#It's good! It made me vomit blood. I had so much fun! I felt like I was torturing the protagonist when I played it. I loved it! I cried.

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

Happy one year anniversary to In Stars and Time!

[mrsnancywheeler]

let me down easy // finnick odair x f. reader

based off this blurb

summary: finnick pushed himself away, isolated himself, and you're slipping through his fingers like sand.

masterlist

3.8k words

warnings: angst, a tiny bit of fluff at the end, a little smutty but also very brief, mental illness, insecurity, paranoia, allusions to cheating (no one is actually cheating), slightly mean!finnick, self destructive behavior on all sides, more insecurities, arguments, feeling isolated, slight blood and injury, female rage things, male masturbation, unedited, no use of y/n, brief mentions of vomiting, girls girls all around, annie cresta my beloved being a girl girl, people pleaser reader

𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒

Once every day had felt like it was full of sunlight, even if there were ups and downs you always had each other by the end of it. Now you weren't even sure if you had yourself, let alone Finnick. Worst of all you had no idea what you'd done wrong, at first you chalked it up to how he'd just returned from the Capitol. But usually his isolation was a day at the most before he'd succumb to your comfort. Instead it had been nearly a month of radio silence.

He stopped the way he'd pepper your face with kisses to wake you up and bring you to the kitchen where he'd have made breakfast, telling you mindless stories about his morning swim. Now if he did anything for you it felt robotic, out of necessity, there was no helping you with your hair, having fun picking out your outfits, he was barely around. Never would you have thought you could be such an outcast in your own home, your own relationship.

At first you'd thought you just weren't doing enough, that he needed some extra love to help him open up. Reluctantly you'd fully wake yourself up when you felt him rise for his swim, take up the position of making him breakfast instead. Busying yourself with his favorites until he returned and you put on your best smile when he did, hopeful it would be somewhat successful.

“Good morning!” You greeted and were met with a confused look, a nod. You'd always hated getting up this early yet here you were and he did nothing.

“I have to take a shower." He muttered and was up the stairs. It was a disappointing resolution, but then your hopes had still been high. So you kept making his favorites throughout the next few days, scattering gifts for him throughout the house, writing notes to hide where he might find them, desperate to show him how much you loved him.

“Where are you going?" Your voice startled him and he slowly turned his head towards you.

Finnick's voice was so dry, rigid, “Fishing."

“Oh, let me get my shoes on, I'll come with!" Bright smiles, you reminded yourself when it felt like wavering.

“I'd rather go alone."

“Right." It wanted to falter so bad, “How long are you gonna be gone? I could make you lunch to go or something."

“I'm okay."

You fidgeted with your fingers, “Yeah, okay, well, um, have fun." Then he was gone, without a kiss, even a hug goodbye. Come to think of it there hadn't been any at all for a while, not even in the morning which is something he'd always do. So after a few days failing with those attempts you'd convinced yourself of a different reason.

“Annie, be honest with me, do you think I'm pretty?" The two of you had been out in the garden of Victors Village and she seemed taken aback.

“Honey, of course you're pretty. You're beautiful, what brought this on?" She dropped what she was doing to look at you.

You darted around the specifics, “What about the way I dress, is it too frumpy?"

“No! There's nothing wrong with anything about you." Her voice was so soft and she felt like the only person you could talk to now that Finnick had pushed himself away from you. “What's going on?"

You felt yourself finally crying all the held back tears you'd hid for the moments alone, “What if he's found someone prettier and more exciting?” You sobbed out and Annie hugged you.

"Finnick worships the ground you walk on, he'd never do that.”

"He barely even talks to me anymore, Annie. It's like I don't exist.”

“He's just going through a rough patch, it's not your fault."

Regardless of what Annie said, you disagreed. He must have had someone else, but you couldn't confront him about it. No, if you did then it would become real and he'd leave you for them. There had to be someone else taking on his hardships and loving him the way he'd once let you. So you bought new makeup, new lingerie, new clothes, tried to feel more attractive, more desirable. Yet it didn't seem like he even noticed.

You'd waited for his return all day, he'd left so early you hadn't even seen him. You made dinner praying that he'd see the effort you made, and find you irresistible once again. Of course, this effort seemed to be in vain.

“Welcome home, Finn!" You greeted when he walked through the front door, pained by the sound of your own faux bubbly voice. You put a plate down in front of his usual seat.

“Thanks." He mumbled and you smiled cheerfully. Perhaps you'd been too solemn and he'd prefer someone who exuded more sunshine-like behavior. “How was your day?" His voice was sharp, curt, but it was a conversation nonetheless. Always better than nothing.

“It was good!" You lied through your teeth, there hadn't been a single moment where your brain hadn't been infested with the thought of him pushing you away, him with someone else. It was something you desiped, you preferred to be in the moment. When you had been confident in yours and Finnick's relationship you could immerse yourself in the company of others, enjoy menial tasks with humming and daydreams, but now the isolation haunted your mind. “Annie and I planted some new flowers and cut some that recently finished blooming. I finally changed our vases out." He didn't even glance around, just kept eating. Your Finnick had always made an effort to look around, praise you for anything you did, he took pride in you, now the only thing he took pride in was being able to avoid you.

He curtly nodded his head in response and you felt like you might snap. Especially as the silence persisted, nothing except the sounds of the house and his fork clinking on the plate. You chewed at your bottom lip, leg bouncing up and down waiting for the smallest bit of conversation, but nothing came. Eventually you shot out of your seat, grabbed your plate, which you were sure you wouldn't be able to stomach, and began cleaning up dinner. Hands gripping each dish so hard as if to contain all the rage you'd been repressing.

“I can clean up." Finnick murmured as he rose.

Being lazy was another thing you thought could be a reason. He did so much for you and whatever you had to offer must not have been enough. Yes, he'd always insisted that you should just be his pretty girl that he could look at when he did the tasks, but in secret he must have just wanted you to resist and do more. So you vehemently shook your head, “No, I've got it!" Your voice was strained and several pitches too high to sound natural.

“It's fine, I can do it.” How dare he have the gall to sound annoyed with you.

“I've got it Finnick, just go to bed!" Or whatever the fuck else is he does to be away from you. You regretted how snappy you were, he wanted someone easy going, not how uptight you were being. But god, hate that man for how he looked like a wounded puppy dog. “Sorry." You muttered, only partially genuine. Harshly grabbing a glass to clean, hands gripping around it, so harshly it seemed that when you went to put it to dry, it shattered in your hand. Your reaction was delayed as you stood there in disbelief, you hated your life, “Fuck.”

Then his hand was on your back and you involuntarily jerked at the contact you hadn't felt for so long. “You're bleeding." How the hell was his voice still so stony, a mystery you'd never know the answer too. It sent tingles up your spine the way his hand was on your back, you missed his touch. He led you to the bathroom where he carefully tended to the cuts in your hand. Carefully taking out the pieces of glass and although you occasionally winced, it was like your brain couldn't comprehend the pain over the buzzing about his hand touching yours. But once he bandaged it up the touch was gone and so was he with a, “I'll clean up."

Fuck him, fuck him, fuck him, fuck him. But you hated being angry with him when he was probably going through something, he'd struggled so much and just needed help. Was it really excusable though when it was tearing you apart to be in all of this. You got up and without a second thought walked straight out the front door. Feet guiding you to the comfort of the beach. Of course it invoked memories of all the better times spent with Finnick, but out here at least you had the ocean. It has started to rain and you didn't care. Walking out into the sea, as far as you could touch, and letting the freedom of the waves surround you. And you screamed, at the sky, at the waters, into the night. Trying so desperately to let go of the aggression, so you could keep trying. Inhaling the salt air before you walked back inside, you could do this. Every relationship had trials and tribulations, but you could be stronger, stick together.

As you were walking back, Finnick was jogging towards you, “Are you okay?" There was actual emotion in his voice, you longed to be privileged to it more often.

“Yeah."

“I thought I… " He trailed off, hand running through his hair. The way he looked like he might cry sparked guilt in you, but also a sick pleasure that he actually cared. “You're gonna get sick." Just as quickly his tone returned to being straight-laced.

You didn't care, if you were sick maybe he would take care of you. So you walked inside and he said nothing. You showered and changed, you'd gotten a new nightgown that left little to the imagination. Maybe you could get a rise out of him, get him to touch you more. But he seemed to be fast asleep by the time you left the bathroom, so you slipped into bed beside him. In the past he'd always sleep with his arms around you, but now you slept beside each other rather than with one another. It left you cold, despite the blankets, which were barely there as he'd always been a blanket hog, which you used to tease him for, but was fine because you were attached to him. Now you laid there and felt yourself crying. You cursed yourself for it, not right now, but you couldn't stop. So you covered your mouth with a hand as you sobbed into it.

The next morning you felt him wake, but there was no energy to make breakfast. You were exhausted and it hadn't made him love you again anyways. So you drifted back off until the sound of floorboards creaking when he returned woke you up. You sat up in bed as he entered the bedroom. “Morning, Finn." The smile you worked hard to maintain was back.

“Morning." He mumbled and then his eyes faltered on you. That's when you remembered the nightgown, it was a relief for something to keep his eyes on you. ‘Love me, even if it's just for my body, love me in some way.’ Your brain begged to no avail. “Shower." He slowly said even though he'd very obviously grown hard.

You felt humiliated, completely embarrassed to be dressed the way you were and him to still not want you. It made you want to cry again, but you had to persist. Rising to get dressed until you heard your name. It took you a second to process that he was moaning it, you were right there and he was getting himself off to the thought of you when he could've just had the actual you. That had to be a new type of low. You hadn't even dared to touch yourself no matter how badly you wanted him because you knew nothing you did could match the things he'd made you feel. Yet here he was, so easily jerking off. There was nothing you could do except seethe as you got ready for your day. At least it was your name and not some other girls.

You were in the kitchen when he walked downstairs, “Going to the market." He announced and you got up from your chair.

“I'm coming too." It wasn't a question.

"No, it's okay. I've just got a couple things to grab.”

"So do I, so I'll just come along to grab them. You don't even have to stick by me, I'm just going.” You were exasperated. Honestly you hadn't left the confines of Victors Village for a while, besides when you tried to recall your look, and this would be a good opportunity to see if he was being honest. There was nothing you really had to get, but at least you'd somewhat had his company.

He said nothing but waited as you put on your sandals and then the two of you set off. The silence was deafening as you two walked, your Finnick would always hold your hand, would've taken you from booth to booth and ramble on endlessly, buy anything you glanced at with interest, but now he stood too far away for your hands to even brush by each other. The bustling of the market was a relief and for the first time in a long time you naturally smiled. Although it was jarring how quickly Finnick put on a smile, made conversation with all these people when he hadn't blessed you with the same thing. In fact, it instantly dampened your mood.

“Haven't seen you in so long, missed seeing that pretty smile!" All your favorite vendors gushed and you'd smile, make small talk. Even if everything made you think of Finnick. When was the last time he'd called you pretty? When was the last time he kissed you?

“You look a little sad, are you alright?" And you'd insist you were just feeling a little under the weather. You'd somewhat kept your distance from Finnick until you saw him laughing with a girl in the market. When was the last time he'd laughed with you? Is this what he did, found pretty girls in the market, charmed them, and went back home with them?

You'd slowly approached and showed fake interest in one of her necklaces. “They're real pearls." She said. She was so pretty, stunning. What did she have that you didn't? You hummed, smiling and without a word, Finnick was handing you money.

‘I don't want your money, I want you to pay attention to me.’ You thought and shook your head, “I don't need your money, Finn." The only thing you'd want from him was something he'd pick out because he wanted to give it to you, something he'd always done if you hadn't been there with him. Showing up at home with little treasures to show off to you. He looked at you quizzically, it wasn't like you had any money of your own on you.

“Is this your girlfriend?" The woman asked, her voice was sweet like sugar, you were too gruff, that's what you were missing.

Right now though, your voice was breathy, anxious. “Yeah." The woman must have been able to sense something off because she looked at you with pity. Finnick left the money on the counter by you regardless of what you said and walked off. You sighed.

“I'm sorry, I didn't know."

You gave a sad smile, “It's okay, not your fault." You picked the money up, ready to go find him.

“He's just a guy, even if he's Finnick Odair, don't let him dim your spark." It should've been encouraging, except you knew you loved him too much to ever leave him.

You found him, chatting and smiling as he bought produce. You missed his smile. “Here." You said quietly, handing him his money.

“Where's the necklace?"

“Didn't need it." You didn't care about needing it, you care that he would rather have you buy things for yourself then make you feel valued.

He huffed, like you were frustrating him, annoying him. “Okay, use it to find something else then. You said you weren't going to stick around me." You couldn't stop yourself from physically recoiling from his venom.

“I just came to tell you I was going home." You said weakly, staring at the ground. “Have fun." Your voice cracked slightly and you didn't even bother looking up as you walked home. Immediately settling yourself into bed where you refused to move. Eventually he came home, something clicked onto the dresser table, the sun went down and you stayed put. When he crawled into bed the most movement you made was flipping onto your side to have the protection of your back facing him.

For days it was a cycle of laying in bed, only rising once he left, usually to stand under the burning hot water in the shower until your skin felt raw. Then immediately returning back to bed. He'd return, put something on the dresser, and you'd stay still. Eventually one night he'd come home and sat at your feet, mattress dipping. “We need to talk."

Your hands clamped over your ears, this was it, he was done with you, all that effort for nothing. The anxiety knotted in your stomach, “I'm gonna be sick." You forced yourself up and found yourself throwing up in the toilet, Finnick holding your hair back.

“Hey, it's okay. It's okay, sweet girl." When you were done you said nothing as you brushed your teeth, praying he would leave and forget whatever bad news he was surely bearing. But he didn't, he waited and sat on the bed, waiting for you. Who exited, arms crossed, trying not to cry.

“Please don't break up with me." It was pathetic to beg for but he stood up, looking bewildered.

“No, no, no, I'm not gonna break up with you, sweet girl. I wouldn't even think of it." His hands cradled your face and you melted into them.

Finally you let the tears fall, "Then what are we talking about?”

"I've been so terrible to you, a terrible partner, a terrible person. I…” He took a deep breath in, "I had a rough time in the Capitol, I always do, especially last time though. And I knew you would be able to tell and try to help, but it was easier for me to just block you out so I didn't have to deal with it. Because it hurts to think about." He was crying and it made your heart ache. "And I took you for granted. I didn't try to be there for you, I was selfish and I can't make up for it enough. I will spend the rest of my life making up for it.”

You were both sobbing and he pressed his forehead to yours. His hands were so warm, his touch was so perfect. "I want to help you.”

"I know.” He pulled his forehead away, putting his hands on your shoulders. "I need you to tell me how you felt. Not the sweet way you usually explain things, be honest, so honest.

You shook your head, “No, it's okay. It was just miscommunication."

“No, I think I nearly broke you and everybody else noticed before I did. I need to know your raw feelings, so I can attempt to make it up to you.” He let go of your shoulders and sat down on the edge of the bed.

"I thought you were cheating on me.” You said quietly, anxiously playing with your fingers. He already looked hurt, "Like you found someone else because I wasn't, I don't know, fun enough, pretty enough, hardworking enough. And you didn't want me to do anything with you ever or notice anything I did for you." You took a deep breath, you could feel yourself getting angrily worked up and he could tell.

“If you're angry, be angry." He said and you obeyed.

“And I bought new clothes for you, changed my makeup routine, smiled more, made all your favorites, woke up earlier, tried to take on burdens and you said nothing. Do you know how lonely I was? How bad that made me feel about myself? One day you weren't letting me lift a finger, telling me you loved me, now pretty I was, and the next I thought I'd never hear any of that again, let alone have you touch me. No kisses, or hugs, you didn't even hold me when we slept! And you were so closed off and sometimes mean on top of that and all I wanted was your attention. Until finally I gave up because at least even if you weren't really with me, I still had you, and I didn't want you to leave me just because I found out there was someone else, which is so fucked. And then I thought, maybe at the very least, he’ll have me for my body, I had new lingerie, I tried and you didn't give a fuck. No, you got yourself off in the goddamn bathroom and I was right here!” Your voice had risen and your inhales were sharp between the ranting, "And everytime I hated what you were doing to me, I'd feel bad because what you've been through is so much worse and I should still try to be there for you. So I tried and then you'd be annoyed with me and it was like torture. And I swear to god, if you ever do that again, I'll leave.” A weight lifted off of your chest and he hugged you.

“I'm so sorry, I won't ever do it again, I love you so much, you're so pretty and kind and I need you in my life." You held onto him like he would slip away, kissing away your tears that were falling even though he was also crying. He held you until the sobbing had mostly subsided, “You know I bought you all these stupid gifts when you were laying there, thinking it would make you feel better, but I don't even think you noticed." He chuckled and you turned your head, not wanting to tear away from him. All you could see was the necklace from where you were standing. “Not that it would've done anything after all the time I spent letting the castle crumble around us.

"Thank you.” It was muttered and then he tried to pull out of the hug which made you whine. Trying to cling on forever.

His hand tilted your chin towards him, “You wanna put one of those sets on that you got for me so I can show you how pretty you are and how sorry I am for neglecting my sweet girl?"

𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒

sorry y'all angst is my default settings. thank you for reading, comments, likes, reblogs, feedbacks is all super appreciated. asks and requests are open, love you all, sorry again 💋

taglist: @wowzabowza69

[dilvuc]

❝FEAST❞

𝖌𝖊𝖓𝖗𝖊: horror

𝖌𝖊𝖓𝖉𝖊𝖗: male

𝖙𝖎𝖙𝖑𝖊: feast

𝖕𝖆𝖗𝖎𝖓𝖌: jamil x yandere!cannibal!m!reader

𝖜𝖆𝖗𝖓𝖎𝖓𝖌: gore, blood, minor character’s death, cannibalism

𝖘𝖚𝖒𝖒𝖆𝖗𝖞: rumor says there's a cannibal at the school, but that's just a myth…right…?

“A cannibal? Are people really coming up with that story…?” you yawned with boredom, leaning back on the pillow. jamil hummed, “But…there were a few students who went missing. What if it's true?”

“Jamil, there isn't any proof that there's a cannibal in this school. I blame Crowley since he's being a shitty headmage right now.” you accused.

“...You’re probably right. That headmaster doesn't do much at the school to help his students.” the tan skinned male sighed. “Why am I worried about that?”

“Hey, you're ok with me cooking up some dinner tonight, right? Or you don't trust me to make dinner because I might poison Kalim?” you raised his eyebrows. jamil deadpanned, “...I trust you since we have known each other growing up. just don't add too much spice like last time.”

“Boo. You're no fun…” you pouted, causing jamil to chuckle a little.

night had arrived, you were given permission to make dinner in the school kitchen. jamil doesn't understand why you want to make dinner alone, but he didn't bother questioning it.

it's strange. it's…quiet in the scarabia dorm. why is it so quiet? the vice-housewarden went to knock on kalim's door to check on him, but all he finds is a note that read: “having a sleepover at the heartslabyul dorm with my band mates! i’ll be back tomorrow!” with a smiling face on it.

“Seriously…? What about everyone else?” jamil questioned.

“Jamil. There you are!” you waved to the tan skinned male. “Dinner is served~ It'll be our romantic dinner.”

“Eh? You and me? Alone?” jamil blushed. you winked, “We're mates, are we?”

“G-geez, I hate it when you do that. Fine…” jamil huffed.

you and jamil are seated in the lounge with dinner resting on the floor. it's nice that you set up dinner for you two, but…he still felt this ominous feeling that it makes him feel uncomfortable.

“Hey, are you alright?” you asked.

“A-ah. Yeah. It's just…I find it weird that it's so quiet. Too quiet…” jamil mumbled, rubbing his arms.

“Yeah…it is odd. Why is it so quiet…?” you raised your eyebrows while scooping some curry on jamil’s plate. “Curry? It's your favorite.”

“Oh. Thanks…” jamil accepted as he took the plate from your hand. you winked, “I added special ingredients that you might enjoy~”

“If you added extra spice, I'm so gonna kick your ass.” jamil narrowed his eyes on you. you brushed it off with a laugh, “It isn't spice~ Something new and special that might be extra good~”

“Whatever.” jamil rolled his eyes before taking a scoop of curry in his mouth. after swallowing it, he was impressed by the new flavor. “Hm. This is good. What's the special ingredients?”

“It's a secret~” you placed your finger over your lips.

“You think you're so mysterious…” jamil said sarcastically, taking another scoop of curry in his mouth. you hit yourself on the forehead, “Ah! I forgot to get us some drinks! I'll be right back. Don't eat all the curry without me, curry snatcher.”

jamil struck his tongue at you before you left to get drinks. the tan skinned male seated back in his seat and continued eating his curry, but…something stopped him from swallowing it whole. he felt something round in his mouth that doesn't quite fit in curry. jamil spit it out in his hand to see what it might be.

“...!” to his horror, it was an eyeball. jamil slowly turned to the curry on his plate and noticed some horrifying things in it, leading him to toss the curry aside and back away in horror. “...w…what…?”

jamil creeps over to the pot of curry and removes the lid to look inside of it. witnessing the gruesome horror made him want to vomit. now he realized what he has done, he has been eating something, no, he has been eating someone. the tan skinned male stood up and backed away, “So…the cannibal is…”

“Jamil. I bought the drinks.” jamil jumped at your arrival. you noticed the ruined curry on the ground and the look of horror on jamil's face. “Ah. I see you have not finished eating your dinner.”

“Y…you…you killed…” jamil pant in panic as he shakily grabbed his pen and pointed at you. you sighed with disappointment, “Such a shame. I have been hiding it for years since I was a child. Why do you think there are people missing? Do you realize what yours and Kalim's family have been eating from my family’s recipes for years?”

jamil gasped in horror and covered his mouth upon realizing what he had eaten. he then pressed his back against the wall, glaring at you with pure rage, “You…! It was all you!”

