blood.

“No,” Tim breathes. And then panic sets in. “No. No!”

And Alfred disappears in a cloud of ash.

For a long moment, Tim is frozen in place.

So that was all fake? Alfred is still alive? What is Tim supposed to believe anymore?

He doesn’t know, and he doesn’t want to stick around and find out. So he turns the corner, only to see another horror that will leave him with nightmares for the next week.

His own body, writhing on the floor. Gasping and groaning and wheezing in pain. Coughing up blood. Reaching out for a man who isn’t there. Who might never have been there. And then the Robin on the floor goes limp, head lolling to the side.

Dead.

“I’m seeing things,” Tim says. And he knows it to be true, but he just can’t get himself to believe it. He walks past the body, not looking to see if it disappears like all the others. He doesn’t want to linger here. He can’t-

“You were the death of me, Timothy Drake. My blood is on your hands.”

The hallway lights go out, and Tim feels like the world is spinning, spinning, spinning. He staggers to one knee, then pushes himself up and stumbles forward. A spotlight shines on the room ahead, but Tim can’t tell what’s inside.

“What is this place?”

“Four weeks with the new Robin,” Bruce spits. “No improvement.”

It’s a locker. The spotlight is highlighting a locker. Tim’s locker. His costume hangs inside, dull and lifeless under the light.

“Lacks Dick’s leadership. Jason’s boldness. An unworthy successor.”

Tim bites his tongue and balls his fists, nails cutting into his palms. This isn’t the real Bruce, but his voice is…

God. Bruce is saying everything. Everything Tim has fretted over. His slow start. His uncertainty in the field. His tendency to play it safe. Bruce never commented on it before, but Tim always wondered if Bruce thought he was inadequate.

“Tim was right,” Bruce continues. “Batman needs a Robin. But Robin needs to be someone - anyone - but Tim Drake.”

Tim’s jaw tightens, vision growing hazy. He’s noticed the posters hung up on the locker door now.

WE ARE HIRING, the first poster reads. NEW ROBIN WANTED, the second announces.

Tim tears his eyes away from the locker, moving down the next hallway. “Stay focused, Robin,” he tells himself. Because he is Robin. Bruce made him Robin. “This can’t be real.”

Tim crawls under a spike trap, and that’s when he sees the door in the distance. He starts running after it. Escape is just beyond it; Tim is certain. But the more he runs, the further the door gets.

“No escape…” a voice hisses. “No escape…”

Tim finally grabs hold of the door handle, but before he can wrench it open, the door is ripped from his hands, flying even further away.

Tim sprints. He’s so, so close now.

“Accept your fate.”

Catching up again, Tim rams his shoulder into the door. He grunts, the desperation fueling the intensity of his blows. The door gives way, and Tim falls into another room. The door slams shut behind him, leaving him alone.

This room is quieter. The voices have stopped. Tim’s vision is clearer, and the fog has faded from the ground. Even the shadows look brighter.

Tim climbs to his feet. “Am I out?”

The voices don’t respond.

“Yeah,” Tim decides. “I think I’m out.”

Jason's Version

Barbara's Version

Dick's Version

[thatbeluga]

Wet Sock 2x05: Containment Breach

Season One / 2x01 / 2x02 / 2x03 / 2x04

Time did not move linearly, because it never does in Wet Sock. Yes the last episode was the Ides of March. Shut up. It's November 1st, and you know what happens on November--

"Author!Beluga can you shut up?!" Rad shouted, stabbing a femboy catgirl in a maid outfit. "Misp and I are trying to fight our way through UWU Enterprises right now, as we have been for the last SEVEN FUCKING MONTHS cause you can't write this story without a damn HIATUS."

"What was even happening last time Author!Beluga posted?" Misp asked, tripping the physical embodiment of the sound "nya."

C!Misp and C!Rad could not remember, but it had been an Ides of March episode where they killed Hatsune Mik--

"SHUT UP AUTHOR!BELUGA!"

A terrible crack echoed through the tower. Alarms blared out, piercing the air. The employuwuees ahead of them screamed in fear and ran past them, scrambling for the exit. Cold mist flowed down the hallway, chips of ice falling from higher floors.

A frantic Thomas Jefferson ran around the corner, shards of ice poking out of his chest. He grabbed Misp, sliding to the floor.

"We did everything we could uwu." He cried limpid tears. "I'm-I'm sorry. She... she breached containment. I... I should've... I should've been stronger... she's coming..."

"Who? Who is it?" Misp cried, grabbing Thomas Jefferson's face, the light dying from his eyes. She smacked it. No response.

A lilting voice echoed down the hall.

"I~I~I... don't want uhhhh LOT Fooorooor cHRIsmaàss."

Candy canes sprouted from the ground, the pastel walls became red, green, and wintry blue. Misp gasped, "No. Halloween was yesterday."

"Theeeeere is just one Thing, aIIaii Ne-eed."

"Nope." Rad threw her hands up, and turned her back. "Nope. Nope. Not today. Absolutely the fuck not."

"I DOn'T Care abOOUT The PRE-SeNTS. uuuUAUUnderneeth the Chri smas tre eee."

A light glowed at the end of the hallway, ice and snow billowing from its shine.

"I juuust want you for maiy Oh-own. moooOOAOOOAR than you could Eveur Know-ow."

She came into view, her red and white outfit even more terrifying than in pictures.

"Make my wish COOAMMe TRUUuuuuUUEUUEUEUUuuu. UWU."

Rad turned back around, slugging a rocket launcher over her shoulder. "Lemme take care of this."

Mariah Carey floated before mother and daughter, holiday cheer coursing through her veins and shining through her skin.

"AAAAAAAlLLL I wuaAANt, FO-or chuRismAAAaaAAaas... IiiIIIIiiiss....

The rocket launcher fired.

"You-ou-

BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOM

Nothing remained, except a single shard of candy cane. The force of the blast had vaporized Mariah, breaking the bonds between the molecules making her up until she was nothing more than a cloud of indeterminate particles. The force and energy of the entire sun had been directed at at the elder god, her physical form utterly destroyed. Rad tossed aside the rocket launcher. "I hate that fucking song."

----------------------------------------------------------

Mariah Carey breaching containment had cleared the halls, so reaching Y/N's throne room was pretty easy. Misp almost missed stabbing Hatsune Mikus, but seeing Rad reduce Mariah Carey to mere atoms was pretty fun to watch. Like any elder god she would reform eventually, but at least they had until next November 1st to worry about her.

Rad kicked the door in at Y/N's throne room.

"H-h-h-h-h-h-h-h-hey," Y/N said, tucking her messy glossy brown hair that went down past her feet behind her ears. "Whowu are youwu? :3"

"We're here to post bail for Beluga and Fuck," Rad said. "We're willing to pay almost any price under $63."

"And 17 cents," Misp added.

"You have slain the demon Mariah Carey, and for that, your friends crimes shall be forgiven," Y/N said, looking up at the bird cages. "W-w-w-w-w-w-w-w-w-w-w-wait? Wh-wh-wh-wh-where are they?"

One bird cage hung intact, while the other looked like it had been chewed open. Jackie Kennedy had locked her jaw on one of the bars, furiously snacking.

"They must have--oh no, I'm such a ditz! I left the Jacky Kennedy's in here for one second and-- Y/N began to cry from her orbalescent orbs. She grabbed her iPod touch with a teal case and spoke into it, activating the loudspeaker system.

"Uwu! I know I'm not like other girls, and I know Jason hasn't noticed me yet, but the multiversal criminals Beluga and Fuck have breached containment and must be hunted down and eliminated from existence. PS Jason I'm a better singer than Becky."

"Ohhhh, the episode title was one of those double meaning things," Misp said, nodding. "Love it when they do that."

The author was thankful that c!Misp appreciated his title.

"SHUT THE FUCK UP AUTHOR!BELUGA!"

[ofangelsanddevils]

Illusion ch 8 The Vertical club

As they walked into the club the lyrics of a popular love song washed over her. It was a fantastic song, but it reminded her that Scott wasn’t there.

She started dancing and Quinn wandered off to say hi to some of his club friends. As she danced she thought about the conversation she and Quinn had had in the car.

She’d always had a pretty good idea of how he felt about her, but he’d finally made a full avowal of love and she’d spurned him, and now she felt unsure of herself. "Am I making the right choice?" She wondered. How could she decide if Scott was truly a better choice for her than Quinn? "I wish I'd stayed home." She sighed in frustration. But she was here now, so she focused on her surroundings rather than on her inner turmoil.

The Vertical Club had one main dance floor, as well as two tiny side floors that were on either end of the main dance floor. Liana was dancing on the smallest of the three floors that was on the far side of the club, closest to a door that led to a quaint outdoor garden. The DJ booth was in one corner of this narrow walled off room, and there was a wooden bench that ran along the edge of the wall opposite the doors that closed this dance floor off from the main dance floor.

This chamber had a large black and white checkered floor and black walls. There were multiple posters and band stickers that had been pasted all over the walls, some of which were old and starting to peel away. Liana allowed the vapor emanating from the fog machine to envelope her as she danced. Quinn came up to her after a few songs and asked her if she wanted a drink of water. She nodded her head.

He exited the dance floor and Liana threw herself back into moving to the rhythm to avoid her guilt about Quinn. As she danced, she let the music and the electronic lights that spun with the beat wash over her to numb her sadness. After several minutes, Liana had the impression that someone was watching her. She turned her head for a moment. A guy was staring at her from the doorway of the dance floor.

The stranger had blonde hair that was loose and fell past his shoulders, but she couldn’t see his face because it was so dark, and the strobe lights were flickering too fast for her to get a good look at him. But as she watched him she felt an intense energy radiating from him.

He also seemed to have this faint glow around him that didn’t seem to be coming from the club lights, but she couldn’t be sure. He saw her watching him and he smiled. Then she knew him. Scott had shown up at the club after all. His smile seemed off but it was probably a trick of the light. Liana was so happy to see him, especially after the fight she’d had with Quinn. It would be nice to talk with someone who wasn’t mad at her.

She hurried through the crowd to get to his side, but as she drew closer he stepped out of the doorway and back into the main dance hall. Maybe he hadn’t seen her after all, which seemed odd. She was certain that he’d been staring right at her, and that he’d smiled at her. The lights were flashing in a different pattern on the main dance floor and it took her eyes a few seconds to adjust.

After a few moments she saw him, he was tall enough that she could see him over the tops of most of the other dancers, as he wove in and out of the crowd towards the garden enclosure. The garden served as a smoking area at the back of the club. She saw him duck outside and Liana sped up in order to catch up with him.

When she reached the door, she pushed it open and walked outside. She couldn’t see Scott anywhere, but her eyes were still adjusting to the flood lights that lit up the statue of the griffin in the center of the garden. There were a few black lattice wire tables and chairs surrounding it, and there were also some trees on the far side of the tables. Several pathways wandered in and out of the different areas. Normally there were people who escaped out to the garden to sit on the benches that were scattered throughout the miniature forest, but she hoped that she and Scott would be the only ones out in the garden.

Liana stepped outside and allowed the door to close behind her. As she stepped forward she was aware that some of the fallen leaves were crunching under her feet. The sound made her feel lonely, and for a brief moment she thought that she was all by herself in the garden. As her eyes finally adjusted to the change in lighting she saw someone standing behind the statue. There was no one else on the patio. She hurried forward ready to greet Scott by name, when she realized that something was wrong.

The light on the statue should have been lighting Scott as well. He was right where the light should’ve been but it wasn't falling on him. Liana paused, trying to figure out what was going on. It was then that she noticed a dark mist creeping around Scott, sort of blurring the edges of him, like a person in an early nineteenth century photograph.

The mist made him seem out of focus. As she watched she realized that the light was being sucked inwards toward him. It wasn’t Scott! The fact of this sank in and she screamed. All vestiges of doubt left her and her dread grew as she saw the demon’s wings sprout outward from his back. They were vining and blackening into place like ivy on an old ruin.

Once his wings had solidified he flapped them slightly, and the whisper of movement caused more of the now feeble light in the garden to vanish. A black hole was created that surrounded him. It throbbed and pulsed as he continued to flit his wings. The thought of black holes brought back the violent memory of staring into his eyes the night before. Liana shrank back against the door. She found herself groping behind her for the doorknob, not daring to turn away from the dark figure.

Liana found the handle after a few moments and was about to turn it when she felt the tangible click of a key turning in the lock on the other side of the doorknob that she was holding. Her heart skipped a beat, and nearly stopped from the utter terror that was hers. Still she tried the doorknob. It wouldn't turn. She was locked outside with the demon.

The evil creature began advancing towards her, and as he did the remaining dim light surrounding the statue started to flicker and then it faded away completely. He was sucking the light in as he passed by. She was going to scream for help, but before she did, she realized that the people in the club would never hear her over the loud thumping of the music.

The music! In her terror she grasped at any way to save herself. Maybe, if she focused on something else, maybe his power wouldn’t be so strong over her. She listened closely; the club was playing a familiar song. She started to sing along.

“NO!” said the voice in an ungodly raspy voice that cut to her heart, and made her blood ice over. The demon flapped his wings again and this time it triggered a wind storm that blocked the sound of the music from the dance floor. It also caused the fallen leaves to scatter and swirl around her feet like a miniature tornado before dying out once again. To her horror, Liana couldn’t hear the music anymore. She searched her mind frantically for any sort of defense but found nothing.

Only Liana’s fear was present. She felt her knees buckling as the horror drifted closer. She let herself lean hard against the door, and slide down it slowly into a near fetal position. This was the end! Where was the voice when she needed him? Her angel had warned her not to come to the club. Maybe he wouldn’t save her now because she’d ignored his warning. She was going to die. The dark figure was almost upon her.

The monster was speaking in a low voice. He kept repeating the same thing over and over;

“You will die, and he will pay.” He was standing over her now. She dared a look in his eyes. They were the same ones from last night. Their full midnight blackness met her gaze.

“I’m going to suck your soul away and this time there won’t be an angel to save you!” He laughed.

Then he touched her arms. His touch was a cold suffocating fog. Liana felt herself weaken.

At first all she could do was stare but after what felt like an eternity of trying, she managed to tear her eyes away from the monstrosity that was going to end her life. Liana gazed up at the stars in the sky. She wished that the stars would share their light with her. Her vision faded, and she could feel the cold numbness of oblivion creeping up her limbs.

Right before she closed her eyes for what she thought would be the last time, she saw a bright streak of light appear in the sky. As she watched from another place outside herself, she saw the light zoom down and surround the dark figure. The light was fighting with the demon. The last thing she thought she saw before she fell unconscious was a flash of silver. The shaft of silver light was being wielded by the brighter light. It looked very much like a sword in the hands of an angel. Then she knew nothing more.

Liana was dreaming again, only she didn’t remember going home, or getting ready for bed. She also certainly didn’t remember going to sleep. It was a nice dream. Liana was being held by a brilliantly white angel with immaculate silver and white wings.

Liana heard music playing in the background. She recognized the song. She didn’t remember leaving her music playing but it was a nice song as the soundtrack to her dream. Liana was leaning against the angel’s chest and for some reason she couldn’t see his face. Then she realized that her hair was blocking her view.

Although she felt safe and perfectly calm in her dream, she also wanted to know what this angel looked like. She moved her hair away from her eyes which movement made her aware that she was actually awake. She wondered why she was in the arms of a brighter than sunlight being. Then she remembered the attack. The fear associated with the attack was gone. The angel seemed to be keeping the fear at bay.

Her vision didn’t clear even after she brushed her hair away from her face. He was so bright that even squinting didn’t help. All she could see was a silvery golden light. She felt as if she were staring at the sun. Then the figure spoke to her;

“I'm glad that you’re waking up. You’ve been out for a while, but with what happened to you it’s understandable. I’m sorry I was late. I didn’t mean for you to get hurt.” Liana started to sit up but as she did she felt warmth seeping from him into her body, into her very bones. It made her sleepy, and though she fought it with all her might, she couldn’t help but fall asleep again as the honeyed warmth surrounded her in a cocoon of peace.

In what was perhaps only a few moments more she awoke again, but the brilliantly golden figure was gone. Liana felt a shrinking pang in her heart at the realization that she was alone, lying in a heap on the ground in front of the door that led from the garden to the club. Her sadness at being alone after the experience of being held by the angel would’ve completely overwhelmed her, had she not heard a voice on the other side of the door calling her name. It took her a moment to recognize the voice. It was Quinn’s.

Liana slowly gathered herself in order to stand up, a task which drained her strength and she found that she had to lean heavily against the door in order to steady herself. She absent-mindedly brushed the leaves off her clothes as she stood up. She then turned to the door and at first hoarsely, and then more loudly told Quinn to find the key to unlock the door. It took a few moments but he finally made her understand that the key wasn’t on his side of the door.

“Look around on your side, Liana. The door is locked from the outside.” Liana searched. She saw the key lying on the ground near the statue. She offhandedly wondered how it had ended up out there, when she was pretty sure she remembered that the door had been locked from the inside.

Liana shuddered uncontrollably at the thought of approaching the place where the demon had first been standing. Yet she was desperate to get out of the garden which seemed eerie in the aftermath of her attack. She retrieved the key and opened the door. She was happy to see Quinn on the other side of the door. His face was full of concern.

Liana felt like falling into his arms, but she maintained her composure; “I’m sorry that I’ve been gone for so long. I didn't…” Quinn interrupted her.

“What do you mean gone for so long? I saw you walk through the door a few minutes ago, and I thought that you needed fresh air, so I figured I would bring your water out here, but you locked the door. Why would you do that?” Quinn asked with confusion. He had two glasses of water in his hands.

“No, I didn’t lock the door. I was following Scott... no wait it wasn’t Scott, it was a demon of some kind and he was the one who locked the door, or someone else did from the inside. I couldn’t get back into the club, and then I don’t remember much after that except that there was a bright light and an angel who fought the demon away, and then I woke up in the angel's arms. Then I fell asleep again. Then I woke up in front of the door.” Liana explained to Quinn in one big rush.

She could tell from the squint in his eyes that he was having a hard time believing what she’d told him.

“Come on Liana, I think I need to take you home.” Quinn said. Liana didn’t argue with that. She was ready to leave the club. Quinn put his hand on the small of her back, for which she was grateful, and he gently guided her through the crowd, and out into the parking lot. He carefully helped her into the car and then sat behind the wheel.

Liana wasn’t sure what to say to Quinn. "I'm worried about you Liana. Want to tell me what's going on?" Because she felt bad for fighting with him earlier, she decided that she needed to tell him exactly what was going on.

At first Quinn listened with incredulity, but once she’d described the attack the night before in her room, Quinn seemed to take her more seriously.

“Let me get this straight, you’ve been attacked twice by the same demon, and twice you’ve been saved by a voice?” Quinn asked.

“No, once it was a voice and a light, and the second time it was an angel with a sword.” She replied. Quinn was quiet for a moment, and she suspected that he was debating whether or not he should drive her straight to the mental hospital. Liana wouldn’t have been surprised if he did.

“Do you realize the significance of this?” Quinn said, surprising her with the kind of excitement that he only ever displayed when he was talking about comic book characters.

“No.” Liana said, shaking her head. She was puzzled at Quinn’s response. She was happy that he believed her bizarre story, but she worried that she’d told him too much.

In fact if anyone would know what was going on, it was Quinn. He spent a lot of his time studying the history of the supernatural. He was into ghost stories, and everything else that was paranormal. The more she thought about it, she decided that Quinn was exactly the right person to have told.

"You need to be careful. It’s easy for a demon to masquerade as angel, or to pretend to be someone else. A demon will sometimes attack and then change into an angel in order to create a false sense of security. It’s interesting that the demon chose to appear as someone you know and think you can trust. Chances are Scott was there but that he’s possessed.”

As Quinn said this, he couldn’t hide the fact that he was thrilled by the idea of Scott being the bad guy. He was also suggesting that her angel wasn’t an angel. That it was all an elaborate ruse. Liana was furious, but Quinn kept talking, and didn’t notice any change in her demeanor, at least not until she started arguing with him;

“How dare you accuse Scott of being a demon? Unbelievable! Yeah, sure the demon resembled Scott but that doesn’t mean it was him. You need to stop being so jealous! You’re letting it cloud your judgement!” Liana said, with as much defiance as she could muster. Not an easy feat since she was still weak from her encounter with the demon.

“Oh, that’s rich! You’re judgement's messed up, not mine!” Quinn shot back.

"How could you think that I wouldn’t know the difference between an angel and a demon? I know what I saw, and I think I’d know the difference between an angel and a demon.” Liana replied with as much indignity as her tired body could manage.

“Liana, I think you might’ve been too overwhelmed by your experiences to think clearly.” He said, discounting her. “I should’ve searched the garden when you first let me in. I wonder if I could’ve found something or someone.” Quinn added, not being subtle as to what he was implying.

Liana was angry with herself. She’d been wrong to share about the demon resembling Scott but she’d been overwhelmed by her experience. It'd all been so fresh in her mind, that she’d told Quinn before she’d had the presence of mind to think through things clearly. Quinn was now set on Scott being the villain.

Liana didn’t know what to think at the moment. Only days ago she'd been unaware that demons and angels were something that actually existed. Now she was fighting with Quinn over whether or not Scott was a demon.

Liana almost laughed at the ludicrous situation. Scott would probably laugh about it too. But she also remembered the fact that the voice had warned her not to trust Scott right before the hallucination of May dying, which had been right before Scott had driven up. Perhaps Quinn was right about the demon choosing the form of someone that she thought she could trust.

Quinn rambled on all the way home about his theories, but she tuned him out. At least he had something else to talk about, besides how selfish she’d been in her treatment of him.

Liana was relieved when Quinn finally dropped her at her house. She wasn't sure if she should take it as a bad sign that Quinn didn’t even bother to give her a hug as he was distracted by the idea of Scott being a demon.

“I hope you sleep well. I’ll do some research tomorrow to see what I can find out about angels and demons.” Quinn said as he waved goodbye. Liana almost asked him if he knew a way to keep demons from attacking but he was too preoccupied, and she was too tired to care at the moment. Let the demon come and attack her and get it over with. At least then she wouldn’t have to deal with her life anymore.

Liana was early getting home but her dad was still out. It wouldn’t have mattered had he been there, as he never paid any attention to whether or not she came in early or late.

Liana went to her room, grabbed her things and headed for another shower. As she stripped off her club clothes in the bathroom, she replayed the whole demon attack at the club, especially the angel saving her.

She couldn’t help but feel sad that she hadn’t been able to thank her guardian angel for rescuing her, especially after she’d ignored his warning in the first place. That was twice now that he’d saved her and she hadn’t thanked him properly yet.

After a long shower, she changed into her pajamas and headed to bed. All she wanted to do was sleep. Yet she was afraid to close her eyes. She lay in bed for what seemed like hours both longing for unconsciousness, and yet fearing it.

She would almost welcome her dream about the hit-and-run as opposed to the living nightmares she’d experienced the last few days. Hours seemed to go by and she was certain she would never sleep. Every time she started to fade out she would hear a sound, or she’d think the lights were growing dimmer. She'd left the Christmas lights on. She also had her music on. She'd prepared as much as possible for another attack. There was a monster and she wasn’t sure if it was going to appear in her room tonight.

She needed a plan. She would leave the heavy research to Quinn. She would simply focus on Scott. She would find out if he was everything he seemed to be. She thought about the last few days, and all of the time she’d already spent with him, and how she still knew next to nothing about him. It was finally all of the thoughts of Scott that sent her to sleep, with the last thought she had in her head being; why had the demon resembled Scott?

[optimus-jetpack]

Heat. At the beginning of time, the universe felt heat. A burning sensation that went with the beautiful act of creation. A heat that burned like a million sons shining on to the side of an iron wall reflecting its ever so blinding light. Heat is also the last feeling felt at the end. A fire roaring inside boiling oil and fluids alike to a point where the vapor vents with such a ferocity that on exit small vapor storms rush through the air before meeting the normally cool molecules that hang in the atmosphere. Heat is also the emotion the courses throw a warrior's veins as they fight for their very life, or to end a life. 

Monsters rampage through a purple and dark hall littered with melting pieces of scrap. Scrap of what once was Decepticon soldiers trying to close the floodgates that have already been opened. The tearing of metal and screams mixed into a melodic cacophony of metallic roars create a song of battle. A battle of Decepticons fighting beasts of metal and molten breath; swords adoring their backs and heads. Tails of clubs and maces fling to sides smashing down the supports of the hallway leaving behind ruined bodies along their path. The largest amongst them being a terror with powerful snapping jaws closing around multiples of soldiers at a time while using their large legs to crush the remaining living to death. The metal nightmare leans its head back and lets out a mighty bellow that can be heard over the sounds of clashing metal. To someone not in the hallway it would just sound like a cry as if a predator has captured its prey, but to those in the hallway the roar forms into a word… 

“SHOCKWAVE”

The mighty beast as it walks forward undergoes a transformation into a large robotic figure pulling a sword and a large blaster from some unknown area on their person. They stand tall staring into the end of a hallway into a room filled with a black voided pool where the light of the hallway is swallowed up and forgotten about. In the center of the void a villainous yellow orb of light swims. The other beasts behind the largest, Grimlock, change into forms of other robotic figures; trading out their natural weapons for different ones. A winged beast falls from the sky and lands on two feet standing up to meet Grimlock’s waist. The winged one known as Swoop, stands close to this leader hoping to feel bravery and camaraderie, only to feel heat escaping vents. The sickly yellow orb begins to move, dancing in the void as if trying to draw prey into a gaping maw they cannot see yet. Out of the void steps out a one eyed robotic figure with a wide chest. Where one hand should be some tool or weapon has been put in its place. This figure, known as Shockwave, is not a beast-men like the ones that stand before him but a predator nonetheless. Probably the most dangerous predator of all. A smart one.  

“Grimlock! Swoop! The…others!” Shockwave says as his arms raise from his side as if to embrace his impending doom. “I see the gifts I have given you are serving well, I knew they would for this!” He raises his arms higher preaching to a different choir. “This is who you were all meant to be! Beasts among bots!” 

Growls and snarls come from the entourage of these beasts at the opposite end of the corridor. A heavily armored one steps slightly forward but not in the way of Grimlock speaks up. “Where Paddles?” He swings his mace that was once his tail down onto his hand mimicking the sound of thunder on a metallic roof. 

Shockwave lowers his arms and slightly bows, gesturing towards the void. “Why Skar? Paddles is just in here.” 

Servos tighten from the group of warriors, shifting the air in the small hallway. Grimlock shifts his weight to lead in with his sword. With a flick of his hand it erupts in a burning blue flame. “PADDLES” a cry from the back coming from a slender warrior woman as she bounds over all of the taller monsters ahead of her and dashes towards the void at lighting speed whipping a small whip made of daggers. In one moment, it feels like minutes go by as Swoop looks up toward the racing fighter and back to the menacing Shockwave. Despite not having a mouth, Swoop swore a glint of glee went across the massive eye. In this one moment Swoop calls out to the warrior woman as a warning “Slash no!” 

This one moment will be the only regret Slash carries for the remainder of her life. 

Even with her quick speed, Shockwave twists in a burst of movement holding out his gun arm and lands a blast into the waist of Slash, almost separating her from her lower half as she loses control of her momentum and slips into the void room. Some soldiers would have hesitated, tacticians would have prevented it, defenders would have jumped into the path of fire. These figures, these bots, were not soldiers, tacticians or defenders anymore. They were no longer warriors. These were beasts and beasts do not hesitate, they rage. 

A raging roar, a deafening roar, a fearsome roar let out by these beast-bots echoed into the hallway as they charged forward. An echo that would stain the foundation of this hallway and this moment for another millennia. Only if these beasts were not beasts, they would have seen the trap that laid before them. Quickly on his wrist pad, Shockwave ran into the voided room and turned on the space bridge. The light of the space bridge filled the void room with a haunting purple glow, showing the silhouette of Slash’s body twitching on the ground. Shockwave ran to the control panel and encased himself in a shield as the rampaging storm of violence entered. Too fast and full of rage they did not notice the door close behind them as the beast-bots entered the room. They tried to stop upon entering and  began to skid and fumble on each other forming the storm from violence to confusion. Despite the lack of grace, Swoop quickly got to Slash before the storm stomped her remains. All of them were forced into the portal by their own mistakes. Grimlock took one last long look into Shockwave’s eye as he barreled with his beasts into the space bridge. Burning the Shockwave’s look into his memory banks, hate purging frivolous  memories of the past as revenge begins to consume Grimlock for good. 

All the bots fall on top of each other into some organic patch of cool and softness. The noise of their chaotic entrance shook the ground causing things to run and flee from it. Once they gain their bearings Grimlock stands up and looks around. In front of him strange structures not made of metal stand tall. Taller than him but not taller than the buildings on Cybertron stand with a sense of age and integrity. The tops of them sway in the slight wind. They fall into a pattern that would suggest they are standing in a clearing. Turning around Grimlock sees where they came from. A space bridge stands in the middle of a clearing surrounded by strange structures. The swaying structures seemingly mock Grimlock as they clash in a deep dark red color from his “integrated” visor. He sneers as he looks around hoping to see another color other than red.

Skar speaks up, “Grimlock. Slash hurt. Slash need energon.” Grimlock spins around and with only one step clears a short distance to Skar and the wounded Slash. Two of the other beast-bots speak up. One cladded with spines across his back and body and the other with a large hood with long horns that come off the back, “Snarl say leave Slash!” the spined one snarls. “Slash…weak…” the horned one says slowly as if every breath was his last. Swoop and Skar exchange glances of anger, “Slag. Snarl. Why say rude thing to Slash?” Swoop asks in disdain, “Slag and Snarl scared Slash is stronger than them?” Snarl and Slag begin to rear they’re weapons towards Swoop. Skar stood and covered the twitching body of Slash. Heat began to vent from the beast-bots until Grimlock stood in between them. Towering over all of them. He let out a low growl, “No one stronger than me Grimlock. Slash is on team like Paddles. Team help team as long as Grimlock is strongest.” His vents constantly let out large amounts of hot air that the soft organic ground singes at his feet. Slag and Snarl lower their weapons as Swoop stares into Grimlock’s visor. Swoop searches for a long time looking for the old gentle eyes of their leader only to be always met with the glaring red glow of rage and pain. 

All of the bots had more to say. The way they speak to each other is slow, blunt and deliberate as they all search their memories for the words they want but can’t find them as if they were locked in a chest and thrown to the bottom of the sea. Grimlock looks towards Skar, “Check bridge.” he says “Extra energon maybe there.” Skar slowly picks up Slash as her body shudders at every movement. “Grim…lock…” Slash looks up in pain, barely able to speak. “Me…sorry…me…lost…” Grimlock stares and looks away, dismissing Slash and Skar with a grunt as they look for energon. One of the beast-bots away from the rest, wide and large in stature, knelt down staring at a small patch of the organic matter on the ground. It sways in the breeze like the tall structures but not as slightly and its main body not as wide. On the end sticking in the air are incredibly thin organic material in a bright yellow color. Of course as Grimlock walks over, all of the matter is red. The wide bot looks up at Grimlock, “Sludge found pretty.” Sludge points to the organic matter. Grimlock snorts and walks back toward the space bridge. He doesn’t know what’s so pretty about red. 

The space bridge is practically deserted. Whatever Cybertroians worked here before left a while ago leaving almost nothing behind. Skar did find the emergency energon storage but they came upon a problem. Skar was not a technician but he knew that this energon was for powering the bridge to use it again and there was not enough to heal Slash and power the bridge. “Swoop” he called out. Swoop flying over ahead looking across for any more threats along the organic structures flew down to perch on the bridge. Flying always made Swoop feel more at ease, he wished he could share this ease with Grimlock. Holding on to his frame, feeling his exhaust in the wind. The thought left him and returned to focus, Skar needed to say something. Skar pointed at the energon, “ Not enough for both. Need to choose.” Despite the lack of words, pain hit hard in Skar’s voice. As a once combat medic he did not want to make another hard choice, especially with a member of his team. Swoop squawked towards the roaming bots, “TEAM MEET”. As they lumbered over Swoop transformed back and lept down near Slash. A large hole glared back in the middle of Slash’s waist, sparking down on the organic ground. Slash weakly looked at Swoop and smiled. Slash and Swoop were no strangers to wounds, but where Slash was optimistic, Swoop was not. 

Grimlock spoke up, “Why Slash still hurt Skar?” Skar groaned slightly, “Not enough energon to go home and help Slash. Grimlock strong leader, what Grimlock say?” Grimlock meets gaze with Slash. He searches hard for an answer. A memory of Slash before. His memory filled now only with the image of Shockwave, images filled with red rage of finding Slash in a cramped cage being prodded by Decepticon soldiers doing “tests” Grimlock looks hard for a kind memory of Slash only to find their shared pain. A pain that he would want an end too. “Me say…” Grimlock begins to speak, “To… Slash… stop pain…stop PAIN!” Grimlock takes his large fists and crushes a console not caring if it was important. “WHY ALL GRIMLOCK FEEL PAIN? GRIMLOCK IS STRONGEST!” Grimlock bellows as he does more damage to the space bridge. Realizing that his destruction will cause more problems Sludge, Snarl and Slag jump on to Grimlock to try and stop him. “Calm Grimlock!” Sludge says as he goes for Grimlocks mighty arms crushing the weak Decepticon structure. Slag and Snarl both struggle to hold on to Grimlock’s torso as with the three of them trying to hold him down while moving along. “GRIMLOCK STRONG, WHY PAIN IF GRIMLOCK STRONG?” Grimlock roars using all his might to let out his emotions the only way his brain will let him. He searches hard for the words, words he no longer knows, words that have no meaning to him. All he sees is red, all he remembers is red. As he goes to break off his comrades off of his frame Swoop swings in front of him and holds Grimlock’s face in his hands. Swoop stares deep into the red of the visor, “Grimlock can be strong with pain, Grimlock strong but strongest with us.” Swoop says trying to break through the raging sea of red that consumes Grimlock’s vision. Grimlock, arms partially raised in the air with three team members on him struggling to stop him, slowly lowers them down and falls to his knees. “Me…” Grimlock breathes out, “Me hate Shockwave… but will not hate Shockwave more than like team…” The others let go of Grimlock and stand around him. Skar assessing the space bridge damage, takes the energon and some scrap and begins to help Slash. 

Not knowing where to go, the bots stay by the space bridge in hopes someone will open another bridge on Cypertron and create an opening. In the late night, Sludge, Slag, and Snarl mess around with their fire and magma abilities and beginning cutting the tall structures and making a fire. Skar sits with Slash by the space bridge tending to her wounds. Slash sits up, feeling better already but stares out somberly at the broken consoles around the bridge. Near the edge of the bridge, Grimlock stands and stares into the night sky. With every grunt hot steam escapes his vents as all the stars only show as red lights onto the sky. The old colors he does not remember anymore only show up as red. He goes to turn away when he notices Swoop approaching him. Swoop walks up and asks, “Leader Grimlock, ok?” Grimlock lets out a heavy sigh with a large cloud of steam that surrounds the both of them. As if almost trying to hide in a cloud like suns do. Grimlock looks down towards his feet, “Me, Grimlock, only see…red. Me do not want team to only see red.” Swoop steps closer and Grimlock looks into his eyes, “Me, Grimlock, do not want Swoop to only see red.” Swoop’s hands tremble as he wants to hold Grimlock again. To feel his intoxicating heat run through his spark. Instead, Swoop nods and looks to the sky, “Grimlock want Swoop to say not red for sky?” Swoop points up into the clear night sky, pointing at a swirl of oranges, purples, blues and yellows as they stare at a galaxy that is not their own. “Me, Grimlock, would like Swoop to do that.” Even without the right words, the message is clear. Swoop through most of the night until they fall asleep and tells Grimlock about the sky.

Head Canon for Whumptober

So it'll be my first whumptober and doing some Transformers writing but I wanted to post a main post where my ideas are coming from and where it can be a one stop shop on my page.

So I am going to be writing about Grimlock as my whumper? whumpee? Not sure but he is one of my all time favorite characters and I think the story of War of Cybertron and Fall of Cybertron really makes his story a place to explore as well as the other dinobots!

For this whumptober I will be drawing from a personal head canon I have of that story line with Grimlock and the other dinobots. I am sure there is official lore for some of this stuff but this writing will be more fanfic then anything. But here we go.

Before the Dinobots, in an Era of Peace

Grimlock and the other "dinobots" at this time before the war were not the dinosaur alt forms we know them as. Instead at this time they were a group of mining bots that mainly worked smelting different ores into metals or energon.

The team:

Grimlock (team lead)

Slag (Smelter)

Sludge (Miner)

Snarl (Miner)

Swoop (Utility)

Slash (Transporter)

Skar (medical staff)

Paddles (Just hangs out lol)

Begrudgingly these bots did their jobs day in and day out on Cybertron. Most of the other bots stayed out of their way due to their hot headed nature but together they are a close tight family. Grimlock is that type of bot that is the fasteners to bolts, the wax that sticks to the exterior. He knows exactly how to deescalate Slag's temper, make Snarl feel included and always invites Paddles to the gangs bar outings. He loves his family and knows they are the best team on Cybertron!

During this time, Swoop always admired Grimlock. They are always following Grimlock around, talking and hanging out but too afraid to share their stronger feelings with him. It takes a major event to finally get Swoop to admit their feelings but at this point it might be too late...

When the war begins, Grimlock had his team stay neutral till a group of Decepticons tried to take their hard earned energon stash. Grimlock and the others destroyed them in battle and all of them had an epiphany of sorts. They all loved to fight. Optimus Prime came to them in a time of need and they all gladly joined as long as a fight was promised. Grimlock and his team became elite shock troopers for the Autobot cause. They were the first to fight, clearing path after path for Autobot armies as the civil war kept growing across Cypertron. A bond already forged by iron was now forged by fire as they all engaged in battle together. They were unstoppable, until they weren't.

Disaster Strikes

Near the end of the war Optimus sends Grimlock and his crew to disrupt a Decepticon supply chain, but once they arrived it was actually an ambush planned by Shockwave. For cycles Shockwave was studying the team to learn how to break them and he found that their special constructed mining bodies were perfect for alt form experiments. Shockwave takes them in, separated them into different labs and began to change them into monstrous forms. Sacrificing their minds to give them more servos, more metal, more primal. Upon waking up Grimlock goes into a rampage, frees his team and they escape through a space bridge to a Jurassic age Earth where they have to face their new forms.

Whumptober Writing

So my writing will start at different points in between the small timeline I outlined. I am not sure how many people will actually read this but keep a close eye to the post as I update it next month.

[gloryofluv]

Demonic Hunt

Reader x Diavolo

The drumming of feet was nowhere near the speed you needed as you raced through the dim halls. Slow thuds behind you announced in clarity how helpless escape truly was. He was stalking, salivating, savoring every quickened heartbeat.

You raced to the main entrance and glanced back to see the darkened silhouette with frightening boldness in the low light. He was giant and intimidating. Let’s not forget terrifying as his wings shuddered in anticipation.

Where could you run? The door was locked. The windows likely were as well. The staircase was your only avenue. Possibly finding the ability to hide until his attention was elsewhere. 

Your breath was escaping your lungs as you lunged up the steps, nearly tripping over the last two to reach the broad corridor. Trying door after door. Nothing was unlocked. A quivering fear was building around the anxiety to get away. 

A final try at the end of the hall led you to what appeared to be a sitting room. Oh, no, not a sitting room. His quarters. You entered the damn demon’s bedroom!

The error of your ways was only solidified when the door slammed open and he appeared with gleaming eyes and a menacing smile. No words. He was far more insidious when he didn’t speak and your heart was trying to find an exit strategy of its own.

Step. Step. Step. His wings shifted as he stood straight and towering over your small frame. His finger with a darkened nail moved toward you. It touched your sternum with a direct push, causing you to collapse to a seated position on his bed.

A moment of silence as your eyes widened up at his daunting frame. Your breath escaped like a maddening flame of vapor and anxiety while your throat ran coarse from it. The intensity of such a moment in time.

“Tag, you’re it,” he smiled.

Damnit. Now you were never going to leave… Another round. Diavolo laughed and raced from the room as you shifted on his bed and breathed. It was going to be a long night.

The real question... did you mind?

[shewhowillnotbenamed1]

@cayeeast​ 🥰 You are never too late, my inbox is always open. :) I hope Damirae?! I have to preface this:  I apologize in advance. I don’t really do fics like these—this is the first. But I want to grow, be a better writer, and try new things. I have never written anything like this before, so honestly, THANK YOU.

Prompts

--------------------------

"More sauvignon blanc, Miss?"

A bottle of wine was withdrawn from the metal ice bucket, lifted by their waiter's practiced hands. Beads of ice cold perspiration were congealing, beginning to travel downward as Raven swallowed another gulp of air. Though it was slight, her grasp began to shake around her cutlery. She had done her very best not to look at the bottle during the duration of the meal.

Now it was practically in her face, sweating.

Her breath hitched in her throat, as she watched the condensation continuing a steady drip.

It was quite possibly mocking her.

The moment seemed to stretch on before veering into uncomfortable, until both gentlemen glanced down at her untouched white.

"Malbec, sir?"

"Please."

The waiter gently replaced the white before disturbing the red. He swept around the table to refill another glass for Damian, who murmured a polite thanks.

Damian fingered the long, thin stemmed wine glass and turned it towards himself in circles. Several rotations were completed to air out the liquor. He guided the blackened magenta beverage to his lips and sipped thoughtfully.

"Raven."

Though Raven didn't immediately glance up, she was focusing on her meal rather intently. She shuffled slices of swordfish steak and capers to make them chase her chanterelle mushrooms and root vegetables around the triangular shaped plate in different patterns.

Of course, the half-demon was sure to select the appropriately suited silverware as she did so. Her efforts were starting to slow, however, as the lemon cream sauce became nearly nauseating when paired with seafood vapors.

Did fish always smell quite so pungent?

"Is there something wrong with the food?" She refocused on the handsome face of her dining companion, flickering in and out of the candelabra light.

"No, it's wonderful," Raven insisted. "Really, wonderful—great... presentation." His emerald eyes parsed the perfectly placed parsley and the latticework of sauce that was now a soupy mess saturating a plate of parsnips and fish.

"Oh, well it must have been." Damian exhaled sharply out of the corner of his mouth. "But, I'll always say nothing is too beautiful to eat..." He drawled.

"I guess I'm not as hungry as I thought..." she mumbled, flushing a little more than delicately.

"I hope our waiter doesn't insinuate to the kitchen that the meal fell short of perfection tonight. If the chef doesn't already know..." He scanned the perimeter of the dining room, as if expecting to be ambushed by the staff or a number of dining guests.

"I'm willing to bet if it wasn't so busy, he'd be out here himself, demanding to know what's wrong with the food." He cut his steak as he reminisced. "Remember what happened the time you asked for salt...?"

"It could just be me." Subtly, she slid her plate nearer to the center of the table. "Even though, I'll never be fully assured that fish is the best idea on a Monday... Are you sure it's fresh?"

"Is it fresh?"

A part of her was teasing, but Damian physically recoiled an inch. To insinuate that he would frequent an establishment that would serve his fiancée day old fish? His face was drawn with his jaw so set, it was as though he had been slapped—or someone in the vicinity had insulted his mother.

"I called ahead. That swordfish was caught earlier today. They're in season, sustainably sourced, and delivered directly to the restaurant—"

And with a menu that read: price available upon request, where other establishments printed dollar amounts, they all but prepared it table-side.

"But... you didn't follow them to the docks?" She asked in a deadpan. "You didn't call the fishmonger either? And I'm guessing, you didn't stand in the kitchen and observe the process?" Raven folded her arms. "Well, I don't understand how someone who takes shortcuts manages to run a billion-dollar corporation."

Raven wasn't at all new to this and she wasn't sure she would ever fully get used to it.

But sarcasm always helped.

"I was under the impression it was your favorite... You enjoyed it so much when we were here months ago." Damian's eyes darkened and then shone, like a man accepting a challenge. "Have your tastes changed already?"

"It's just... It's a little strong—the smell." Raven cleared her throat with her cheeks draining of their remaining color. "It's much stronger than I remember."

"Tell me... Is it work?" He surveyed the tail-coated waiter standing at the ready and lowered his voice accordingly. "Is it...something else?"

This was meant to speak of their nightly activities, the ones that involved aliases, capes, and crime.

Well, the other ones that involved aliases, capes, and crime—no safe words.

Inwardly, Raven groaned, because once again she was reminded of how much harder this could become.

By Azar's blood.

"It's not...that either. My stomach really is too unsettled for fish today." She took the napkin from her lap to wipe her mouth. "Normally it wouldn't be, but maybe... I'm a little unsettled, too."

"Tch... Well, I knew there had to be something." A half frown stole across Damian's full lips. "It's me, Raven... And this is us. We don't hide things from each other. Not anymore."

"I know." She heard her voice wavering. "I know that..."

"If there's anything at all, you'll tell me." He reached across the table to brush her hand. "If you're unhappy, tell me. I'll do whatever I can..." he whispered, lifting his eyebrows to punctuate his next words. "And I mean... anything."

Now Raven couldn't contain a crude snort. "I know, Damian."

"We can stop by a jewelry store - that engagement ring looks awfully lonely by itself." She sucked her teeth in a manner that was less than refined.

"Shoe store then... You can never have too many pairs of those very similar—" Haughtily, Raven blew air up through the side of her mouth to ruffle through her hair. "—but different, black pairs of boots..."

"We can take a trip..." His voice grew lower still. "...have a threesome." But, that one might have been a question rather than a suggestion. And as he pondered his words, his fork went sailing straight through the remainder of his steak without the aid of the knife. "Well...maybe not that last one."

"You're incredible...suggesting a ménage à trois at a French restaurant? Coquin." The half demon shook her napkin at him. "I'd laugh if this fish wasn't making my eyes water."

"Well, I'd do anything for you..." he replied evenly. "If it would make you happy, I'd even consider thinking about that last." And Raven shot her lavender eyes straight up towards the domed ceiling. They both knew the truth. "Maybe someday in the far, far future..."

As if he would ever share her.

That was exactly right, wasn't it? As if he would ever share her, or their lives with anyone?

Why would he?

They lived on the top floor of an elegant building in Gotham with a vintage lift whose golden grills led straight out into their penthouse apartment. But, it could be argued that the building wouldn't have been complete without their elderly doorman, Tom.

On the daily, he hailed cabs for Raven. Semi-weekly, he handed Damian hangers of dry-cleaning that refilled their twin walk-in closets of the numerous suits, trousers, and shirts and monochromatic dresses, blouses, and skirts.

Each morning, he bade Raven good morning as she went off to work and each night he held the door as he bade Damian good evening, a spectator in the lover's lockstep.