“Sorry for anger ya~ I get hungry easily.” you shrugged as you stepped closer, making the tan skinned male pointed his pen at you. “I wouldn't want to eat you, but…I’ve been wanting to know what you taste like, my lil’ cobra~”

“Stay back…! STAY BACK!” jamil screamed as he aimed his magic at you, but unfortunately for him, you grabbed his wrists and pinned them against the wall. “L-let me go!”

“Have I ever told you that you look delicious? How much I've been wanting to taste you?” you grinned ear to ear, tightening your grasp on jamil's wrists, causing him to hiss in pain. “Jamil, may I have a bite?”

jamil's eyes widened as you leaned closer to his neck. he struggled in your tight grasp, trying to set himself free, but failed. the poor vice-housewarden screams in pain as you bare your teeth in his neck, pouring blood from his neck.

missing person: jamil viper

╰┈➤ author note: please note that this is a slow update. i will still accept your request, but it will take a while since i'll be working on my books on wattpad. if you wish to read those books, here's my wattpad account.

twst masterlist

rules

[silverofthunder]

☆ the prisoner ☆

Papa Emeritus IV x GN Reader || 🔞 MDNI 🔞

summary: Bying an abandoned house in the middle of the nowhere had seemed like a good idea. But as the nightmares came to plague your dreams, you started slowly to realize that the place you had thought would be a calm, safe haven to you, was anything but that.

content/warnings: 5k words, mystery (kind of), evil demonic creature!Copia, demonic powers, emotional manipulation, nightmares, self-harming, vomiting, non-con vibes, hurt (with minimal comfort), suicidal thoughts, kind of dark & twisted romance, obsessive & possessive behavior

⚫!! this fic might disturbing as there is no nice things happening; Copia is pure evil in this, so if there's something triggering, i suggest you don't read this !! ⚫

I don't know what got into me but I got this idea of something really dark and this piece was born. I've never written anything like this but oh, how fun it was to just go wickedly wild with this. Evil!Copia might own me after this. I'm also kinda scared to post this but hey, this is a work of fiction so... I went to straight into the deep end. Hope that some of you like this!

You should have known it wasn’t a good idea. Bying an abandoned house that was in the middle of nowhere must have been your first idea that was actually the worst. Not that you knew it until it was too late.

But the house had looked so cool – it had something that called you right from the very fist time you saw a picture of it. But when you actually saw it with your eyes, you knew you had to get it and after a few weeks you got the announcement that it was yours. You were so happy when you got the keys and could finally start planning some renovations that needed to be done. You didn’t want to change too much as the house had some character and it didn’t take that long until you could finally stay there.

You enjoyed the quietness, the surrounding forest – after living in a bigger town for several years, it felt like a heaven to finally be able to breathe some fresh air and not feel the rush that seemed to always be present in town. However, after a while you couldn’t help but notice how it was almost too quiet. Despite that the forest was right there, you rarely heard birds or any other animal sounds, the fog there seemed to get thicker even though it wasn’t even autumn yet.

And one night when you stood on the porch, smoking a cigarette, your eyes caught something right on the line of your yard and the forest. The fog made it hard to see properly but it resembled a shape of a man. You stared at it for a while, your heart beating a little quicker in your chest, and then you took a long drag of your cigarette and closed your eyes. You let out the smoke and when you eventually opened your eyes, the man – or whatever it was – was gone.

Maybe it was just your imagination making some stupid shit up. It wouldn’t be a surprise as the place like this could easily get your imagination go wild. Or who knew, maybe someone from the nearest town had heard that someone had bought the house and was now just messing with you a little.

You shook the silly thoughts from your mind and finished smoking your cigarette before going back inside and to your bedroom. You placed your phone on the night stand and slipped under the blankets with a sigh. The sleep became fast and was followed by the dream.

You stood frozen in place, the fog around you so thick you barely see the path you were walking on. The air felt heavy and almost… suffocating. Your head turned side to side and then you heard a rustle and caught something in the corner of your eye on your left. Slowly you turned to look at whatever was there and as soon as your eyes settled on the dark figure, definitely in the shape of a man, you wanted to run. Something within you was screaming ’run’ but your legs wouldn’t obey you. You gasped for air as the man stepped closer to you and now you saw that he had… claws? And something was dripping from those claws.

Blood.

You swallowed, your heart now beating rapidly in your chest, pure fear settling deep within you. And in the next moment you heard a sound that was like a laugh but it made your blood run cold and your skin crawl in the most unpleasant way and then the man – or creature – was gone.

Copia was delighted to know that someone had finally bought the old house. He had now a chance to finally get what he had longed for so long… But he had to be careful at first. Keep a distance, then start slowly to worm his way into the mind of the resident. It shouldn’t be hard to break in and make them realize where they now belonged. To whom they belonged.

A wicked smile rose to Copia’s lips as he looked at the porch, the person standing there, smoking a cigarette. They seemed calm but Copia could sense there were some uneasiness in their bones. It would only be a matter of time before that would turn into a fear, a proper terror and Copia could hardly wait that.

Days went by and Copia watched closely over the person. He was the shadow in the darkest corner, following every movement they made. And their dreams… He had to get into them, make them darker. That way it would be easier to lure them into his world. Eternal darkness was lonely but he knew how to fight against that. He didn’t need to be alone.

Now as he watched the sleeping person, he flexed his clawed fingers, wanting to go and touch them. But it wasn’t time for that, not yet. Instead he inhaled deeply, that oddly sweet scent hitting his nose instantly and he let out a low growl. It was a bit too sweet, it needed to be sharpened.

You threw cold water over your face and dried it with a towel, then looking your face in the mirror. There were slight dark circles around your eyes telling that you hadn’t gotten enough sleep. For a few weeks you hadn’t slept that well as the nightmares had been disturbing you. It was always the same kind of atmosphere in those dreams – distressing, heavy, threatening. And in the middle of it was always the same man, or creature.

With a sigh you set the towel aside and walked to you work room, opening the upper drawer of your desk and took the old, worn-out diary out of it. You had found it a few days earlier in the attic, secured into a box. The lock had been so rusty it had opened easily and so you had gotten the access to the diary. At first you thought you didn’t want to find out what was written in it but eventually your curiousity had won and you had started to read it.

It had been hard to read, the handwriting being quite messy but you had been able to make out some sentences and words.

A demonic creature in the house. Nightmares. Scratches on the skin. The feeling that someone is watching you all the time.

Some of those sounded familiar. Especially the feeling that someone was watching you. At first you had brushed that feeling off but now that it had gotten even more stronger, you couldn’t ignore it anymore. But you didn’t know what you could do to it so you tried to just go on. Whatever was there… Well, maybe you would eventually found it out.

Nightmares was another thing you could sign. A demonic creature didn’t really ring a bell but there was some creature in your dreams so maybe it was that? Or did that mean the one watching you was a demonic creature? You didn’t know if you believed in those – you couldn’t believe in anything you hadn’t seen, right?

Scratches on the skin. Those you hadn’t seen – yet and it was terrifying. What would it mean when they appeared? That someone was actually there, in the house, with you? So many questions but so little answers. You opened the diary, searching for the last page that contained writing, the last words…

Leave before it’s too late.

That was written much clearer and repeated a few times until it all turns into a mix of red and black. Blood and ink, maybe. Something in your stomach turned as you thought of what might have happened to whoever had written the diary. Then you closed the diary, setting it on the desk before sitting down on the chair and opening your laptop.

You had googled your house before, obviously, but you hadn’t really paid much attention to other stuff beside the sales ad. You typed the place into the search bar and started going through the results.

Missing people, no bodies found. Stories of the ’man of the forest’ and several mentions of demon that lived in the house. You weren’t exactly surprised but the results definitely didn’t ease your nerves. Which ones those things were actually true and which ones were only made up, that you couldn’t tell.

Suddenly a loud, screeching sound interrupted you and you almost fell from your chair as you turned to look at the window. A shiver run down your spine as you saw long, clawed fingers scraping the glass. Your heartbeat rang in your ears as you stared how the claws dissappear from your sight. Then you waited and waited, tried to listen if you could hear anything else, something unusual. But you couldn’t.

Only quietness was left.

You breathed deeply in and released the breath slowly, then shook your head. Maybe your tired mind was starting to really play tricks on you. It had happened before so why would this time be any different?

Copia was smiling widely, walking towards the person who now leaned against the tree, eyes wide with fear, the smell of fear strong around them. Copia flashed his fangs, extending his hand and wrapping his clawed fingers around the person’s throat.

��Mmmh, such a delicious sight you are,” he purred venomously, leaning closer to the person who let out a miserable cry, squeezing their eyes shut. That sound made Copia hum pleased and he tightened his hold around the person’s throat.

”Burns,” the person croaked out, tears spilling from their eyes and Copia only chuckled darkly.

”Shhh, it won’t hurt long.”

He did enjoy seeing his preys hurting. But this one was no ordinary prey, no. This one was something else. Something so much better. He then released the person’s throat, his eyes falling to the red marks on the skin and ran one claw over it, the touch making the person sob and twitch. Copia licked his lips, moving his fingers under the person’s jaw and tapping the skin with his claws.

”Open your eyes,” he asked but the person gave just a little shake of head. Copia grabbed a hold of their jaw, repeating the words with a growl. The person finally obeyed, opening their eyes and Copia’s smile grew pleased.

”That wasn’t so hard, was it?”

The person didn’t say anything, just stared at him with watery eyes and Copia could hear their heart beating rapidly. He could sense how much they wanted to run away, as far as they could get from him. They couldn’t run, though, as Copia didn’t want them to. On rare occasions he allowed the preys to run but it was more fun like this – when all they could do was stand frozen in place and take whatever treatment Copia offered.

And usually the treatment they got was far from pretty.

”What are you?” The person’s voice was barely audible and they looked like they had almost given up. Accepted their fate, whatever that might be. Copia chuckled, squeezing the person’s jaw.

”Your worst nightmare.”

You stopped by the small cafe when you were driving back to your house. It was kind of strangely cozy with its slightly worn-out table-chair sets and with a decor that you could only describe as witchy. You bought a coffee and a little piece of chocolate cake and went to sit in the corner, near the window.

There weren’t that many people in but you couldn’t help but notice that a few of them seemed to look at you curiously and then whispering something to whoever was sitting beside them. It was a small town where most of the people probably knew each other, at least by face, and you hadn’t visited the places in there for many times so people probably didn’t recognize you.

You tried to ignore the staring, moving your gaze out the window. The clouds seemed to be darker, the blue sky disappearing behind them – most likely it would soon start to rain. The leaves in the trees were also starting to change their color, the red, yellow and orange blending into the green, and you couldn’t wait to see the nature in its autumn glory. You could imagine how beautiful the forest would look from your porch.

”Monster lives in your house.”

You got startled by the voice and turned to see a little girl standing close by, looking at you with wide eyes. Beside her was supposedly her mother who offered you an awkward smile. You smiled at her back before turning your attention back to the little girl.

”I don’t believe in monsters,” you said as politely as you could, and the girl blinked, shaking her head.

”Not all of them are real but the one in your house is.”

What the--? You let out a sigh, taking a sip from your coffee and the mother of the girl took her hand.

”Sorry, she is a bit… meddlesome,” the mother said, making a face at that and you gave a small wave of a hand. That wasn’t the first time someone said something like that about your house. Despite not visiting the town much, the whispers still had reached your ears.

You quickly finished your coffee and the cake, exiting the cafe and walking to your car as fast as you could. When you got inside, you slammed your forehead against the wheel, letting out a string of curses. You were tired, confused and a bit afraid. People weren’t exactly wrong – you knew there was someone in your house, at least part of the time. But who, that was still a mystery to you.

Copia dragged his claws along the wall, watching the person flinch and turn their head from side to side, eyes wide before walking over to another wall and doing the same, this time much slower. The person’s eyes settled onto the marks, mouth hanging open in shock and Copia could sense the question burning on their tongue.

He waited, patiently, but for his disappointment the person stayed quiet. They squeezed their hands into fists, anger replacing the shock on their face as they stormed off to another room. Copia followed close by, seeing how the person grabbed the old diary from the desk drawer and sat down on the bed, opening it.

Copia recognized that diary. Remembered how he had watched it to be written. The owner had suffered greatly until the very last day. It had been such a fun game. To drive the poor one mad and then strike when they had least expected it.

Copia smiled at the memory, still fresh in his mind.

”Stupid diary!” Copia chuckled at the person’s frustration as they went through the pages. ”Why can’t you give me any clear answers?”

He walked closer to the person, stopping right beside them, and thought of forcing them to look at him. The power he would feel when the person would gaze up at him, fear clear in their eyes, a weak plea on their lips. He imagined how he would run his claws along those pretty features, rip those clothes off and reveal the body underneath, admire it before marking it as his.

He was almost touching the person as he broke out of his reverie, and backed off a few steps. It was hard to keep control when something so delicious was right before him. But he didn’t want to ruin his chance – if things went right, he could be able to feast from this for a very long time. A little more time was all he needed.

The dreams, nightmares, had turned into more sexual ones and whenever you woke up, you were feeling so strange that you were sure you were starting to lose your mind. It wasn’t the only odd thing, though, there was also the red scratch marks that now marred your skin, mostly on your neck and arms but a few times you had spotted them on your hips and thighs.

They were real, lingering on your skin for days.

In resent nightmares you had seen the man, the creature, finally revealing himself from the shadows as he used your body to his own fun. Before he had been just a shape, like a black smoke-kind of thing and now he had a face of a man, covered with black and white paint, other eye seeming very human-like while the other glowed inhumanly white. Fingers with long claws, sharp fangs that was revealed whenever he had that wicked, predatoric smile on.

And his voice… That deep growl, it seemed to nest into you in a way that made you want to rip your skin off. He might have looked partly like a human but it was clear that he wasn’t a human. No human could ever make you feel like that. There was something so dark in him, no sign of kindness in his eyes when he had looked at you while your bodies had been slotted together in what should have been a pleasurable heaven.

To you it had been hell.

You took a pillow and pressed in against your face, screaming into it as you had done several mornings. It helped a little but not enough. You felt dirty in the worst way possible and went to shower quickly, trying to scrub him off of your skin, of your memory. The scratch marks stung but you didn’t stop scrubbing until some of them started to bleed.

With a head hung low you watched how the water turned to pink, disappearing eventually to the drain. After stepping out of the shower and drying yourself, you looked for some ointment and applied it upon the worst of the scratch marks. You did your best to avoid focusing on your image in the mirror and got dressed quickly, feeling slightly better when most of those ugly marks on your skin disappeared from your sight.

You went straight to the kitchen and opened the fridge, looking for something to eat. You weren’t that hungry as the images of your dreams made you feel nauseous but you still had to eat something. You made yourself a sandwhich and sat down on the nearest chair to eat it. A few days old newspaper was on the table and your eyes landed on the small headline on the left corner.

A missing person found dead in the woods

The body had been found near the other town and the police had apparently arrested someone that they thought had been behind it. So far there hadn’t been any disturbing news regarding the area where you lived but for some reason you believed that people might just keep their mouths shut if they saw something unusual happening. Hell, that was what you were now doing.

But the thing was… If you had talked about this all to someone, would they have believed you?

With a sigh, you continued munching your sandwhich, focusing your gaze somewhere at the opposite wall. It was a quiet morning, as usual – too quiet. At first it had been so relaxing and welcomed but now it only seemed to be a sign of something bad, something that still mostly hid in the shadows. You could feel the heaviness upon you, a force that seemed to grow darker every day.

A sudden tightening in your stomach made you froze for a moment and you dropped the rest of your sandwhich onto the table. The nausea had come back with a force and now you had to rush into bathroom and bend over the toilet to empty your stomach. Tears spilled into your eyes as you finally slid to the floor after you were sure nothing more came up.

You drew your legs closer, wrapping your arms around them and burying your head between your knees. Sobs jolted your body and you cried until you just couldn’t anymore. On the outside you looked like a mess, you had no much energy to do things and internally you were screaming.

Screaming into the void where no one could hear you.

Poor thing, Copia thought as he watched the person trying to tame the vines that had grown too big on the side of the house. They had fallen down a few times and Copia could sense that their strength had lessened. He flashed a pleased smile as he knew that his moment to shine was about to come soon. The poison was already rooted within them, slowly spreading, consuming them.

Copia went closer, leaning against the wall, eyes glued to the person who let out a frustrated grunts every once in a while as they cut the vines and pulled them off. Their shirt hung on them loosely, much loosely than it had sometime ago, the red marks on their skin now more prominent. They healed slower even though the person had put some kind of ointment on them.

With every passing day the beauty of the person grew and Copia was fully entranced. Meddling with dreams had been fun and all but the best part was yet to come and he couldn’t wait for it. It was a different thing to be the plague of the dreams than to be the nightmare of the reality. Though, for the person, the line between the dream and reality had already gotten blurry.

Copia hummed and the placed his claw against the wooden wall, slowly carving a long line onto it, and watched how the person’s head turned right towards him. The look in their eyes barely had any shock or surprise in them as they stared right at him. Of course, they couldn’t see him unless he wanted them to but still, their eyes were straight on him, then moving to the carved line.

With a weak laugh and a shrug, they returned back to their work and Copia continued watching them, his mind already wandering to what was to come. How his work would soon be complete. Step by step the eternal darkness was starting to feel less lonely. Soon he would have a companion to share it all.

He could already feel the power that he would possess after the union was complete.

Mine, mine, MINE.

The voice sounded so real and you blinked your eyes open, your vision blurry for a while. You shook your head, breathing heavily and soon you heard that voice again, the sound of it so loud you jumped straight up from the bed.

”This isn’t funny anymore! Whoever you are, stop messing with me!”

You knew it wouldn’t probably help but you had to do something. An echo of an evil laugh came somewhere behind you and you turned to look at there, seeing nothing.

”Leave me alone!” Your voice sounded thin and weak and tears burned in your eyes. You were so desperate for this all to end. This nightmare had to end.

There was a wind-like sound and then the same voice was whispering something right into your ear – or that was how it felt.

Run, run, RUN.

As the last word came out, your legs worked like an automatic and despite the weakness in your muscles, they carried you downstairs and out of the house. The cold night hit your skin immediately as you were wearing only an oversized t-shirt and your underwear. You didn’t look back as you run, heading straight towards the forest, the thick fog surrounding you as soon as you reached it.

You wanted to stop but no matter how hard you tried, you just couldn’t. Tears were now blurring your vision and you could barely breathe as you legs led you even deeper into the forest. And then it felt like you collided with an invisible wall, cutting your way and sending you to the ground. Soon the same evil laugh reached your ears, making your gut twist and you knew whatever was coming, couldn’t be anything good.

A figure of a man stepped into your line of vision from the shadows and the closer he got, the more details you started to see. You recognized him – it was the same man, or creature, from your dreams. The black and white paint on his face, the glowing inhuman white eye, fangs and claws. You couldn’t do anything than sit there, on the ground, frozen, a huge wave of dread swirling inside you. The closer the creature got, the more… powerless you started to feel, like someone was trying to shrink you.

You knew instantly that there wasn’t anything kind in that creature. Everything around him screamed danger and evil, as well as the way his eyes seemed to flash when he kneeled down and placed one of his clawed fingers under your jaw.

”Finally we meet in person, my darkest one,” he spoke, his voice making cold shivers run down your spine. You swallowed, then drew in a short breath, your whole body starting to shake as you fought against the mysterious force that kept you stuck in there.

”Oh, poor thing,” the creature cooed mockingly, slowly dragging his claw along your throat. ”There’s no point in fighting. You can’t go anywhere unless I let you.”

The smile that rose to the creature’s lips, didn’t leave anything unclear and you were starting to realize that maybe your nightmare hadn’t even started properly yet.

”Let me go,” you said through your teeth, and that only made the creature chuckle wickedly, his fingers wrapping around your throat as he leaned closer. He mouth was so close to your lips and you squeezed your eyes shut, waiting for his next move. Your nails dug into the ground as you soon felt a pair of lips pressing against the corner of your mouth.

The kiss burned and you let out a scream, though it sounded so weak in your own ears. The creature’s hum echoed all around you as his hold around your throat tightened.

”I’m afraid it’s too late for that.”

That was the last thing you heard before the darkness filled your mind.

Your whole body felt like being on fire as you finally got a part of your consciousness back. Everything hurt and you could only make out a figure hovering above you and the blurry surroundings. You were inside the house, in your bedroom, on your bed, completely naked.

”Shhh, it won’t hurt soon,” the creature spoke as he run his hand along your body, and you writhed underneath him. His voice was far from comforting.

Nothing had ever hurt so much. It was blinding, the burn slowly crawling under your skin. And all you wanted was it to end, you would do anything to make it end.

”Please, make it stop,” you cried out, tears flowing as it all was too much. Lips pressed against your cheek, claws digging into your hip and it only made it all worse. The creature took it slow, he wanted you to suffer, he enjoyed seeing you in pain. The chuckle he let out after another burn wave hit you, was pleased.

It was slowly sinking in that this all had been just a fun game to him. That he had pulled the strings right from the start and you hadn’t been able to do anything but to play along. This had been his goal all along, to use you as he wished, mentally and physically. There would be no way out of this nightmare anymore.

You wished you could die. That would surely end the suffering.

”Oh, I like the way you think but sadly that’s not my plan,” the creature said, his lips fanning over your marred skin on your chest and something within you shattered.

So you were getting the worst fate one could think of.

”Mine… You’ll mine,” the creature continued, his voice seeming to ooze more power with every word. ”You’ll help me to rule the darkness, the shadows.”

You drew in sharp breaths as the creature’s lips found your most sensitive parts of your body and you felt the nausea twist in your stomach. He growled as you writhed, some wicked pleasure blending with the disgust as your body reacted to his touch. It was wrong, so wrong. You grabbed a fistful of sheets, the burn spreading all over you again, the pillow under your head feeling damp from all the tears you had shed.

”Do you want me to take you?”

No, you wanted to say but that wasn’t what came out of your mouth.

”Yes.”

And in the next moment, he entered your body, claiming you as his. The pain only got worse but it lasted only for a moment, being soon replaced by something that you couldn’t describe. It wasn’t pain but it was far from pleasure, too. You felt something flowing into you – something purely evil, conquering you, filling your every cell with darkness.

There was no gentleness, only harsh movements as the creature defiled your body. You wanted to scream but it was only possible in your mind, the echo of it mixing with the moan escaping from your mouth in reality.

Or was this even the reality, you didn’t know. And it didn’t matter whether this was a dream or reality as the nightmare was still there, in the form of this creature that looked too much like a man. A handsome man that surely would have caught your attention if you had seen him somewhere in town.

A devil in disguise, spreading his poison into you and bounding you to him.

As his eyes finally met yours, you knew that there was no point of return. This house, the place you had thought would be your safe haven, had now become a cage and the man, the creature above you, in you, was a predator. A predator who loved to play with his preys. But you weren’t a prey, no, you were something much worse.

A prisoner, his prisoner – maybe even some kind of a spouse – for as long as he wished.

[unfinishedslurs]

stobin kidnapped- no upsidedown

Robin doesn’t know why she comes out to Steve Harrington of all people. 

It could be the drugs. It could be the way he’s been pretty good-natured about her ribbing all summer. It could be the fact that they’ve bonded, painfully and irreversibly, in the last 24 hours in a way she never has with anyone else and hopefully never will. It could be that she’s almost certainly going to die in this tiny, awful basement, and Steve fucking Harrington’s shitty homophobic spiel won’t matter because they’ll be dead. 

Tammy Thompson won’t matter, either. She’ll never, ever look at Robin now. Probably won’t even think about her as she cries over Steve Harrington’s tragic fate. 

“Have you ever been in love?”

They’re pressed back to back next to the hole that serves as their toilet, even if they’re not tied together that way anymore. Something about being able to see from all angles is comforting. No surprises. 

It also means she doesn’t have to see Steve’s face when he tells her how amazing this new girl is.

“Robin?” He asks when she doesn’t respond. “You OD on me?”

“I’m alive,” she confirms. Unfortunately. 

Nope, too soon to be making jokes about wishing she were dead when there’s a high possibility she ends up dead before she gets out of here. 

Steve’s presence leaves her back, and she almost panics before she realizes he’s scooting backwards until he can meet her eye. She scoots back until her back hits the wall, and he does the same. 

“This floor’s disgusting.” 

“Yeah, well, I’ve already got a bunch of blood and puke on my shirt, so…” he points out. “What do you think?”

“About?”

“This girl.” Why are his eyes so big? Is it the drugs in her system making her hallucinate again? Some great, cosmic consequence for being the kind of girl who can’t fall in love with this apparently amazing guy who protected her the best he could? She feels like she’s going to vomit again.

Eventually their singing dies down, and they exist in comfortable silence for a moment. 

It’s Steve who breaks it. “You know Jonathan Byers?”

“Didn’t he punch you and steal your girl?”

“Yeah,” he says. “I lied.”

“About what?”

“Only ever having been in love with Nancy.”

She blinks at him, squinting in concentration until he shifts uncomfortably and she gasps. “No,” she says. 

“‘No’ what?”

“You were not in love with Jonathan Byers.”

“Okay, yeah, I wasn’t in love with him,” he protests, squirming. “But, like, he’s cool, right?”

“No!” She exclaims. “No, he’s not cool, Steve. I can’t believe you made fun of me for Tammy, at least she didn’t give me a concussion!” 

“I deserved that concussion,” he protests. “Besides, it was a tiny one! That was, like, nothing compared to what Billy gave me.” Or the one he probably has right now, but neither of them point that out. 

“He stole your girlfriend.”

“Why do you keep saying that? There was no stealing anything. Nancy’s a human being, with, like, agency and shit.”

“Didn’t he take naked pictures of you guys?”

“What?” He sounds alarmed. “Is that what you heard?”

“Did he not?”

“Well…”

She laughs, disbelieving. 

“He apologized!” He says. “And he’ll never do it again, and I broke his camera for it anyway, so I kind of got retribution. Maybe too much retribution. I cannot overstate how much I deserved that beat down, I was an asshole to him.”

“God, you are not helping your case at all,” she giggles. He pouts at her, until he starts giggling too, and then they’re both laughing their asses off on the shitty basement floor until they lose their breath. 

They get lucky, she’s told while they’re in the hospital for smoke inhalation and a dozen other things. They were only in that basement for 24 hours until the police (re: Dustin and Erica) found them. It felt like a lifetime. 

She gets to sign out after six hours. Steve has to stay for two days. 

The nurses have to practically boot her out the door before she’ll leave his side. 

“I’m fine, Rob,” he says, rolling his eyes. “I’ve had worse.”

“I sure hope not!” The nurse exclaims as she’s checking over the monitor. “Young man, you are suffering from a Grade 3 concussion, bruised and broken ribs, smoke inhalation, multiple lacerations—“

“Jesus, okay, we get it!”

She gives him a scathing look before sweeping out of the room. Robin raises her eyebrows. “You’re fine, huh?”

The look he gives her could kill a lesser man. “Go home, Robin.”

“I’m staying the night.”

“You’re definitely not doing that.”

[whohasthecards]

Injured and Alone

Jake ejects on a mission for a different deployment and gets injured, and since he's on assignment and his emergency contact is his immediate CO, Mav/Dagger Squad doesnt find out and stuff, and so they lose contact with him for a couple weeks as he recovers and Mav starts to get worried but hangman comes back in contact when Mav said he would do something abt it and he scolds hangman a bit but lets it go and hangman feels smad because Mav or the daggers didn't notice he was gone, the daggers didnt notice he was gone, and they didnt really care and he still has injuries and eventually he still hangs out but with walls, but then Ice founds out in one of the mission reports and mentions it to Mav like how's Jake, is his injuries gone? And Mav is like stitches!????? And goes on to dad Jake.

The stuff I wrote below is like a word vomit mess, I kinda want to add more to it, but here is what I have for now.

---

Jake muttered a curse as he hid behind the trees. His comms were not working properly. He could barely hear anything, and he was pretty sure the enemy was able to get into the comms. 

He was stuck on enemy territory, he was grounded, no plane, lacking supplies, he had to get out. He had to march to the nearest base or else he was done for.

He turned on his comms for one last message, “This is Hangman, I’m going dark.” Afterwards he crushed the comms and left covered in dirt as he marched forward.

—

It took days. He fought through the wilderness. Hid from enemy patrol. Eliminated–, fought against other soldiers.

There was so much blood.

—

He woke up to the sound of machines beeping around him, the smell of antiseptic in the air, and the feeling of a dry-fucking throat.

What does a guy gotta do to get some water around here?

He opened up his eyes and saw a button by his bed and slowly inched his hand forward to grab and press it. His limbs felt so heavy, must be the good meds.

But hey, at least he wasn’t handcuffed to the bed. That’s a good sign, right? Meant he wasn’t being a complete incoherent shit head, or that he wasn’t in the enemy’s hands. 

Yay, progress. 

—

“-- The Navy thanks you for your service Lieutenant Seresin,” Jake snapped back to attention as his current CO filled him in on what happened. The older man was just droning on and on, but his limbs still felt heavy and there was a constant ache in his body. At least he could still lay in his hospital bed. “We’ll do a debrief once you're discharged. However, there is one more thing before I leave, Lieutenant.” The admiral paused as if choosing his words carefully. “It is stated in your file that your emergency contact would automatically be your current CO, which is me at the moment, is there anyone you would like me to contact, son?”

Jake paused and thought back to his last posting with the Dagger Squad. How they started having group hangouts, meals, and sleepovers during their break, continued whenever one or more of them were on leave and hanging around Miramar. He thought about how he had to drag himself up to his apartment and clean his wounds, how that would take forever, and how nice it would be to have someone– No. Most of the Daggers were on deployment last time he checked, the ones who were on leave didn’t deserve to have to deal with him. Mav is a permanent instructor in Top Gun, now, they won’t have time for him.

They were all he had and they deserved better.

“No, sir.”

—

It took more than a week to get himself settled in on his dingy base housing. He was at medical, flew stateside, medical again, and all that fun stuff.

He sighed as he laid down on his freshly made bed. Everything ached, his stitches felt like they were being pulled apart, and he was pretty sure he had a headache coming in. Wonderful.

He decided to open his phone to see what he missed.

He wondered if anyone messaged him.

Not really. It seems like it’s been more than a week since someone actually messaged him. And when they did it was to respond to something he sent to them. The Daggers group chat was going strong though.

He shouldn’t be surprised, they don’t even know the mission he’s been through. They don’t even know he’s back on the west coast.

But by god did it hurt that not even one of them bothered to send something in his more than 2 weeks of radio silence.

(He knew he was being irrational, they were all adults with busy lives. Hell, one of them could have been through something like he just went through and he and the others wouldn’t know. Right?)

—

He hissed as he disinfected his stitches and wounds, slowly wrapping them up in bandages. It’s okay, he’d be faster at doing this in a couple of days.

—

He felt his stomach rumble as he stared at the boiling pot of pasta. He forgot to cook earlier, well he was too tired too, and his stomach was paying for it. Maybe he should have just shelled out money for that pizza. Heck, he forgot to buy some kind of fucking sauce for the damn thing.

He’s usually too stingy to Doordash shit, but with how fatigued he felt every time he had to move, he was considering ordering groceries to be delivered at his front step.

—

While he was curled up in bed, everything was aching, his head feeling light. He felt his phone ping and he opened up the Dagger’s groupchat seeing the group talk about something so fucking stupid. 

He couldn’t help himself.

He roasted the shit out of them.

His phone was bombarded with notifications as his squad digitally squawked back in offense.

He smiled and put his phone down, for a minute he felt normal.

—

He wasn’t physically cleared for active duty, or to fly yet. He had to go through PT, training, counseling, evaluations, bla bla bla, the whole nine yards.

It was a pain, he missed being behind a stick. Missed being fast and bursting through the clouds and just watching the sky change colors.

Instead, he had to keep his feet on the ground as he went through fucking paperwork at Top Gun.

He gets surrounded by cocky-ass rookies, but he can’t school them.

It was horrible.

He looked up when he heard a knock at his door. “Hey, kid, heard we got a new Lieutenant coming to assist on base, didn’t think it was you, buddy,” Mav said smiling gently from where he leaned on Hangman’s door frame. “When did you get here?”

Hangman smirked back on the older man, slowly leaning back on his chair as he hid a wince from his stitches pulling. “Today's my third first day back at Top Gun, pops, just doing some paperwork.”

“Surprised you’re not out there flying, scared to lose to these rookies,” Mav teased sitting in front of his desk.

“Please Mav, I’m not like you, I’m here to be a good boy and not steal any multi-millionaire jets,” Hangman smirked. “At the moment at least.” Hangman said, flicking his toothpick to the side.

Maverick huffed out a laugh, “How was your last deployment, kid? I didn’t think you’d be back so soon.” Mav said, face turning serious. “Did something-?”

Hangman felt his heart clench, this is what he wanted, right? For the others to care, to notice, but why does it feel so wrong to admit-?

“Nah, Cap, I’m good, too good to be true in fact that I’m back here, now,” Hangman said leaning forward in his desk and giving Mav a disarming wink.

Mav gave him a once over, before sighing and shaking his head as he stood up. 

“Come over for dinner on Friday, some of the others are still on deployment or with their families. Heck, Bob, Fanboy, Coyote, and Bradley are on a road trip right now, they left a couple days ago, if they knew you were here they would have waited a while for you to come with them or something,” Mav said.

Jake shrugged, he knew about the road trip. He’s been back stateside for more than a week. His body would kill him if he came, though.

“Nah, it’s fine, pops, they probably already got it planned out, anyways, plus,” Hangman gave Mav a mischievous smile. “I get you all to myself for dinner, isn’t that a treat.”

Mav rolled his eyes as he walked to stand beside Jake’s chair. “Shut up, you brat, you just want to send pictures of my cooking to the squad to make them jealous,” Mav said as he ruffled his hair and slung an arm around the boy’s shoulders to pull him in a side hug. “It’s good to have you back, son.”

Jake turned his head to bury his head on the older man’s stomach for just a minute. “It’s good to be back, pops.”

—

“MmmMMm, this is the best fucking thing I’ve tasted in forever,” Jake groaned as he shovelled another bite of the steak. Mav was surprisingly talented behind the grill, and apparently the best mac and cheese was Ice’s personal recipe.

“I’m glad you like it, kid, make sure to eat your greens too,” Mav said smiling as he handed Jake the serving bowl of salad.

“Come on, Mav, let the boy enjoy his steak, he just came back from deployment,” Ice said grinning as he dabbed his mouth with a napkin.

Mav rolled his eyes upwards, “and people call me the irresponsible one.”

“Well, your Navy track record proceeds you.”

“As if yours is as clean as they think it is.”

“I’m better at not getting caught, also, which one of us actually remembered to do groceries this morning, love?” Ice said smirking and giving Jake a wink, making Jake remember to actually put the steak in his mouth as he watched the two banter.

It was surreal to see his Captain and the COMPACFLT in such a domestic situation.

Mav pouted and looked at Jake, “See what I have to deal with?”

Ice chuckled and gave Mav a small peck on the cheek, “You’re what I have to deal with. Forever.” Mav eyes softened at that as he intertwined their hands on the table.

“My wingman for life.”

Jake decided that he was being too nice and fake gagged, “you both our sickeningly sweet, there ain’t supposed to be anythin’ too sweet' with the steak, but you all decided to add too much sugar that ‘m growin’ cavities.” Jake said, narrowing his eyes at them.

“Too much sugar, hmm?” Ice said, raising a brow as he rested his chin on his fist. “So I suppose you don’t want the carrot cake I baked for dessert?”

Jake frowned, “Hey, hey, hey, I ain’t sayin’ that, carrot cake is good and healthy, I want some.”

Ice grinned wider, “What’s the magic word, Jacob?”

Jake rolled his eyes, “pleeaaaasseeee?” He drew out.

“Ah, ah, ah, no sass, young man,” Mav said, raising a fork at him as he stood up to presumably grab the cake.

Jake crossed his arms, “You can’t talk, Mav.”

“I can talk in my own house, kid. Remember, nobody likes a smartass.”

“Then why did Ice marry you?”

“My dashingly good looks, of course,” Mav said flashing a hollywood type smile as he grabbed the cake from the fridge.

Jake squinted, “I don’t see it.” Ice huffed out a laugh at that one as he started cutting up the cake. Jake perked up as Ice put down a big slice for him.

“Thank you, Admiral Kazansky,” Jake said, shoveling the cake in his mouth.

“What did I say about calling me admiral in my own home, son?”

“Not to do it because it makes you feel old, Ice.”

“Good job, now by the way, how are you Jake? Have your injuries healed nicely, or are they still sore?” Ice asks, for the first time looking at Jake seriously dead in the eye.

Jake froze and he felt ice go down his spine as he paused looking up at Ice wide eyed. He thought he got away with it, but of course, this is fucking Iceman, the commander of the Pacific fleet.

“Injuries? What injuries? Jake?” Mav said looking confused as he looked back and forth between the two.

Ice frowned at Mav, “You didn’t know? He didn’t tell you?”

“Tell me what, out with it, you two,” Mav sternly said.

Jake forced himself to give a small chuckle, “It’s nothing, pops, just a bit of a scuffle in my last deployment, nothing serious.”

He was in the sick-bay for more than a week.

Mav narrowed his eyes at Jake, “Uh-huh, does nothing serious cause you to be back stateside when your previous deployment was supposed to end in 3 months?”

Well, Mav didn’t make it this far for being dumb.

Jake poked down on his carrot cake, “I’m fine, pops, it’s nothin’, really.”

“Jacob Seresin, look at me.” Mav ordered, making Jake tense.

“It’s none of ya business, it’s my private file, you don’t need to know shit,” Jake growled, standing up, good mood ruined.

Jake felt his heart thump against his chest. They shouldn’t know, they can’t know. Why can’t they know? Because they’ll see you as weak. No they won’t. Yes, they will. He wanted them to be there, they can’t they won’t, stop being a bother, stop being a whiny--

“Jake, look at me,” Mav ordered again, albeit in a softer manner, Jake slowly met Mav's eyes, again. "Why didn't you tell us?" 

"I-I don't know," Jake softly admitted. 

He wanted them to find out for themselves, but he could have told them himself. He wanted them to be there sooner. And now that they know even though it's late. It was never their job to know, it was Jake’s job to communicate as a fucking adult.

“Do you really believe that we wouldn’t care?”

Jake shrugged in response. None of them noticed he wasn’t responding to messages for a couple of weeks.

Mav gave out a sigh, making Jake shrink on himself. “Is anyone helping you with taking care of your injuries, bud?”

“Nah, I’m good, pops, takes me a while, but I could figure it out on my own,” Jake said, sighing.

“You shouldn’t have too, son, come on, you need to tend to them before you go to bed, right? How about Mav will help you,” Ice said standing up. “I’ll get the first aid kit, Mav go settle Jake in the guest room.”

“That’s not necessary, sir-” Jake started, eyes wide.

“We know, but we want to help you, Jake,” Mav said gently clasping a hand on his shoulder steering him towards the room.

Jake could have fought, but he didn’t want to. He just nodded as they walked towards the room.

Mav made him sit down on the edge of the bed and ordered him to strip down to show the stitches, and Jake, too tired to argue just silently complied, unbuttoning his shirt to unveil the bandages wrapped around his torso and the patches of bruises scattered all around. 

He looked up when he heard Mav take a deep inhale of breath, seeing the pity in the old man’s eyes, making him scowl and look away. “I don’t want your pity.”

“I’m worried about you, Jake,” Mav said, softly. “Why didn’t you tell anyone?”

“How’d ya know if I told someone?”

Mav gave him a look.

“My commanding officer is my emergency contact, he was the only one who needed to know,” Jake said, running a hand through his hair. “Shit, I don’t know why I’m here, I can do this on my own–”

“At ease, Lieutenant Seresin.” Ice sternly said as he came in with a very big med kit. “Let’s clean up your wounds first, then we’ll talk, alright?”

“Unless you’re really uncomfortable with us helping you,” Mav said, looking sadly at him. “We’re not gonna force you to do anything, buddy, but it would ease our old hearts to see that you’re okay.” Mav said, forcing a smile that just looked sad.

And didn’t that make Jake’s heart clench.

“Fine,” Jake muttered, shifting forward and started removing his old bandages.

Mav gently took over, asking Jake to put his arms up so that he could get to them easier. Mav slowly removed the bandages, making sure skin wasn’t pulled, maneuvering Jake, so that his boy would be as comfortable as possible.

Ice crouched down in front of Jake and showed him the assortment of antibiotic ointments and creams, Jake nodded in consent, pointing out which ones he usually used. Ice nodded as he pulled them out and slowly moved his hand closer to Jake as he worked in tandem with Mav, both of them treating Jake with so much care.

When he let them help him, he expected it to be painful and much longer than if he had done it. That’s usually what happened anyways when he had to rely on others.

He was wrong.

They were slow, but steady, steady made their actions smooth, efficient, fast.

Ice let Jake lean forward, his forehead resting on the older man’s shoulder as the man quickly ran a hand through his hair before dabbling antibiotic cream to the wounds on his back.

Jake swore he just closed his eyes for one second.

“Buddy? Come on Jake-y, wake up for a bit, then you can go back to sleep, okay,” Mav said gently, nudging his shoulder.

Jake grumbled and felt Ice chuckle as he helped the younger man sit up, again.

“Come on, little prince, hands up, please,” Mav murmured, helping Jake into a big hoodie. “Can you change into sweatpants?”

Jake nodded as he clumsily complied, afterwards he blinked and suddenly Mav and Ice were tucking him in the guest room bed. Someone turned the lights off, and the two older men were saying their goodbyes when Jake tugged on Mav’s shirt.

“Mav? I’m sorry I didn’t tell ya, I-I don’t know why exactly I didn’t,” Jake said frowning looking up with half-lidded eyes. “W-wanted ya’ll to be there, just, hard,” Jake muttered.

He felt the bed dip beside him, a calloused hand cupping his cheek, “It’s okay, little prince, I understand, we’ll talk about it more once you rest up, okay?” 

“We’ll be there for you when you wake up, son, and we’ll always be there for you when we can,” Ice said, reaching over to stroke Jake’s hair. 

That was enough for Jake to let himself rest.

—--

("I didn't finish my carrot cake," Jake muttered against Mav's chest.

"It's okay, we still have some more, and how about Ice makes you some chocolate cake tomorrow, buddy?" Mav softly said running a hand through Jake's strands, smirking as Ice scowled at him.

“Didn’t you just bitch about how Jacob here needs his greens, and now–”

“Please, Pa?” Jake said looking up. “I mean the carrot cake is delicious and I love it, so if you’re busy, I get it–”

“No, son, I can make the cake, I’ll just have to use my husband for some logistics help, okay?” Ice said, cutting off his rant as he rubbed Jake’s back.

“I-If it’s okay with you and pops, I don’t want to be a bo-”

“You’re not a bother, plus we were already planning on making chocolate cake for a while, you just gave us an excuse to move up our plans, and have an early cheat day,” Mav said, wagging his eyebrows with a wink.

“More like permanent cheat week,” Ice mattered.)

—

(“Put me down as your emergency contact, please.” Mav said as he squeezed Jake tighter, to make sure the boy won’t have to see the tears building in his eyes. “Please, son.”)

—

(Imagine what happens once the Dagger Squad finds out what happened to Jake.)

[angelsanarchy]

What It Cost: Samuel Lafferty x Y/N Mini Series PRT 04

Tagging: @ithinkitstimetonap @kappasbbgirl @chainsawgvtsfvck @luzclarita57 @miniisunshine @madamemaximoff06 @romanroyapoligist @thirtyratsinasuit @ethical-cain-vinnel @blueberrypancakesworld @dumbbitchdelrey @loljustignoreth4t @tvgirlsbluehair @s0ulfulll @dukesofsp00ks @mommymilkers0526 @vomiting-blood @lustkillers @s-0lar @hisemoslut @roryculkinsgf @ultrakissed @starry-eyed-wild-child

The wedding of Allen and Brenda brings the Lafferty family back together again, with their parents slightly annoyed with how they returned to things. Dan had been making some poor decisions that was drawing more attention to the Lafferty family then what his father usually allowed.