Weekly, Damian and Raven maintained long-standing lunch dates clustered in his corner office at Wayne Technologies. Monthly, the couple attended Sunday brunch with the extended clan of brothers, sisters, partners, kids, and pets all assembled together at the Manor.

Yes, there were others in their lives.

Even though Damian would argue they existed more or less on the fringes of a tapestry, while he kept her framed at the center.

Still, he seemed to love everything exactly as it was and he was in no hurry to change it. Especially when every night ended with them tangled together in their king-sized bed.

Two.

Plus one dog.

Titus was the only exception. Unless things changed in the far, far future.

"Do you mind if we cut dinner short?" Raven suddenly suggested. It must have been abrupt because Damian seemed caught off guard. "I think I want to go home early, curl up next to you, and finish those final pages of my book."

"Alright." He signaled for the check. "I'd like that... We'll get you home and I want your final thoughts on the ending. They better be scathing." The waiter reappeared instantly and it was like he'd never left. And even though his eyes remained lowered to the ground, she knew he had to be appraising her.

Raven mumbled something about the ladies room. She considered splashing her face with water and giving herself a pep talk. But to what end? The evening had already gone array. Something unexpected had cropped up.

Unexpected.

How was she supposed to tell him this?

Damian was a planner and for the most part, so was she. They didn't do unexpected.

"Actually, I'm going to grab my coat."

She excused herself and placed her napkin next to the untouched glass of wine. Her feet were pinched tighter in the heels with every step towards the exit. Raven followed the partition around the perimeter of the dining room, arriving at the stairs to the entrance hall.

As she waited in the queue for her coat, her eyes wandered past the sweeping architecture and up the wrap around staircase, where Damian was probably talking to the head chef and the owner. Just as he predicted.

She handed over her ticket, her heart leaping towards her chest as the end of the evening dawned on her. And as Raven grabbed the coat, she wanted to whirl around in her uncomfortable heels and march back up those stairs. Uncaring of her rudeness, she'd steal Damian away, tug him towards the hallway with the row of chandeliers and kiss him.

And tell him absolutely everything.

She would tell him why La Chandelle wasn't at all appealing tonight. She would tell him why she'd suggested going out to dinner in the first place. She would tell him why things had changed so suddenly.

And why everything could.

Instead, she slunk away. Out of the restaurant. Onward. The best she could do now was hope: hope they could get home, hope she could get out of these heels as soon as she could. And then, Raven would figure out how to tell him tomorrow.

--------------------------

"Raven?"

Damian was racing down the stone front steps of the restaurant to meet her at the curb.

"There you are." He was hurriedly slipping a pea coat over his suit jacket and he sounded nearly breathless. "Where did you go?"

"The coat check. Did you get the car?" Her voice sounded small and defeated. "I really, really want to get home..."

"I can see that," He deadpanned. "But that's not what I meant and we both know that." His brown-black brows began to knit together. "You were somewhere else for most of the evening. I know when you slip into your mind fortress and this is different from that. So where did you go, Raven?"

She swallowed and held out her hand for him to take. They walked a few steps in silence, turning towards a side street. The sound of laughter, music, and chatter faded away and for the first time all evening, she felt like she could finally think. Raven exhaled, deciding this was far enough.

"Damian, when I asked about dinner," she began. "I wasn't expecting this... I figured we were going somewhere with a little less wine and a little less fish—less wine cooked into fish..."

He blinked, processing slowly with his hands in his pockets, his head pointed down towards the cobblestone street, coated in a mixture of oil and water. It had to have rained recently. "Well, it's not too late, we can go somewhere else—nothing French, I promise."

He licked his lips before he continued, probably sensing her apprehension. "We can go to that noodle place and ask for two pots of oolong tea instead of the usual one... Or we can just grab tea?" He offered. "But if you're too tired, we can always make it at home. I'll make yours with the biggest, widest mug and saucer we have."

"So you're just...not going to give up on tonight, are you?" Raven murmured, her lavender hair moving as she shook her head from side to side, as if wondering who this man was.

"No, I don't think I will." A smirk started up on his face. "That's the thing about having a fiancée. You can't get rid of me that easily." He tapped her cheek good-naturedly and ghosted over her forehead with his lips. "I'm always going to be here."

"Didn't we...just get engaged?"

"Is that what this is about...?" Her husband-to-be searched every single inch and orifice on her face. "We can slow things down or postpone the wedding for a few months. The last thing I want you is for you to be stressed about this."

"What I mean is..." She ran a hand across her damp forehead. "Gods, I had this whole speech planned—how I was going to tell you..." Raven's unease fell away when she felt warmth radiating in waves, like he was lending her strength.

"Anything," he whispered. "You can tell me anything." He placed his arms on her shoulders.

Raven took a deep breath, her eyes locked on his, and—

"I'm pregnant."

The words froze suspended before them in midair. Damian continued to stare at her, but without blinking. Then, Raven nodded. And then Damian started to nod too.

She couldn't believe she said it aloud; she couldn't believe that it even happened. "I know it should be impossible... And not just that it's too soon."

"You're..." Damian breathed. "You're pregnant."

And he was taking her hands with his own to squeeze them tight. He started to smile—not just smile, he was beaming in a way Raven had only seen once before: when she said yes. This was more than elation, he was in absolute awe of her. He lifted her from the rain-soaked street in a generous hug to sweep her right off her feet.

Damian was holding her, lifting her. Supporting her from below. He was staring up, as his breath streamed sweet steam swirling against the seam of her lips. From somewhere inside blooming outward, was a warmth that no amount of healing or surge of power or strike of hellfire could ever compare.

And he too was giving himself over to this sensation.

With fingers gliding through his hair, eyes welling emotion, she nodded again. And she wrapped her arms around his neck, and drew closer to connect. Deeply, gently, then sweetly, they kissed into the night.

--------------------------

Damian feathered his lips over hers, placing her gingerly onto her feet. And he was grinning madly at her. Then, his grin slid down a little. And then a lot.

His mouth opened, like he was about to say something. He started to talk and stopped. Started and stopped.

"The wine—"

"The fish—"

He ran a hand down his face while he replayed the events of tonight. "I'm such a goddamned idiot. I'm so sorry, Raven."

"It was a nice meal. I had a great time. So, I couldn't eat anything or drink anything—so what?" Raven chuckled. Whatever cruel sense of irony there was in the world, it was a wonderful night. "You know, it's actually hilarious in hindsight, and now we have a funny story to tell our friends... A-and our—our—"

She was enveloped by the warmest, safest embrace Damian could manage as he was trembling. He rocked her and held her tight, inhaling deeper and exhaling harder until they both relaxed. "I am sorry. I should have sensed something more was going on."

"Well, neither of us thought this was even possible. Up until three days ago, I didn't know it was," Raven blurted. And it felt so good to blurt around him again. "We live together. I could have said it at breakfast. Or at the movies on Sunday... When we were in the shower together, last night. I'm the idiot. "

"The shower..." he repeated. "So that's why you were a little touchy about your body." She groaned loudly—this was not happening. "Raven, you've got absolutely nothing to worry about," Damian insisted. "And besides, you're not even showing yet."

"That's what you think," she grumbled.

His lips curled up. "Habibti." Raven raised an eyebrow. She knew as well as he did, that he had better choose that next sentence very carefully. "Habibti... you've always had an aura glowing about you, only now it's just going to grow brighter."

"Pfft," Raven muttered. "Right. As I grow bigger and rounder."

"You know what, yes," he scoffed. "You will get bigger and I don't care. For that matter, neither should you." Gingerly tilted her chin towards him. The way he was gazing at her, with unconditional love, understanding. "You'll be just as beautiful—equally exquisite."

Who could ever doubt Damian?

"And you'll be even more sensitive in all the right places." His low voice was filled with the darkest promises of sin. "I can hardly wait."

"You're dangerous," Raven murmured, knowing she was turning pink.

"Dangerous?" His nose traced the curve of her neck, as the skin shivered.

"As if you didn't know," she said flatly. "It's probably how you managed to conceive with a half-demon in the first place."

She felt him chuckle into her skin, then it morphed into something like a groan. "So, I botched dinner... And sex in the shower... I should have drawn you a nice, hot soak in the tub... Gone down on you for an hour at least...gone a few blocks past the park to grab some slices of 99 cent pizza..."

"How did you know about the pizza?" Raven's eyes widened on her flushed face. "Did Tom tell you?" Whenever Raven said she was going to 'feed the pigeons in the park', what it really meant was she was going to cut through the park to grab a slice of the cheapest pizza she could get her hands on.

So much for the code.

"You actually thought that was a secret?" And when Damian rolled his eyes, he looked less worried and more like his usual surly self. "Please. I've seen the napkins and the pathetic excuses for paper plates... Really, I should have known something was up, there were a few more than usual."

Through the ovens of pizza and pregnancy, he knew and he loved her.

And Raven threw herself forward and held him tightly to her. "You're sort of perfect, you know that?" she mumbled into the hard chest, smelling the usual amber and spiced apricot. She lifted her head and he brushed an errant strand of lavender from her eyes. "I don't want to cut tonight short. Actually... I kind of want frozen yogurt."

"Fro-yo it is."

And as they walked, he bent his head towards her. He touched her face and murmured, "I...can't believe you're carrying my child..."

Damian began to kiss her so avidly, so impatiently, they had to stop in the middle of the sidewalk. She was moaning and pulling pomegranate and malbec from his lips until they were both breathless.

Damian gave her a final peck and they walked back to the restaurant. It was all such a daze, Raven barely remembered him asking the valet to bring their car around. She made a motion towards the door and she noticed he'd already held the passenger side ajar for her.

"I can still do that myself."

"Hmm..." He stared off into the distance with a vague smile, as though contemplating their future. "You're going to fight me at every turn aren't you?"

"No," Raven said quickly. His eyes flickered faintly with amusement. "Not frozen yogurt—I want ice cream. Real, honest-to-goodness, ice cream made with cream, and all the toppings. Whipped cream, hot fudge..."

--------------------------

"Birdie's Diner?"

"Ignore the name, it's a good restaurant. I used to come here all the time, even before we were—" Raven was trying to pull his fingers aside to see his flushed face lit by the bright neon sign. "All diners serve eggs, alright? I'm sure that's all it means."

"And that's the only thing that drew you here?"

He hung his head in defeat before holding the door. "After you."

There were low lamps hanging over the booths and classic rock stringing out of a jukebox in the corner. Raven hadn't been to a diner like this one in well, ever. The hostess handed over two laminated menus and told them to seat themselves. So Raven sat in a red vinyl booth in the back corner, and very discreetly, slipped off her heels.

Instantly, it felt much homier than La Chandelle.

"Raven, we're getting you the best OB in Gotham—that's non-negotiable," Damian was saying. One coffee down and he picked up exactly where he'd left off in the car, driving and planning particulars. "Or Kori can recommend us hers - they're probably accustomed to working with unique cases."

Demonic blood or not, Raven sincerely doubted there was any OB-GYN in the city that wouldn't pass off a patient or two on a colleague, to quite literally, bag a Wayne baby.

The caffeine had fully set in because he was drumming his fingers absentmindedly on the table while he spoke. "It'll cost us another Sunday morning, because you know Kori will want to do an extended brunch when we tell her and Dick the news."

And the second they told her, Raven would promptly conjure up an extra-strength, soundproof barrier around her cellphone to contain the joyous shrieks. And she'd probably have to buy a new phone.

"But it'll be worth it... You know what, it's not too late, I can probably call Dick right now." His left hand darted towards his pocket.

"No. No, you won't." She placed her hand over his. "We'll do it in the morning. Tonight, you're going to sit here with me and eat ice cream, okay?" Then, her ears perked up in a way that Titus would have been proud of. Hearing the sound of a whipped cream dispenser, behind the diner counter, she was almost gleeful. Her ice cream was in transit and was arriving on a round, plastic serving tray.

"Here ya go, sweethearts." A waffle-printed glass dish and two spoons were deposited onto the smooth, scrubbed surface between them. "Enjoy."

"Thank you." She smiled back at the kindly woman in the light blue waitress uniform, with a name tag that read Shirley.

Cookies and cream on a bed of bananas, crushed oreos. Whipped cream and hot fudge. Even one of those radioactive-red cherries on top. And it was absolutely wonderful. She passed Damian one of the long, thin-handled spoons, which they both knew was ill-suited for ice cream. According to Alfred, it was technically for iced tea, but appropriate cutlery was far from her mind. She tapped her spoon to his.

Cheers.

Raven dug in and moaned. In a word it was: heavenly, and far better than she could remember of ice cream. Six more bites and she could just imagine the tip of her spoon about to hit the bottom of her half. That cherry was hers.

"Hey Damian," she nudged his spoon with her own. "Now you're not eating."

"I was thinking..."

"You can think later... You've done more than enough." They would deal with the rest tomorrow. For now, she chose to think of this as a little celebration of the news—just between them.

"Come on, don't let me eat this alone... Sympathy weight starts tonight." She swallowed another spoonful while he glowered at her. And Raven knew full well he'd already had an entire steak earlier. "Don't worry about abs, your aura will just glow brighter."

"Tch—I wonder what genius said that..."

Raven snorted, but didn't argue. In fact, she was absolutely fine with riding Damian's abs—and hard body—straight into the next two trimesters.

"But I have to agree about one thing." Damian drew up his thumb, using it to wipe a smudge of whipped cream from her upper lip. "There is something about real cream..." He held her gaze as he licked his finger slowly.

The blood in Raven's core was warming, the temperature forming liquid fuel for an ache of a different kind. Officially, they had been together for over a year. And this man was now her fiancée. How did he always manage to turn her into some sort of sticky mess?

It had to be unnatural because it was utterly unfair.

Not so subtly, Raven tilted her head at the space next to her. And Damian joined her on the other side of the booth. The diner and the ice cream were so much better with his thigh lined against hers.

"Raven, can I...?" He hesitated, waiting for her approval. He held his hand up to her stomach.

"Of course you can."

Softly, he stroked the skin over her shirt, where the tiny swell would eventually grow. "Raven," he whispered at last, and she opened her eyes. "I want us to take that trip."

"A trip?" Her eyes were so wide only a sliver of purple remained. "A moment ago, you were talking about baby-proofing the apartment." He seemed unfazed. "Nannies? Au pairs? Daycare? What happened to buying every pregnancy and parenting guide our devices will permit? We can't take a trip, wouldn't that be an irresponsible start?"

"We can make time for something important like this," he insisted. "It could be good for you. And for us."

"Why in the name of Azar and all her disciples would this be a good idea?"

"Hear me out... A mother and father-to-be take a trip before the baby actually comes—a baby-moon. That's what they're called," Damian murmured. "I propose we take one, before our lives, and bodies change." He spooned a dollop of whipped cream and slid it between his lips. "What do you think?

"Oh..."

"We don't have to..." He said quickly and dropped the spoon in the dish.

"I think...it could be an interesting idea."

"If you think it's not for us," Damian reached for her and stroked her hair calmly. "I understand."

"No—Damian—we should do this." She searched his eyes. "I want to do this with you."

"Yes." Damian kissed the top of her head. "Just you and me, Raven. We can go anywhere you want."

[dabisrightnipple]

LIMERANCE

SUNA RINTAROU X READER

!!PLEASE DO NOT REPOST AND/OR ADD ONTO!!

Word Count: 6.8k

links

Li·mer·ance /hee-mer-annce/ noun The state of being infatuated with another person

a/n: All characters are aged up, college AU

Six Months. It’s been six months since that god-awful day. The day where your heart broke into a million pieces almost as if it were a glass vase being dropped from several stories. You still remember the way he looked at you. The way his face went from a sadistic smirk to wide-eyed with disbelief before his eyes relaxed and mouth curved into a smirk once more, a look that burned your heart with even the smallest glance.

'Baby what are you talking about? You know you can’t live without me, why would you do this to yourself?’   You still remember how the vibrations of his voice rang into your ears, waves of guilt flowing through your veins as you meet his deep green eyes.

You knew   he was manipulative, toxic, and just all-around a difficult person even though his flaws outweigh the good you still found yourself falling deeper and deeper into his little trap. You constantly found yourself getting lost in his touch again and again as if he's never harmed you, it's almost as if your brain forgot about all the shit he's done. You always ran back to him, your friends knew, Sunas’ teammates knew, and most of all Suna knew and he always took advantage of that.

You twitched as you felt an eraser hit the side of your head. You slowly look to your left seeing Kita giving you a cold stare.

“Pay attention.” he plainly said. You replied by nodding your head in acknowledgment as your eyes flickered back to the professor as he gave his closing statement before dismissing the class. You huffed out a sigh of relief as you shuffled your way out of the lecture hall, trying your best to avoid people since you weren’t exactly in the best mood.

Once you were outside you mindlessly walked to the small coffee shop located next to the campus library. Zoning out once again as you mindlessly stared out into nothing. Music flowing through your eardrums from your headphones as you walked along with the beat and to your dismay you were interrupted from your thoughts by none other than your ex himself, Suna.

You looked over at him and his friends longingly, regret filling your senses as you thought about all the volleyball games and parties you used to attend with them. You actually became quite good friends with the Miya twins, Aran and Sakusa. You admittedly missed hanging out with them but due to the unforeseen circumstances, you knew if you went anywhere near them you’d somehow end up back in Sunas bed.

Sighing once again, you adjusted your hair before looking straight ahead once again, focusing on getting to your destination. Little did you know, small, fox-like eyes were staring directly at you, soaking up your figure. He wasn’t done with you yet and he knew you weren’t either.

He tried his best, relentlessly using all the chances he could get to have you once again. He knew he was toxic but he didn't mind it. He secretly loved how hung up you were on him, it was as if he was a drug. Although he un-admittedly also thought of you as a drug, your warm features and soft-touch drove him crazy, and unbeknownst to you, you ‘breaking up with him only made him more addicted. It was hella toxic, even a 2nd grader could tell, but he just didn’t care and Suna knew that drove you over the edge.

You made your way across campus as you walked into the bustling coffee shop, the atmosphere softening at the sweet aroma of coffee. You relaxed as you quietly waited in line glancing around at all the other students studying, meeting with friends, or… on a date. You swiftly averted your eyes from the happy couple that sat in you and Sunas’ old spot, nevertheless being reminded of Suna again. Slowly peering back at the happy couple only to regret your decision…

It was a cold Sunday morning, you slowly stretched out your arms as you let out a little grunt of relief extending your weakened muscles. Before throwing your arms back onto your white silky sheets. It was nice, peaceful, quiet…

‘Ding’

You let out an obnoxious dissatisfied grunt at your phone interrupting your little tranquil moment, quickly picking up the phone without checking the caller ID.

“What?” venom dripped from your tongue as your perfect morning was now ruined.

“Wow baby, someone didn’t get enough sleep last night.”

“Oh- sorry, I just woke up.”

“I can tell sweetie~” Suna’s voice crept through the cellular device, his muffled voice thick with a hyogo accent as you paled slightly. “I’m going to the coffee house later to study for the upcoming midterms. Wanna come with?”

“Ughhhh,” You let out yet another dissatisfying groan, “Don’t remind me, but yea I’ll come. What time?”

“Eh, I don’t know, maybe around 4.” You looked at the clock reading the time '10:23 a.m.'

“Okay, I’ll meet you there in a bit. Bye, I love you.” You cooed, your once frustrated attitude now softening up. Although the warmth his voice gave you was comforting, Suna was being nice. Almost too nice…

You laid back down for a bit, dismissing the nagging thought by scrolling through Twitter, mentally preparing yourself for a fight that will probably break out between the two of you later on. You two always fought, but you also had a small feeling of hope that maybe, just maybe today would be a good day.

You looked up from your computer staring at Suna. Your eyes scanned over his features as you appreciated each little detail about him. Taking a small sip from your drink, your face softening at the wonderful feeling of the liquid rushing down your throat.

“Stop starting y/n, you're gonna distract me,” Suna whined, accentuating the last syllables of your name to be more dramatic.

“Ah, sorry I was just spacing out-”

"Mhm and I'm pregnant.” Suna dead-panned, looking at you with an eyebrow raised. “Y’know I'm not stupid y/n I can tell when a cutie, such as yourself likes what they see.” You started as Suna again, mouth hanging agape a bit. Mind racing with thoughts as you tried to figure out a smart-ass reply to the bastard.

Suna leaned over, arm traveling across the table as his large lanky hands brushed against your chin, closing your mouth. The cool metal from his rings nipped at your warm skin, causing you to twitch your head back in response.

“Baby, stop acting like this, do you really want me to get turned on right now. When I'm stressed and angry?” As much as you wouldn’t mind getting railed by him, you also had a final you needed to study for. You shook your head, watching as Suna retracted his arm and going back to type in whatever he was studying for. You took another elongated sip from your drink, letting out a sigh in content as you got back to typing in your notes.

“Next?” You heard the barista call out as you shook your head. You became self-aware of your surroundings once again before apologizing and placing your order. You apologized once more as you scurried off into a corner and waited for your name to be called.

After waiting for a good 10 minutes you received your order and shuffled your way through the crowded coffee house, trying your best to not bump into anybody. After exiting from the big glass doors you took a small sip of your drink. Your eyes glowering in delight as you continued to walk through campus, dodging students left and right.

Sighing in success you finally made it off-campus as you walked in the direction of your apartment. The climate started to drop along with the sun, the neon lights advertising various fast food restaurants flickered on.

Along the way you noticed a little ramen shop you and Suna used to frequent, you leisurely inhaled the air around you. Your lungs filling with the spicy, yet sweet aroma of the curry and ramen. Your mouth watered as you found your feet moving towards the entrance, walking into the small establishment, relishing the homey atmosphere as you made your way to the cash register. You ordered a mall takoyaki dish, delightfully watching as the employee prepared the dish in front of you. You said your thanks as you paid and made your way out of the little complex.

Sitting down on the closest curb you closed your eyes, basking in the soft moonlight as you munched on your salty snack. Sighing in content as you savored the chewiness as your esophagus warmed from the contact of the warm treat.

You opened your eyes, pupils being met with the neon glow of the Tokyo night lights before seeing blinding headlights shining down the street. Ears being met with the sound of Doja Cats’ song ' streets'   blaring on the radio as the car purred slowly through the street. Slowly coming to a complete stop right in front of you. The door forcefully swung open to reveal a tall brown-haired male, and before you could comprehend who it was-

“Hey, baby, happy six-month anniversary of ghosting me,” Suna grunted, voice deeper and harsher than what you had remembered. As you were deciphering what he meant, it hit you.

‘ This bitch’

“What do you mean by ghosting? I clearly broke up with you.” Your voice came out thick and laced with venom as you obnoxiously rolled your eyes.

A new wave of confidence washed over you. After all, you have been anticipating this moment for too long. The day Suna Rintarou will finally come crawling back to you. Sunas deep laugh reverberated through your ears as you peered up at him with a confused look, confidence now vaporing away as Suna’s tall body loomed over you.

“What are you talking about? You didn’t break up with me.” Suna’s eyes narrowed as the smirk on his lips grew, “Baby…” He whispered in a soft voice, which made your emotions come back. ' Shit, no this is exactly what he wants.’  

“Did you really think we broke up?” As if Suna’s voice couldn’t get any softer than it was, it was pure and sounded like he genuinely cared for you.

“I- I-”

“Hey, sweetie it’s okay,” You were weak, you knew you lost as soon as you stuttered but damn, him pulling the ' sweetie'  card really messed you up. “You’re just confused, here c’mon we’ll go to my place and talk, it’s cold outside.”

“No.”

“What did you just say to me?” It wasn’t even a split second and his voice dropped to a sound so putrid, you flinched in fear.

“I-I said no, okay? Now I’m going home please leave me alone.” You're requesting, trying your best to stand your ground against the chilling persona he gave off.

You closed your to-go box as you stood up, speed-walking away from Suna. You felt his eyes linger on your figure until you made a left, turning out of the alleyway and leaving his eyesight. A loud sigh of relief fled past your lips as you continued to stride your way back to your apartment. You checked the time seeing the digits read 8:42.

‘Damn I need to get home before the creeps come out’

You heard the loud roar of an engine behind you, you could tell whose engine that was from anywhere as you noticed the newfound shadow brewing in front of you from the headlights of said car.

HONK-

You jumped in surprise turning to your right as Suna pulled up next to you.

“Wha-”

“Get in the car.” You looked at him in disbelief, “NOW Y/N.” His voice rang through your ears, causing you to flinch in fear.

The tone of his voice struck a nerve, a nerve only he could hit. You felt as if a bullet had gone through your chest, mouth becoming dry as you shakily obeyed and opened the passenger door.

“Good girl, now sit still and look pretty, we’re gonna go home.” You kept quiet as he commanded you to do, looking out the window as you noticed he passed your apartment.

‘ oh, he meant his ‘home'

You looked down at your lap, anxiously fidgeting with the various rings cushioned on your fingers. Letting out a little displeased sigh as you got closer to his apartment, anxiety nipping at your skin causing goosebumps to trail down your arms. He always does this even before the so-called 'break-up' happened. pretending to not have any feelings unless situations like these occurred only when you two were alone.

“What’s wrong baby?” You let out a tiny hum, peering over at him, you noticed how pale veiny his hands were. You examined them more as you took in the features of the little gold and silver bands. Watching how the little skulls and roses engraved in them worked around his fingers.

“Why did you sigh like that? Are you not comfortable with me, have I been a bad boyfriend?”

“O-oh no, I just thought you were going to drop me off at my apartment.” You answered honestly, fearful for what will come next if you were to tell a lie. Voice coming out a bit snappy due to the sudden displeasement of running into your 'ex'

“Why don't you want to go to my apartment?”

“I just don’t want to be with you right now Suna-” Your head jerked forward as the brake pedal was slammed into the floor.

“Rin.”

“What the fu-”

“Rin. Y/n, that's my name, I don’t ever wanna hear ‘Suna’ come from your mouth again, ya got it?”

“No Suna-”

" Y/n...” His voice rolled off his tongue icy cold, words brittle as you heard the anger arise in his throat. “Are you reeling gonna treat your boyfriend like this?”

‘  Alright, this is the last straw…’

“Suna, I’m not your-”

SLAP.

The sound echoed off your cheek, a burning sensation swept across your face as you looked over at his deep fox-green eyes. Fear ran through your veins as the ‘fight or flight’ anticipation swept through you, making your legs shake in anticipation.

Your mouth hung slightly agape and before your brain could decide what to do your hand found itself on his face as well, slapping it across his left cheek. Astonishment was written all over Sunas face as he cleared his throat and slammed on the gas, this time your head flying back into the headrest. You stayed in that position thinking about the hell you were about to receive as soon as you exited the car.

Suna sped through the parking garage, dodging the oncoming cars before effortlessly sliding into an unoccupied parking space. Grabbing his phone and wallet he got out of the car, slamming his door as loud as he could in the process as he made his way over to your side of the car. Your head rested on the car seat, not moving a muscle for you were too scared as to what's gonna happen as soon as Suna closes the door to his apartment.

The door swung open, revealing Sunas grey sweatpants as he bent down, leaning over you and unplugging the seat belt. Your eyes were met with his toned arms as his calloused hand grabbed your forearm and yanked you out of the car.

Falling sideways out of the car, Suna gripped onto your side as he dragged you through the parking garage and into the hallways of the apartment complex before coming to an abrupt stop in front of his door. You knew he was going to be ruthless tonight, which excited you, in a way, but for the most part, you were not prepared for the hell you were about to experience.

Still, not a single word was spoken between the two of you, for the tension was immensely intimidating. You tried your best to not make eye contact as Sunas’ eyes tried desperately just as he stares into yours. You felt the cold metal against the skin on your neck as it was being yanked to look in his direction.

“You ready?” Suna warned, voice still as brittle as glass, but sharp enough to kill. You didn't reply though, only giving him a needing look saying your body consented, but your head said no. Even if you were to say no Suna still would have drawn you in somehow, so what's the point in denying it.

You knew you wanted him to rail you, so why not take advantage of the moment, Suna always took advantage of you, when you guys were still together so why waste the free invite. The door swung open as you were pulled into the cold atmosphere of Suna's apartment, hairs rising on your limbs as a small shiver ran down your spine.

“Su-Rin, I-”

“Good girl, you finally learned how to say your own boyfriend's name.” Suna mused, half-lidded eyes annoyingly peering down at you.

His signature smirk was painted over his face as he pushed you against the wall placing a harsh kiss on your tender lips. You missed this, this feeling that made your head all warm and fuzzy as if you were drunk on lust. You loved it though, so you always came crawling back to him.

Although it was Suna who made the first move, you felt like the one who was pleading for the slightest touch. The kiss drew on, Suna feeling up your body as your shaky hands came to wrap around his neck and playing with the hairs on the back of his neck. You tilted your head, deepening the kiss as you tried to provide the same dominant lust as Suna granted you. However, to no avail, you didn't last as you soon became overpowered.

The kiss became sloppier and sloppier as you kept on falling deeper into lusts' hands. You Loved every second of the tension wafting through the air and Suna knew that... That's when it clicked in your head, he was taking advantage of the fact you were falling head-first into his drug-like trap. You silently cursed to yourself as you waited for the right opening before shoving the full-sized man off of you. Luckily he was also deep into the kiss, completely off-guard as he stumbled back a little.

“What the fuck was that for?" You jumped at the harsh words that spewed from his tongue, gravelly voice scratching at your heart.

“I have a boyfriend Rin! I can’t be doing this with you, I-I’m just gonna go home.” Obviously, that was a lie, Suna could tell even before it escaped your mouth. To your dismay though, Suna decided to play along with your little fib.

His rough hands traveled up your chest and latched onto your neck, letting out a deadly chuckle in the process he pressed the pads of his fingertips harder on the sides of your neck. You let out a gasp as your hands rose up and grabbed onto his lofty wrist out of instinct, slowly peering up at him with widened doe eyes.

“What are you talking about Y/n? I'm your boyfriend. Unless... Y/n are you cheating on me?”

“Yea, I guess I am cheating.” You snarkily replied, smirking back up at him. You could tell he was surprised a bit at your newfound confidence, after all the last time he saw you six months ago you submitted to everything he said without hesitation, but you’ve changed since then. “You just couldn’t really fit my needs Suna, what else was I supposed to do?” Your smirk extended across your cheeks as you slowly forgot about the cold hands tightening around your neck.

You were not going to let him win.

“What did you just call me-”

“I said ‘Suna’ and you’re gonna like it.” And there it was again, a slap echoed through the hollow apartment, the metal rings searing at your cheek. Your smile grew with anticipation as you returned the favor by slapping back once again but harder.

The sound that came from your hand colliding with his cheek was awfully louder, although due to your lack of jewelry the pain was less excruciating for him as his right cheek started to turn a light shade of red.

Now, that was the last straw for Suna. As much as he did enjoy seeing you try to be dominant for a minute, his mind was clouded over with the memories of you begging for him to fuck you. With the lust taking over all his senses he forcefully grabbed your hips, swinging you over his shoulder as he leisurely made his way across the kitchen into his room.

Suna, being the sadist he is, decided to slap your ass a few times, He enjoyed how they jiggled against his cheeks as he let out a little sigh of content, his face nuzzling into the side of your ass. Your face became boiling hot from embarrassment, the past confidence slowly slipping away as warmth pooled in your stomach, eagerly awaiting what Suna’s next moves would be.

You felt butterflies blossom in your stomach as you were tossed onto Sunas queen-sized bed. The force of your body hitting the mattress caused you to bounce a few times before looking up with hungry eyes only to be met with his clothed back as the sound of jewelry clashing together filled your eardrums.

Slowly, Suna pulled off his shirt discarding it onto the floor as he steadily turned around. You were now fully turned on as your lust-clouded eyes met with his toned torso, you were eyeing him up and down, soaking up the way his muscles tightened against each other as the memories from your previous sessions filled your head making your cunt boil with anguish.

“Whatcha thinkin' about sweet cheeks?” Ah, it's been too long since you’ve heard that nickname. Suna had given you that nickname due to the deep appreciation he had for your ass, he was always slapping or nuzzling against it. The gratitude he had for it evolved into the nickname 'sweet cheeks'. Although it wasn't meant in a sexual name, the way it fell from his tongue never failed to make you horny.

“You.”

“Mmmm, and what about that boyfriend of yours?” His voice dripped with sarcasm, a mischievous smile grazing over his features as his eyes narrowed down. You knew that face, You had seen it too many times to even count. He was enjoying your little lie too much and although you made it up to get away from him, as ironic as it is you feel as if that little lie just made everything even more fervent.

“I-its fine as long as he doesn’t find out.” your voice came out small and breathy as the bed dipped between your legs watching as Suna crawled up the bed inching closer to your core as if he were a fox hunting down its prey.

“Mmm I think we should record a little video for him, I’m sure he’d love it!”

“N-no it’s fine I don’t think he’s into that- that-” Before you could even finish Suna’s slender fingers made their way into your panties, swiping through your folds before dipping one singular finger into your wet aching hole.

“Hmm~ what was that sweet cheeks?”

“I- he-.” You tried to reiterate your sentence but failed miserably as he curled his finger upwards hitting just the right spot.

“That's what I thought.” His voice dropped from the sweet sarcastic tone of a fox to one of a wolf, deep-pitched and followed with a gravelly groan reverberating from the back of his throat. And just like that, you let out your first moan of the night as his index finger climbed up your slit and teasingly flicked your pearl causing your hips to buck.

“I know you want me instead of that   stupid   ‘boyfriend’ of yours.”

“N-no-ahh-” He inserted his middle finger along with his index and curled up, pushing against your cervix as you denied his statement.

“Wanna try that again?” He mused, glancing down at your pathetic state. His ego inflated tenfold knowing he could make you this messed up over a few strokes and teases. You stayed silent, words pacing through your head yet nothing could come out.

You wanted to say ‘no’ again, but that would only result in a punishment you were not ready for, you also had the option to just submit yourself to him, but both you and Suna know your bratty ego couldn't be tamed that easily.

“Ah, I see how it is.” Suna stopped the motions with his fingers as he slowly and sensually pulled his finger out of you.

He fixed your underwear and sat up on the bed and grabbing his phone before scrolling through social media. You just laid there in silence as you watched his petty behavior play out before you. ‘  This bitch’   You looked down at his raging boner.

'he has to take care of that so obviously, he’ll come back to play with you.'  

A few minutes passed as you both laid there in silence, Suna now scrolling through Twitter looking at the latest volleyball news. He seemed unbothered, but you on the other hand were the complete opposite. Your body was already too excited, constantly twitching and writhing while trying to get some sort of pleasure. You were so close to just masturbating right in front of him but your ego wouldn’t let you do that. ’  God, I hate myself’

“Hey, Rin.” Suna completely ignored you, eyes glued to his phone as he continued to scroll. “Fuck me please.” He still ignored you, acting as if you never even existed.

“Rin?” You waited a few more seconds, hoping some sound would come out of his mouth. “Fine, I guess I’ll just go have my boyfriend take care of this for me.” You rolled your eyes, shifting your weight, getting ready to jump off the bed.

Suna’s calloused hands grabbed your body and flipped you over onto your stomach. Your head digging into the pillows as Suna took in the view of your ass being on full display.

His hand swiftly rising above his head before slamming it down onto your ass, using the full force he would apply during a jump float serve. The clashing of his skin upon yours could be heard from miles away as the reverberation sang through your ears. The outer whites of your eyes tinted red as tears threatened to spew from your eyes as the nerve endings on your skin began to process the immense amount of pain the man has just bestowed upon you. The outer layer of your skin writhed with delight and irritation as it began to change reddened color, with a slight purple tint.

“Don’t you ever speak to me like that again, you got it?” Voice coming out deep and monotone, he didn’t even sound mad yet his recent actions opposed that, which made it all the more terrifying. You let out a small whimper in reply, still recovering from the excruciating pain he had just inflicted upon you.

“Do you understand Y/n?” Suna asked again, he wanted a clear yes or no answer.

“Y-yes.” You whispered out faintly. Voice coming out as brittle as glass, almost as if you were about to break. You became limp as the red handprint started to swell on your ass, Suna placed his hand over it and began kneading your cheeks between his fingers. Which only hurting you more in the process by pressing down on the newly formed bruise.

“Good girl. Now turn over and look at me.” You obeyed him not offering a word to oppose him, for you were too scared of what he was capable of. Leaning over, you sat up immediately wincing when your butt held the weight of your body as you looked up to meet Sunas face inches from yours.

“You understand the rules now baby? Every time you wanna act like that you're gonna get a nice hard slap to your ass and don’t make me have to pull out the belt. I wouldn’t want to break you this early into the night.” Suna cooed as his rough hands gently cradled your cheeks.

Gripping your jaw, he continued to pull your squished lips toward his. His tongue sticking out to meet yours as your tongues danced together. Sunas’ overpowering yours easily; it was quite pathetic really, how easily you gave into the man in front of you.

Sunas hands drifted down your body, feeling up every inch of your soft and subtle skin. Making sure to get a quick feel of your nipples before sliding his hands down to meet your ass as he slowly kneaded the soft mounds of flesh between his calloused fingers. The sound of small moans and whimpers could be heard throughout the apartment as Sunas mouth continued to attack yours.

His body became too much to handle as you slowly leaned back into the soft pillows. Suna pulled away to look at your messed-up state with his casual poker-face, making sure to not show any emotions of interest as to keep you on edge.

Although he failed to cover up the little twinkle in his eye. It lasted for not even a second, indicating that he had an idea. His hand slowly slid back up your body before meeting your jaw once again. Confused, you furrowed your eyebrows as his thumb and index finger squeezed your cheeks together once again. You gladly accepted his movements, hoping for another kiss, yet you were only met with a mouthful of saliva from your 'ex'.

You twitched at the now, nostalgic substance as your eyes fluttered open, making direct contact with Saunas fox-green eyes as you seductively swallowed his saliva. Sunas tongue ran up your throat before kissing you on your red puffed-out lips, hand coming up to wipe off the excess saliva gathering at the side of your mouth. Pulling off your shirt, Suna dragged his tongue down your body as his other hand caressed your back, unclasping your bra as it fell down your chest along with a small green malachite crystal.

“Why the fuck is there a rock in your bra?” Suna grabbed the malachite, examining it in between his fingers giving you a ‘what the fuck?’ look.

“I-I can explain-”

“Just shut the fuck up, your such a nerd.” Suna bit back, discarding the crystal by tossing it in a corner of the darkened room. Your stomach was filled with butterflies at the new nickname, your degradation kink kicking in as you whimpered for more.

Suna grunted in response as his lips placed soft kisses down your torso, littering little peppered kisses around before placing a long wet sloppy kiss in another. This little pattern continued as he slowly reached past your lacey panties, edging you by slowly nipping at your panties only for his mouth to make contact with your round thighs instead. A small whine escaped your throat as the rising anticipation of his mouth on your clit painstakingly went away.

Bucking your hips in response to his neglect, his teeth made contact with your skin. Taking a nip from the spongy flesh and placing his hand over your waist, keeping a firm hold so you know to not cross the boundaries. Whimpering once more as his soft kisses turned into little nips as punishment for your tiny outburst. Returning the slight abuse to the other thigh, he slowly rose up to your face again. He placed a few chaste kisses on your swollen lips, distracting you while he sneakily slipped off your panties.

Your body quaked in response to his cold fingers entering your clit, dipping into your core to catch your natural lube as he smeared it around your gaping lips. He slowly circled his fingers around your sensitive pearl; stirring you up as your eyes rolled to the back of your head from the pleasure of gaining the awaited contact.

Lowering himself down, Suna placed suggestive kisses down your chest, stomach, hips until he achingly stoped at your swollen folds. Placing his tongue onto your sopping wet core before sliding his tongue up your folds, taking in the intoxicating smell of your sex.

Steadily, he took one last erotic lick before wrapping his lips around your swollen pearl. Licking and sucking the steamy pink flesh as little mewls of affection escaped your throat, legs twitching as Sunas tongue swept across your bud in just the right area.

Suna took notice of your little convulse as he continued to swipe his tongue around in the same pattern; sucking even harder and taking in all your juices. Your twitching legs turned into violent shakes, hands gripping at the soft black cotton sheet below you as your moans grew louder and louder.

Your body had a mind of its own as your hips violently thrust towards Sunas mouth, earning you a loud slap to the thigh. You let out a small whine due to the sudden pain and the loss of contact as Suna slowly lifted his head. You looked down seeing his head still slightly in between your legs, chin dripping with your juices.

“Do that again and see what happens.” His voice was low and rough as a deep grunt reverberated off the back of his throat. You happened to be in a bratty mood, due to him giving you the lack of pleasure you desired.

“Sorry, Rin.” You mumbled, putting up a submissive front as you awaited him to dig his face back into your throbbing cunt.

“Good slut.” His head dives back into your folds. You know through the selfish and rough facade Suna puts up, he secretly loves giving you head but he would never admit that. As soon as you had Suna in your trap your bratty side took over as your thighs squeezed over Sunas head. You felt his brows furrowed as he continuously licked over your cunny in the pattern you liked, as his hands raked at the outer sides of your thighs.

Fingers digging into your sweet skin as he did his best to pry your considerably large thighs away in order to get a good breath of air. You bucked your hips up once again at the pleasing release as you were rising to your climax, Suna moving his tongue faster and faster in hopes to be able to breathe sooner. You let out a loud gasp as you squirted into Sunas mouth which he wishfully drank up.

You finally released the chokehold you had on Suna, his head rising up quickly in order to fill his lungs with fresh air. As you regained a bit of your composure you looked at Suna, noticing the layer of sweat that coated his perfect body. Watching as his muscles writhed against each other as his body glistened underneath the soft moonlight glow. While you were admiring his intoxicating physic you failed to notice the hands that slither up your body; tightening their hold on your neck as rough fingers dug into your swollen flesh.

“Turn around.” Suna slowly demanded his voice sending tingles up your back. Although you wanted to listen to him, the brat in you said otherwise.

“No-” Before you could finish sounding out the ‘o’; Suna slapped your cheeks once again.

Awaiting your new response after the harsh interaction. You didn’t let a squeak escape as you flipped yourself over, ass being fully exposed to Sunas’ watchful gaze. Your ass was met with a few small slaps before his dominant hand came raining down onto your right ass cheek. A loud sound erupted from the contact his hand made onto your burning ass. Your hand instinctively came up to shield yourself from more pain only to be grabbed by Sunas larger hand. He slowly guided your hands to meet on top of your head. He pinned them down onto the bed as he continued slapping your ass.

“Yea? You like being a little brat? You just wanna get slapped by me, you little masochist.” Suna taunted. You didn’t reply, as you were being suffocated by the sheets to even think of a sentence to reply with. You felt Sunas hand slowly let go of your hand, grabbing onto your hair instead and pulling your head up, causing you to hiss in pleasure and pain from the harsh touch.

“You’re not gonna answer me? Hah, where’d all that confidence go, sweet cheeks?” He taunted, slapping your ass once more. Although it wasn’t his hand that was slapping around your ass. This time it was his dick. You could feel the veins and ridges from each slap as you got more and more impatient by the minute.

Sticking your ass up even further, you brought your hands down once more to spread your ass open welcoming Sunas large cock inside of you.

“P-please-” That's all he needed. One small ‘yes’ as he rammed into you, touching your cervix as you instinctively arched your back for better access. You let out a loud mewl as your pussy clenched around his dick, trying to re-adjust for his size.

“Yea baby, remember this cock?” Suna groaned as he pulled out once again, slapping it around before thrusting back into you harder than before, causing your eyes to roll back, losing all senses as you relaxed your head as it dangled from the grip Suna had onto the crown of your head.

“Ye-yea I miss it.” You moaned out, voice coming out thick and hoarse. You felt as each and every ridge entered and exited, noting how he angled himself so he would hit your g-spot with every thrust. Filling you with pleasure despite the pain from his rock-hard dick ramming into your tight pussy. Luckily, you started to relax, your hole stretching as your natural lubricants made it easier for Suna to slide in and out of; causing him to move more rapidly and sloppily.

The vulgar sounds of squelching and skin slapping filled your ears, along with Sunas small grunts and groan. Both factors playing together as you hastily started to reach your climax once more. Your hole started to uncontrollably spaz around his large cock earning you a moan from the man railing you into oblivion.

Just as you were about to release your sweet juices, Suna quickly pulled out of you. Picking you up, he laid down and set you on his lap before re-adjusting his dick to your tight cunt as he easily rammed in once again. Your legs spazzed furiously as you tried your best to ride the man below you.

Placing your hands on his firm abdomen, as his hands wrapped around your waist to keep balance as you bounced on his cock. Every time you fell onto his cock, he rhythmically thrust up, pushing even deeper into you, eventually going balls-deep.

You bent down on top of him, meeting his lips once again as you sloppily made out with the God below you. Constantly grinding your hips down on him to keep the friction going. Sunas' hands slithered up from your hips to grab onto your soft mounds, slowly twisting each nipple between his thumb and index finger. He gave your left tit a nice slap before throwing his hands back on your ass, grabbing at your plump and swollen mounds.

"S-Suna! Ah! I- I-m, c-" You tried to cried out but failed as you pathetically started to overstim from the way he pounded into you.

"What was that- my little slut?" You whimpered in response, ass smacking against his balls as you finally found the bliss you've been searching for. Hole clenching as your legs and hips violently twitched, causing you to lose all sense of reality as you sprayed your juices onto Sunas slick cock. Your body stopped working as you were lifelessly being bounced up and down on Sunas cock. You cuddled into his neck as he rammed into one last time.

"Shit-" he breathed out, spraying into your sopping wet pussy. Cum mixing with your as he slowly rode out his orgasm and pulling out of you.

You were splayed across his chest letting out loud gasps and whimpers as your body tried to relax itself from the lustful high you were on. Suna having to do the same, slowly bringing his hand up to play with your hair. You nuzzled further into his neck, placing small kisses onto his nape, him returning the favor, leaving a few light hickies sprinkled across your neck.

"You still gonna call your boyfriend?" Suna lazily asked, already knowing the answer, he just wanted to play with you.

"Yea, actually I should probably go see what he's doing."

"Bitch." Suna whispered as you let out a small giggle.

"Kay, c'mon let's get you cleaned up," Suna suggested. He picked you up, giving you a few little ass slaps, contently sighing as he slowly made his way to the bathroom.

[capricornus-rex]

Someone Left to Save (9)

Cal Kestis x Reader

Requested by Anon

Summary: The Mantis crew arrives to the capital of Ulfin, in the planet of Pevera, under siege. They meet the local rebel cell spearheaded by the former Republic admiral, Jax Beneb, who seeks to destroy the Empire’s occupation that was aggressively imposed upon while exploiting the planet of its natural resources. A plan is devised to destroy the Imperial’s main base of operations—as well as their influence—in the planet; however, it was a do-or-die mission that you and Cal had gotten yourselves caught in.