"Daddy, why is uncle Dan in so much trouble with Grandpa?" Samuel turned to his daughter who was helping him decorate the back of Brenda's car.

"Well sometimes uncle Dan doesn't know when to be loud and when to be quiet. Grandpa has just returned from a very exhausting trip and doesn't enjoy how loud uncle Dan is being." Samuel stroked his daughters hair.

"Does Jenny and Joey get another mommy? They said uncle Dan was going to get another wife and that means they were going to get another mom." Samuel shook his head listening to his daughter talk.

"Sweetheart, you shouldn't be listening to-"

"Are you going to get us another mommy too? Can it be Y/n? She's always so fun to play with and she braids my hair so nice." Samuel felt a lump in his throat.

"Mommy always has a good time when Y/n stays with us. I think they would make wonderful sisters." Samuel kissed the top of his daughters head.

"All of those things are grown up matters baby but I'm sure Y/n would be happy to know how much you love her." Samuel smiled at his daughter and she leaned into him. He watched his father slap Dan across the face and his daughter hid behind him as they all watched the scene unfold. His father scolded Dan publicly and Y/n appeared from the church and jogged over towards the kids.

"Alright kids, let's go finish making sure everything is perfect inside. I might have snuck some cookies for you." Samuel gave her a nod as she took his daughter's hand and led them all back inside. Things had grown tense with his families shifting dynamics of power but all he could think about was how effortlessly Y/n managed to get his children out of a situation that would have shifted their opinions of his father and brothers.

During the wedding, he couldn't help but glance over at Y/n while she sat with his kids, holding hands with his daughter and offering his mother a tissue. She was an extension of his family and if his father wasn't so against plural marriage, he would absolutely have had that conversation with Sara. He knew he didn't need her permission as the man of the house. She always listened to him and obeyed him like a good wife but he at least wanted to clock a reaction to the idea of expanding their marriage.

The reception for the wedding was to be held at his parents home so the moment they all arrived there with the rest of the church members, Samuel made sure everyone was outside, enjoying the festivities before looking for Y/n. He went inside and checked the kitchen, the basement and finally noticed her coming out of one of the back bedrooms holding her finger to her mouth.

"I just got the baby down for a nap." She whispered. Samuel pushed Y/n into the bathroom and shut the door quietly behind them.

"Samuel? What's going-" Samuel's lips found hers and he pushed her up against the wall. She was surprised but wasted no time in kissing him back. He wanted her so deeply, it almost frightened him.

"Do you have any idea how mesmerizing you are? I feel like you have me under a spell." He brought his hands to her breasts and she moaned with her mouth wide.

"I...have no idea what I've done to elicit such a response." She panted as he pulled open the top of her dress, not caring that the buttons had flown to the floor.

"Samuel!" She raised her voice and he covered her mouth with his hand.

"I want you...so badly." Samuel whispered into her neck.

"We can't...Samuel...we can't do that..." As much as Y/n wanted Samuel in return, the Lafferty family was devote and did not follow the lines of plural marriages.

"I can't fight this feeling inside of myself. It's as if God has specifically put you in my path. I can feel it." Samuel almost seemed desperate as he explained. Y/n looked at him with a sympathtic frown, stroking his face. He kissed her palm before bringing it to his chest.

"Can't you feel my heart? It's beating like this for you, Y/n. I need you, all of you." Samuel begged. Y/n closed her eyes softly before taking a deep breath.

"Then take me. I'm yours." Y/n breathed staring at him with full certainty. He paused long enough to make sure she knew what he was asking of her before he stepped back from her and started unbuckling his belt. Y/n pushed her panties down, hiking the bottom of her dress up and facing the sink to brace herself against. Samuel jerked her dress up and bent her over, guiding his cock into her already wet pussy. He buried his face into her back to muffle his own moans, using one of his hands to cover her mouth.

His hips moved with such reckless abandon that the sounds of his thighs and balls slapping her ass filled the small space with both of their needy moans.

"Oh God...Samuel." She tried to keep her voice down as his hand moved from her mouth to clutch her throat from behind.

"You're so tight...you were made for me. This is what God intended. He wants me to have you, take care of you, fill you with his holy glory." Samuel grunted as Y/n cried out.

"I want it. I need it Samuel. Please don't stop." She looked at him over her shoulder and he bit his lip as he felt himself grow closer to cumming. Samuel snatches her dress up further, pushing down on her back so that her ass was in full view as he pulled his cock out and started painting ribbons of cum all over her ass.

Once he had finished himself off, he dropped to his knees and started lapping at her pussy from behind. Y/n couldn't stifle a yelp as she felt the intrusion of his tongue inside of her, his face in a place no suitor had ever been before but she couldn't stop herself from gripping the back of his head and pushing her ass back into his face. When he tasted her release and felt her body wrack with her orgasm, he leaned back to take in the beauty of her ass. His cum running down the back of her legs and her own the inside of her thighs.

He used a tissue to clean her up before pulling her panties back up her legs and fixing her dress. The blush on her cheeks and the tears in her eyes made him smile.

"You're so beautiful..." He breathed licking his lips. Intimacy with his wife was never like this. He knew he loved Sara and he knew sex with them was enjoyable but something truly felt different with Y/n. His entire body wanted to have her entire being. He wanted to posses her soul.

"I have to ask...what brought all this on? Surely weddings don't bring out the romantic in you." She teased as he picked up the buttons of her shirt from the floor.

"Watching you with my kids, how you are with my family...God has put you in my path for a reason. You are supposed to be here, with me, with my family." He pushed her hair off her face and she smiled.

"I love your family very much." She admitted.

"You are part of this family Y/n." Samuel kissed her sweetly. She helped straighten him out to make sure he was presentable as they opened the door.

As they rounded the corner, they almost ran directly into Samuel's brother Robin.

"Oh um hey brother! Everyone is looking for you and..." Robin noticed the front of Y/n's dress was missing buttons and Samuel cleared his throat.

"I was just trying to help Y/n find some needle and thread to fix her dress. Do you think Dianna might have some in her purse?" Samuel lied knowing this was now a secret between his brother, the lord and himself.

"I'm sure she does. I can go find her and send her in...but you should get back out here. Dad is looking for you." He swallowed nodding his head. Samuel returned the nod and followed his brother out, glancing back at Y/n with a smile. She blushed and held her dress closed with her hands, using her few fingers to give him a small wave.

Samuel was too far gone now.

[finn-m-corvex]

Whumptober 2023 Day 3 - "Make it stop."

Skybound angst time to shine! This is the first time I've ever tried to write Skybound anything so it was a brand-new experience for me! I don't know if I quite did it justice but I gave it a shot. Little disclaimer that all of these may read as a bit disconnected and that's mostly because I've written 30k words in like, less than a week and it's hard to keep things diverse. I'm def reusing phrases and words but oh well!

@splinnters your third tag of the day! Hope you're doing great man!

Words: 2.2k

He cried out as his head collided with the stone behind him, blood splatterings from previous beatings painted across the wall. Ducking his head, it took everything in him to hold in the meager scraps he had been given for lunch, and in his despartation he tried to tuck his legs up, flinching as the one weighed down by the vengestone ball and chain ached in response.

Another fist smashed into his face, and Jay felt his nose break under the force. It was far from the first time. Someone else grabbed his hair, yanking, holding his head up as he was punched again and again and again. The rough hands cradled his chin, fixing it in place and leaving Jay’s bloodied face on full display for the pirates in the room.

Pirates?

Why the fuck was he back here?

Jay tried to plead with them, but one of them drove their boot straight into his injured stomach. The bullet wound Flintlocke had given him screamed in protest, and this time Jay did vomit onto the ground, and his head started swimming when he saw tiny flecks of blood mixed into the bile. He couldn’t make out any of the pirates’ faces, but he didn’t know if that was because of how dark it was in his tiny cell or because of the vision loss in his left eye.

“Look at him, Flintlocke,” one sneered; it was the one pulling his hair. “Ain’t he such a cutie?”

“Quite right,” Flintlocke drawled, and the accent alone almost made Jay want to shit himself, “but I think he’d look a lot better if we roughed him up some more.”

“Would the captain be okay with that?”

“I think Nadakhan would give you extra if you did that,” and Jay could hear the smile playing on the firstmate’s lips. “And we all know how much pirates like extra.”

Everyone else started cackling, and the sound made Jay’s blood run as cold as Zane’s ice. He needed to get out of here; he didn’t know how he was going to do it, but he had to get out of here. Someone must’ve seen him struggling to get away, because his head was quickly slammed back against the wall and someone else’s foot slammed down onto his injured leg. Jay yelled but bit his lip, determined not to let them get another peep out of him.

He wasn’t breaking. He had survived this ship once, he could do it again.

Not again.

“Listen here, boy,” Flintlocke said, and his face was blurred even though he had crouched right in front of Jay’s sight. “We’re not looking for information. The only thing we want is to see that precious face of yours as bloodied up as we can possibly get it. And you know what that means.”

“No,” Jay breathed, panic rising when he saw the firstmate walking away. Flintlocke had never been friendly to him, but he always kept the rest of the crew in line. Without him here…”You can’t leave me here with them! Flintlocke!”

“Have fun, boy!” he hollered, flicking a two wave salute behind him that had Jay’s heart plummeting, “and good luck! We both know you’re going to need it!”

“Wai-” Jay didn’t even have a chance to finish his sentence before another fist was flying into his face at an alarming speed, throwing his head to the side and cracking his jaw. He coughed, spit flying from his mouth as the other pirate kicked him hard in the ribs. Jay felt something crack in his chest, and dark blood tinged the spittle dribbling down his chin.

His head was wrenched upwards again. “Aw look, he’s crying!”

Jay didn’t even realize that teardrops were rolling down his face until it was pointed out, but now that he knew they felt white-hot against his skin, but the shame welling up from inside of him burned more.

“Please,” Jay whispered, trying to dislodge the man’s grip on his hair, “you don’t have to do this.”

“Except I do, little boy,” a wicked grin filled with sharp teeth and breath that could melt acid, “because orders are orders. But I guess you would know that more than anyone, right?”

A metal pipe came flying in from the side that Jay couldn’t dodge in time. The blow sent him to the floor, reeling, gasping as his vision went white from the pain. He thought that it would’ve been the good ol’ one tap two tap system where they would hit him once, ask him a question and then hit him again.

It was not the one tap two tap system.

Again and again, the pipe came down with the force of a thunderclap, bruising and breaking his skin with resounding smacks, and Jay did his best to escape to no avail. Before long he was hauled up by his armpits and forced to sit there and take it as the pirate assailed his ribs, crack after crack as they snapped one by one. Jay was crying out with every blow, yelling when the pirate went after his knee, dislocating his kneecap with ease. He grinded the heel of his boot onto the kneecap, making Jay yell and sob with pain as the other pirate forced him forward.

Now bent in half, Jay tried to push himself back up, only to quickly give up once the man had started raining punishing blows against his spine. It stung against his still fresh lash marks from the most recent whipping, and Jay could feel his breath leaving as his face was pressed farther and farther into the floor. Never before had he been so glad for Wu to give him so much flexibility training.

One of the pirates was chuckling as Jay was finally given a reprieve. “Guess I can see why the captain likes you so much, eh? I don’t know a lot of men who can do the things you can.”

“Make it stop,” Jay gasped, and he was ashamed of himself for begging. Why was he begging already? Hadn’t he taken worse on this goddamn ship? “Please, make it stop.”

Sighing, the pirate with the pipe leaned down next to Jay’s ear, making him shudder in disgust. “You know as well as I do, boy, that there is no stopping once we’ve started. Now, care to sing for us a little more?”

Taking a hold of his hair again, Jay sobbed as his face was lifted off of the filthy wooden floor, and he barely had a second to catch his breath before it was being slammed back down into the planks.

But it was different this time.

The pirate kept smushing his face down. Jay could feel the blood coating the bottom of his mouth as blood was forced out of his nose, and he very quickly realized what the pirate was planning to do.

Jay was going to drown.

First Master they were trying to drown him in his own blood.

He thrashed in place, desperation forcing his already chipped nails to claw at anything they could grab until his hands were pinned under someone’s boots, standing painfully on top of his bruised fingers. Jay tried to thrust up with his hips and dislodge their grip on him, but the pipe just came back down with a harsh blow, and nothing he tried was working.

Vision blurring, Jay could feel his chest to constrict and turn in on itself, his awareness starting to fly away in a dreamy haze. He opened his mouth to yell, to cry, to beg for mercy but the only thing that filled it was his own blood. Choking on it, Jay tried to spit it out, but opening his mouth again only made it worse when the pirate pushed harder.

Nothing. There was nothing he could do.

Crying profusely, tears mixing with the blood rolling down his face, Jay let his vision go black, only praying that the ship wouldn’t be the thing to greet him if they ever let him wake up.

“Jay!”

What? Who was that?

Thinking that it was impossible, Jay opened his eyes, seeing the white walls of his room at the Airjitzu Temple greet him as he woke up. There was a hand on his shoulder, rubbing gently, and lips pressed to his hair before giving kisses to the skin behind his ear. Belatedly, Jay realized that the person’s other hand was rubbing soothing circles on his chest, and the flood of panic that had been overwhelming his senses finally subsided.

He knew who this was. “Nya-”

“I’m here, Jay,” she said softly, moving her lips down to his neck and pressing more feather-light kisses to his collarbone. “I’m here, so let’s just take a deep breath and try to relax.”

Inhaling, the breath got caught in the back of Jay’s throat and he started, hand going to his chest and checking for any injuries. Nothing fresh, but the raised bumps of his scars made his fingers tingle with repressed feelings, and Jay curled into himself as he started feeling like he was floating. He needed grounding and he needed it now.

“Do you need your gloves?” Nya asked, watching as his hands started shaking uncontrollably, his element threatening to encompass his fingers and sparking at the tips. Jay nodded wordlessly.

Reaching for the garments on his bedside table, Nya was quick to stuff his hands into them and make sure that they were secure, and relief crashed over his body when the pressure started giving him something to focus on and from the knowledge that his lightning couldn’t hurt Nya. Apparently Nya had been here longer than a few minutes, as she already had his weighted blanket out and ready. She unfolded it and spread it across the both of them, and Jay reached for her wrist when she moved to get out of the bed.

“Wait,” he said, feeling his voice crack with emotion. He didn’t want to be alone, “please, I need you here. I-I’m scared.”

“I know, sweetheart,” Nya said, and Jay sobbed from how gentle her tone was. “Sit up for me, okay? I’m gonna spoil you a bit.”

He did what she asked, sitting up and watching as she laid down against his headboard and boxed him in with her legs, crossing them over his waist and cushioning his head against her shoulder as he laid back down. Pulling the covers up and over both of them, Nya whipped out her phone and set up the kickstand so it would balance on Jay’s bed. Jay had his eyes shut, so he didn’t see whatever she clicked to start playing, but he immediately relaxed upon hearing the sound of his favorite Starfarer movie.

The sounds of Fritz Donnegon and his trusty crew washed over him, drowning out whatever remnant of the nightmare that still clung to his skin. He was flat on his stomach on top of Nya, and he was all too happy to just watch the movie as her hands started doodling random shapes across the skin of his back. At least he thought they were random until one of the lines was unmistakable: she was tracing his scars.

Both of them had spent so much time getting him readjusted to positive touch, and one of those exercises had been tracing the scars littering his back. Jay would sit crisscrossed on the floor with a stress toy or a pillow, doing whatever he needed to do to keep himself calm as Nya would rub her hands across his back from top to bottom. The memories brought back some joy, and Jay wrapped his arms around his girlfriend’s waist, only giving half his attention to the movie; the other hafl was going to the way her hand was carding through his hair.

“I think I wanna start growing my hair out,” Nya murmured, and Jay gave her as much of a surprised look as his sleep-adled brain could conjure.

“Any reason why?”

He was pretty sure he knew why, but Nya only shrugged. “No reason in particular, I just want to try something new.”

“Something new is always good,” Jay said, a large yawn escaping his mouth. The hand on his back drifted further up to his shoulderblades, and Jay knew that he would’ve started purring if he were able to as her short nails scratched the melt spot right below the nape of his neck. “I can do it too.”

“You hate your curls,” Nya chuckled, “even if I think they’re one of the cutest things about you.”

Jay blushed, and Nya giggled as the red stretched from his rosy cheeks to the back of his neck. She was quick to wipe his tear tracks away, kissing his forehead and then his cheekbones.

“Maybe I can learn to like them,” Jay said quietly, “at least, I think I want to start trying to.”

“And that’ll be good for you, dear,” Nya said. “It’ll be good for both of us.”

“Mhm,” Jay agreed, and he craned his head up to press a kiss to Nya’s chin. He kept trailing kisses downwards until he reached her breastbone, where he knew the scar from the poison still lingered under her shirt. He nuzzled against it, hearing Nya’s breath catch and her hand still on his shoulder. Having Starfarer play in the background wasn’t exactly how he envisioned this moment going, but Jay wasn’t particularly picky.

Until Nya had to go on and rain on his parade.

“We’re going back to sleep, Walker, that’s enough action for you.”

“But I didn’t even get to do anything!”

[androgynousblackbox]

How I Met Your Father. 11 [Appleradio, Radioapple]

AO3 link

How We Got Separated

"Where are you going?" Emily asked, floating behind him.

Alastor did not answer. He kept making his way to the main doors that thankfully were easy to find. The door that he came out from was one of many in an ample circle full of other ones, but he could not care less to find out what was behind them. There were no other angels or winged creatures present. Only Emily that seemed to be more curious to know what he was planning than to stop him.

When Alastor opened up the crystal doors, he had to squint his eyes again. Why did everything in this place had to be so bright? How did anyone could see anything like that? As soon his vision adjusted, his stomach dropped through the floor back to home.

The sky was a clear perfect blue, decorated with fluffy white clouds. All the street were spotless shinny gold reflecting that could reflect anything like a mirror. Not a single trace of vomit, trash or blood as far the eyes could see. Nobody was fighting or yelling. Every creature that was passing by had their own set of wings and halo.

The air he was breathing in was too pure. It smelled vaguely pleasant, like someone was baking cookies everywhere at the same time. So perfectly organized, so immaculate that surely not even a pin would be out of place without getting fixed.

Alastor felt his own soul snearing. How could anything be so vile? How did anyone could live like this and not want to blow their head off to scape it? Where was the chaos? Where was the violence and grossness of the human condition? Where was the power struggle and the heart wrenching failure? Where was the fear that pumped the heart? Why nobody was screaming!?

What kind of monster could set up such a setting for eternity?

Controlling his own nausea, Alastor forced himself to move. He had already seen where he wanted to go. Emily noticed the direction of his eyes and perked up.

"Oh, do you want to see Saint Peter?" asked.

"Yes" said without looking at her.

The creatures that were on his way all moved to let him pass. They weren't doing it out of fear for knowing his reputation. They were just being polite. Some even said "excuse me" as if somehow it was their mistake that Alastor wasn't paying any attention to them.

Hell.

This place had to be the real hell after all. It made sense. He had too much fun back at home and now finally was receiving the punishment he deserved. His own personal hell. And he was called cruel? Oh, whatever he ever did, alive or dead, was child's play compared with the sadistic mind that would make such a horror as this one.

Alastor speed up.

"I can take you with him directly if you want" offered Emily, keeping up easily with him.

"No, thank you" said Alastor, clenching his jaw. "I missed the part where you explain why you are following me."

"Well, you seem… a little upset. And it's my job to spread joy to everyone so, I should probably do something with that. If there is any way in which I help you out to adapt better to Heaven, please let me know."

"Joy?" Alastor laughed, like that was a foreign idea. In this place at least it was and certainly more with this creature that was annoyingly remind him to Charlie. Good grief, that would be just the best way to torture him. To twist the knife on his gut real good. "Are you part of my punishment too?"

"What?" When Alastor didn't clarified any further, she continued, concern layering her voice. "I am… Are you okay? Maybe the travel was too abrupt and left you confused? I assure you, nobody is here to punish you. The punishment is over actually! You don't have to worry about anything anymore."

Alastor stopped on his tracks and turned to her.

"I assure you, my dear. I am very well aware and conscious of my surroundings" said, his smile feeling tense as his eye twitched. "That is not the issue I am facing. If you care about my wellbeing, you can rest easy now and come back to your heavinly duties. I don't need a babysitter."

Emily pouted at that. Clearly, she wasn't used to people rejecting her help. He started walking again and she didn't stay behind.

"I am not trying to babysit you!" she protested, floating at his side. "You are obviously going through something right now and a friendly hand goes a long way! If you let me help you, I am sure you will feel better."

Alastor looked around them, almost expecting mocking faces or people to look weirded out at anyone trying to be caring out of in the open. But everyone just kept walking, trusting that whatever was happening this Emily would know how to handle it already. That also meant that nobody was going to do anything to take this angel off his back if she decided to stick around.

He mentally groaned. Maybe if he played along for a bit she would be convinced to leave him alone.

"I changed my mind. Take me to Saint Peter" said and after a beat, added. "Please."

Emily arched an eyebrow, but she still smiled with a nod.

"Of course. I understand that for new souls it's always difficult to adapt to their wings. Later I can teach you how to handle yours! Lift your arms."

"My what" Alastor lifted his arms, trying to look at his back when suddenly Emily took him by the hands, elevating him on the air.

The travel up to the gold gates he had seen at a distance lasted only a few minutes. Emily let him land softly on the ground and floated to knock on the gate.

"Peter, can you come in for a moment? A new soul that just arrived wants to speak to you."

"Sure!" A perky voice answered on the other side and the gates opened. Alastor saw another road of gold up ahead that got lost in more clouds, no clear beggining or end. If he managed to jump from it, would he be able to get home or would just be a splatter on Earth, only to be brought back again? "What I can help you with?"