A/N: I’m trying to come up with ways on how to write and publish like I normally would. Good thing I have a few spare tech I can use!

Tags: Force-Sensitive! Reader, Inquisitor! Reader, Jedi! Reader, Fake Death, Jedi turned Inquisitor, Seduction to the Dark Side, Turn to the Dark Side, The Dark Side of the Force, Aftermath of Torture, Torture, Psychological Torture, Redemption Arc! Reader, Possible Redemption, Premonitions | Additional tags (also TW): Destructive habits, Depressed! Cal

Also in AO3

Chapters: 1 – 2 – 3 – 4 – 5 – 6 – 7 | Previous: Part 8 | Next: Part 10 | Masterlist

9 of ?

The forgers at the Imperial armory fashioned your mask with a hybrid of square and triangular accents. Meanwhile, you donned the ash-gray ensemble that goes underneath your armor plates. In the set, you’re granted a pair of pauldrons, gauntlets, greaves to go with the calves of your pants, and a breastplate with a red stripe along at the hem. They all fitted like a glove.

The piece de resistance is all that’s left.

You watched the Imperial armor technician weld and solder the helmet until it morphed into their ideal, desired shape. Sparks flew, shimmered to light the room, and then die out almost instantly. Bit by bit, you’re starting to see his artistic vision realized.

“I do not discriminate. Newcomer or otherwise, I put a lot of attention to detail in all of my crafts,” the technician thought out loud, perhaps sensing your curiosity and worry that it might not look as good as the others.

“I’m sure you do, considering how many we are right now,”

“It doesn’t matter to me whether there’s dozens of you. I can make one unlike the other—always.”

He harrumphed a scoffing laugh as a response, taking pride in his declaration before continuing.

The armor technician has finished the shaping phase, next he lets it sit for a minutes before cooling it with vapor. You watched the whole process with great intent and curiosity, at the same time, it’s as though you’re watching your new face being created right in front of your very eyes.

He gingerly took the helmet in both of his hands, cradling it with an esteemed carefulness—treating it with royalty and high regard, for crafting an Inquisitor’s mask was a heavy yet rewarding task to complete. This particular forger was an expert crafter, he hand-designed and sculpted most if not all Inquisitors’ helmets and masks. Feeling the weight of yours in his hands, he carefully stepped away from his smelter and toward you; like a monarch’s crown, he presented it to you and inched it closer for you to take it.

“Twelfth Sister,” addressed the armorer.

The gloss of the duraplast once cooled distorted your reflection on its convex surface. A part of you doesn’t recognize this face, the other acknowledges it but doesn’t accept the reality—at least not yet.

From the armorer’s hand to yours, the helmet rests in its rightful owner’s grasp. You hoist it to the top of your head and then lowered it once you’ve aligned it. One moment, your eyes were shrouded by black, and then the next thing you know you’re seeing red—literally—through the visor of your helmet, though you see things as clearly as you’d normally do.

“It’s a perfect fit,” you said blankly, although the comment delighted the armorer very much.

He bowed and returned to the front of his smelter, he’d afford small glimpses of you getting used to the helmet. From your end, there were functions that you’re new to—such as infrared scanning—and there were buttons disguised as accents on the side of the mask that respond to these features.

“Interesting,” you mouthed to yourself, not caring whether the armorer heard it or not.

You tried breathing through the mask, fortunately for you, this won’t hinder the strenuousness of your fighting style—let alone movements in general—as well as catching your breath. For a moment, it’s as though the same world was unraveled before you with brand new eyes—ones that stopped fighting the hatred and used it as strength, rage that blinds yet helps you see with great clarity, the intoxication to power was a permanent leech on your skin and you relished it.

Now completely outfitted in your Inquisitor’s garbs, you make your exit out of the armorer’s chamber and head out to join your “brothers and sisters” in conference. Being the newest, therefore the lowest in rank, the crew and Stormtroopers have mixed feelings about you—though you could care less.

They looked at you with curious yet skeptical eyes as you strode past them. You arrived in the conference hall, heads turned to the door at the sound of the sharp, metallic buzz and then revealed you standing on the other side.

“Ah, the newbie, right on time!” the male Twi’lek Inquisitor chirped, his pointed porcelain white teeth standing out of his glistening, obsidian-black skin.

You stepped in, took that one gap in the line and seemed to have closed the circle surrounding the holotable. You didn’t miss much of the briefing, though they picked up where they left, you intently studied all the holographs that are flashed on the table: battle tactics, ship routes, and person profiles. You listened to the Second Brother explain everything down to the last detail; you saw what kind of person  he is when the two of you aren’t swinging your sabers at each other’s neck, trying to kill one another.

The next part of his presentation included a whole collection of head shots. He explains that they are the current, surviving Jedi across the galaxy. The images of unnamed faces encircled the holotable and slowly rotated for each and every one to see. Below their portraits are short, bulleted write-ups of the latest reports about them: be it last known locations, current agendas, potential accomplices, and recent activities.

After the one you’re looking at, the next one made you quiver in your armor—you can spot that splash of red hair, a naïve freckled face, that boyish charm and a scrapper’s roguishness from a parsec away.

Cal’s head shot rotated and froze right in front of you; blank, jade eyes blending in with the fluorescent blue of the holograph as it stared through your helmet’s visor.

The most crucial part of your past life stares back at you.

The male Twi’lek, namely the Fourth Brother, noticed you in the corner of his eye, sensed your uneasiness and discovered your intrepidity replaced with a sudden, dramatic loss of self-confidence. The Second Brother continued his exposition.

“According to our latest intel, these are the Jedi currently in hiding. Some of them are so bold enough to join factions, such as the traitor—the former admiral Jax Beneb who made with a faction in Ulfin,”

“This one, Cal Kestis, joined them not too long ago. He travels with the Mantis crew comprised of its pilot, a Lateron named Greez Dritus, the right-hand and former Jedi Cere Junda, and… er… a witch. We don’t know the latter’s background, we can only confirm she’s Dathomirian.”

“She’s called a Nightsister,” you corrected the Second Brother.

“He and his crew got themselves involved with the uprising in Ulfin,” the Fifth Brother continued.

“Until the Imperial fortification was bombed—no thanks to Twelfth Sister right here.” The Seventh Sister finished with a voice of chagrin and sarcasm.

There were soft gasps and quiet murmurs amongst the other Inquisitors who apparently had no prior knowledge.

“In my defense, I wasn’t one of you that time,” you dryly chuckled before adding. “Took a few good voltages before you broke me, eh Seventh Sister?”

Feeling outclassed, Seventh Sister rolled her eyes and avoided eye contact from you. The sight of her furrowed eyebrows and the crease on the side of her nose warranted a satisfied, mischievous smirk. You bobbed your head at an angle while the next head shot proceeded, and then Cal’s image rotated to the female red-skinned humanoid with cropped brown hair on your left—this one is known as the Eighth Sister.

Second Brother continued with his plan, catching everyone’s attention by clearing his throat and getting back to the objective at hand. The point was to fan out to selected planets and systems where the Jedi stragglers ought to be and hunt them down—which is their original prerogative ever since the Inquisitorius was formed. Before anyone else could call it, you pressed a button which prompted the ring of head shots to spin wildly until the picture of Cal glows right in front of you.

“I’ll find him, along with Cere Junda,”

“Pheh! Hey, who says you get to have first dibs?!” the Eighth Sister screeched.

“Do you know them like I do?” you raised your voice against her and you were met with a stifled silence due to the lack of a good answer. “You’d be more productive in recovering junk parts salvaged by Jawas than finding the Mantis crew and the Jedi boy!”

The same silence hung around the holotable. You seem to have a knack in making anyone who spoke against you to hold their tongues. It seems everyone was waiting for you to elaborate on your rationale.

“I know the pilot’s flying tactics as well as Cere Junda’s technical tinkering that go hand-in-hand. The Nightsister is not to be underestimated lest you won’t be meeting her good side; and her powers exceed urban legend—she can cloak a ship like a normal cloaking device would, she can raise the dead, she can bury you alive six feet under without even touching a hair on you. That’s how potent her magick is. The boy, on the other hand, I know the most—his fighting, his emotions. Point is: I’m the best chance in finding them.”

You glanced left and right, searching for an objecting reaction from the Seventh Sister and Fifth Brother, and then looked straight into Second Brother’s eyes.

“And you can’t deny that, Second Brother. So do the two right beside you.”

The rest of the Inquisitors turn to the Second Brother for his reply, he gave in and he cannot deny that cold, hard fact—that you were once in connivance with these people. And so, you’re granted with your chosen targets; the others followed suit in selecting which Jedi to go after.

—–

Cal wakes up in a cold sweat again. It has become a frequent occurrence, an unwanted habit that he’s trying so hard to kill.

The weeks turned into months, he’s honestly lost count that he had to ask someone else.

They’ve moved on from Jax Beneb’s rebel faction and went off-world. At first, it was difficult convincing the boy that they had to go and leave the planet, as there’s nothing coming back to him as much as he hoped, and whatever he’s waiting for is just dead air. He had developed a destructive habit of drowning himself in trances—he’s practically returned to where he was before: where he loses control in meditation, doing so has distorted his subconscious vision; he eats only once a day—sometimes not at all—and locks himself up in his room. BD-1 is his only companion through and through, but not even the tiny droid can get a word out of the Jedi boy.

The bracelet, your bracelet, is now worn around his wrist; but in the first time he’s secured it on his arm, the leather cord felt like it was burning and searing through his skin, but when others would take a look at it there’s nothing out of the ordinary. The metal pendant, with the scorch marks obscuring the finish, felt like a red-hot branding iron on his arm, his hand twitched and jerked, yet he couldn’t bring himself to swat away or rip the trinket off.

He hated the pain, but it was the only comfort he knew of remembering you by.

A self-imposed penance.

He blames himself for not coming sooner to get you out.

“[Y/N] would hate to see you like this, Cal,” Merrin started to scold.

There was nothing the Nightsister got out of the Jedi.

When he looked at her straight in the eye, she flinched; and then she got a closer look of the sorry state he’s in—there were dark circles around his eyes, the swelling and the redness of the lining of his eyes suggested restless nights whiled away with crying, untreated cuts and bruises spotted his knuckles and the damning evidence is the small yet noticeable streaks of blood on the gray walls.

“Merrin, I can’t crawl out of the grave that I’ve dug for myself,” Cal shuddered, his voice muffled as his mouth was blocked by his knees folded and drawn to his chest. “I know she’s still here. And I’m talking like the sentimental kind, no, I really know. You have to believe me. You all must think I’m crazy.”

“You don’t see or hear any of us saying so,”

“I know, I just… I don’t know if I’m imagining overthinking it but I just feel like you guys are only humoring me,”

“I don’t do that kind of thing, Cal, it’s not in my nature,” Merrin shook her head. “But I miss [Y/N] too. More than you’d like to know.”

Cal sighed and didn’t speak further. Merrin dismissed herself out of his bedroom and reminded him that Cere had left a plate of dinner for him before closing the door. When he was left alone again, he hung his head low and ran his fingers through his loose, unkempt hair.

He had been alone for most of his life, but this was a different kind of loneliness—one that he isn’t entirely used to. The emptiness, the silence, and the depression bore an alien, coldly terrifying air that hung heavily around his bedroom. The engine hum drowned out his sobbing as he tucks himself away in bed, deliberately forgetting his meal outside.

Cere feels all of that grim emotion pooling inside that room, she wonders how much of those feelings will she pick up if she opens that door—could she take it? Will she be overwhelmed? These were the questions she asked herself.

“Give him some more time. I don’t think he needs us right now, Cere,” Greez glumly said, stopping her in her tracks in any attempt of consoling Cal.

Cal could not sleep—another problem he’s dealing with. He lies with his back flat on the bed, tears trickle down his temples and pools on his pillow just below his ears, he feels like he’s nestled in his deathbed. He can close his eyes, but he cannot catch a wink of sleep. Sometimes, he mistakes dreaming for meditation—of the other way around.

As the meeting pronounced adjourned, they scrambled out of the conference hall while you’re left alone. Arms crossed with one another, you stared at the set of head shots you projected on the table—Cal and Cere. Even though you know them so well, you wondered what kind of information the spies have written about them in their reports.

Your eyes trailed to the write-ups for each profile.

CAL KESTIS

Last known location: Ulfin City in Pevera, Goltan System

Potential accomplices: Cere Junda, Greez Dritus (shipmate), unidentified Dathomirian female

Recent activity: Involvement in rebel-initiated terrorist assault

Charges: Conspiracy and acts of terrorism against the Empire

CERE JUNDA

Last known location: Ulfin City in Pevera, Goltan System

Potential accomplices: Cal Kestis, Greez Dritus (shipmate), unidentified Dathomirian female

Recent activity: Involvement in rebel-initiated terrorist assault

Charges: Conspiracy and acts of terrorism against the Empire

You sighed as you finished reading through the facts of their profiles. You turn away from the holotable and stand in front of the mirror that oversees the operations happening outside the Fortress in Mons Golotha. It’s originally a spice mine owned by a crime syndicate who capitalized in the illegal spice trade, but since the occupation and establishment of the Fortress Inquisitorius, the propriety was handed over to the Empire.

Through the window you watch the moving specks that are the people slaving away to harvest the raw, unprocessed spice, loading them into crates and then into freighters. But the turmoil of these pitiful workers weren’t your focus, you’re channeling it to finding Cal’s connection in the Force and through the Force. The storm in your mind has calmed for a time, allowing you to think and meditate clearly; even in the darkness, you see a light at the end of the path. You pursue it, as you run towards it like an excited, curious child you utter his name.

Cal…

His eyes shot up, he was on the verge of falling asleep already until he heard his name in the distance. He sat up, surveyed the bedroom and found nothing. He shrugged it off as nothing and decided to lie back down… but the voice called again.

Cal...

Now this time, he recognizes the voice. He bolted up.

“[Y/N]?!” he gasped.

Where are you?

“Where are you?”

You didn’t answer, one question led to another.

I need to find you. Tell me where you are.

“I… I’m in—”

“So, Twelfth Sister! How’s the hunt coming along?”

The boisterous Fourth Brother interrupted you and deprived you of the most vital part of your plan. He barges right into your personal space; before he could utter another word, you grabbed him in a chokehold using the Force and slammed him against the window wall. The impact was so hard that a crack appeared right behind his head almost like an icy halo.

The grit of your teeth hissed out the words, “What. Do you. Want?”

He gurgled his words but turned out into frothy noises, you saw him tap for submission on the glass and his ankles buckling.

“What is it that you have to say that is so important that you had to interrupt me and my meditation!?”

“I…. Guhhkk! Wanted to ask if… aagghhk! You plan to go alone!”

You released the Twi’lek, he fell to his knees coughing and clutching his neck.

“I work alone. Go.”

You turn away and wait for the Fourth Brother to leave your sight. Despite calling each other brother and sister, there was no filial connection amongst one another; simply put, it was only tolerance and putting up with each other’s bull. You, on the other hand, hate everyone. Some of them may have not played a part on your turning, but you can’t help but remain hostile towards them—the Eighth Sister deduced that it’s a normal feeling when you’re the fledgling of the Inquisitorius.

You leave the room and make for the hangar to your TIE Fighter.

Meanwhile, Cal was met again with silence and the ecstasy he felt in hearing your voice—even just in his head—died with his melting smile. He sighed and slipped under his sheets again, his heart ached as he coaxed himself to sleep.

Another long night awaits.

[rastronomicals]

1:46 PM EST November 5, 2024:

Locrian - "Exiting The Hall Of Vapor And Light" From the album Return to Annihilation (2013)

Last song scrobbled from iTunes at Last.fm

File under: Experimental Black Metal/Ambient

[dontcare77ghj]

Toxin

 Steve x reader x Bucky x Natasha

Masterlist      Sleep Series Masterlist       Halloween/Supernatural Masterlist

Requested by @piper-koko-barnes-rogers. I hope you like it.

“Why is it every time we plan to go out, we get sent out on a mission?” Bucky asked, strapping a gun to his back.

“Because we’re the best of the best.” Natasha said cockily. “No-one gets a job done like we do.”

“This’ll be an easy ass job.” You said, doing your boots up. “We’ll be in and out faster than you can say stupid fucking HYDRA.” You continued, standing from the bench.

“Steve doesn’t like that kind of language.” Natasha mocked, wrapping an arm around your waist.

“You know what Romanoff?” Steve said, narrowing his eyes at his girlfriends who were smirking at him. “That joke’s getting really old.”

“Lighten up, Stevie. It’s only a joke.” Bucky said, moving to stand behind you and Natasha. He wrapped his arms around your shoulders and smirked at the blonde. “Besides we all know you have the foulest mouth of the four of us.”

“Buck.” Steve whined, cheeks turning bright red.

“Oh, look he’s gone all red.” You teased, reaching out to pinch his cheek. “How cute.”

“Careful Y/N.” Natasha warned. “Steve might make a set of your cheeks red later.” She added with a chuckle.

“Looking forward to it.” You said, giving Steve a wink.

“You four do realise you are not alone? Correct?” Wanda asked, crinkling her nose at the four of you.

“You love us Wanda.” Bucky said.

“How unfortunate for me.” Wanda said, shaking her head at the four of you.

“Ok everyone, we’re at the drop off.” Steve mentioned, strapping his shield to his arm.

“Alright, let’s get this over with.” Bucky said as the jet landed. The five of you moved towards your separate rendezvous points and waited for your signal.

“That’s it.” Steve said into the com. “That’s the signal.” He added and the five of you set off towards the base.

You were entering through the south entrance and once you kicked the door in, you felt confused. There wasn’t an agent in sight but you that didn’t make you lower your guard. Raising your hands in front of you, you made the three adamantium claws burst through your knuckles.

“There’s no-one on my end.” You mentioned.

“The same on my side.” Natasha’s voice came in. “I don’t like this Steve.”

“Buck, do you see anyone?” Steve asked.

“No and I’m with Natasha on this.” Bucky said. “Something about this feels wrong.” He added.

“Keep your guard up.” Steve ordered. “Check every room, there has to be something here.”

“Are we sure they didn’t catch wind we were going to be coming and didn’t just leave?” Wanda asked as you checked another room.

“They wouldn’t leave.” Natasha said as you spotted something in the middle of an otherwise empty room. “That’s not their style.” She added as you moved further into the room.

“No, they wouldn’t leave.” Bucky said lowly. “They would set a trap.” Bucky added in realization.

“We have to get out of here.” Steve ordered. “Move.” He added, you spun towards the door just in time to see it slam shut.

“Fuck, I’m locked in.” You exclaimed, claws scratching at the metal door. You heard Steve let out a surprised noise and Natasha swear in Russian. “What’s going on?”

“Hordes of HYDRA agents.” Natasha grunted.

“Wanda? Steve? Buck? What’s happening on your end?” You asked as a hissing noise filled your room. “Fuck they’re releasing a gas in here.” You said, covering your mouth and nose.

“The floor opened up.” Steve said, letting out a harsh sigh. “I had to climb my way out. Nat, I’m on my way. Bucky, where are you?”

“In a similar boat to Y/N.” Bucky said, his voice muffled. “I’m working on it, I’m almost out of here.” He added, letting out a loud grunt.

“I’m stuck. I’m not even making a dent in here.” You sighed before letting out several harsh coughs.

“Y/N just hang on a second. I’m almost out, I’m coming for you.” Bucky promised, grunting several more times before you heard a loud bang over the com.

“Wanda, where are you? What’s happening?” You asked, coughing a few times.

“HYDRA must have been experimenting again.” She finally said. “There was a man with similar abilities to mine. I took care of him.” Wanda added. “Natasha, where are you and Steve?”

You could hear Steve, Natasha, Bucky and Wanda all talking over the coms, but you couldn’t acknowledge what they were saying over you coughing your lungs up, and the sound of your rapidly beating heart.

Non-reader POV

Bucky ran through the halls, gun out and ready, shooting any HYDRA member he came across. He heard gun shots and noises of pain just down the hall, so he rushed towards the commotion.

Seeing Natasha and Steve fighting off dozens upon dozens of agents, Bucky shot the closest member and any after that.

“Took you long enough to join the party, Barnes.” Natasha commented, sending a widow’s bite into someone’s neck. “You okay?”

“Well considering I’m not dead, I’d say I’m doing fantastic.” Bucky said, violently throwing a man into wall. “Stevie, you still got those trackers on everyone?”

“Yeah.” Steve grunted, bringing his shield down on a man’s skull.

“Trackers? I’m impressed.” Natasha commented, taking out another man. A sudden red glow enveloped the remaining men and threw them into walls, the ceiling and the floor. Steve, Natasha and Bucky looked over to see Wanda looking annoyed behind them.

“Do I have to do everything for you three?” Wanda asked with a smirk.

Steve pulled out of his mini tablet and typed in a few things before he nodded. “Follow me.” He told his partners and jogged in the opposite direction. The other three quickly followed the blonde, taking out any agents they saw. “Here.” Steve said as they stopped in front of a metal door.

There was a retinal scanner and a keypad next to the door, a keyhole on the door but no key. Bucky began shooting at the door, but nothing happened. Steve told his partners to move but it did nothing.

“Let’s do this the old fashion way.” Natasha said, grabbing an agent off the ground. She forced his eye open and forced him to stare into the scanner.

A light above the door turned on and there was a beeping noise before the door opened. The four covered their mouths and noses as a vapor exited the opening door. Seeing their girlfriend laying unconscious on the floor, Steve dropped his shield and rushed over to pick her up.

“She has a heartbeat.” Steve announced, rushing back out of the room. Natasha picked up Steve’s shield and gestured the two men and woman towards the door.

“Let’s get her back to the jet.” Natasha said. Natasha ran in front, Steve in the middle with Wanda and Bucky bringing up the rear. The five quickly made it to the jet and Natasha moved into the cockpit to get them out of there, while Bucky and Steve laid Y/N out on the floor.

“Y/N, Y/N come on wake-up Y/N.” Bucky said, tapping the woman on the cheek. Y/N’s breathing began to get frantic as her eyes twitched. Steve and Bucky shared a look and Bucky tapped Y/N’s cheek again. “Wake-up Y/N.”

At this Y/N’s eyes snapped open and she let out an ear-piercing scream.

Reader POV

“What are you doing? Stop it. What are you doing to me?” You screamed as the man cut you open and injected your skeleton with it. “Stop it!”

“But it’s so much fun.” A feminine voice said clearly over your screams. Your head shot up to see Natasha standing in place of the doctor.

“Nat, please stop. Please stop this.” You begged. The woman only cooed mockingly as she wiped the tears off your cheeks.

“But I’m not doing anything.” She said before shifting into Bucky. Bucky smiled as he grabbed a syringe and injected it into you. You shrieked as your body began to burn and Bucky merely looked down and laughed at your pain.

“What’s wrong baby doll, can’t handle it?” He asked, slicing you from the chest to your belly button.

“Fuck!” You screamed, unable to move away from your boyfriend.

“I thought you were stronger than this.” Steve said, twirling a scalpel in his hands. “I guess we were wrong about you.” He commented before plunging the scalpel into your heart.

You let out a shriek and finally shot off the table.

Non-reader

“Y/N! Y/N it’s us! Calm down!” Bucky said attempting to grab Y/N’s flailing limbs as she screamed.

While the reality was Steve, Bucky and Natasha were trying to calm the woman, with Wanda watching on worriedly, that was not what Y/N saw.

“What’s the matter, Y/N? Can’t handle a little pain?” Bucky asked, gripping her wrists violently.