Alastor looked up to the saint and something inside recoiled at his too big openly friendly smile, full of good disposition to spare laid out in the open. Was this man ever really a human? Where was his nose? What did Heaven had against noses?

"I wanted to ask if you can see my name" said Alastor, after swallowing. "I believe there must have been a mistake. I shouldn't be here."

"Well, my friend, if you are here it must be because you are supposed to be here! Although it is weird that you didn't appear here directly. I am supposed to be the one to greet the new ones, not you, Emily" commented Saint Peter with a slight frown.

"That is because he is a reformed soul!" intervened Emily enthusiastically. "He appeared right in front of me and Sera at the very center of everything! That must be why he had a different way of entrance."

"Oh, seriously? Reformed from where?" Saint Peter looked at him with a new look of curiosity and Alastor showed his teeth on a too wide smile too, more than willing to bite if he put his hand on him. Saint Peter made a oh sound when understading reached him. "From downstairs. Right. Yeah, I can see that now. He is still a bit… rough around the edges, huh?"

"I am sure a period of adjustment is to be expected" said Emily, conciliatory.

"I will say. But anyway!" Saint Peter shrugged, elevating himself on the air to reach his book. With a flick of his wrist the thick volume floated in front of him, the pages moving from front to back. "I can take a look if that makes you feel any better. Your name, please?"

"Alastor… " Alastor looked down at his hand to see that his wedding ring was gone.

He was expecting something like that, it was only logical, but actually seeing it was still a new kick to the face. To make it even worse, his hands were so different now. The skin of his hands was desaturated brown instead of pure black and the tips of his fingers had lost their intense red color, turning into a muted pink. If Charlie was there, people wouldn't connect them directly as father and daughter even if they did paid attention.

"Alastor… what?" asked Saint Peter.

Alastor frowned. Did that last name even applied to him anymore? They had taken his colors, his family, why not his last name too?

"Try Morningstar" suggested anyway, without noticing the way that Emily's eyes light up. "If that doesn't appear, Abaddon."

"Morningstar?!" repeated Emily, looking him down and up. She gasped, holding her own cheeks. "Are you the father of Charlie Morningstar by any chance? I did heard that one of her parents was a sinner! I knooow…" The eyes of Emily darted for a second to Saint Peter, concentrated on looking in his book. "I mean, I didn't know that you were him! What a coincidence that you would be the first success of her hotel!"

The way she laughed, keeping tabs on Saint Peter, concentrated on his book, made Alastor suddenly a bit more interested on her. He decided to save that as a mental note for later.

"I am" said, relaxing a bit more around her.

Charlie did mentioned a seraphim that was willing to listen and believed on her ideals just as much as she did. This one had to be it. Emily smiled again, taking his hand to pat it gently. Alastor allowed her to.

"She would be so proud of seeing you right now."

He just let the silence fill the space until Saint Peter spoke up again.

"You are here" said, floating close to Alastor. He turned the book around so Alastor could see his name, at the very bottom, written with the same golden ink as any other. "Right there, see? Alastor Morningstar."

A small comfort, but a comfort all the same. Alastor clinged to that feeling as strong as he could. That is right, that was him. He was part of the Morningstar family, ring or not.

"I suppose you don't actually know why, though" said, knowing already that it was useless and useless it was when Saint Peter shrugged.

"Sorry, not my job" said, returning the book to its place. "Is there anything else I can do?"

Alastor looked at the saint and then at the gates.

"Oh no! What is that horrible thing over there?" Alastor pointed at something on the side.

When both angel and saint turned their heads, he made his way to the open gates. The stupidest and oldest tricks on the book sometimes could still work. But even though he was sure that his feet landed on the other side, he felt a pressure around him as if moving through a wave and suddenly found himself in the exact same place where he started.

"What are you doing?" asked Saint Peter, honestly confused.

Alastor grunted and ran again. For a second he thought this was working, only to be pushed back.

"Is… is he trying to leave?" Saint Peter looked to Emily to confirm that his eyes weren't deceiving him. Nobody had ever tried to leave.

"Mmm" Emily frowned with concern when Alastor raced a long way back and then throw himself to the open gates, with the expected result of landing on the floor over his side. He couldn't get hurt, but still it wasn't something she liked to see. "Alastor, I don't think that is going to work."

Alastor glared at her. The sudden rage behind his eyes took her aback, but did not scared her and that was even worse for his mood. She had no reason to fear him. Here they were on her home. She had the power and ranking over him, which meant he was at her mercy.

Emily offered him her hand to help stand up and Alastor took it. But instead of lifting himself up, he pulled the angel closer and spoke to her on a low, controlled, voice, just for her ears.

"Get me out of here or I will tell everyone you helped out the king of hell to have an unofficial meeting with a winner. Let's see what the rest of heaven thinks of a seraphim that is supposed to spread joy breaking the rules."

"Everything okay?" asked Saint Peter.

"Yes!" said Emily, quickly, turning around to him. Alastor was relieved to see that he had hit the nail on the head. He wasn't entirely sure she was the same seraphim when he said that. "Everything is perfect! Alastor was just… playing a little prank, right? Right, Alastor? A little joke for Peter?"

That was more like it.

"Yes, a prank" said, returning to his normal charming smile. "A winner trying to escape heaven after finally managing to get out of hell! Tell me if that is not the hilarious thing you have ever heard."

"Ooh, I get it now!" Saint Peter laughed, so hard that his eyes started to tear up. "That is hilarious! You would have to be an idiot to do a thing like that!" He calmed down finally, smiling to Emily. "Heaven could always do with another kidder, right? Makes things more interesting."

"Absolutely, yes" Emily bite her lip. "But, uh, I have to give Alastor the tour now. You know the drill! I will let you get back to work."

"Don't worry, it was a slow day anyway so I needed the distraction" Saint Peter chuckled as he patted the back of Alastor, completely missing the look full of murderous intent that he got as a response as he flew to the other side of the entrance no issue. "Welcome to heaven, Alastor. Feel free to come by anytime!"

"Thanks for your help!" said Emily, waving at the man until the gates were closed. Once she was sure they weren't moving anymore and therefore Saint Peter couldn't hear them, she turned to Alastor with tense fists at her side. "You know, when someone does a favor for you, most people would be grateful instead of holding it over their heads by blackmailing them!"

"I was grateful" said Alastor calmly", right until I got stuck here against my will. I was perfectly content back in hell."

Emily's eyes widened at that.

"Wait, really? I thought the hotel was for redemption. Isn't end up here supposed to be the goal?"

"Mine wasn't. I was only there to support Charlie" Alastor sighed, rubbing his temple. This is what it got him try to be a good father. "I had a daughter, a husband and a life I had built for myself after years of hardwork. Why, and pardon my french, the hell would I want to give up any of that to be here?"

"Oh" Emily looked down, twisting her hands together. "I-I am sorry, I didn't know. I thought this was what you were looking for. If you didn't, then of course you would be upset to being send to an entirely different realm."

Alastor let his shoulder fall. Truly, she wasn't more to blame for his situation than anything else was. At least she was able to actually listen instead of insisting how lucky he should feel for being there.

"I have to get back. My family needs me" Emily nodded, but her eyes still had doubt on them. Alastor crossed his arms. "Surely there must be a precedent to a soul being send back to hell. If my husband managed to get kicked out from here, there is no reason why I shouldn't."

"Your… Oh, right, Lucifer. I don't know, Alastor. Angels and human souls are not really treated the same. I think maybe the rules are a bit more strict for us. Heaven is supposed to be for humans after all."

Alastor thought of Adam. That crude, violent man who took genuine joy of slaughtering people. Besides that last detail, with no redeeming qualities that he could imagine. A human soul given too much power that reveled on it. Maybe that was the real reason why he still was up in Heaven while others had been casted out for doing a lot less. He had been deemed "worthy" already, the decision was final.

"I have no use for a place like this" said, disgusted at the thought. "Find a way to get me back or I will do it after telling everyone what you did. If I have to burn every house I come across and slash every neck that I can get my hands on, then I will. I will show to you and the rest of heaven how right they were sending me to hell."

Alastor wanted to call his magic to give his words more emphasis. But his shadows didn't respond and no tentacles were coming out of him. Did he even had any power left on this new realm? It made him sick just to think of how weak he had to be now. He didn't let any of that show on his face, smiling as usual.

Emily stared at him, not sure of how to respond.

"Okay, so, just so we are clear, we don't want to come to that, right? We both can agree there" asked after a while.

"I don't know, I feel with a particularly arsonist mood every minute I am away home" He sighed. "I am missing the battle too by being here. That doesn't help."

"You mean the… Oh" Emily floated closer and Alastor remembered that the rest of Heaven wasn't supposed to know about the extermination. He could probably use that as more leverage. "Is that how you ended up here?"

"Are you asking me how I died for the second time?" Alastor arched an eyebrow, amused. "Isn't that a morbid topic for an angel to feel curious about? Do you want me to describe how I felt myself drowning on my own blood, my dear? Or how I touched the injury of my neck open? Oh, wait, I could give you a demostration myself! Since Heaven won't let me have pain, I could just…"

"Do you do that a lot?" asked Emily suddenly. "I already accepted to help you out, Alastor. You don't have to try to intimidate me."

Alastor cleared his throat. Old habits died hard. She was more perceptive he gave her credit for.

"You do realize that try to send a winner to hell falls under the breaking rules category, right?" changed the topic easily.

"But if I don't do it, you will tell I already broke the rules before so what is the difference?" Emily frowned. "And just so you know, I would have help you even if you weren't backmailing me. If you genuinely are miserable in Heaven and want to return to your family, that would be the least thing I could do. I don't want anyone to be sad for all eternity."

"My mood is irrelevant. Like I said, they need me down there" clarified Alastor, holding his hands behind his back. "That is a nice sentiment, but I need to be sure we are going to be on the same boat, dear" Alastor smiled wide, petting her head like a little kid that was finally learning to multiply. "That is how we do things back in hell. I can't count on your word alone. If I don't fall, you fall. Or whatever else they decide to do with you, I don't know or care. Understood?"

"You are really mean" Emily pouted slightly, looking to a side.

Alastor did too when he thought of Lucifer calling him out.

"I know" said, before taking a breath. "How are we going to go about this? I already know what method I prefer to go with. The infinitely funnier one. Let's hear yours."

"Maybe the library?" suggested Emily. "It has a record for the most notorious souls that reached Heaven. If there is a soul that was vanished to hell after coming here, their name should come up. Then we can find out how they did it."

With no other alternative, that is where they went. The whole library seemed to be a cathedral by itself, way too big for anyone without wings or that couldn't fly, which was not an issue for Emily. As she was elevating herself to reach at the highest registers of books, Alastor had no other choice but to wait for her on the ground. That obnoxiously clean reflective ground that was returning to him the image of his new body there.

It was awful. Besides the change on his own skin, his hair had become duller like his finger tips. His whole suit had been changed into a soft yellow with some details in pure white, like the cross on top of his chest, the sleeves and the lapel jacket. He hated it, almost as much as the white his antlers had turn into, but none of that was as offensive and disgusting to his mind as the pair of white wings at his back and the halo above his head. Those two things in particular made him want to slam his head against the reflection until somehow he could destroy it or cause enough brain damage that he would die again.

On the time that Emily took to come back, he had at least the chance to learn to conjure his staff. White and gold, again, with a red heart on the center rather than an eye. The same connection was there, but it felt different, warmer than before. He wasn't sure that he liked that.

The only thing he could very well tolerate was his new brown eyes. He knew those were the closest to his when he was alive and that made it all the more alien after years getting used to the red ones.

Alastor gripped his hands together behind his back, elevating his gaze so he could ignore that. He didn't want to get used to any of this.

He was hoping she could have a faster solution at hand. A potion, a crystal, a portal. Anything that he could just eat, grab or jump into directly into the fiery pits that he called home, only to forget he ever saw any of this.

Purely because of habit, his hand reached out for his pocket and, surprisingly, something was actually there. He pulled his pocket watch and stared at it. Why was that still with him, but not his magic or ring?

"What is that?" asked Emily, floating nearby with a book on her hand.

The book in question was thicker than her entire torso. Despite that, she seemed to have no issue at all handling it.

"A present from Lucifer" said Alastor, frowing. "I don't know why it followed me to here."

Emily flied over him, throwing a quick glance to the object. Just that seemed to tell her everything she needed to know.

"It's made of angelic steel, isn't it? Then technically it already belonged to Heaven, so I guess it just came to its origin. With all the more reason if you are the owner" she explained, taking the book to a nearby table to open it up. One of the heavy half of the book slammed against the table, but no dust came because of course it wouldn't. Emily wasted no time going over the written lines, her eyes quickly jumping from one point to another. "It's a beautiful work, by the way! I haven't seen steel used like that in a long while. I guess people consider it old fashion now."

Alastor smirked at that. It was old fashioned in hell too. That is why Lucifer knew it wouldn't be out of place for him to have it. He opened up the cover and the clock was still ticking like normal. If what Vaggie said was true, then his time was still the same as it was on hell. Meaning that there had been already four hours since the battle started and two since he died again.

"Right now the first man must be dead" assumed, shrugging as he put the watch back where it belonged.

Emily shook her head at the casual comment.

"What-what? Why do you say that?"

"He killed the spouse of the devil. In hell" Alastor explained it like it should be obvious enough, relying his weight on the marble table. "A dumb move if I ever saw one. Lucifer doesn't know that I am here either. I will be very surprised if he left any of your little exorcist alive after that. Ah, what I would give to have seen it with my own eyes. It must have been truly glorious. To not witness my husband going all out on some puny angels and stain the ground gold with their blood in a mockery of Heaven might be the biggest tragedy of it all."

Emily stared at his wistful expression. She did not understand hellish beings at all.

"I don't know if to be creeped out or endeared by that" said after a while. Her finger was still moving over the page, following each line. "Your face and the words you say are confusing me."

Alastor chuckled. He took notice that she wasn't saddened by the lost of Adam or the other exorcists, which did earn her a few more points.

"Feel whatever you want, dear, but do keep searching. The sooner I can come back, the sooner I can ask Lucifer all the details."

Emily sighed.

"I don't know how long this could take" recognized, throwing a glance at him. "You know, while I am doing this, you could…"

"No" Alastor alredy knew what she wanted to say.

"You didn't even let me finish."

"I won't go visit my mother."

"Ah." Emily played with the corner of a page for a second, almost shy. She knew she was threading on personal territory and didn't want to overstep his boundaries. Alastor could appreciate that. "Mmm, want to tell me why is that?"

"What is the point? Just so I have to say goodbye again? To tell her sorry, mom, I actually prefer to live in hell for the rest of eternity than live in heaven with you? By the way, we might never see each other again, so let these be my last words to you." He exhaled through his lips, practically a snort but not quite. Luckily for him the entire library was empty with the sole exception of a library angel that was floating on the furthest shelfs, no interested in telling them to shut up. "What mother wants to hear something like that from their only son? What person even?"

Emily pressed her lips together, thoughful.

"She does know Lucifer though. And Charlie" said, as gently as she could. "I am certain that she would understand that you want to be with them. And don't say again that your mood is irrelevant. You are allowed to miss your family."

Alastor's lip twitched as he straighten up again, leaving the table. Emily followed up his movements, not sure if she had screwed up or how badly.

"Keep looking, dear. I need some… disgustingly fresh air. I might see where I can get gasoline."

"You are not going to burn houses, right?" asked Emily. The snickering she could hear from Alastor did nothing to calm her down. "Hey, no cut anything either, okay? If there is anything here that can help I will find it! Just have some patience, alright?"

Alastor dedicated her a high thumbs up, not promising anything. When he heard a little groan from Emily, he draw a bigger smile. She was too easy to pick on.

He thought that a walk would help distract his mind and it did, replacing the thoughts of his mother with more disgust directed at this entire realm that he thought was capable of. Up head he saw someone dropping their purse while talking through the phone, only for a stranger to pick it up and give it back without even trying to see what was inside. The owner of the purse thank them, they shook hands and each of them were their separate ways.

Neither of them tried to knock the other. There was no demand for a reward. There was no second inspection of the purse to see that something gross hasn't been put inside. There was no bomb in the purse to surprise any of them. A perfectly civilized and calm interaction that nobody around them cared about.

How utterly disgusting. How could they live like this? Every day for eternity?

Alastor shook off the shiver that ran through him and continue walking. If Lucifer could find him no matter where he was with his own angelic powers, then no doubt Emily could do the same when she found his way back home.

He didn't had any concrete objective in mind, so his steps somehow end up in what looked to be a commercial area. Except that everything was for free all the time and yet, nobody was trying to take out the products off the shelfs or exhibitors. It was all registered calmly by a cashier and it was done, wishing everyone to have a good day with a genuine smile. Absolute madness.

He was looking for a butcher shop or appliance for the kitchen where he could see the knives, when a reflection in the vitrines made him stop. He turned around and wasn't wrong. An exorcist was just coming out from a ortophedic shop, testing out still the shiny metal arm coming up above where her elbow used to be.

Alastor felt his heart skip a beat. Did Lucifer do that? Did his love ripped an arm clean on his rampage? Oh, he could only imagine the scream of pain that exorcist would make. He hoped it had been a espectacularly high pitched one. The voice of a soprano perhaps whose painful notes could break glass. The only question was why was she alive. The thought of her somehow managing to escape was unlikely, but not entirely impossible, he imagined.

Before he could realize what he was doing, he was already following after her, instinctively knowing to keep a healthy distance to not alert her at first. Did any of them survive too? Was Adam somewhere? But no, that would be actually impossible. Once Lucifer had a reason to want someone dead, they had to be a goner. Of that he had no single doubt.

When the exorcist turned in a corner, Alastor went there too and immediately was knocked against the wall. Her metal arm was pressing against his chest.

"Why the fuck are you following me?" asked the exorcist. Alastor noticed that her eyes looked so very tired and slightly red, like she had been crying not that long ago. That brought him even more joy to think were tears of grief. "If you like me so much, you could be less of a creep about it. But beyond that, I am not interested so you can forget it."

"Goodness gracious, no!" Alastor laughed at the misunderstanding. If he did ever had such intentions, she would have never seen him coming. He had been so curious that he didn't bothered to be as stealth as he could be. "I am a married man, my dear. Trust me, I have zero interest on you in that way."

The exorcist arched an eyebrow, looking down for a second before looking up again.

"I don't see any ring."

Alastor's eyes crinkled.

"My point still stands."

"Why were you following me then?"

"Well, you see, dear" started Alastor, grabbing her arm and twisting it to press it against the exorcist's back, putting her now against the same wall. Even without his powers, he still remembered a thing or two of how to use his body. "I just have a couple of questions and I will let you go. Simple as that. First one, you just came back from the extermination, didn't you?"

The exorcist froze in place, stopping her attempts to get ride of him and looked at him over her shoulder. It took her a couple of seconds, but soon her eyes widened with recognition.

"The red demon on the roof."

Alastor gave her a toothy smile. He had no idea of who she was without her mask. To him she was just any other of the exorcist that used the same dark uniform. It still made him happy that apparently she had been paying attention during the fight with Adam.

"The radio demon to be more exact."

"W-why… what are you…"

"To tell you the truth, I am just as confused as you are, dear. I am trying to rectify this mistake right now. If we are both lucky, I won't be on the same realm as you for long. But that doesn't answer my question, doesn't it?" Alastor let her go when he realized she wasn't going to fight anymore. She turned around, her hand holding onto the start of her mechanical arm as if it was suddenly hurting. Alastor sighed, lifting a finger to press against the metal plaque. "Did my husband do that?"

The exorcist looked creeped out by the tone of his voice. Alastor did not bother to hide the yearning on his voice. Here he didn't had to keep the secret from anyone.

"N-no…" Her eyes darted around, no doubt evaluating the prospect of risking causing a scene. If she did, Alastor would loudly talk about the extermination for anyone to hear. They both knew it. "No, I did it."

"Well, that was stupid and dissapointing. What happened after I was out of commission?"

"Adam…" The exorcist closed her eyes, as if saying that name was already costing her too much. Alastor smiled bigger. Oh, a true loss. How fun. "Adam went for the princess and Lucifer appeared."

"Then what?"

She sighed, her brow wrinkling at the effort of controlling herself. Alastor waited. He could have patience for this.

"I don't really know how, but he took us all out. It all happened so fast. First Adam, then everyone else."

"You are the only survivor?" asked Alastor, imagining alredy the terrifying vision that it must have been to witness.

The sounds of the scream and slaughter as they all succumbed to the king without quartel, learning way too late that they couldn't do anything against his king. More than ever since waking up in Heaven, Alastor so wished to hold Lucifer.

"That is so awful" said Alastor with obvious mirth. "He left you to be his messanger. What message did you had to deliver that it was worth your life, dear?"

The exorcist nodded.

"He said…" She swallowed, looking to a side. "He said I should get to live, knowing I couldn't do anything to save him. He also said that… all of that was the price for his sinner."

Alastor put his forehead against the wall above the head of the exorcist, closing his eyes as he breathed in. His whole body shivered as he bite down on his own fingers. The exorcist's eyes darted around as she took a silent step to the left, away from him. She didn't want to ask or know what was that about.

Alastor wouldn't have tell her even if she did, even if they were close friends instead of strangers meeting in the weirdest cicumstances. He wouldn't be able to describe the pure violent longing that made its home on the pit of his stomach, making him wish he could burn all of Heaven already. Burn them for ever making Lucifer to hurt himself and burn them again for having the audacity of keeping them apart. He wanted to do it now, until there was nothing more than ashes and the gold finally lost its shine, the sky turned grey and their gates was pulverized. The image was so clear on his head that it was already a beautiful painting. It would be his offering, his gift to Lucifer, given in a golden platter before he let the familiar flames consume him.

After a definitely uncomfortably long amount of time, Alastor woke up from his trance. He cleared his throat, regaining his composure as if nothing had happened.