“What’s wrong with her?” Natasha asked as Y/N fought against Bucky’s grip.

“What’s wrong with you, Barnes? Just kill her now. I want to watch her body try and heal itself while we cut her.” Natasha said with a grin.

“Hold her still.” Wanda said, coming closer to the four of them. “If you hold her still, I can look into her head.”

“Do I need to do everything for the three of you?” Wanda asked, glaring down at Y/N. “How hard is it to kill a weakling like her?” She questioned as Natasha took out a knife and plunged it into Y/N’s stomach.

“You try holding her still and avoiding her claws.” Steve grunted, moving behind his girlfriend and holding both her arms behind her.

“Who said we wanted to kill her now?” Steve asked, holding her still as Bucky twisted Natasha’s knife in your stomach.

“It’s more fun to play with your prey.” Bucky said, as Natasha yanked the knife out of your stomach.

“Smile darling, this is all for you.�� Natasha grinned before moving her knife up to Y/N’s lips. She traced them before carving into her face.

Wanda let out a gasp and yanked her hands away from the woman’s face, quickly feeling around her face to see if it was bleeding.

“Wanda what’s going on? What’s wrong with her?” Natasha asked, watching as their girlfriend shrieked and cried as she struggled in Steve and Bucky’s grip.

Wanda wasn’t able to say as Y/N escaped the boys grip. Her claws unsheathed as she stared the four down in fear.

“Just go away.” Y/N begged.

“Begging Y/N?” Bucky questioned, raising an eyebrow at her. “How cowardly. If you really want it to stop, you know what you have to do.”

“Go on, do it.” Steve said. “Our lives would be so much better without you.”

“We wouldn’t have to be dragged down by you constantly.” Natasha added, stepping closer to the boys. “I can’t believe we’ve wasted this much time on you. Just do it.”

“I can’t do it.” Y/N cried as her claws began moving closer to her stomach.

“She can’t see any of us.” Wanda said, watching Y/N carefully. “She’s trapped in a nightmare of HYDRA’s creation.”

“What do we do?” Natasha asked, watching her girlfriend worriedly. She, Steve and Bucky were all watching her anxiously, none of them wanting to lose her or have to see her like this.

“I have an idea, but it’s risky.” Wanda said.

“How risky?” Steve asked, inching closer to Y/N.

“If you can’t do it, then that just proves how much of a coward you are.” Steve said, moving towards Y/N menacingly.

“If you’re not going to die by your own hand, we’re going to die by your hands.” Bucky told you rushing forward and impaling himself onto your claws.

“No!” Y/N screamed in agony. While she watched visions of Bucky impaling himself in front of her, the real Bucky rushed forward and grabbed both Y/N’s hands while Wanda placed both hands on Y/N’s temples.

Y/N crumpled to her knees as Wanda’s hands glowed red. Bucky and Steve helped lay Y/N down as Wanda kept her hands-on Y/N’s head.

“Wanda can you please explain what’s going on with Y/N?” Natasha asked rather franticly.

“It’s something HYDRA invented years ago.” She said, turning towards the red head her own eyes glowing bright red.  “It’s similar to my powers, it makes you see what you fear. It’s all you can see and gets worse and worse, until you would rather be dead than see anymore.”

“Experiment 12B.” Bucky murmured.

“You’re familiar with it?” Steve asked, looking sadly at his boyfriend.

“Very.” Bucky replied with a grimace. Steve took Bucky’s hand as Natasha began to pace.

“So, what can we do?” Natasha asked, running her fingers through her hair. “Is there something else we could give her?”

“No.” Wanda and Bucky replied.

“Unfortunately, all we can do is let it run its course.” Wanda continued. “Call Clint. Explain the situation to him and tell him to remove anything that could be used to harm someone. We’ll need to lock her in until this wears off.”

“What about her claws?” Steve asked as Natasha moved into the cockpit to call Clint.

“We just have to hope she won’t use them. And if she does, her healing kicks in.” Bucky said gravely.

It had been two hours since they had all returned to the Tower. Clint had followed Natasha’s instructions perfectly and removed anything an everything that Y/N could use to harm herself.

They’d locked the door so there was no way for her to leave and they’d had J.A.R.V.I.S pull up a live feed. For the first hour she’d slept, not peacefully, but she’d awoken an hour later and had curled into the corner of the room since.

Reader POV

“You can’t hide from us, Y/N.” Bucky laughed, cutting Steve’s throat.

“Don’t you want to play too?” Natasha asked, kneeling down in front of you. She had a gun in her hands and when you didn’t answer she brought it to her temple and shot herself.

“Are you not going to scream anymore?” Steve questioned, standing from the ground, his neck and chest stained red. “That’s no fun.” He said, snapping Bucky’s neck.

“I don’t want to play. Go away. Go away.” You continuously said, your hands tight over your ears. Two sets of hands grabbed your wrists and pulled them away. They were cold but that weren’t metal, they felt lifeless.

“You don’t have a choice in that anymore, baby doll.” Bucky said, pressing the spot that forced your claws to burst out. Natasha and Steve forced your hands down towards your stomach and you let out a gasp as the adamantium cut your flesh.

“A monster like you should’ve died a long time ago. This is us doing the world a favour.” Steve murmured into your ear as blood spilled out of your lips.

Non-reader POV

“She’s killing herself!” Bucky yelled, jumping from the couch

“Bucky no!” Wanda cried, holding him in place with her red mist. “You can’t go in there you know that.”

“Do you expect me to sit out here while she’s dying?” He questioned incredulously.

“Yes.” Wanda told him, letting him go so Steve could make him sit back down. “This is terrible I know, but you can’t help her. If any of you go in there and she snaps out of this, she could have a heart attack. Or seriously hurt herself.”

“Where was this information two hours ago?” Natasha snapped.

“I didn’t want to worry you.” Wanda said. “You have to wait for this to be fully out of her system and then you need to give her time to adjust to this. Or she’ll think she’s still trapped in a nightmare and have a heart attack.”

“This is fucking bullshit.” Natasha growled as Steve took her hand and squeezed it tightly.

“I know this isn’t an ideal situation, but we have to listen to Wanda. We have to trust she knows best here.” Steve said. “And look.” He added, pointing to the screen. “She’s healing.”

“Yeah but for how long?” Bucky asked, cracking his knuckles in worry.

It had been twelve hours. Twelve long hours of listening to Y/N’s screams, cries and pleas for this all to end. Wanda had fallen asleep around hour nine but none of the other three could find the will to tear their eyes away from the screen.

Reader POV

You hadn’t seen Natasha, Steve or Bucky for nearly two hours. Part of you believed maybe the last time they attacked each other had actually been the last time. 

You refused to let your guard down. Refused to lift your head from in between your knees, in fear of seeing them in front of you or because you were scared to see their corpses.

You heard the door click open and you squeezed your eyes shut tighter. They were back.

“Y/N? Sweetheart?”

A whimper escaped your throat at the pet name. 

“Go away.” You murmured, tears stinging at your eyes. 

“Y/N, can you open your eyes for us?” Natasha asked, a humourless laugh escaping your lips.

“I’m not falling for that again.” You said, letting out a shaky breath. “Go away.”

“Whatever you’ve been seeing, Y/N, it wasn’t real. None of it was real.” Bucky said. You could hear the three of them coming closer but you still refused to look up.

“What? It was all a dream? Is that the new line?” You asked, licking your lips and cringing at the taste of drying blood.

“It wasn’t a dream, Y/N. But t wasn’t real.” Steve told you. “It was a fear toxin HYDRA created. It makes you see what you fear.”

“So you’re telling me I imagined it all? Did I imagine it when you and Natasha forced me to stab myself?” You questioned the man.

“Please Y/N, just look at us. Whatever you’ve been experiencing for the last twelve hours it wasn’t us.” Natasha said, her voice thick. Was she crying?

“I can’t.” You whimpered, burying your head further into your knees. “I can’t.”

“Y/N, dorogoy, look at me.” Natasha said as you felt hands grip your shoulders. You flinched at the feeling and your head shot up at the touch. Natasha was sat in front of you with a sad look on her face with the boys standing behind her.

All three of them were clean. No blood, no wounds, nothing. But it wasn’t the sight of their bloodless bodies that made you realise the truth behind their words, it was the warmth in Natasha’s hands. 

Warmth. Honest to Thor warmth. 

“You’re real.” You murmured, pulling Natasha’s hand onto your face. 

“That’s what we’ve been telling you.” Natasha said with a small smile as you leaned into her hand.

Your exhausted body began to shake as several sobs forced their way up through your throat.

“Hey, you’re okay. You’re safe.” Natasha cooed, pulling you into her arms as Steve and Bucky moved closer and wrapped their arms around the two of you.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” You sobbed, clinging onto to whatever part of the three of them you could. The warmth making your cold, aching, body shiver and shake.

“It’s okay, sweetheart.” Steve cooed, kissing the top of your head.

“You’re safe with us.” Bucky promised, tightening his arms around you. It was in the warmth of their arms, in that moment, that you believed them. The last twelve hours meant nothing in that moment as you leaned into their embrace.

Taglist

@piper-koko-barnes-rogers @skeletoresinthebasement @hopingforbarnes @agent-barnes40 @rvgrsbrns

Natasha Taglist

@5aftermidnight

Show your support. Leave a comment. Give it a like. Share with your friends and reblog. Inbox/Message me any comments, requests, pairings, if you’d like to be added to a taglist or whatever you want.

Coming soon;

Bucky x reader x Sam

Sam x reader x Sam

Natasha x reader x Bruce

Steve x reader x Sam x Bucky

Natasha x reader x Sam x Steve

Natasha x reader x Bucky x Sam x Steve

Bucky x reader x Thor

Pepper x reader x Tony

Natasha x reader x Peggy x Wanda

Natasha x reader x Wanda

Steve x reader x Bruce x Tony?

Clint x reader x Pietro?

Wanda x reader x Vision?

[iriswc1995]

Ash In Ordina

Chapter One:  ‘Home’

The screech of the railcar grinding to a halt startled her awake.  Ash peered from under her hood, instinctively grabbing the hilt of her sword.  The car was empty save for her and a few wandering ghosts.  It was difficult to see through the smeared windows.  It was utterly dark outside.  She sighed, wiping crumbs from her eyes and standing up.  After a moment, the doors hissed open, and she stepped through.

The ‘station’ was hardly more than a platform of corrugated metal, dripping with rust, that bridged two sides of the yawning darkness below.  Orange lights gleamed like eyes on the distant walls that did little to reveal the vastness of the dozens of floors extending above and below.  Ash made her way across, combing fingers through her matted hair.  Past the station, a blue light illuminated a lone figure leaning against the wall of the corridor.  He had a boyish face, a mess of dreadlocks, and perpetual bags under his eyes.  His left arm was a cybernetic prosthesis, which he waved as she approached.

“Heya.  Glad you made it.”

Ash nodded and pulled her coat closer around herself.  “Lead the way, Cygnus.” 

She followed a few paces behind him through a labyrinth of oily hallways, trying to stay alert.  There was never much in a given Tower to distinguish one area from another, save the occasional worn sign.  What was different was the layout, and the people.  Smells of dirt and skin and cooking meat surrounded them as they entered a crowded intersection crammed with dingy shops.  This district had working traffic lights to dictate the constant flow of activity, which the pair pushed their way through as hastily as possible.  A thin stairway led to an auxiliary floor, where Cygnus cut the chains on a gate that led to maintenance.  Ash perked up a bit.

“Home sweet home?”

“Not yet.  Watch behind us.”

Complex webs of pipes and wires guided them through the dark, claustrophobic maze.  Cygnus didn’t say much except to warn her about a gap in the floor or the sound of footsteps approaching.  Ash stayed relaxed.  She trusted people who lived behind locked doors or in cramped spaces more than whoever was patrolling outside them.  As much as she would trust anyone besides Cygnus, at least. 

The arrival of more ghosts, pale and eerily indistinct like clouds of water vapor, signalled their exit from maintenance and back into a populated area.  Cygnus slowed his pace as they entered a long living hall, lined with apartment doors and people who were either hunched over or entirely prone along its sides.  A nearby sign read ‘District 17, Floor 3.’  Ash squinted.

“I thought you said you’d found somewhere isolated.”

“Again, we aren’t there yet.  We’ve still got a bit to go.  Are there ghosts around or something?”

“No more than usual.  I hope you got some food, by the way.”

“Two large pizzas, right?”

She chuckled.  They carefully wove through the carpeted halls of the district.  Thousands of people could live in a single Tower, and the corporation heads tended to cram in a lot more than that.  Ash wove disdainfully at buzzing flies and ignored the hands reaching out for her as they passed.  It’s crazy the kind of thing that the city can make into a routine, she thought bitterly.

Then, her sword vibrated in its sheathe.  Ash slowed her pace and looked around, flicking the hilt with her thumb to reveal an inch of the blade.  A familiar surge of adrenaline pulsed through her.  Her vision reddened, beginning to switch focus, blurring the halls around her but sharpening the humanoid figures, including the wisp-like forms of the ghosts.  The sword was a slender katana Ash had held on to for almost ten years, and it was unlike any other piece of equipment she’d found.  Glancing to the left, Ash saw a small group of wisps huddling together, but these ones were bright red instead of pale. Though they were partially obscured by a wall, she saw them suddenly begin moving downwards as a single unit, presumably down an elevator shaft.

“Ash?  What’s up?”

Cygnus had stopped a little ways down the hall.  Ash looked around for another moment before running to catch up.

“Nothing, for now.”

“We can’t stop for every skeleton bird ghost you see flying around.”

“That was one time, dude.”

He smirked and continued walking.  The apartments fell away behind them as they climbed another set of stairs.  Ten minutes passed before Cygnus stopped in front of a door that was dirty enough to look like it had merged with the floor and ceiling.  Wires drooped haphazardly above their heads, some of them still sparking.  He typed in a code on the number pad and the door lazily forced itself open.  The lights inside flickered on.  It was a laboratory, full of old computers lined up on desks.  Every surface was coated in dust, and the shelves were lined with boxes that had long ago been combed for anything useful or valuable.  What few tools littered the floor were rusted nearly to pieces.  In one corner of the room was a set of monitors that looked newly-cleaned, hooked up to several smaller devices that no doubt belonged to Cygnus.

Ash sighed and stretched her arms, immediately settling into one of the darkest corners of the room.  A small sleeping bag was already rolled up here; Cygnus knew her well enough to know she wasn’t going to be using any chairs.  She started to unroll it as Cygnus sank down at his desk and started typing away.

“Where’s my pizza?”  Ash asked.

A moment later, Cygnus tossed over an almond nutrient bar.

“Fuck yes.”

She tore into it without hesitation.  It had been a while since it’d felt safe enough to rest.  Their last hideout had been compromised so completely that they’d come a long way to find somewhere new, as far as possible from the patrols of Ordainers.  An hour passed quietly, save for the tapping of keys and the rhythmic scrape of Ash sharpening her sword.  She wasn’t even sure it ever needed it, but it was something to do.  Surviving in this city consisted much of filling the silence.  Ash stood up and sheathed her sword, leaning it against one shoulder.

“I’m gonna take a look around.  I saw something with Red earlier.”

There was the heavy sigh she’d braced herself for.  Cygnus stared hard at the empty space beside her.  “Ash.  We’ve been here all of five minutes and you’re already wanting to find trouble?”

“I’ll be more careful this t-”

“Every time, she says that every time and what do I do?  Not much, just get walked all over.”

“You know that’s not what it’s like.”  She walked over to Cygnus’ desk and put a hand down on it, waiting for him to look at her fully.  He finally did, resting his cheek on his hand.

“It always starts like this.  That’s all I’m saying.”

“This is important.  I saw red ghosts.  Something serious could’ve happened nearby, maybe a Dissonance.”

“Ugh.  Fine.”  He sat back, firmly rubbing his brow with his non-cybernetic hand.  He always did that when he was annoyed.  It was charming enough to make Ash smirk a little.  Even when he was stressed, Cygnus always thought about things carefully.  He took an earpiece from the desk and handed it to her.  “Call me when you’re back.  If the cops are chasing you again, don’t lead them back here.”

“Mhm, I won’t.”

“I mean it.  I’m not getting in another gunfight.  Good luck out there, I guess.”

----

Charred metal and snapped wires made her surroundings smell like a welding shop.  Sickly white lights illuminated the elevator shaft at the end of hall, right where Ash had seen the red specters.  It looked like it had been out of order for a long time, and wherever the car itself was stuck certainly wasn’t on this floor.  Ash braced herself; before taking a running leap, wrapping her arms and legs around the steel cords suspended in the shaft.  After getting a decent grip, she let go with her hands and allowed herself to slide downwards with the cords braced against her shoes and coat sleeves.  Several minutes passed, and when Ash felt her muscles start to ache, she picked another opening in the shaft to leap outside again, now on a much lower floor.

She stared down a hallway that was so ill-maintained it was listing partially to one side.  The floor was a mess of rubble and detritus, but the power still worked enough to illuminate the hall with the flashing signs and video advertisements that lined the area.  Ash stepped carefully through the neon-painted darkness.  It seemed like this had been a major thoroughfare of some kind at one point, but had gradually fallen into disuse as people migrated to higher floors.  Sometimes it was almost surprising how decayed certain areas of the city could be.  It was less so when Ash remembered that most Towers were so large, a missile could hit one part of it without people who lived on the opposite side noticing.

A red blur suddenly darted through her vision at an intersection up ahead.  Another ghost.  She walked up to where she had seen it and focused her vision, unsheathing an inch of her blade again.  Ash had seen ‘ghosts’, for lack of a proper term, ever since she’d first claimed this sword, which she called ‘Red’ for simplicity’s sake.  From the very start, it had been obvious it wasn’t a normal weapon, and it only became more intriguing as she learned its exact properties.  In addition to greatly enhancing her strength, it had the ability to sense an afterimage of beings who had died but, as far as Ash could tell, not yet fully passed on to whatever comes next.  The red ones in particular were those who had died fairly recently or in an especially brutal manner, still clinging to the memory of blood running through their veins.  

However, the sword also left a murky redness in its wake that could be followed by Distortions - or anyone else with a means to track it.  The perfect weapon for finding trouble, or for trouble finding you.  

Ash made her way down a spiraling concrete staircase while checking the gun at her hip, making sure it was loaded and ready.  While bullets were typically ineffective against the Distorted, she always had it ready in case she ran into a less paranormal opponent.  

Emerging from the staircase, Ash entered a room so colossal that a layer of cold fog obscured the opposite wall.  She blinked a few times, hesitantly stepping inside.  It seemed like an old hanger of some kind for transport shuttles or private vehicles.  Monolithic pillars supported a dizzyingly high ceiling, through which soft footsteps would echo like rolling thunder.  Much of the hangar was flooded, knee-deep, with what Ash hoped was just dirty water as she waded through it, alert for any sign of movement.  

She caught some when another ghost darted into a nearby office building, a crimson haze trailing behind it.  

Ash followed, running up the stairs to the railway where it had vanished.

A few kicks to the thick iron door broke it open just enough for Ash to cut through the lock with her blade.  It had been a while since she’d seen this many red ghosts in such a short time.  This had to be a Distortion, a group of Harvesters, or maybe some kind of turf war between rival gangs.  

The dark, brutalistic hallway of the office was eerily silent.  Ash stepped inside.  Her breathing slowed, hand tightening around Red’s hilt.  The only sound was the water gently dripping from her cloak.  One of the doors on the side of the hall was leaning open.  Ash peeked around the corner.  

The stench hit her like a solid wall.  Rotting flesh.  A single light flickered on and off above a sizable office space with desks, computers, cubicles, all in disarray and coated with dust.  Stretched between them and along the ceiling were dark, ragged curtains that almost resembled party streamers.  Whole cubicles were wrapped in them.  Ash covered her nose and stepped inside, looking around.  A stench this awful meant the deaths were recent.  It smelled like a big  pile of corpses - Ash lamented how well she could recognize that.  Flies and moths danced beneath the broken light.  On the chairs in front of each desk, an old suit and tie was draped, presumably the uniforms of the staff who worked here.  All of them were drenched with blood.  That accounted for some of the stench, at least.  But there were no bodies.  

Ash’s eyes flicked back and forth, her hands shaking.  One of the curtains stretched across the entrance of a cubicle to her left.  She experimentally nudged it with the hilt of her sword.

A sickening squish.  A few drops of blood.  Ash’s stomach turned, her eyes widening.  Then, a voice.

“ᴡᴏʀᴋ ɪꜱ ꜱᴛᴀʀᴛɪɴɢ~ ɪᴛ’ꜱ ᴛɪᴍᴇ, ɪᴛ’ꜱ ᴛɪᴍᴇ… ʟᴇᴛ’ꜱ ᴀʟʟ ʙᴇ ᴏɴ ᴛɪᴍᴇ, ᴛᴏᴅᴀʏ~”

Scratchy and inhumanly shrill, the voice was shockingly close.  One of the ceiling panels near the flickering light gently peeled aside, until an impossibly long, sallow-skinned arm slithered from the darkness.  The panel thudded to the floor.  A horrifying visage, an absurd  facsimile of a human face, stretched and twisted, with bulbous eyes and stained teeth, smiled down at Ash.

“ᴛᴏᴅᴀʏ ɪꜱ ᴘᴀʀᴛʏ ᴅᴀᴀᴀᴀʏʏʏ~”

Ash drew her sword and leapt upwards, cutting at one of its arms, but like a skittering spider it retreated into the darkness.  The muffled tapping of fingers filled the room before it slunk to the ground a short distance away, fully emerging this time.  Its entire body was similarly twisted and elongated, and other than a vague humanoid shape and a head of patchy black hair, its overly-tight office suit was the only human thing about it, which only served to accentuate its monstrous, distorted nature.  Ash gritted her teeth, pointing her blade towards it with both hands clasped around the hilt.  This thing was disgusting, but it didn’t seem to have an overly adverse effect on her sanity.  Hopefully that meant no mental hazards to watch out for.  Its stance was spindly, off-balance.  Mindless.  She could win if she could corner it.  She slowly circled her prey, simply ripping through the curtains of flesh with her body mass.  The creature jittered and spasmed, lunging towards her with a clawed hand.  She ducked, and slashed upwards, but it was too fast again, skittering across the rims of the cubicles.

“ᴅᴇᴀʀ ᴏʜ ᴅᴇᴀʀ, ᴛʜᴇ ᴅᴇᴄᴏʀᴀᴛɪᴏɴꜱ!  ᴡᴇ ꜱɪᴍᴘʟʏ ᴄᴀɴ’ᴛ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ᴀ ���ᴀʀᴛʏ ᴡɪᴛʜᴏᴜᴛ ᴅᴇᴄᴏʀᴀᴛɪᴏɴꜱ!  ᴘᴀʀᴛʏ ᴅᴀʏ ᴄᴏᴍᴇꜱ ᴊᴜꜱᴛ ᴏɴᴄᴇ ᴘᴇʀ ꜰɪꜱᴄᴀʟ ʏᴇᴀʀ!”

Ash took out her gun and aimed towards the creature.  It continued moving in its frenzied pattern, and she aimed for a moment before firing three times.  Two of the bullets connected, blood coating the wall behind it.  As expected, it only flinched slightly, and began scuttling towards her again.  Her eyes gleamed in the dark as she grabbed a nearby chair and twirled her body, throwing it as hard as she could.  It thudded against the creature’s torso, and at the same moment Ash charged forward, cutting a red line across its waist.  It let out an ear-piercing squeal, and a flailing arm caught Ash’s head, sending her sprawling.

It jittered in place for a few moments, a cacophony of screams and squeals, before suddenly charging directly for her.  Ash tried to get to her feet, but its hand locked around her throat and carried her forward with its weight.  Her spine thudded against the door she’d come through and they came fully through the wall.  They careened over the railing, spiraling two dozen feet down to the hangar floor and splashing into the murky water.  Ash’s head swam with color.  She coughed, gagged, tried to reach for Red... its gnarled fingers were still locked around her throat.  It picked her up out of the water, reaching high above its head.  Its face wore a warped smile.  

“ɪᴛ’ꜱ ᴘᴀʀᴛʏ ᴅᴀʏ~ ʙʀɪɴɢ ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴅᴀᴜɢʜᴛᴇʀꜱ ᴀɴᴅ ꜱᴏɴꜱ, ʏᴏᴜʀ ꜱɪꜱᴛᴇʀꜱ ᴀɴᴅ ʙʀᴏᴛʜᴇʀꜱ~ ᴄᴏᴍᴇ ᴏɴᴇ ᴄᴏᴍᴇ ᴀʟʟ, ɪᴛ’ꜱ ᴀ ʜᴏʟɪᴅᴀʏ ᴡᴏʀᴋᴅᴀʏ!  ꜱᴛʀᴇᴛᴄʜ ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴀʀᴍꜱ ᴡɪᴅᴇ ᴀɴᴅ ꜱᴀʏ ʜᴏᴏʀᴀʏ~ ᴡɪᴅᴇ, ᴡɪᴅᴇ ᴀꜱ ᴛʜᴇʏ’ʟʟ ɢᴏ~”

Fingernails dug into the back of her neck and tore outwards, beginning to peel the skin from her spine.  In doing so, its grip loosened slightly, and she swung back and forth to gather momentum before kicking it in the face.  One of its eyes popped, oozing dark pus, but it didn’t blink or flinch.  Ash’s lungs screamed for air.  This was bad.  She was too weak.  Her gun wouldn’t work.  Red was down in the water somewhere.  Out of reach.  Could she try to draw strength from it, even while she wasn’t holding it?  She had never tried before.  Seemed like now or never.

She closed her eyes and focused.  Focused on the red haze.  The smell of rust.  Sharpening instincts.  New sights and scents.  The world condensing to the head of a pin.  The tip of her blade.  Blood.  Thirst.  Strength.  Survival.  

Crimson haze ebbed from Ash’s form.  A guttural growl emerged from inside her, the raw sound of a desperate animal.  The creature continued laughing, and began slamming her against the ground, again and again.  Pain stabbed through her head, through her back.  But if pain was wood, she was a fast-catching fire.  She couldn’t muster as much strength as usual, but this had to be enough.  Her throat screamed for relief, but she forced her hands away from the creature’s fingers and grabbed its forearms instead.  She started to pull down, blood trailing from beneath her squeezed eyelids.  She felt the creature’s misshapen bones start to bend.  It squealed, shaking her back and forth, but she didn’t let go.  She pulled harder.  Harder.

SNAP.

Its arms broke at the wrists; its hands going limp around her throat.  She fell to the floor, sucked in a breath, and quickly dived, swimming between its legs as it screamed.  Her hand trailed along the concrete, searching.

“ᴅ-ᴅ-ᴅᴇᴄᴏʀᴀᴛɪᴏɴꜱ!  ᴅᴏɴ’ᴛ ʙᴇ ʟᴀᴛᴇ ɴᴏᴡ!  ɪᴛ’ꜱ ᴀʟᴍᴏꜱᴛ ʜᴇʀᴇ!”

She felt it, and picked it up.  Holding her blade aloft, she swept it into its sheathe and sprinted at the creature.  Staggering, arms hanging limp, it turned to stare at her.

“ɪᴛ’ꜱ ᴘᴀʀᴛʏ ᴅ-”

“Shut up.”

Warped guts exploded from the cloven rift in the creature’s midsection, the inertia of the blow forcing it backwards.  Ash twirled her blade, kneeled, and stabbed behind her, piercing what was left of its torso up to the hilt.  Blood rained down on her.  A few deep breaths later, she felt the creature’s weight begin to lessen.  She stood up fully as it dissolved into blood and flecks of pale ash that began to disintegrate in the dark water.  

Ash slashed the blade through the water to clean it before resheathing it, sighing and rubbing the back of her head.  She watched the pool of viscous remains spread further throughout the hangar.

“If someone else were here, I’d say something badass, like ‘party’s over’ or something.  But there isn’t anyone else here, so.”

She heaved another sigh and rolled her shoulders, starting to sluggishly wade towards the exit.  Hoping Cygnus would be able to stitch up her neck so she wouldn’t need to find a surgeon again, she began the long climb back to her new home higher in the Tower.

[infptarius]

Play With the Clown

This is the first thing I have written to post to Tumblr. I hope my fellow clownfuckers enjoy, this is NSFW. (18+ ONLY) PART 1

The sound of the door slamming shut behind you made your rattled nerves jump, and you turned to see the way into the decrepit house on Neibolt St. closed tightly behind you. ‘Just a peek,’ you had thought when you entered. A peek indeed. You were aware of the things people said about this house. You’d heard the place was haunted, that homeless people stayed here, that people had died here. Curiosity was a hell of an incentive to do the stupidest things, you supposed. Turning back to the interior of the house, cobwebs dripped from the cracked ceiling, and dead leaves crunched beneath the soles of your shoes as you pressed onward, into the dim light filtering through grimy windows. You felt anxious, sweat beaded on your skin as goosebumps raised along your arms and neck. You could feel eyes watching you, but you saw no one else. You heard no one else, either.  “Hello?” Your voice sounded meek as it rang through the abandoned structure, crumbling walls sending decaying echos of your own call back to your straining ears. 

As you listened intently, you found that there WAS another sound. Soft tinkling bells sounded in a room down the hall you were currently exploring. The fear that was building in your veins like a buildup of ice around your frantically pounding heart faded slightly at the sound.

It seemed so... welcoming? Wrong? Both of these things, in fact, were true. Your feet carried you forward into a room that seemed impossibly dark. The moment you crossed the threshold, it was like being blindfolded. 

You turned on your heel to exit the room, but saw no doorway from whence you had come. A solid wall met you as you attempted to walk, hoping to pass through to the hallway once more.“Oh FUCK!” you scream, fists balled and pounding on this unexpected surface, your fear of confinement rearing its ugly head to make your heart ache in your chest.

A malevolent giggle catches your attention in the darkness. The sound made you cringe and twist away, sounding as though it had come from mere inches from your ear. “W-who are you?” Your voice quakes as you pose your question, betraying your trembling body even in complete darkness. “Who? Why, I’m Pennywise the Dancing Clown~!” The response comes quickly, in a false jovial tone. “Pennywise has found a friend, yes?” His uneven tone, rising and falling in strange ways make your stomach twist into knots with anxiety.

“Okay... Pennywise...” The name feels strange on your tongue as you struggle to calm yourself. “How... how do I get out of this room?”  “Get Out?” he asks with a mirthful giggle, “You don’t Get Out of this room, silly. You stay, and you play with the clown~!” A soft glow emanates through the room, providing just enough illumination for you to make out the silhouette of the tall clown in his strangely designed suit standing before you. He is easily three heads taller than you, towering above with a face obscured in shadows.

The eyes, though... small points of light set deep into the darkness of the face you can almost see glimmer at you as you try to step back, pressing into the hard wall behind you. 

“Ohhhh... You don’t want to play with the clown?” he asks in mock sadness, placing his hands against the wall to either side of you. He leans forward, and the rooms strange luminescence increases to bring you his visage.  His chalk-white face with ruby lips and lines adorning his cheeks, rising up over his eyes of molten gold comes into focus, and you feel heat rise in your cheeks as an unnaturally long and pointed tongue snakes out from between his lips.  The wet muscle drags a trail of chilly saliva from the bottom of your neck, right at the top of your collar bone up over your pounding pulse. It glides over the curve of your jaw, letting the tip flick upward as it comes away from your skin after tasting your cheek.

Sharp teeth glisten behind those plump, blood red lips, and you gasp softly when you feel the sudden pooling of tingling desire in your abdomen.

Pennywise pauses as this feeling unfurls inside you, his eyes drift slightly, his vision no longer sharply focused on your face. He huffs a few times, like a bear scenting its surroundings.

His face presses into the nape of your neck harshly and the air rushing over your skin as he breathes in makes your body shiver, nipples stiffening under your shirt. 

“So you DO want to play with the clown...” he comments, a wide grin spreading over his mouth. “Play with Pennywise, yes... we can have so much fun together.”  “Play with you?” You ask this with a still trembling voice, though the heat of desire slowly overtakes the terror that had originally settled into your bones. “If I do that... if I play with you, whatever you want to play, are you going to help me get out of here?”

Pennywise cackles at this inquiry, chilling your blood for a moment, before he leans himself down, nose to nose with you in the dimly lit room. “Sure, little thing. Play with me and I’ll let you go home... if you don’t break the rules~.”

“Rules?” you ask nervously. “W-what are the rules?”

Large, gloved hands grip your arms just beneath the shoulders and you feel yourself hoisted effortlessly into the air. You cry out softly in surprise, legs shaking as you feel yourself lowered to the floor again. “Rule Number One~,” the clown’s singsong voice filled with threat announces, “No screaming.” He chuckles to himself as though he finds the idea itself hilarious. You shiver and bite your lips together between your teeth.

“Rule Number Two~.” He raises a hand to touch your chin. The soft tearing of fabric meets your ears as blackened, sharp-tipped claws erupt from the glove. “No fighting.” A momentary blur of motion sends the sharp tips of his claw down through the fabric covering your body, shredding the front of your shirt, your pants and undergarments so that the clothing tumbles off of you uselessly. The cool air of the room makes you whimper softly.

The growing pressure in your belly ignites your nerves, and you feel tears gathering in your eyes at the aching need you feel to be touched, to be stimulated by this creature.

A low inhuman growl issues from Pennywise as his suit dissipates like vapor, exposing his lean, pale body to your eyes. His legs and arms appear blackened from the knees and elbows to his clawed digits. The image was strangely beautiful, before those clawed hands grabbed your arms and pulled you against that chilly, firm body.

His lips gleam with his saliva, a few cold drips landing on your collar bone and breast. You lean your head forward and press your own lips against his, eyes closing as you trust these instincts that burn and flare within your body to lead you to safety.

After a moment of shock, the vibration of his low growl of contentment makes your lips and tongue feel almost electrified, and you grind your thighs together at the heat that radiates from the swell of your slick sex.

He returns your kiss with surprising intensity, his tongue gliding around your own as his teeth prick your lips lightly, causing little droplets of blood to form and darken your lips to the same color as his own.

As he sucks and licks at your lips, a new sensation makes your core tighten and clench, a slick, smooth appendage glides against your hot slit. The aching entrance of your sex spasms as the slick tip glides over it, making its way to the throbbing bundle of your clit. 

Thrusting your hips, you grind that aching bundle against him, knees shaking as jolts of pleasure crash through your terrified body. You moan into his mouth, even as he collects the tiny droplets of blood at your lips.

Struggling, you tilt your hips to place his tip at your entrance and wriggle against him. Complying with your silent plea, he bucks his hips forward. Slick flesh fills you, stretching your aching walls in sweet satisfying agony. 

As he releases your mouth, your head tips back and a low moan issues from you as he stretches you around his appendage. His arms grip you tight against his chest, and his hips begin a rapid, merciless rhythm.

Your body flushes with pleasure even as your walls ache around him, the friction of his pulsing shaft against the sensitive flesh of your core sending showers of sparks and galaxies of stars through to the backs of your eyelids. Breathless whimpers are all you can manage as he holds you tight against his chest, fucking into your slippery heat in greedy, full thrusts.

He picks up his pace when your muscles spasm around him, an external hint at the mind-blanking intensity of pleasure that wracks your body as you come hard against him, eyes open and unseeing.

You feel the continued pace pick up as your senses return to you slowly. His breathing grows ragged in your ear, breath rushing over the side of your neck and ear as he pants, fucking into you like an animal in heat. His pelvis slaps loudly against your own with every thrust until you feel yourself crushed down against him, his shaft buried inside your body throbbing and hot, thick fluid seeping into you.

For a long moment, you’re held pinned against him, viscous release seeping out around him from your overfilled cunt. “Rule Number Three...” The sinister voice speaks in your ear as a sudden harsh shift in gravity sends you reeling. For a moment, you feel as though you’ve lost consciousness, until you find yourself being held above your bed, in your own bedroom. “When the clown wants to play, you play~.”

Dropping you unceremoniously on the bed, Pennywise gives you a malicious, sharp-toothed grin and vanishes with a pop!

You lay panting on your bed for a moment, wide-eyed with your heart hammering away in your chest. When you realize that you’re beginning to leak whatever strange seed you were filled with on your favorite blanket, you stand and walk toward your bathroom with quivering legs.

A mixture of dread and excitement boils within you as you wonder when the clown will be coming back to play again.

[grim-faux]

22 - The Scholar and the Eagle

For a long time I stared at it, struggling to identify the solution to an equation designed by math gods.  It was an elaborate architectural design, and in itself it resembled a complex engine.  It held a beginning and a means to no end.  I pondered over it, not quite fitting the kegs in the machine together, until it finally clicked.  This was the bottom line, the end note, the utopia of their research come full.

 “This is the Morphogenic Engine.  A few lines of mathematics, an algorithm.  Reprogram us, turn us into nightmare factories.  A few numbers on a dry erase board.  Give me a hacksaw and a few hours alone with Dr. Wernicke’s corpse.  I feel I owe him a debt.”

It was all I had come to suspect, in the end.  And now, I had activated the Morphogenic Engine.  Whoopee fuckin doo.  Time to go.

But before I departed, I set the remaining fingers of my left hand on the board and ran them across the fractioned lines.  Not enough to maim the formula entirely, but enough to leave my mark in the most appropriate way I could.  Now, if I could locate Wernicke’s corpse I might drag that along with me as well.

I hesitated from the sudden hiss of the doors as they opened into the corridor, I remained cautious and leaned out checking the cold white walls before I stepped out.  Daylight continued to poor from the hangar doors and the jeep sat, waiting for no one.  With a sigh I turned to the right, hopping over the blue barrels parked on the pathway.  It was a pathway I realized, with small channels along the raised sides that could have transported water.  Or collect water if the floor became wet.  I soon saw this as I slipped past a cart with crates dumped across its top.  Behind it, a body coated the wall.  A BODY was dried to its guts up the wall, and blood had spilled from the walkway into the channel, the vent above it was thick with muscle and spine chunks.

No surprise the mutilation was this far, these people had been trying to get out at the time.  How was this possible?  How was this level of carnage achieved?  I couldn’t wrap my mind around the fact, no one— No ONE had escaped.  I slowed down a bit, doubting my own competence to move those doors.  Recollections of the Asylum and the rotting MHS cop, cut through my thoughts.  Security Protocols, Automatic shutdown.  This was all wrong.

An emergency light burned softly at the end of the corridor, I’m almost certain it was white and not that deep shade of red.  Above directions indicated the Exit was to my left or right if I so chose.  I glanced to the right, but the door left open only revealed a flattened ladder, upon bodies that had been crushed beneath.  Blood coated the walls, as only blood could coat walls in these halls.  I only stared, I didn’t need to enter.

I took the dark tunnel on my left, the NV flashed until the image cleared and I waited for the colors to settle.  The nightvision had only a few minutes of power left, but it wouldn’t matter once I was out in the sun.  I had not located the purge doors yet, and didn’t know if I would need to revisit this corridor.  That charge was in the air, a wild sensation buried in my muscle and bone.  I was waiting for something, I expected something to happen that had not presented itself yet.  I could almost hear it.

I stopped and listened, debating on crouching behind the barrels on either side of the hall.  It was a sound, distant but I’m certain I was hearing it.  Or, was that just the blood vessels in my ears, my heart thudding?  I navigated around overturned barrels, pallets toppled on the path.  It was unnerving how clear the visor had become, or was that just me?  But I was sure I could see further now, than when I was trapped in the Asylum.  Then my mind supplied the answer.  The white walls reflected the infrared illumination for the camera to pick up.

I think lying to myself has become a habit.

There was no other sound, but for my shoes sticky with blood, the Velcro noise echoed throughout the tunnel.  I turned the corner, physically fighting myself not to run.  The friction in the air died to some degree, or I wasn’t paying attention.  I squeezed my eyes shut to clear my senses and focused ahead, where the chiseled rock ended at brick walls.  Beneath the walls stretched caution marks on the path, I’m certain those lines were yellow and black.  I couldn’t judge how far I’d come from the window or if my perception could be trusted, but I was willing to believe the doors couldn’t be that much further.  It looked like a straight walk.

I only made it a few steps before the earsplitting screech of an emergency siren shattered the stillness.  Above, a strobe flashed and spun against the ceiling, its colors might’ve been yellow as easily as they could be green in the NV tint.  I backed up as the camera flashed, the visor had changed and warped before it cleared.  There was a hissing, a grinding shrill that ate through my soul.  I raised the camera higher, though the visor flickered and failed altogether.  Before then, I saw a shape materialize in open air, out of nothing.  I recognized it.  I knew what it was.  The patients had warned me about it.  Without a doubt this was the murderer who left no footprints.

The Walrider 

I stumbled back as that same flash of pain sliced through my head, I saw white and images burned into my eyes.  Damn!  The air felt cold and malevolent, the hair on my arms and neck stood on end as I struggled to shake the stupor from my numb mind.  Visor, the visor wasn’t working!  I pat the camera gently, the image immediately returned as I pivoted.  The distortion in the hall shrieked after me, sounding like nails and death all in the same go.  I felt a prying in the base of my skull as I raced to the halls end.  I hadn’t seen how far back it was before the camera was working, it was impossible to decide if there was enough distance.  My only sane conclusion was to run and not trip.

The corridor vibrated with its grating screams, it was like stabbing hot Q-tips through your eardrums.  My thoughts pulsed with images, tremors surged up my spine and bore into the back of my eyes.  I saw visions of death, red filled the visor.  I zipped by the remains of Murkoff’s people, pieces I had glanced over when I passed.  Only now could I visualize the trauma in their flesh.

I shut down the NV as I zipped away from the dark corridor, my shoes skid on the leftovers of the Researcher torn open over the light.  As I wrench myself around the corner I try and glance over my shoulder where it is, but it’s too dark.  My skin crawled as I detected that terrible presence, as though it were reaching for my throat right then.  But I was already gone, ignoring the pain as I vault over barrels, my brain high on the exhilaration that I could outrun it.  I could hide from it.  Whatever it was, demon, madness of science!  I was going to outrun death itself.

The strobes along the wall bawled warnings and flashed red.  If it wasn’t behind me, the tunnel would be passive and calm as it had been during my first pass.  As it was, my muscles tingled with the spastic shock I couldn’t shake, the light had taken on a luminosity that stabbed my eyes.  When I took the chance to gawk back, I wasn’t paying attention and nearly toppled right over the stacks of sacks on pallets.  I managed to twist my knees under me and skid over, and made a smooth transition to the floor as I resumed pace.  My breath came in ragged gasps, as I fought back the sharp knot twisting in my side.  A little further, hang in there.  I shot around the unmarked tanks and all but plowed through the doors waiting for me. 

Someplace to hide, somewhere deep.  I needed a dark place to curl up and lock it out of my mind!

I reached for the knob but the doors ripped out of my grasp and who of all people would it be?!  The big ugly fucker looming in front of me, eyes narrowed and lips splint back oozing fresh blood.  I was too shocked to move, my brain fizzled out as he swept forward and snared me around the torso.  I made some sort of noise and tasted copper in my throat.  Where was it?  Where did it go?  I tried to see over his shoulder into the hall, as he adjusted his hold on me.  His fingers dug through my coat as he whirled around, in response I kicked at his face.  I must’ve hit him because he gave me a firm shake, causing my vision to ripple. 

“Little pig, little pig.”  I blinked and saw his teeth as he jerked me up.  No!  No!  NO more windows!  He was going to shatter me against the WALL!  He hoisted me over his head as I clawed at his chains, in desperation I slung my foot out and smashed my heel into his mutilated nose. 

Chris gave a nasally hiss and flung me onto the hard floor.  I murmured something as a rib crinkled in my chest, I couldn’t take much more of this.  I gaped up at him, choking as I fought to get a word out, a warning even.  Instead, I crawled away with the camera clutched to my chest, and watched as a dark insubstantial vapor settled over his head.  “No more escape.”

It swirled around his head, dragging him back towards the wall as he let out a yowl of horror.  I heard bone shatter as he struck the concrete and folded to the ground.  He had barely gotten an arm under his weight, when he was slung to the opposite wall and dragged up, leaving a thick crimson trail.  I continued to push myself away, stunned and terrified by what I was witnessing.  Chris slapped into the other wall once, a second time, and dropped.  He lay on his side reaching out, groping for a hold to drag his carcass up.

I raised my camera as the swarm dissipated, and through the flickering visor watched as the giant of a man moaned in pain, struggling to put himself back on his feet.  I saw nothing, but when I clicked on the nigthvision I saw…. the form that resembled something human.  Something skeletal.  It slung Chris over its ‘shoulder’ like he was a filthy towel and launched him against the wall, more crackling as bones rubbed and muscles snapped.  The Walrider flung him to the other wall, but I couldn’t see what it was doing as I clicked off the NV to confirm my theory.  Chris hit the high ceiling and flopped to the polished floor that was now slick with his own blood.

I turned the NV on in time to witness the apparition lift up into the air with its victim tangled in its vapor and… entered his body, or was absorbed by his skin?  I gawked, jaw hanging, as Chris gave a strangled wail before his body erupted into a shower of bone and skin, his organs trailing into the nearby vent and spilling down in a torrent of blood.  Bits of his body spewed off in every direction, until the pristine wall, ceiling, and floor was painted red.

I sat for some time too shaken to budge, terrified the Walrider would return to shred my body to pieces next.  But it didn’t.  A dull ache pulsed behind my right eye and my ribs throbbed, but I was in one piece.  Somehow.  I didn’t know if I should be thankful or not, it was hard to place my emotions.

“This is the way you die.  Ripped to pieces from the inside, watching your marrow scatter on a concrete wall.  You’ve escaped one Hell, Chris Walker.  God help me but I somehow hope you didn’t find another.”

I suppose he failed his self-proclaimed mission.  He never even stood a chance.  I didn’t want to think about what fate lay in wait for me.  I couldn’t get out unless I could get around that… the Walrider.

Red mist stained the front of my shirt, and fresh streaks clung to my lowers legs.  I fingered the cut in my pants, the one caused when the big fucker tried to drag me out of somewhere.  I exhaled a breath that tasted thick of copper.  He was gone now.  But he was replaced easily.

I pushed up to my feet and swayed.  I wanted to say that was a close call, but it wasn’t.  I don’t know what you call that.  Deus Ex Machina?  The story of my life. 

The battery was done.  I clicked off the NV and looked over the camera, taking catalog of its battered state.  I’d be lucky to find more batteries, but it didn’t seem to matter at this point.  I lowered the camera and stared up at the tatters of muscle left on the vent, still wet and dripping.  There had to be a way around it, or a way to distract it.  I might be able to outrun it, but there was no chance I could get around it here.  The purge chambers closed whenever they detected its presence, they probably remain closed.  Maybe they were shut for good now!  Damn precautions.  I just want to get out of here!