"I am okay" said Alastor, fixing his suit. "Thank you for being so cooperative, dear. I have no use for you anymore so you can continue your merry way. I will keep my mouth shut too" added when she glared at him.

She had no reason to trust him, but for now the need of putting distance between the two of them was bigger than her reason. Right before she ran, her eyes fixated above Alastor and straighten up with a salute.

"Maam!"

Alastor had heard the delicate flapping of the wings already. When he turned around, though, it wasn't Emily that was standing behind him. That other, what was her name? The older one smiled pleasantly.

"You can go, Lute. I was intending to talk to our new resident. You earned yourself a rest."

Lute nodded emphatically, throwing a glance to Alastor before she put her legs to good use. Alastor likewise, hiting the floor with his staff.

"I don't believe we have been properly introduced, my dear! I am…"

"Alastor Morningstar" said Sera, tilting her head lightly. "Of course, Saint Peter told me already."

Was Saint Peter the gossiper of this place? Had he made a mistake already? No, they were going to find out his name sooner or later.

"Well, that is no fun!" declared Alistor with a lightheated chuckle. "I wanted to keep some sense of mystery for a while longer, but alas! Let me return the favor then. You are Sera, isn't it? I think Emily might have mentioned it when we first met."

The seraphim nodded. She was beautiful, he had to give her that, but she lacked the open arms aura of his husband. This angel kept her arms in front, where she could maintain at a distance what she didn't need.

"I am sorry I wasn't able to welcome you before. I had to have a talk with the elders about your… situation. You probably understand already how peculiar it is."

"No doubt about it!" laughed Alastor, wondering where the hell was Emily. "Emily has been a delight showing me around already! I don't think I will need any further assistance navigating this place. I appreciate the concern anyway."

"Oh, no, I wasn't trying to offer you another tour" Sera put a graceful hand on his shoulder. "Would you mind coming with me so we can have a talk?"

This seraphim was older than Emily. Bigger and probably a lot stronger. Worse than that, he had nothing to hold against her. He had no choice but to follow, for now.

"Lead the way, dear."

[brutal-nemesis]

Goretober III: Hematemesis (Written By Nemesis)

This one funny to me haha Castys so miserable he super loves the @coyotehusk goretober

←Previous - Castys Masterlist - Goretober Masterlist - Next→

Ingredients: chocolate, emeto (blood!), poison, gore, noncon touching that is a little bit more intimate than normal but still unsexy

Today’s restraint of choice was a metal collar around his neck that was chained to the floor, and Castys wasn’t really a fan. Sure, it gave him more freedom of movement than the table or dangling on a hook, but it didn’t really matter when Kuro could pin all of his limbs down and still have her hands free, which was super unfair. And the chain attached to his collar was long enough to allow him to sit up, but he couldn’t stand at all, which he supposed was better than being forced to stand and not able to sit, but still. 

Right now, though, Kuro was sitting across from him, holding out what appeared to be a piece of chocolate. “Here, Castys. You deserve a little treat for being a good boy so far.”

“You know I’m, like, way older than you, right?”

“You’d be surprised,” she laughed. And hey, maybe she was pretty old, too, considering that he didn’t even know what exactly she even was.

He kind of wanted to refuse the chocolate on principle, but he was also not one to turn down a little treat, especially if it was candy. Warily, he took it, watching Kuro as he put it in his mouth, but she just watched him right back, unreadable as ever. The chocolate was good, and it’d been a long time since he’d had something sweet, or any food at all, really, so he tried to savor it, but the longer he kept it in his mouth, the more he started to taste something…odd.

He was a fucking idiot this wasn’t just chocolate of course it was laced with something-But as soon as he tried to spit it out, Kuro pounced on him, pinning his wrists next to his head, her hand covering his mouth. “Swallow, Castys. You deserve it, remember?” Castys tried to squirm free and spit what was left of the chocolate in her face, but Kuro didn’t budge, so he was forced to chew the rest of the chocolate and swallow, since it would just melt in his mouth if he kept it there. “There you go,” Kuro said, stroking his face and causing him to flinch, which of course just made her laugh. It was always so funny to everyone how much Castys hated being touched!

Finally, she got off of him, allowing Castys to sit up and scoot as far away from her as his short chain would allow. “What the fuck was in that?”

“We’ll see, won’t we?” Castys sighed in annoyance and crossed his arms, waiting for whatever stupid drug or poison she’d fed him to take effect. He felt fine at the moment, maybe a little chest pain, but…okay, it was starting to get worse. As time went on, the pain only got sharper, and he started to get nauseous, which wasn’t really unexpected but still not fun. 

Soon enough he really, really had to puke, but Kuro was still sitting there, just staring at him, and he didn’t want to give her the satisfaction. However, his stomach didn’t give a shit about Kuro, forcing him to lurch forward on his hands and knees and vomit. It sounded more…solid than he was expecting, like there were little bits of something in it, but it was hard to tell by looking at the dark puddle between his hands.

Having a Suspicion, he wiped his mouth on the back of his hand, and…yep, that was blood. “What’d you do to me?” he groaned, feeling even worse now that he’d thrown up, like the worst heartburn ever combined with an awful stomachache.

“It’s a special poison that sort of…destroys your stomach lining,” Kuro said lightly. “So your stomach acid is digesting you from the inside right now. I want to see if it’ll get fixed when you die.”

“It won’t.” Castys gave up and laid down on the cold stone floor, already feeling nauseous again. Well, this sucked ass. The acid was gonna eat through him no matter how many times he died until it…ran out? Did acid run out? Probably. Didn’t matter right now, he was gonna puke again, and he was barely able to get upright before even more blood spewed out of his mouth, splattering all over his arms and hands. 

Kuro laughed and picked up a little red chunk of something. “Ooh, I think this is part of your stomach. Looks like little pieces of you are coming up now instead of just blood clots.” Castys didn’t have the energy to reply, just lying curled up on his side as he coughed blood out of his nose and mouth, waiting for the next delivery of corroded bits from inside himself as the world spun out of focus.

He could hardly tell when he’d died or come back to life, the pain never really went away despite him having a stomach lining again since the rogue acid was no longer in his stomach. At some point Kuro tackled him so she could wrench his shirt up and look at the fun shade of purple his stomach area had turned, poking at it with interest. He’d stopped puking now and was just stuck lying there and groaning as his insides turned into soup.

It would stop eventually.

Right?

Next→

Castys Cult: @as-a-matter-of-whump​ @blackrosesandwhump​ @fanmanga1357-blog​​ @thehopelessopus​ @just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi​ @hearse-song​ @muddy-swamp-bitch @whumpasaurus101 @yet-another-heathen​​ @galaxywhump​ @starnight-whump​ @his-unspoken-words​ @misspelledwitch​ @suspicious-whumping-egg​ @pumpkin-spice-whump​ @painsandconfusion​ @i-can-even-burn-salad​​ @befuddled-calico-whump​ @whumpinggrounds​ @whump-queen​ @whumpedydump​

[inscrutable-shadow]

only then i am human (only then i am clean) - part one

contains: mild horniness, homoerotic blood drinking, minor nausea (no vomiting), swearing, gore, a disgusting amount of gay pining, whumptober 2023 days 11, 20, and 30 (animal trap, "you will regret touching them," bridal carry)

summary: The Culling War is over, and Thanatos is not the same.

Mariano doesn't have a same to go back to.

Bastian just hopes that he won't have to kill Thanatos when the vampire's ravenous hunger finally takes over.

It's been far too long since Thanatos has had a good meal, after all, and he loves getting himself in hot water.

beginning notes: whoo-wee! i started this as a whumptober fill, and it still is that, but it’s also so, so much more than that now. four times the size and now part of a series i hope to continue in the coming months. so many thanks to @crash-bump-bring-the-whump for letting me borrow his characters, fill his dms with screaming and gay shenanigans at all hours, and for betaing! i have so much more planned for our boys after this so stay tuned :)

also available on ao3! even though i've broken the fic into two, this section is 7.3k words so you might enjoy it more there. (plus you get the ending a day early)

Thanatos was rather surprised at how much fun he was having. When Madame Nocta had initially shown him his redistricting papers, he’d had to step out of the room to stop the choking panic from clawing at his insides. The image of his old life, of returning to his job and his apartment and his lover after so long away, had been the only thing keeping him going for so long that the idea of changing that image made him sick. “It’ll be quiet,” she’d assured him. “No one will know what you are. You can relax, recover. It will be good for you.” Thanatos hadn’t believed her, but now, as the damp wind ruffled his hair and sent ripples over the nearby lake, he was forced to admit this world was rather quaint.

He could almost convince himself it was just like home, at least, before the “engine of progress” had compressed every ounce of magic from the land. The countryside was littered with small villages of wood and stone instead of towering metropoles of metal and glass. The air held none of the heavy odour of burning oil; if anything, it crackled and pulsed with magic in the way the ancient forests had when the fae still inhabited them. If it weren’t for the various ruins that evoked to those in the know the aura of an advanced society, he would have believed it was the ninth century again. Wandering from place to place, offering his eyes, his voice, and his stories to anyone who could use him in exchange for a few coins, and flirting with people in taverns, it was quite akin to the way he’d lived before he’d met the Archfey. One could almost call it idyllic.

“Hey, Thanatos! There you are,” a voice called from behind him, and he turned to see Bastian pushing through the market crowd toward him. “Thought I’d lost you for a bit. Crowd too much for you?”

There was one major difference between this world and his own, and here was a prime example of it: one could tell just by looking that Bastian was a dragon. If the prismatic hair and the horns weren’t a dead giveaway, the shimmering scales certainly were. He wasn’t the only one, either. A vampire blended right in among the varying peoples of this world, and Thanatos didn’t even bother to wear the glasses that obscured his eye color and slitted pupils anymore. He still became rather on edge in the market crowds, but even that he was doing much better with than he had a month ago. He’d been able to drift from stall to stall with the crowd for almost an hour before he’d felt claustrophobic.

Thanatos nodded acknowledgement of Bastian’s presence and alighted from the fencepost. “I just needed some air. Find everything you wanted?” If he recalled correctly, they were supposed to be replenishing supplies after an unfortunate encounter with a river (that had not at all been Thanatos’s fault).

Bastian only shrugged. “He’s the one shopping. Weather’s turning. Ought to get back together with Mariano and head out before it gets too bright for you.”

The sun here burned much brighter than Thanatos was used to, and even cloudy days pricked uncomfortably at his skin. The locals had been kind to him, though, and no one had hesitated to offer him shelter or clothing or food that he inevitably had to refuse. The hat that he was wearing and had reinforced with a layer of Shadow had been forced upon him by a kindly old woman who had noticed his discomfort while he was carrying her shopping for her on a not-so-cloudy afternoon. She couldn’t have known that his refusal to put a square millimetre of exposed skin in direct sunlight was an aversion to screaming immolation and subsequent death, but she’d pushed her hat onto his head anyway, and called him a sweet young man who needed to take better care of himself. That sort of behaviour had by far been the norm, and for that, he was grateful.

“That little basket all you’re getting?” Bastian asked, edging a hand under the fabric cover, but pulling it back when Thanatos swatted at it.

“The two of you have been very kind. I thought that perhaps I could repay the favour by taking care of dinner for tonight.” It had been a long while since he’d had to cook anything, but he still remembered some of the things his mother had taught him, oh so long ago, and he felt the need to provide something other than diverting conversation for once.

Bastian walked ahead of him in the crowd, forging a less constricted path for Thanatos to follow as the pair threaded their way back to the meeting point. “You don’t even eat. How’re you gonna know if it’s any good?”

“I’ll just have to have you taste for me.”

“Sure thing.” The dragon grinned in that toothy way of his, and Thanatos allowed himself a small one in return.

He’d come out to the two of them during the second week. Not about his taste for men: the reality of that oozed from his pores and was apparent in every movement. The wistful stares he threw at every young man who looked even a bit like the Archfey left little room for doubt. About his taste for blood. Thanatos had violated Clandestine Accord and clued two mortals in on the fact that he was a vampire. It hadn’t phased them at all. There were very few things that could rattle Mariano, and Bastian was a dragon. A vampire wasn’t a threat, and so he didn’t care. Thanatos had felt silly for even being slightly anxious about it. The way they looked at each other, talked to each other, to him, he just knew. They’d felt safe. Thanatos hadn’t felt safe in decades. Not since the Culling War.

Twenty-five years of paranoia had turned an easygoing, charismatic Thanatos into a nervous wreck of a man who jumped at every shadow. He’d heard Tenebrus and the Council talking about him: the psychological effects of his job had made him nearly useless at it, and they were planning to replace him. The war had ended before they had the chance, but still. He knew he wasn’t the same man his Archfey had fallen in love with. That thought alone made him want to shatter into a thousand porcelain fragments, but living here had started to fill in the jagged gouges the war had left on his soul. The people were kinder, didn’t treat him like a monster even when they couldn’t know he was one. (Not like home. On Earth Four, even the slightest deviation from the norm had put him at risk of discovery.) He wasn’t constantly on the defensive anymore.

The crowd opened up a bit, and he could now see slightly further ahead. Ah, there was Mariano. His dark hair rose up above most of the bobbing heads of the market-goers, and the soft lines of his face were broken slightly by a brow furrowed in concentration. Comparing products, perhaps? He’s rather particular about the supplies. He was still deep in discussion with a shopkeeper, though from the amount he was carrying, it seemed as if he must be nearly done with his shopping. “I’ll be right back, found something I want to pick up,” Bastian leaned down to whisper in his ear, melting into the crowd again before Thanatos could even respond. He felt a bit nervous in the crowd by himself, but he could see Mariano, at least, and the hat would probably make him easy enough to find again. He found a quiet spot between two stalls, where he was offered a seat and an apple by an old woman selling fruit. With a smile, he accepted the former, but of course not the latter.

The market had been set up in the hollow shell of some ancient building, and most of the shops on this side of the square were peddling foodstuffs of some kind, set up on the raised ground on either side of the makeshift thoroughfare created by the terrain. This particular ruin gave Thanatos the nagging sensation that he was late to catch a train. He supposed it’d be a long time before he saw another train, given his reassignment. It would have been strange to go back to his Earth after a quarter-century of war, anyhow, let alone live in the cottage without the Archfey. He wasn’t even sure he knew how to fit himself back into a fast-paced mortal society now that he’d had the fear of other people forcibly drilled into him. There hadn’t been a moment in the last decade or so when he hadn’t been acutely wary of other vampires out to give him a glowing recommendation to the nearest Reaper. Relax, Than. There aren’t any other vampires in this area, he reminded himself. He had a hundred miles of clearance before he encroached on anyone else’s hunting grounds. Anyone who wanted to mess with him would have Mariano to contend with, anyhow. No one had got through him yet.

“Do you like it?”

“Hm?”

The laugh was like birdsong, and it came from a girl, about nineteen, behind the fruit stand, helping the old woman set out more goods. “You were staring, mister. Do you like the hairpin? My mother made it for me.” Like most of the denizens here, her skin was a deep ochre, with matching eyes that held a mischievous smile and an effortless charm.

He had been staring; he realised. The pin was an array of jasmine-like blooms on a fastening of ebony and amethyst. It looked like something the Archfey would have worn, not in the early days of their relationship when they’d been doing the courtship dance of fey prince and vampire, no, this was something ae would have worn to a coffeehouse date or to the cinema, a coy reminder of the power that lurked behind the mortal disguise. Thanatos summoned up a smile and gave a wry chuckle, hoping his expression didn’t seem tortured. “You remind me of someone, that’s all.” Oh. It was easier than he’d expected to become the charming vampire once again. Maybe he really was getting better.

The girl returned his smile. “Someone you like?” She turned away a little, then met his eyes again.

“Someone I love.”

The grief must have shown through in his eyes for a moment, because the girl’s smile turned sad. “What happened to them?”

He hesitated, deciding how much of his pain was worth pouring out to a stranger. “Gone. Said they would return, but, well. I’ve had to move, and I fear we may never be reunited.” His gaze drifted away toward the shifting clouds. Bastian was right. The weather would clear up soon.

“Take it then,” she said, and his brow furrowed as his eyes returned to look at her. She took his hand in hers and pressed the pin into it. “My mother made it as a good-luck charm. Maybe it will bring the two of you back together.”

Why would she give something like that to a stranger? Part of him wondered if it might be some sort of trap, but he pushed the thought away. Humans weren’t like vampires. Every gesture of goodwill wasn’t a secret power play with them. Sometimes they did these things on a whim, or even out of kindness. It was a foolish thing for her to do, though, so he demurred. “Oh, miss, I couldn’t possibly take such a precious heirloom—”

“Surely you won’t refuse a gift,” she countered, and the expression of mischief on her face melted the last of the ice in his heart. Maybe things truly were looking up.

Thanatos bowed. “Then I shall graciously accept. However,” he added, setting his basket down for a moment, “allow me to return the favour. A charm for a charm. My partner gave this to me a long time ago. It, too, is good luck. May it bring you winds of fortune.” He removed the earring from his right ear, a dangle shaped vaguely like a wreath. In truth, it was a ritual sigil, one of the Archfey’s smallest and subtlest protection blessings. Woven directly from aer magic into metal, he’d worn it for almost two hundred years, and he credited his continued existence a significant amount to the Archfey’s protection rather than any qualities he himself possessed. For a moment, he questioned why he would give away something so precious on a whim, but the girl’s gift had struck a chord with him, made him feel as if the dark days might be over. That was worth the loss of the charm.

The young woman accepted the earring and worked into her own ear, and the two of them shared a smile, and a laugh, and a blush. One couldn’t fault Thanatos for finding comfort in the sweet moment, but of course, the universe saw fit to punish him for allowing himself to relax. “The fuck you think you’re doing, dipshit?” a gruff voice called from behind him. And here we go.

He went for his usual disarming smile. “Ah, you must be the boyfriend.”

“Fiancé,” the young lady corrected mildly. Of course he was.

The fiancé in question wasted no time in invading Thanatos’s personal space. “You gotta be stupid to chat up another man’s girl like that.” He folded his arms, probably trying to look intimidating. It was sort of working.

Thanatos’s eyebrows raised. “If that’s what you think flirting looks like, my condolences to your lady-love. I was nothing more than cordial. Aren’t you just the strapping young man though,” he purred. “I cannot fault the lady’s taste.” Now that was flirting. The tried-and-true Thanatos method of getting out of this sort of tight spot was to play up his flamboyance until their discomfort outweighed their indignation. “Baffle them with his bullshit,” as it were. It usually worked long enough for him to work out some method of escape.

“Leave it, Javier. He’s not bothering me. We were just talking,” the girl said, annoyed.

Javier was not dissuaded. “I don’t want random guys feeling like they can talk to you, Violetta. And that didn’t look like talking.”

Thanatos saw this as a chance to cut back in. “I assure you, I have no interest in absconding with your sweetheart. My intentions with her were purely platonic, for my tastes lie elsewhere, if you take my meaning.”

From the way Javier picked him up by his collar, Thanatos got the idea that he might not have understood some of those words. “Are you saying you don’t think she’s pretty? Take it back right now!”

Oh, by the celestial river… Annoyance ignited in Thanatos’s chest, and he was firing back before he could think about it. “I didn’t say she wasn’t pretty, you oaf. I said I was fucking gay! By the Divines, humans grow ever more stupid. I’m married too, if it matters—”

“Is there a problem here?” Oh, thank fuck. Mariano, his knight in shining armour once again. Part of him orchestrated these scenarios intentionally just to have a chance to see the mage work. Bastian was hanging back, presumably to watch the show. He gave Thanatos a little wave and a grin and appeared to have found himself some sort of drink. Typical Bastian.

Javier looked Mariano up and down. Tall and broad, the dark-skinned mage certainly carried his share of scars, from the clearly deliberate burns on his arms to the blade-mark under his jawline. Thanatos thought it added charm to the soft lines of Mariano’s face, especially when he smiled, which was often if Thanatos had anything to do with it. He was not smiling now. Mariano’s default expression was blank, unreadable, which combined with the silver-white pact rings around his dark irises and his subtle but not-insignificant musculature lent him quite the imposing air. Even behind the dark-rimmed glasses, it was clear that Mariano was not a man to be trifled with.

Undeterred, likely due to a lack of basic survival instinct, Javier pressed on. “Sure is. Your friend here’s about to eat shit for fucking with my girl. Unless you’d like to eat it for him?” Now, that was borderline suicidal. If he hadn’t known Mariano as well as he did, Thanatos would have expected a bloodbath.

Mariano looked up at Thanatos, still dangling in the air with an expression that read “I’m sorry, please save me again.” He didn’t speak, just removed his casting dagger from his belt, held it up, and ignited the blade, his war mage’s magic shooting up through the hilt and heating the metal until it glowed. A single eyebrow shifted, challenging Javier to try him.

“You really don’t want to fight him,” Thanatos supplied, helpfully.

Javier looked as if he might try it anyway, but Violetta read the situation correctly. Smart girl. “Let’s just go, Javier. I’m fine, it’s not worth it!” she implored, pulling on his arm.

A moment’s hesitation, then the brute relented. “Whatever,” he spat, and threw Thanatos down. The vampire sat down hard in the dirt, hat askew, but that was better than having his neck wrung on what had otherwise been a fairly pleasant afternoon. His basket was down here too, fortunately undamaged. “Let’s go, Violetta.” Javier stalked off, pushing through the crowd.

Thanatos let out a heavy sigh of relief. He took the hand Mariano stretched down toward him and allowed himself to be helped to his feet. “You okay?” Mariano asked, observing his slanted hat and open collar. Thanatos felt the heat rising in his face.

He cleared his throat. “Quite all right, thanks to you, once again. Just in time, too.” He had to stop doing this. As entertaining as it was to be rescued time and time again, the risk to his person was too high. Mariano might save him, but not necessarily before he was seriously damaged.

“You have to stop doing this, I’m not always going to show up right when you need me, you know.” Mariano picked up the basket from the ground and handed it to Thanatos, who suddenly thought he might repeat the whole procedure again tomorrow.

“Oh, but you do it so well! The spectacle, the cinema! You play quite the dashing hero,” he enthused, attempting to distract from how hot he suddenly felt under his silk shirt.

Mariano looked away, probably looking for his dragon in the crowd. It was difficult to tell with Mariano, but Thanatos got the idea he might have said something wrong. Fortunately for him, Bastian returned, amused as usual. “Thought you were going to teach him a lesson. Too bad you let him get away.”

“Wasn’t worth it.” Mariano shrugged. “He was just a blowhard, and I’m sure Than started it, anyway.” He accepted his bag back from Bastian and instinctively sorted through it, as was his habit.

“I’m sure I resent that remark!” Thanatos spluttered, but before he could really get going with his retort, Violetta pushed her way back through the crowd toward them.

“I’m sorry about him. You didn’t deserve that. I should go, but here, take this. For your friend with the pretty eyes.” She pressed a meat bun into his hand and vanished again.

Thanatos blinked in momentary confusion, then held the pastry out to Mariano, who also seemed confused. “Me?”

“I think it’s relatively clear she didn’t mean Bastian. No offense meant, of course.”

Bastian grinned. “None taken. Eat it, Mariano, looks good. If you won’t, I will.”

“But your eyes-” Mariano began, meaning Thanatos’s crimson ones rather than Bastian’s white-silver.

“Oh? Taken your fancy, have they?” It came out more flirtatious than he’d intended, he was having trouble shaking off the performance. “Alluring as they may be, I already have a gift from the lady, and I can’t eat it anyhow. Take the bread and the compliment, mortal mage.” One would have to be blind to fail to acknowledge that Mariano was attractive, in Thanatos’s opinion, but Mariano didn’t seem to process it the same way.

“I- okay.” He didn’t seem convinced, but he always looked like that.

Better to just distract him, then. “Good show, Mariano. Another innocent man rescued, another reward earned. Let’s move on before I am reduced to ash, eh?” That was something he was actually worried about, not just a diversionary tactic. The clouds were moving uncomfortably quickly, hurried on by the wind.

“Wouldn’t want to have to scoop him up off of the ground. That’d take ages,” Bastian joked. Mariano laughed, and all was right with the world again.

#

As Bastian had predicted, the sky was nearly clear when the sun finally slipped below the horizon. The particular corner of the glade where they had built the fire was sufficiently shaded for Thanatos not to have to focus on protecting himself from the light. Not that he had much else to do than leaf through his well-worn copy of Theogonia, which had managed to survive the war tucked into a corner of his briefcase. He didn’t need to read the pages anymore, so many times had he been over these same words in the two thousand years since this particular edition had been published, but turning the leaves and skimming the familiar passages was of comfort to him, a habit he’d developed to unwind after a long day. The woods were quiet except for the soft chirping of insects and the scrape of Mariano’s knife against the whetstone.

“Is it done yet?” This was the fourth time Bastian had asked in the last hour. Thanatos didn’t blame him. The tantalising aroma of slow-cooked meat rising from the stew pot filled the air and stimulated the appetite. His sense of smell had shifted since becoming a vampire, but if one thing had remained the same, the scent still took him back to his childhood, helping his mother by the stove.

“Not quite.” Thanatos gave the pot a stir and tested the meat with the spoon. “About ten more minutes.”

Bastian groaned. “That’s what you said ten minutes ago.”

“No, ten minutes ago I said twenty minutes.”

“Fifteen,” said Mariano, inspecting the blade’s edge in the firelight.

“Hm?” It was the first time Mariano had spoken in an hour or so. Thanatos hadn’t even known he was listening.

The scraping resumed. “You said fifteen minutes. Ten minutes ago.”

“Did I?” Thanatos couldn’t recall, but if Mariano thought so, it must be true.

“Yeah.” There was a beat of silence, and then the rustle of a page and the scrape of the whetstone.

The pot simmered happily despite Bastian’s impatient scrutiny. “Can’t we just eat it now?”

Mariano laughed. “I’m sure it’ll be worth the wait, Bastian. We can’t all eat raw meat, you know. Though maybe next time pick something that doesn’t take as long, Than.”

Thanatos gave a snort of mock-indignation. “Genius cannot be rushed, mortal mage. This is an heirloom recipe passed down to me by my mother.” They’d had servants to cook for them, of course. A magistrate’s wife would never have been expected to do that sort of thing, but Thanatos’s mother had loved every part of the process from selecting ingredients to serving. She’d taught him to cut vegetables and to know when meat was tender. It was incredibly rare for him to need to use those skills, but his hands knew what to do. In a way, it was as if his mother was still alive.

True to his estimate, the stew was ready in about ten minutes. Bastian would have been happy to eat the meat before it was cooked, and if Thanatos was careful, he could sip at the tomato base without making himself ill, but it was Mariano’s opinion that mattered.

Fortunately, the mage’s first spoonful earned a smile. “It’s good!”

Thanatos sighed with relief. “I’m glad you find it so. It’s been quite a few years since I’ve had the occasion to cook, you understand.”

“It doesn’t show. It’s just too bad you can’t taste it,” Mariano said, attacking another spoonful. That dispelled the last of Thanatos’s worries that he was just saying it to be nice. Even if that would have been out of character for someone so straightforward, the apprehension was habitual.

“Oh, I remember it well enough. Enjoy it in my stead.”

“Doesn’t it make you hungry, watching other people eat?” Bastian mused, though most of his attention was caught up in finding more bits of tender meat to fish out of the stew, which Thanatos took as a victory.

He shrugged. “Mortal food is, at best, unappetizing to me at this point. My senses of taste and smell are so altered that it doesn’t register to my mind as consumable.” He was hungry, though, he realised. It had been three days since he’d eaten last: though he’d gone out yesterday and the day before, he’d been unlucky and had found no one else wandering the wilds.

House Iuventae contracts rarely came with non-sapient sustenance clauses. The Shadow could tell the difference, and if Thanatos tried to cheat, it would punish him for it with days of nausea and cramps. It was for that reason that he preferred to eat every other day if he could. A human could survive a litre of blood loss much more easily than two or three. It looked as if he’d actually have to kill today if he didn’t want to lose control of himself later, though. He’d made peace with the concept millennia ago — or so he told himself, but drinking only prepared blood during the war had brought back a vague discomfort. Prudence told him to avoid specific details when discussing it with the others, regardless. He didn’t want to know what they’d truly think of him.

Oblivious to Thanatos’s introspection, Bastian had come up with a theory of his own. “But if you dried it out or whatever, made it into flour, couldn’t you make, say, blood bread or some shit like that?”

“Well, yes, actually. House Nocta does extensive research on alternative ways to prepare blood. Whether it’s edible depends on one’s specific contract. I have a special provision that allows me to consume most liquids, but anything solid makes me ill, blood-based or otherwise.” He didn’t regret it. He was happy to never taste cake again in exchange for still being able to drink wine. The stew he was sipping at was still rather flavourless, though.

“It’s so interesting that your people have found different ways to work with your condition,” said Mariano.

Was it? Thanatos had never thought so. “Necessity is the mother of invention. But enough about vampires. Shall I read you out a story tonight?”

This got Bastian’s attention. “Do the one with the king and the wild man. I like that one.”

“Ah, yes, the epic of Gilgamesh.” He didn’t have a copy of that one in his carpetbag, but he could do the first hour or so from memory, and pick up the book from the Archfey’s later if he needed it. (If he could bear it. The sight of the empty house had made him feel hollow the last time he’d been.) He shut his eyes, took a deep breath, and when next he opened them, his voice had changed to that of the orator. “This is one of the oldest stories in the world, about two thousand years older than me, even. Translated from the tablets of an ancient civilization, large segments of the story are missing, but what we do have tells the story of a mighty king and his quest to discover the secret of immortality. Let me tell you of a man who had seen everything, whom the god Anu had granted all knowledge, who had seen secrets and hidden things, even from the time before the Flood.”

As usual, his audience was rapt, caught up by his words and taken to a time five millennia in the past, when giants walked the earth. He’d go hunting later in the evening, once the magic of ancient fable faded to that of the sandman’s sleep.

#

Thanatos leaned against a tree and tied his hair up into a low ponytail. He’d left his travelling jacket back at the camp as well, leaving him in just his silk shirt, tie, and trousers. The less restricted his movement was, the better, and it had the benefit of making him look younger and less careworn. He hated this, really. When he talked and laughed with Mariano and Bastian, he could pretend that he was perfectly ordinary, still fully human, but when he hunted, it was clear that he was anything but. He wasn’t even an ambush predator like Tenebrus or most other hunting vampires, the sharpening of his senses and the way his night vision flattened everything into shades of grey save for outlines of delicious scarlet around everything with a heartbeat was of little use to him. All it did was remind him how little humanity was left in him.

In his element, Thanatos was a honey trap, an attractive, confident, charismatic man whom others would gladly follow into a dark alley for a tryst — with perhaps a little hypnotic encouragement. It fit his personality quite well, and he’d been able to carve a niche out for himself in both vampiric society and back on Earth Four. He was the very picture of a Iuventus, a man of words taken with alcohol and sex and other pleasures of the flesh. Or at least he had been. Before everything. He wanted very badly to return to feeling like that man. (If he thought about it too hard, he’d realise that luring people into the night to be devoured was also rather monstrous, so he didn’t.)

Right now, his priority was to return to the village and civilization. He was still getting back into the rhythm of pursuing prey, hunting instead of being hunted. It felt good to be out at night instead of having to worry about the sun surprising him. He decided to just try to enjoy the sense of freedom. Moving at a vampire’s speed, the wind singing through his hair, the moonlight lightly caressing his skin. All the horrors of the war: the daily grind of waking up, infiltrating a location, and running away that made him feel as if the dust and grime of the road soaked into his soul. That was all behind him now. He was an ordinary vampire now, without obligations or debts, free to eat and sleep and do whatever else his heart desired.

He really should have learned his lesson from earlier in the day. Stay on your toes, don’t stop to enjoy things. Don’t dare believe you’re out of the woods. You developed that paranoia for a reason. It was his own fault he was now lying on his back on the forest floor, his ankle held fast by a metal cord. One moment, he’d been darting through the trees trying to cover distance, and the next his head had hit a tree root and sent stars exploding behind his eyes. How long had he been unconscious? Ten seconds or ten minutes?

The impact alone might have killed a mortal, but Thanatos was merely concussed. Confusedly, he tried to pull his ankle free, and only succeeded in tightening the cable around the unfortunate limb. He would leave this part out whenever he told the story afterward, but in truth, he panicked. The idea of being trapped again, being captured again, was too much for him. His nails scrabbled for purchase in the soft loam, fighting to take him somewhere, anywhere that wasn’t here. His vision tinted red, his own too-loud heartbeat overwhelming his heightened senses. It felt as if it were another person who was thrashing and kicking, desperately trying to get away and only tightening the wire until it cut down to the bone.

He flinched at the snap of a branch, close, too close. “Well, well. Look what I got here. You ain’t a cougar, are you, buddy?” The voice was rough and belonged to a banjo-string sort of man now crouching three metres away.

This should have been his salvation. If Thanatos had been in his right mind, he would have turned on the charm and begged this man for help. But no. He’d been hungry too long; his Shadow was too close to the surface, converting his stress response from fawn to flight. He didn’t even know what small indication he must have picked up on, or perhaps he truly was the animal for which the trap had been originally purposed — but before he knew it, he’d drawn back toward the tree, hissing and baring his fangs.

The man only grinned. “Who-wee, ain’t you a feisty one? Hold on, red eyes, dark hair… You’re the fucker Javier was tellin’ us about, tryin’ to muscle up on his girl. Oh, he’s gonna love this. What kind of freak are you, anyway, with teeth like that?” Oh, fucking fantastic. They’d set him up on a world where people didn’t believe in vampires, and here he was screwing it up. “Eh, doesn’t matter. Wait ’til I get Javier and the guys. It’s gonna be a riot! Not like you have much of a choice but to sit, though, huh?” The man laughed cruelly and wandered off.

Alone again. Thanatos was used to how this sort of thing went by now. The hunter would come back with a group of men, and they would kick Thanatos around until they were tired of him, and then they would probably “kill” him and dump his body somewhere. He’d wait until they left and drag himself off to lick his wounds. It would be tolerable. He would just have to endure.

#

Mariano was pacing again. Bastian watched him for a few minutes, hoping he would come back to bed, but eventually gave up. “Something on your mind?”

“Than’s not back yet.” Bastian had to admit that was strange. Thanatos had never been gone for over four hours before. He’d usually slip away an hour or two after dusk and return just after midnight, blood-drunk and stifling hiccups. He should have been back three hours ago.

“You want to go after him?” Mariano nodded. Bastian had already got to his feet. He knew Mariano well enough by now to know he couldn’t just stand by. “It’s a lot of ground to cover. What if we don’t find him?”

“He probably went back to the village. We can start that way and fan out if we need to. It’s all well and good if he comes back on his own, but if he’s in trouble…” Mariano trailed off, his pensive gaze wandering toward the forest and taking his feet with it.

Bastian doused the fire and moved to catch up. “I’m sure he just fell asleep somewhere,” he commented, but knew as soon as the words were spoken that they were false. Than didn’t sleep anywhere he didn’t feel safe, and definitely not by accident. When they’d first met, the two of them had spent three days in a stalemate waiting for the other to fall asleep first. It had become clear by then that Thanatos wasn’t even slightly a threat, but Bastian had had to be the one to give up on the whole thing. Than hadn’t seemed like he could, even if he’d wanted to. Even utter exhaustion couldn’t convince his body to rest if it wasn’t safe.

No, it was much more likely that he’d managed to get himself into a situation he couldn’t get himself out of. At this point, it happened so often that Bastian wondered if Thanatos did it on purpose just to enjoy the privilege of having Mariano rescue him. Not that he could blame him. Mariano took on the “knight in shining armour” role quite handsomely, all shining blade and “put him down” and “let him go.” If the mage didn’t have such a tendency to hurt himself while taking care of others, it might have been worth trying himself, but he’d seen what lengths Mariano would push himself to in order to save him. If the idiot got himself killed, it’d be much less fun.

Tracking Thanatos wasn’t difficult. The vampire didn’t have any particular abilities that lent themselves to obscure a trail. He’d been moving quickly, but not particularly quietly. They heard the commotion up ahead before they saw it: a group of about ten people, talking and yelling and throwing spears, rocks, and crossbow bolts, all centred on a tree at the edge of the clearing. The place looked like a war zone. Broken branches littered the forest floor, some splashed with dark red. Black liquid pooled in some places and flowed in others, streaming down from holes in the surrounding trees that looked like they’d been punctured with incredible force. A mass of dark hair and torn fabric, stained with blood, lay at the foot of the central tree. The same black liquid guttered weakly into a half-dome in an attempt to stop more projectiles, but couldn’t hold its shape and joined the rest of the dark splatters on the ground. Surely that wasn’t…?

Another rock bounced off of the figure’s shoulder, leaving behind a line of red that spilled down the pale skin exposed by his ruined sleeve. He shifted and some of the hair fell to the side, revealing a single scarlet eye, darting from side to side, searching for an escape. The leader of the pack, recognizable as the brute from earlier in the day, hurled another stone that struck the wounded creature across the temple. A yelp of pain rang out, but then the shape was silent.

“I think I finally got him!” Javier exclaimed. “How much do you think they’ll pay for his head?”

Mariano had already come to his conclusion. “Leave him.” Despite the lack of exclamation point, his voice was clear and cold and had an impressive volume that carried it well enough to make the rabble stop what they were doing.

Javier turned to see who had spoken. “You again? Seems like you really want trouble. Why do you care so much about this monster, anyway? All it wanted was the steal our people away in the night. I did this town a favour by exterminating it.”

“You’ll regret laying hands on him.” A statement of fact, not a threat. Mariano never threatened.

Javier snorted. “I don’t think so. Maybe I should take care of you, too, for protecting that thing. Boys!” At his command, the scattered hunters left off taking potshots at Thanatos and aimed their weapons at the new threat.

Bastian loved watching this part. Mariano fought like a wild thing, with a magic that was hungry, ruthlessly efficient and utterly without mercy. In some ways, one could say he fought like a dragon. Bastian couldn’t afford to be distracted watching his mage work, though. Rescuing Thanatos was more important, and so he refocused, his new objective heavily discouraging any of Javier’s goons from running to his aid.

#

Mariano let out a deep breath and put his magic away. The smell of charred flesh rose over the scent of the forest at night — more of which was Bastian’s work than his, if he was honest. “We’re all clear now, Than. Are you all right?” The figure by the tree made no sound, and Bastian threw Mariano an inquisitive glance. He elected to approach, wanting to see if that last rock had knocked the vampire unconscious.

Unconscious he was not, and the speed at which he withdrew toward the perceived safety of the tree surprised even Mariano. The curtain of his hair obscured his face, and it was a bit unsettling the way the glowing red eyes watched Mariano through the tangle, pupils narrowed into slits with none of the good humour or charm he was used to seeing in them. If the vampire weren’t wearing Thanatos’s clothes — or, rather, what was left of them — he’d almost believe it wasn’t Than he was watching at all. Thanatos’s eyes showed no recognition, only wary apprehension, as if he were waiting for Mariano to reveal threatening intent. Was he too far gone to realize who they were?

Mariano continued to approach, slowly, giving Thanatos time to track his movements. “You’re safe now,” he murmured. “It’s just me. It’s Mariano, you know me. Bastian’s here too. Let him see you, Bastian.” Bastian approached as he was told, but Thanatos backed away, which pulled taut a thin wire around his ankle. The metal had cut into his flesh to the point that white bone was visible amidst the mess of pink and red. “That hurts a lot, doesn’t it? Let us help you. We’ll get that off of you and get you somewhere we can treat it, okay?” He could only hope that their potions would work on a vampire. It didn’t look at all treatable otherwise.

Thanatos remained silent. That was the weirdest thing about it. The Thanatos Mariano knew rarely stopped talking: his presence was a constant stream of words about everything and nothing, almost as if he were afraid to stop. Right about now, he would usually apologise profusely for needing to be rescued at all and be on the verge of composing an epic ballad about their combat prowess, maybe a little worse for wear but trying hard not to show it. As Mariano approached, all he could hear were the harsh exhales forcing themselves through the vampire’s nose. That it wasn’t broken was a miracle, considering the state of the rest of his face. Thanatos did a good job of not looking like a corpse most days, but the bruising mottling his cheeks and over his eyes appeared distinctly post-mortem. Tear tracks, long dried, were visible under the blood and dirt. And yet, through it all, he looked not fearful exactly, but… vigilant. Distrustful. He hadn’t given up at all. He was just waiting to see what else he would have to endure.

Mariano tried again. “Thanatos? Bastian’s gonna get that cord off of you, okay? And then you can just come to me. We’ll take you somewhere safe.” Thanatos still didn’t seem to hear, but Bastian’s approach certainly got his attention, eliciting a growl from deep within the vampire’s chest.

“Doesn’t seem like he wants our help,” Bastian murmured, slowing, but not stopping.

“He’s just afraid.” This was a sound like a cornered animal, not like a predator, ready to fight if he had to, but wanting to avoid it. “We can’t just leave him like this. He’ll understand once the wire’s gone.” At least, he probably would. “It’s okay, Than. Come to me, you’ll be safe. You trust me, right?” Mariano could only hope Thanatos did. It certainly seemed like it, given how quickly he’d started to account for the mage in his plans. Would that trust be able to cut through whatever was going on with him?

The growl became louder as the distance between Bastian and Thanatos closed, and escalated into a hiss when he got close enough to touch the wire. It was Mariano’s turn to fill the air with words, anything to distract Thanatos long enough for Bastian to do his thing. If Than tried to run again, he’d probably make everything worse. “Eyes on me, Than, that’s it. I know you’re scared. He won’t hurt you. We’re friends. You know that. You remember us. We’re going to get you out of here, and then we’ll make your leg stop hurting.” Mariano extended a hand toward his injured friend, proving that he held no weapon and no ill intent. It was up to Thanatos to believe him, if he even could right now.

Everything happened at once. A rush of dragon fire, the twang of metal parting from metal. Thanatos lunged toward Mariano at lightning speed, covering the distance between them before Bastian could even shout a warning. White-hot pain, a burst of warm blood, wet, lips, tongue, breath, a dull thud, blackness.

part 2 up tomorrow!

taglist: @athenswrites, @albatris, @thethistlegirlwrites

[wetcatspellcaster]

I love your work so much! Thank you for giving us the DVD commentary. I’m so torn picking a scene from your fics but I landed on this one.

“Astarion made to step towards her. Rosalie made her decision, and raised the poker higher, making him pause. Then, she stretched her left hand out in front of her.

“But I was thinking back to the olden days,” she said, keeping her eyes on him, where he stood warily back, clearly worried she was going to hit him again. “About how I used to just jump off things, and break fucking bones, and all I would do is take the pain. Then I'd turn to Shadowheart, and I'd ask her to heal me.”

Astarion’s brow furrowed, and before he could get it Rosalie gritted her teeth, and pivoted so her free hand rested on the edge of the sideboard. Hey, if I break more of his furniture, it’s an added bonus, she thought - and then she bought the iron poker down on her wrist.

Magical items were often, for all intents and purposes, indestructible.

Wrists. Not so much. Rosalie often swore her bones felt more brittle these days.

“NO!” Astarion cried, as she herself shrieked, and raised the poker, and bought it down again.

Two hits was enough, but she managed three before her vision started to spot and blacken at the edges. The hand was a pulp, the bracelet remained a perfect silver circle. The skin started weeping blood, which was probably not a good call, in the ol’ vampire mansion. Still, needs must. Rosalie could practically feel herself fighting a giggle.

As she raised her hand to examine it, magic came flooding back exactly as she had been hoping. Why did the bracelets come in pairs? It could’ve been Astarion’s weird aesthetic preferences, but then, if it was, she would’ve expected some chains there in the mix as well. She figured there must be a reason both wrists were bound.

The pain roiled through her like nausea, and one of the shackles fell away from the meat of her limp, flattened fingers.