I turned and began walking down the hall that wouldn’t lead to the swarms nest.  If I disturbed it again, there would be no second chance.  I’d run out of enemies to feed it.  There was no reason to believe it had just left for good, either.  It might’ve wandered off and lost track of me.  Good lord, my head.  I’ll return to the lobby, I could elude it there for a short time.

A voice drifted up from the hall as I approached, but not the sort of voice I would expect, even in this pace.  I strained to see beyond the double doors Chris had flung open in his hunt.  The panel that was previously locked was now open.  I inched closer and stared inside, to another butchery of MHS tactical.  But beyond the stack of bodies was a Plexiglas chamber with one door, no visible knob.  Inside was a man in a wheelchair, situated behind a desk and calling… to me?

“Over here, please.  I must… try to explain.”  He looked barely alive, his skin wrinkled and wrapped loosely over his bones.  He was bald, and a gnarled hand adjusted the chair he was confined to.  It held him together by a respirator attached to his throat.  Clearly, he couldn’t speak without the mechanism tied to him.

I scanned the room over before I decided to enter.  The possibilities were endless, but I had doubts that I was the forefront of his concerns.  Besides, I already knew who this was.

“Dr. Wernicke?”  I stepped over the bodies splattered across the floor and stood before the door.  I didn’t expect he would open it.

His office was luxurious, maybe too much for a man that had the mobility of a quadriplegic.  A large library of books lined one side of the room, while behind his desk hung a stunning portrayal of Prometheus and the eagle.  I’m one hundred percent certain it was a painting and not a reproduction.  I made note that there were boxes of files set on his book shelf, the crème of Murkoff research.

“I know, I know,” he began.  “I am supposed to be dead.”  I turned around as the door gave a decompressing hiss and I was trapped in here with him.  “No… no such luck.  I am older than sin, but somehow…the only one left.  Because of Billy.”

I tried to be subtle about holding the camera beside my leg and listen patiently to the doctor, but I suspected he was aware of my actions.

“He takes care of me.  He may think I’m his father.  He certainly loves me, the poor idiot.”  I frowned.  I had already read the files, I was aware of their ‘talks.’

Dr. Wernicke directed his chair toward the same trinity molecule symbol thingy from the labs lobby.  “Do you know what this symbol represents?”

I shrugged.  “Molecular contamination?”

“It warns of a Nanohazard.”  He turned to face me once more, and rolled toward the clear Plexiglas that separated us.  “Microscopic machines.  Technology we have had for decades but never mastered.”

Files flashed through my memory.  H Theory experimentation, long before Murkoff took over Mount Massive.  “…waiting for them in the mountain.” My hand trembled as I set it over my eye.  Lights were too damn bright.

“Does your head hurt?” he asked, no tone of concern.  Though a machine was speaking for him.

“No.  No,” I whispered.  Don’t lose it now, Miles.  My pride was still intact, notwithstanding the circumstances.  I caught sight of myself in the reflective surface and was reminded of how hellish I must look.  “It’s just stress.”

He made a sound I couldn’t identify, and said, “You’ve been through a lot.”

I looked at him.  “No.  I have not.”  I cleared some of the copper in my throat before I spoke.  “You knew how to access that technology?”  Come to think of it, I shouldn’t be asking him these questions.  He wasn’t my buddy, we weren’t discussing theories over coffee.  I was in a tiny air tight cell, surrounded by corpses.

Wernicke dipped his head as he adjusted the chair, and wheeled around the side of the room.  “Murkoff discovered, in my research, a workaround.”  I pressed my hand to the Plexiglas to steady myself, and watched the doctor move.  “Turning the cells in a human body into nano-factories.  It’s the natural function of cells to produce molecules, but through psychosomatic direction, we engineered the precise molecules necessary.  Mind over body.”

He stopped parallel to the desk and adjusted his chair, as if to reconsider the nanohazard inscribed on the wall.  “It was… foolish and wrong to think we could control it.  To use mad men to make something so strong.”  I nodded slightly.

“You have to stop him, to… murder Billy.”   He spun the wheelchair to face me and enforced this duty.  “Turn off his life support, his anesthesia.  You have to undo what I’ve done.”

I leaned back from the barrier uncomfortably and looked upon the dead soldiers pureed across the floor.  He must have anticipated my reservation.  “No one can get out of this place while he lives.  You must kill him.”

I ran my thumb along the hairline crack in my camera and took a breath.  I think my patience irritated him.  “And how do I go about this?”

“Down the hall here, I will open the entrance to the Morphogenic wing.”  He tilts his head to my right.  The door behind me whispered as air seeped back into the room.  I hadn’t realized how rancid the air became, while I was trapped with these bodies.  “Do whatever you must to… stop it all.”  With that he turned his back to me, and seemed to fix his gaze on the painting of Prometheus.

I said nothing.  I backed away to the entrance and paused.

“We achieved something like this back in 1944.  Those fascists thought it was spirits, and we let them believe it.  Let them kill themselves thinking there was some kind of afterlife empirically promised to them.  Fools.”

While he was turned away, I raised the camera to make sure and film his confession.  “Poor Alan.  He would weep to see what I’ve built from his dreams.’

“Billy doesn’t mean harm.”  I glanced down to the soldiers and wondered; had they been trying to protect Wernicke, when ‘Billy’ escaped.  Had they been mistake as a threat, while trying to defend the doctor?  “He’s a child with a damaged mind, granted the powers of a God.  It would make any of us into a monster.”  Seemed so.

“You must end this.  We all must die here.”

There was a terse pause here.  The doctor was waiting for my response, but I said nothing.  I had misgivings for this statement, but I didn’t humor him with voicing them.  This was a true man of science.

“Murkoff knew the danger, and they didn’t care,” he resumed.  “In the corporations’ mind, we are all just dollar amounts in a ledger.  And the profits Project Walrider promised overshadowed whatever pitiful balance a few doctors and patients amounted to.” 

I lifted my brows and shrugged though he couldn’t see it.  I doubted he was so white knight about his research during the time.  I kept in mind he was one of the scientists of Project Paperclip and therefore, an asshole in my book.

“He will spread if you don’t stop him.  The Morphogenic Engine is self-perpetuating.  I pray to God you have the strength to end it here with your death.”

I debated with myself for a beat while I stood in the doorway.  “I don’t know if I’m that strong.”  I glanced over my shoulder as Wernicke’s chair moved and I could see him watching me as I turned away.

“More than anything I want rest,” his mechanical voice sounded worn, tired.  “Billy will not let me die.  He could never imagine how cruel this is.  I only want to die.”

When I was out of Wernicke’s chamber, the door gave a soft hiss as it shut.  Directly in front of me was the plate indicating the Morphgenic Engine chamber, and an arrow indicating my left.  It seemed like hours ago I had come through, exhausted and apathetic to what it could mean.  The concept at the time vague, especially after reading the complex formula left on the dry erase board.  All those chemicals left in the room of freezers.  They were added accordingly to a stewing pot of poison, and somehow, someone managed to misread the formula.  Good job.

As the doctor had promised the doorway was open into that section of the lab.  On the glistening floor I could make out the same trail marks here, as those I had noted curving into Wernicke’s room.  I looked up, and tucked in the upper edge of the corridors wall, was a camera.  It faced forward, sentry of the tunnel.

I had no idea what to expect, aside from the limited hindsight I had if/when Billy decided to attack.  My breath hitched, I don’t know why.  Maybe I sensed the malice and death, a heavy fog lingering throughout the facility.  It coiled about the living, struggling to drag my body into the rot and forgotten shadows of the halls. 

Billy was a child with a damaged mind.  Did he realize what he had done?  Dream therapy.  Maybe not.  But he was still a dangerous and wild creature, a force of nature set loose on the hapless denizens, whom had no capacity to defend themselves once he was loose.  It was impossible for him to stop.

I took a breath and stepped through the door, expecting at any moment to be eviscerated and thrown against the walls.  To have my skin splint open, and my brain matter smeared along the ceiling.  But nothing happened.  The silence loomed dark and ominous in the corridor as expected, my heart pumped as my mind pulsed.  I could only sense the lurking threat twisting in my skull.  At the far end of the hall a vivid aide-mémoire of what I would inherit upon failure, the red Rorschach spread across the wall.  If I squinted just right and tilt my head, it looked like a man waving.

The camera jarred my thoughts when it buzzed, its image feed still recorded but the battery for the NV was done.  I could only gamble that the infrared had enough power, to pick up an image of the Walrider if it approached.  It was all I had.

I first approached the doors on my left, and opened them up into a shower block.  The soft patter of water continued to run, at a glance I couldn’t decide where the sound came from.  There could have been no running water at all, and the sound was all in my ears.

In the far corner across from me, the body of a Murkoff researcher was slumped against lockers.  Shower stalls lined the back wall, and the wall to my right was equipped with some sinks.  I crept in and checked through each stall, finding very little but the remains of people.  They must have crammed in here when it all went to hell, but either became trapped in panic or couldn’t find a way out that wasn’t full of murder.  This idea was supported by a scientist crammed at the back of one stall, a broken camera clutched in his stiff hands.  The night features of the camera were now understood by me, but it apparently did him no favor. The batteries had been used up.

I stopped to stare into one stall, at the running water and the bloody remains of a body.  I couldn’t recall where, but I had seen this image before.  Blood down the drain.  Except the red was gone, replaced with the gooey puss of the swollen guts.  The water collected in a puddle beside them, and nudged the inflated mass periodically.

I turned away and crossed the room to a second set of doors, just beyond the sinks.  Plaques on the wall warned employees to Wash Hands Thoroughly.  Maybe at the time it would have made a difference.  Maybe something contaminated ‘Billy’ and that’s why everyone was dead.

And maybe that was full of shit.

Two doors.  Two doors in and out of the shower room.  I tried the second, and made sure the knob wouldn’t lock or stick if I had to come back through.

The next set of doors directly across from the showers, led into the cafeteria of the resident scientists.  I entered a door on my right, but found it only directed through the food preparation area.  Industrial shelves lined the walls, loaded with large canisters of food among other provisions.  A few steps in and there was another slew of corpses shredded over the walls and floor, guts had dried in odd twists over the tray rail.  I climbed over it and out into the main diner.  Rows of tables had been shoved around, the usual slaughter adorned all furniture.  I noted there were fewer bodies down here than on the upper floors, but that would make sense.

When Billy began attacking the scientists, no one was hanging around asking questions.  They knew what the swarm was capable of, once the first person was killed.  The place shut down to prevent his escape, but it only trapped everyone down here.  Those that did reach the upper floors weren’t keeping track of the patients, and it only got worse when they got loose. 

Security lock down.  Once monsters like Chris Walker, the twins, and every other murderous lunatic got out on the loose, it was only a matter of time before the staff succumbed to their fate.

I could see it unfold right here, as though it was only yesterday.  I walked around the room imagining the scientists seated, talking, comparing notes.  Stressed.  Project Walrider was at a dead end, many of the staff had already disappeared.  Then suddenly death, sirens flashing, containment breach.  The panic they felt when people began exploding, the realization that all their hard work had inevitably created something that they couldn’t control.  The primary exits blocked, blood was everywhere and they were unable to see the enemy, couldn’t know where it would come from next.  Not everyone fit on the elevator.  Those that didn’t make it hid themselves away, listening as their colleagues shrieked the moment before they painted every surface in vivid color.  Those that survived the first wave, spent the last hours of their life in fear, wondering when it would be their turn to die.

I stopped in the hall as the screeching ceased.  What hope did I have to survive?  The pain buried itself in the back of my head and my vision distorted.  If I hid in the dark corners of the labs, I would die.  If I fought back, I would die.

No.  No, I would not die here.  I promised myself I’d get the story and walk out of those doors, and I damn well planned to do just that.  If Billy couldn’t catch me first, then I would use whatever means was at my disposal to put him down.  What mattered most was that I would not stop until I was dead, and I could not stop until I was dead. 

I had no other choice but to go through with it.  I would do this.  Whatever it took, I would kill Billy.

The last door on my left was open, just a bathroom, a dead end.  Walls coated in gore, red and black stained the mirrors.  I simply closed the room and moved on.  The sirens were getting louder, alerting me to the presence of the swarm.  At the halls end was a plaque informing the left corridor to the Morphogenic chamber.

I took the right, my shoes sticking to the liquified bodies of more employees, most must have been in this area when Billy attacked.  Every few feet there was more blood, more sections and chunks and human pieces.  If there was any truth behind ores in the soil enhancing kinetic energies, then Mount Massive would become one of the most haunted Asylums in the world.

The hall ended and I stepped through the available door, the room was filled with additional cabinets and more freezers.  One of the reinforced freezer doors was left open and its cold air filled the small space of the room.  Numerous vials had fallen out, their contents spreading through the sack of innards marking another death.  Frozen icicles of red filled the freezer and gave half the room an ominous maroon glow.

I recalled notes concerning patients that had to be killed.  When test subjects began to resist their sedatives, lethal injection would have been made the mandatory procedure.  Murkoff wouldn’t risk creating something with volatile tendencies.  That couldn’t be killed. 

Billy was a failed experiment.  Murkoff would have tried to dispose of him discreetly, then move on.  But if he was somehow aware of this, then his retaliation was only natural.  It sounded solid for turning him into the mass murdering, child monster that he was. 

Dr. Wernicke kept the details of what happened to himself, but I did have the camera.

My hands were shaking.  I had trouble keeping the camera steady, always checking the visor and only satisfied that the atmosphere was calm.  But it was borrowed time, I wanted to avoid it, but I couldn’t.  I checked the open hall waiting before me.  Markers set on the corners, contrasting white walls with yellow black warning tape.  Vents overhead, cables and pipes lining the wall.  No distortions, no hallucinations, no eerie shrieks.  It was all borrowed time.

Time was my enemy.

I proceeded, the harsh alarm drilling through my thoughts growing louder with each step I took.  Was it the swarm, or was it broken?  I didn’t know.  I wouldn’t know until I reached it.

The plate on the wall read Morphogenic Chamber, and indicated ahead with a red and white arrow.  I paused to rub the stiffness in my eyes and checked the visor once more.  Nothing but noise and static.  How was it exactly I could tell when it was present?  I wasn’t certain, only that I could feel it.  It felt malign and hostile.  That creeping chill fortified my resolve.  I would do this, I could.  I would kill Billy and leave this place.  Just leave.  No distance, no nothing.  No rest or healing, just step through the exit.  Seeing the exit at long last might just kill me, I don’t know anymore.

I took a slow breath and continued, tying not to view the red, the pieces.  Not anymore.  No more death.  Focus on what needs to be done.  Those marks on the floor, the ones I knew so well.  They trail through the red like they were meant to be.

Wernicke wanted me dead.  I knew this without a doubt.  I was not supposed to be here, and he didn’t want me mucking in Murkoff’s shortcomings.  Whether he foresaw their failure or accepted it.  I was a journalist sated by the knowledge of this place, and his involvement in it.  The man was legally dead in the government’s eyes, but I had video footage to prove otherwise.  Along with his confessions of what Murkoff had hoped to achieve, and what it had done.

It was, as we say in my line of work, the scoop of the century.

A short corridor to my right led to a purge chamber, it was already locked due to protocol.  Above a light flashed its irritating color, while the alarm whirred.  Someone’s torso had been shoved between a series of tanks parked there, or they were ripped out of the space when they found the doors locked. 

I covered my ear as I turned away, trying to focus.  As of yet I had not picked up on the swarm, if it even was in this area.  A plaque on the wall identified this as B Block, the Morphogenic wing.  I stood beside a tank of liquid nitrogen, doubting if I would be able to detect when it did appear.  What if it could hide?  What if it was at the end of the corridor right now waiting for me, and I didn’t realize it?  I wasn’t expecting myself to just walk into a lab and smash everything up, it’d be nice, don’t get me wrong.  But it wouldn’t be that simple, and I wouldn’t fuckin kid myself about that.

Or he didn’t know I was here.  That was a possibility.  The swarm could be camped at the end of the first tunnel I had stumbled into, waiting for me.  If he believed I was dead set on just strolling out.  The key word here was ‘if.’  No evidence to prove otherwise, no reason to let my guard down.

My heart thudded in my chest as I neared the tunnels end.  Three sets of doors greeted me, two double and a single on my left.  I took a wild guess and decided the one straight ahead, would lead to the Morphogenic Chamber.  I tried to mentally prepare myself for what would come.  What was it I would need to do to shut it down?  How did the life support systems function?  Was there a switch in the room?  What did the Morphogenic Engine entail exactly?  It was self-perpetuating, that’s as far as I knew.

I focused on the body ahead, a thick pool of red stretched across the floor and wall.  Death awaited me.  If I failed, if I stopped, I would die.  I took a breath and braced my nerves as I moved towards the doors—

I didn’t make it.

A soft hissing, or wail enveloped my senses and I turned to the doorway on my left as a misty figure slid into my view.  I stared into the visor as I backed away and checked the NV feed.  I already knew what it was before the name entered my brain.

Billy either perceived my intentions or saw my presence as a threat.  Whatever his conclusion meant, one thing was for certain.  He would not let me get near the Morphogenic Engine.

[canarhys]

I have a headcannon that because leo’s Body temp is so high, he feels cold constantly, cuz of temp contrast and all that. I would literally die if you wrote a fic for me and @honestlydeepestmilkshake about Leo and Nico on the Argo and Leo stealing his aviator jacket.

you couldn’t blame leo if he was cold.

they’ve been on the sea for days, weeks, months — it wouldn’t be too much of a stretch to say that things on the argo ii were starting to spiral downwards into a pit of despair. one was the rocking of the ship, which would cause his friend hazel to groan as she slouched over the toilet bowl, the contents of her lunch now discarded into the clear waters. leo would often hold up her hair as she retched, wincing in sympathy as tears began to dust the corners of her eyes. the same thing happened with jason, though he would not vomit and instead stay cooped up in his cabin, shivering and whimpering away from the eyes of others. that didn’t stop leo from trying to aid him, however. next was the frequent monster attacks. gaea was really out here, though asleep, attempting to foil their plans to make it to the ancient lands by sending waves of harpies and sea monsters their way. it didn’t help the crew’s seasickness at all.

finally was the cold. leo had a high body temperature, and as a result, was actually cold constantly — especially in open, windy air. usually he could handle it, as all he had to do was create a flame or use his own supply of heat to warm his aching bones. yet as of now, he was shivering in his work boots as he walked down the hallway from the engine room, just having made repairs on the gears and pulleys in his living space. it was cold, so goddamn cold he was literally about to fistfight khione all the way from the argo ii. wasn’t he supposed to be the son of hephaestus? wielder of a fire that burns brighter than the ancients? it didn’t feel that way as he marched on, the rain pattering against the floorboards above him.

then he sees it. there’s a table on the side of the hallway, a small cactus on it that leo had personally named george. george was a small green little fellow, sitting inside of a clay pot and thriving in the waterless scene. leo had made sure to give him water whenever he would not be busy with the quest and shit. but that was not all that was on the table. next to george was a brown aviator jacket, the furs looking way too warm to pass by.

leo had been so cold, shuddering with each step he made, that he wasn’t thinking when he grabbed the jacket. he supposes it is jason’s or piper’s, as it was pretty big on him yet fit around his body just right. it smelled of petrichor, a peppermint and earthly scent despite how much heat it administered to leo. he tugged the corners around his stomach so his entire torso was wrapped in the furs, and he couldn’t help but smile at the feeling. a small blush came over his face. he was totally stealing this.

he finished his walk to the mess hall, entering the bright-lit room which held all his friends, who had already begun chowing down on the food magically prepared for them — frank was eating some carne asada, piper was chowing down on a pb&j with coca cola, jason was drinking a glass of oj, and hazel was coloring in a sketchbook as she mindlessly ate some chicken nuggets (she had grown fond over them after leo had decided to introduce them to her). “sup, crew!” he exclaimed as he waltzed into the mess hall, and the reactions that occurred snapped him out of his euphoric mood. jason spat out his oj. frank and piper choked on their food. hazel only gasped, dropping her pencil, which rolled over the table and fell onto her lap.

“dude, what are you wearing?” piper asked him, coughing to expel the contents of her sandwich so she wouldn’t choke to death. leo raised an eyebrow.

“what do you—?” he looked down at the jacket and made a noise of realization. “oh, yeah, i found this in the hallway. this isn’t one of yours?”

his friends shook their heads.

“okay, then who—?”

“um…”

realization hit leo when he had heard the voice behind him. he snapped his head towards the hallway, and felt his face heat up at the sight of nico di angelo, the last of the seven, wearing only his black t-shirt and ripped jeans, staring at leo with wide eyes and a gaping mouth as if he were a fish. okay, well, leo’s had a good run. nico will probably vaporize him on the spot for stealing his precious aviator jacket, and at this point leo already accepted the fact that he would die of a premature death. leo hums in astonishment at his bad luck. “oh, this is… this is yours,” he starts, noticing that nico is not making a move to murder him where he stands. leo forces a strained laugh. “whoops. sorry, man. uh, here.” he begins to take off the jacket when nico raises his hand in protest.

“no, don’t,” he says, quick and way too eager. nico clears his throat when he realizes the sudden outburst, then returning to his no-shit-taken look, breathing in deeply. leo notices that nico’s cheeks are flushed. “uh, you can wear it. it’s pretty cold.”

“oh, um…” leo side-eyes the rest of the crew, who are equally agape. he drifts his gaze back to nico. “thanks, man.”

“no problem,” nico answers, and the conversation ends there. the son of hades takes his seat at the table, and leo falls suit.

dinner is quiet. quieter than usual, though this time it was not from the looming awakening of mother earth herself but rather of the awkwardness of a situation leo did not account for. leo was pretty sure nico was staring at him, but everytime he would attempt to be sure of his guess, nico’s eyes would drift away and focus more on his plate of french fries. nico had been eating french fries for the past three days. leo is going to kill him.

the seven decide to call for a break, with hedge steering the ship and barricading any of their attempts to be on the lookout after the demigods overstrained themselves for the past month. leo voices his goodbyes to them, and exits the mess hall first, trying to exit before any further conversation could be made. then once he’s in the clear, he hears the padding of footsteps. he looks behind him, and nico di angelo has now entered his space, walking by his side and looking towards the end of the hallway. leo’s face is flushing. it’s enough heat to light a tree on fire, but leo knows that if he sets nico’s jacket aflame he’ll end up in the underworld, right in the fields of punishment. so he doesn’t say anything, and he walks all the way to nico’s room.

they make it to the door. “uh, thanks. again. for the jacket.” leo doesn’t really know what to say to nico, but he makes up for the lack of words by taking off the jacket and handing it back to the son of hades. nico nods, staring down at the fabric with an unreadable gaze.

“you look good,” nico admits. “in the jacket, i mean.”

leo blushes. “oh, uh… thanks.”

nico nods. “yeah.”

there’s a silence in the air. leo’s eyes drift to the burn on nico’s shoulder and feels his stomach tighten. at least it’s bandaged up. that’s… that’s good.

“you can take it,” nico tells him. oh gods, he’s still going. “if you feel cold again. just saying.”

“i’ll keep that in mind.” leo rubs his neck, and offers nico a small smile. “night, nico.”

“night.” nico opens the door to his room, but not without catching one last glance at leo, before he disappears behind the wooden door. leo lets out a sigh, a small exhale. that… went better than expected. leo really thought that nico di angelo was going to rip his soul to smithereens before leo could recite the lord’s prayer. then again, nico is someone else entirely for leo. has been for years.

he walks back to his room, ignoring the heat on his cheeks, and suddenly he’s not cold anymore.