She started to swoon a little, and Astarion was suddenly there, right next to her, his arm around her waist, holding her up before she could black out and fall to the floor.

“Look what you’ve done to yourself,” Astarion said, sounding genuinely horrified. “What does this achieve, darling? You can’t cast spells without both your hands, and it’s not like you can hold the poker and get the other wrist. I’ll need to find you a healer. What if you’ve prevented yourself from ever casting a spell again? You love your magic. Oh, dearest heart, good gods. You act like I’m worse than the devil himself.”

“Don’t need the other wrist,” she panted, imagining a world where she could stick around enough to vomit on his clothes as promised. “The only somatic gesture I need, is this.”

She dropped the poker with a clatter, raised her good hand, gave him the finger.

Then, she shouted the verbal component for Dimension Door, and winked out of existence. Astarion was left grasping on air.”

Hey anon, thank you for being kind and wanting to play the ask game with me!

I am genuinely trying to remember now if in Howl's Moving Castle and subsequent books Sophie ever chased Howl with a fire poker. I'm trying to remember if I truly imagined this or read it in a fanfic or whatnot. Anyway, regardless of whether I invented this scene from HMC or not, book Howl/Sophie was the energy I was bringing to this scene lmao.

My characters took a lot of fall damage in BG3, truly just short resting every time we took a stealth route in Act 1 bc I was not wasting spellslots on Featherfall. Anyway, the entire concept of fall damage but also just healing makes me think adventurers in particular would be way more at peace with grievous bodily harm. Poor Shadowheart.

The antimagic bracelets are a homebrewed magic item from my D&D game! They negate anything that counts as a spell or magical effect. Fun fact: in my D&D game, my players confronted a hot evil wizard man in his office and through a series of checks (including a Nat 1 dex save from him) they just put the bracelets on him. They entirely negated combat and instead plunged themselves into the true struggle of every D&D party: an awkward conversation. With a man shackled by jewelry.

The brittle wrists thing is autobiographical. I already feel like a glass canon bag of twigs so I imagine in my 40s my wrists will be the first thing to go.

That being said, I have no idea if hitting your hand a few times at full whack would actually do anything or have any of the effects I describe, it just sounded cool at the time.

A few comments (that I've yet to reply to) have noted that Astarion's final speech here is very hypocritical, and it absolutely is. He took away her magic, he's suddenly worried she'll never have magic again... But at his end, he knows that the antimagic bracelets are temporary. He only needs to take her magic away until they've sorted out this wee understanding and she's no longer going to use it to fireball him. He wasn't planning on keeping her magic from her forever, just until they finish their conversation... etc. Meanwhile this is a permanent consequence, and that idea horrifies him.

Dimension Door only has a verbal spell component to be cast, and thank god otherwise my plot would've been literally in tatters! I'm so glad 5e made it easy for her to get away

This is also foreshadowing, bc Astarion says that people can't teleport in and out of the house but then Rose succeeds... seems like, mayhaps, she's the exception to the rule ~ x

"You act like I’m worse than the devil himself.” You see, not to stand in Ascended!Astarion's corner for a brief second, but maybe when you now hang out with vampires and devils and go the Hells every once in a while, your relative curve for morality gets thrown off, and while other people are horrified by your behaviour all you can see is how much worse you could be, and how much worse you've seen other monsters act...

DVD commentary ask

[cshfvck]

this is such a weird request omggg but can you do one where Isaac is like trying to ask the listener about their past but in like subtle ways and then the listener catches on and they like argue about it? AHH IDK I JUST THINK IT WOULD BE INTERESTING

𝐃𝐞𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐞𝐝 - 𝐈𝐬𝐚𝐚𝐜 𝐱 𝐌𝐚𝐥𝐞! 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 (𝐳𝐬𝐚𝐤𝐮𝐕𝐀)

c/w: mentions and implied assault, abuse, slight gore, mentions of vomit, self harm references, fighting, no comfort

a/n: anon!!!!! Thank you so much for the idea and request, this was so fun to write and so heart wrenching ugh. When you ask for angst, you get angst xx

‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾　☽༓･*˚⁺‧͙

You want to be loved so badly. It's disgusting. It's fearful. It's agonizing. It's the unholyness of your entire existence. You don't need it to feel real, you don't need love to make you whole. It's just the thought of why can't you get to indulge in humanism. You feel so backed off from everyone.

Almost like there's a wall between you and every single person you have ever met. You watch from the broken, discarded window as your peers fall in and out of love. And yet you never were one to like staying inside. But you want to stay inside so badly now. You clung onto loveless, hopeless, misshapen, relationship of the past and the trauma choking you.

You used your entire "teenagehood" to avoid this drifting feeling. The feeling of being so pathetically alone and even the found feeling of being loved is almost like a divine comedy that loops itself to the point it's hysterical. It's like they deserve it and you don't. That's so pathetically visible to you.

For they play outside, the sun kissing soft skin, pavements scrape gentle knees, while you stay inside a broken house, clinging onto the houses shattered window, skin breaks on your palms. Blood drips. Velvet. Just like their lips. You did this as if it would escape you from the pain of independence.

Yet here you were, making dinner for you and Isaac. You'd zoned out with the knife in your graspxface blank as you stared down at the onion you were cutting. It's sting reminded you of them, every bit of them that traumatized you, the stinging of- you can't be thinking of them. You're doing it again.

Shaking your head, you try and shake away the memories of the past, hands shaking violently as you kept cutting through onion. The silver of the blade glimed in the kitchen light, oh how many times the silver had dug into your skin.

It carved its way into you, marking you as it's own. Silver doesn't care and doesn't know it's purpose without being used, just like you. The kitchen was empty apart from the sound of the radio playing quietly, the lyrics echoed in your mind as you stared down at the knife.

The blade comforted you at the worst of times, digging deeply within your flesh and cutting out the remains of the sin burried deep within you that you could redeem yourself for, having to get on your knees for forgiveness

"Be good and beg"

So you begged for forgiveness. The blade was sinful, yet heavenly the guilty aftermath yet relieving feeling of the cool metal on your skin made you yearn for it again and again, an addict as one may say.

The knife was held tightly within your grip but that's when you felt it, two hands on your waist and a kiss on your neck. You'd completely forgotten you were even cooking. Isaac looked at you with a worried expression and knew this was to do with you past.

He knew you never talked about it. He wasn't surprised. His hands gently massaged the skin of your abdomen and smiled as he kissed your neck, rocking you side to side gently into rhythm to the music.

"What you cooking love..? Need me to cut anything?"

He was testing the waters today, he wanted to hint at small things and see if you'd open up. He highly doubted anything would happen bad and that you'd close down the situation, but oh.. Oh how he didn't know what was to come.

You'd already had a shit day, bad clients, bad weather, not having the right ingredients, flash backs. The fucking flashbacks. You looked at him and shook your head but he urged you to sit down while he finished the cooking his face soft but written in worry.

...

The smell of food filled the room you must've fallen asleep. You rubbed your eyes and saw a plate of food being placed in front of you while Isaac sat down besides you.

He wasn't dumb.

Isaac noticed you getting worse recently and wasn't going to leave it alone. He slowly watched as you ate and then began to eat himself, noticing how you play with your food.

"You've not been hungry recently have you? Is it the nightmares again?"

Testing the waters, he watched your expression. It didn't change in the way he had wanted, your eyes flashed with anger yet you stayed silent, slowly eating a little more. He needed you to talk and couldn't help if you didn't.

"Babe- please this isn't good for either of us.. Talk to me love, tell me wants going on. Is it your past? You need to tell me.."

He huffed out in frustration you'd both had a bad day at work and your expression soured even more. You shook your head and shoves the food away, getting up and rummaging through the cabinets as you grabbed yourself an alcoholic drink, downing it.

The familiar burning of the drink felt good. It was t supposed to but it did. Isaac was getting tired and stood up taking the alcohol away from you as he spoke again, sounding worried

"You cant keep drinking it away, talk to me."

You snapped and downed the rest of the bottle and slammed it back down on the counter. Your hands were shaking and you felt sick.

"Why don't you just stop fucking asking? I try and ask you anything about your past and you won't answer, so why can't you respect mine?! "

You snarled as he looked down at you. His soft look had changed and turned into his usual stern one. He didn't care for your feelings right now and simply wanted an answer, you were both tipsy and tired, it wasn't a good combination.

"You know what, fucking out! I'm sick of your attitude! Lock yourself in the bedroom or something like you were trained to do, I don't want to see you until that mouth of yours is trained!"

Snarling again, he grabbed your collar and slammed you against the fridge things audibly rattling inside as you started to yell back, hands hitting him and telling him to get off you.

Things were getting pretty heated. Small parts of your past had been revealed while arguing, you called Isaac out for being so moody after work and asked if all you were was a doll for him to use.

Neither of you were blind. You'd been abused in your past, probably worse. Isaac tried desperately to calm down but your words made him snap and he slapped you, calling you pathetic.

A stinging pain filled your cheek, a slick wetness forming slowly on it as you stared at him. His face was full of horror and be loved forward, hands shaking. He felt sick knowing he had just hit you. Hit you like you had been before.

That's all you are good for after all, being hit around and hurt. Drink, smoke, sleep. It's a vicious cycle. The abused becomes the abuser.

You would follow Isaac like a lost puppy, clinging to him and whining whenever he left you. Now you were biting the hand that fed you, slowly turning into the feral mutt you were before.

"Love- love come here I'm sorry-"

Sorry. It was an easy word to say. It was just a word. It meant nothing to anyone anymore. He looked at you as you backed away and shook your head.

You truly are pathetic

'Start a new life and move on'

Only to be beat again by the man you thought you could trust.

You deserved it.

It's funny isn't it?

Oh

Oh.

It isn't.

This is how the world works. Greed takes over and gluttony sets in, lust blinds and people get hurt. People get beat, just as you were.

But you deserve it.

More than anyone.

‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾　☽༓･*˚⁺‧͙

a/n: .. I love writing angst

[bb-editing]

ROXANA (Chapter 25)

As it turned out, the maids were also heading in the same direction, and after a while, Jeremy ran into Maria.

She was standing in a field of flowers; the red petals around her made it look like she was standing in a sea of blood.

“Aunt Maria,” greeted Jeremy.

“Jeremy!” Maria welcomed him with a bright smile. “I take it you’re here to see me? That makes me so glad.”

“Why do you always have the habit of killing your maids?” Jeremy loved starting fights with Maria. “Maybe you should start going to the feedlots more. I’m sure the beasts would recognise you as one of their own.”

“Jeremy,” Maria answered after a languid pause. “I only punish people who don’t listen to me. You’re so cute, misunderstanding my intentions.”

Jeremy pretended to vomit. Maria watched him, laughing sweetly. Of course, Jeremy knew better.

“Jeremy, are you really on your way to another feedlot? You already have so much black gunk on you- I can’t even see your pretty face!”

Jeremy snorted at Maria’s comment. For the first time, he felt that being covered in monster guts was a good thing. But as he listened to her speak, he suddenly felt the fishy taste of the venom in his mouth. He took a handful of red petals and put them into his mouth to chew.

Red flowers had the capability to nullify the effects of venom.

“Xana seems busy too,” Maria continued. “Studying should be easy, and it’s not good for your body to overwork yourself.”

“Why do you care… Wait, you met Xana?”

“I met her by chance a while ago. I wanted to call her and Dion for tea, but he was out of town, and she was busy.”

Jeremy knew that Roxana hated both Dion and Maria- which was, in his eyes, reason enough to hate them, too.

“I thought I told you and Dion to stay away from Roxana,” Jeremy growled.

“Hmm?” Maria tilted her head, feigning ignorance. “I don’t remember you saying that?”

‘Is this bitch crazy?!’ Jeremy thought. “Oi!” He yelled. “Listen carefully. There’s only one person in this entire world who can be called Roxana’s sibling.”

Jeremy declared this with such conviction and vigour that any passer-by would have thought he was reciting a bonafide truth about the world.

Maria seemed to understand the meaning of Jeremy’s words, and said, “Alright- well, next time, I won’t just invite Dion and Xana, but you, too! I’m only bored because I miss you all.”

A moment passed. “Are you done?” Jeremy was more annoyed than before. He couldn’t understand Maria at all, and felt the sudden urge to set this entire garden, which was in Maria’s care, on fire. “It’s all because she’s so busy with her new fucking toy…” He muttered.

But Maria’s reaction to those words were strangely animated. “What, you didn’t know?” Jeremy clucked his tongue mockingly.

“Ah… So Xana has a toy now…” She said. “I wonder what he’s like?” Her attention had completely shifted away from Jeremy now, as she called upon her servant. “You! Bring Lewell to me now.” Then she stopped. “No, let’s just go back to my room. Jeremy, would you like to come and play with us? I’ll feed you some delicious food.”

“Fuck no!” Jeremy made a face. “I’m not one of your fucking dolls.”

Maria stared at him as he walk away, before turning to head back to the mansion. “I must send an invitation to Roxana soon! How much fun we’ll have- a tea party with toys!”

[sailorsplatoon]

Chapter 6 of a Dedf1sh fanfic I wrote

Here it is, the very last chapter! While this was really short, I'm still very proud of it. Maybe I'll add onto this in the future, but for now I'm happy with where it is. I put a lot of time into writing and editing this, and it's been my very first fanfiction to actually escape the abyss of "I'll post this someday". I had a lot of fun with this, and it makes me so happy to know that even just a few people enjoyed it!

First

Previous

Read it on ao3

Chapter 6 below!

(TW: mention of blood, swearing, vomiting, mention of medical procedures)

DJ Dedf1sh’s hearts thumped slowly. Why were their hearts beating? They pulled their hands away from the turntables. Everything was so loud. What was going on? It was scary and new. But they were scared. They felt scared. How? What was different? Why now? Their legs trembled as they made their way to the large door, the only door in the entire room. It was locked.

“Shit,” they muttered. They spoke something at least. Something more than a number. Without missing a beat, they ran to the opposite side of their turntables and shoved them into the door. The metal slab burst off its hinges with a crash while their equipment shattered. Those turntables had been their entire life since as long as they could remember. And they were destroyed.

“Good fucking riddance.”

As they crossed the threshold between their prison and the outside world, their legs gave out. They were never meant to leave that room. It hurt as if their muscles were being torn apart with every movement. Looking to their scattered turntables, a round tube of metal stuck out. Without hesitation, they ripped it off and used it to hold themself up. It supported their weight well, even if it was just temporary until they could get their hands on something more suited to their needs.

The journey was long and difficult, but they eventually made their way to the central station. Shattered bits of glass and plastic were strewn across the floor. It was gone. The phone was gone. They were free. They climbed up the escape path that had been carved by the final test subject of that horrid place. Thankfully, they were still able to super jump, but the path was clearly made for someone who had full use of both of their legs, which made the trek that much harder.

As DJ Dedf1sh traversed the now empty layers of security, they began to search their memories for some trace of a name. Ah… Ah? All they could think of was Acht, the number eight in some human language. Well, close enough. It was the best they were going to get for now, they sort of liked how it sounded. They continued to climb as they searched their memories for any trace of life before the sanitization. To their surprise, there were some bits and pieces that they could remember. But rather than full moments it was more flashes, like trying to recollect a dream. There was only one thing that they could remember clearly. Why this particular person, Acht had no clue. Marina.

***

“She needs help! One of the machines malfunctioned and she got hurt bad!” An octoling rushed into the infirmary carrying an adolecent girl. Both were covered in blood. 

“Lay her down on the cot, Ah███ get the gauze and—shit there’s something lodged in the wound— we’ll need the scalpel too!”

“Right, where’s she hurt? And will we need any nitrous oxide?”

“She’s scratched up all over, but the main source of bleeding is a deep gash in her abdomen, looks like a piece of metal stabbed into her from the machine. She’s in a lot of pain, nitrous oxide is a good idea. Mx. were you hurt at all?”

“No, just her,” the octoling who carried the girl in said, “She was working on a prototype for the flooders, but it suddenly fell off its hinges and landed on her.”

The memory blurred and refocused in a new setting. Now Acht was in the patient ward of the infirmary, speaking with the octoling girl who had been injured before. “You’re going to be alright, but you have to stay here until your wounds heal. I’ll come back every few hours to give you another dose of pain killers. If you want, you can opt out of them, but seeing your injuries I wouldn’t suggest it.”

“No, I definitely won’t be opting out. Thank you for taking such good care of me. I really didn’t think I would make it out of that accident,” she glanced at the bandages wrapped around her midsection and scattered along her limbs. Her teal tentacles writhed in worry.

“I’ve seen worse, you have nothing to worry about! My name’s Ah███ ██████ by the way. I’ll be taking care of you during your stay here.”

“Nice to meet you, I’m Marina Ida. Did you guys already have that on record?”

“We didn’t actually, you were listed as Jane Doe. Your companion failed to mention a name before leaving to continue working. I’ll make sure to notify the rest of the staff that we have a name for you.”

Another blur, and then they were outside the infirmary. With Marina. She’d been better for a while now.

“Shouldn’t you be working? The DJ is gonna flip his lid if he finds out you’re skipping, especially now that you’ve been promoted to wasabi supply unit,” Acht placed a large trash bag in the dumpster outside, they’d been given garbage duty for the day. 

“I’m on my lunch break and I wanted to pay you a visit!” Marina chirped with a smile. She had such a beautiful smile.

“You only get fifteen minutes, you need to-” Before they knew it Marina had pressed her lips to theirs.

Blur, scene change, Acht was already getting bored of this routine. They wished they could just remember without the— shit! They slipped and nearly fell into a giant pool of water. Fucking Belly Phase. Maybe this test subject that broke out could’ve made it easier for others to leave?

“I’m leaving,” the memories started again as Marina stared at them.

“Like, you’re being promoted again to a different division or?”

“I’m leaving the army, Ah███. I… I heard the inklings sing. It changes everything.”

“Marina, no. They’re just trying to confuse you. This is our home you can’t-”

“Come with me.”

“What?” A lump formed in Acht’s throat as they tried to hold back tears.

“I want you to come with me. Please.” She paused before muttering, “I love you.”

“Marina I…” Acht’s eyes searched the surrounding world for some excuse, some reason for them to stay together. “You know I love you. But this is our home. We can’t just… we can’t.”

“Just listen!” She pressed a button on the small set of portable turntables she had tucked under her arm. A track played with two inkling girls singing. “Don’t you see? Were prisoners here! The DJ doesn’t care about us at all! But maybe if the inklings can make something this great, they’ll accept us!”

“Marina,” Acht looked her in the eyes, “I know. I’ve known how awful this place was since I was ripped away from my family. I see dying soldiers every day because Octavio won’t give them the new gear and weapons that they need. And I can’t help them because we can’t get the medicine and supplies that we need! Of course he doesn’t care about us, all he cares about is getting revenge on the squids. But we can’t leave. You really think the inklings would accept us? That they wouldn’t send us right back into this underground hellscape to be executed for treason? That they wouldn’t murder us themselves? Marina, I know you want to get out of here, but I love you, I can’t let you go get yourself killed.”

“If you really loved me, you would have left with me sooner, seeing how long you’ve known.” Her words cut sharper than any knife. Acht felt a warm stinging in their eyes as the tears finally came spilling out.

“Are you breaking up with me?” They choked.

“You’re not coming with me, are you?”

“I can’t,” Acht refused to make eye contact.

“Goodbye, Ah███. Don’t forget about me, okay?” She stretched out her hands, offering them a the turntables. They were covered in stickers and drawings made with various markers. Acht took them carefully, as if they might fade out of existence with one wrong move. With that, Marina sighed and walked away. 

As Acht stepped onto the elevator of the spinal phase, they began to cry a little. They weren’t sure if they were happy that they could remember, or if they were sad about what they were remembering. One thing was certain, they needed to find Marina. For some reason she was the only person they could clearly remember, so maybe she could help them uncover more of their memories.

Acht suddenly felt an immense pain in their stomach, the fell to the floor, dropping their makeshift cane, and threw up. They were reminded of the dream they’d had during their sanitization, how the mem cakes spewed from their mouth. This time, however, they expelled the same greenish ooze that had been injected into them. It burned. But there was an instant relief as soon as it was out of their body. They could finally breathe. For the first time in years they felt alive. Or, as alive as they could be when their skin was still the color of decay and their memories were shattered like a vase.

The elevator screeched to a halt and a ladder stood in front of Acht, leading them out of this hell. Their legs barely worked when they walked, even with the help of a cane. Trying to climb a ladder in their state would be impossible. They relied almost entirely on their upper body, holding their cane in their mouth and pulling themself up with their arms. It took so long to climb all the way to the top. They slipped and nearly got stuck multiple times. And it was wonderful. They made mistakes, they took their time. It wasn't perfect. Finally. All they were doing was climbing a ladder but it felt like such an accomplishment. They reached the top and the light of day shown down on their face. A breeze brushed their tentacles, and they could swear their sense of smell was returning with the salt of the ocean wafting up into the air.

The sky was blue. Acht couldn’t remember seeing the sky before. It was so beautiful.

[inkednotebook]

The 13th Day of Writemas 🎄

Thank you again @agirlandherquill for hosting/creating this event! For day 13 I chose the prompt a vehicle. I've had this scene half-written for Clearing the Ice (sequel to Icing Waved Off), so this seemed like the perfect excuse to finally finish it. It's... longer than I'd planned, sorry! Cutting it in half with the read more in case people don't want to read all 1200 words of it 😅 It's Friday the 13th, so I guess it's fitting to have a dramatic scene lol.

Tagging @theeccentricraven @kaylinalexanderbooks @willtheweaver @illarian-rambling @bardic-tales and anyone who wants to join in on the writing fun!! (this reminds me I really need to make tag lists for my wips)

Content warnings: panic attack, trauma from a past car accident, a near accident due to winter weather, vomiting, and mentions of the death of a loved one

James angled his head to glance at Teddy. "Dunno if we'll make it on time with how slow we're going."

Teddy's eyes were fixed on the nearly all white scene before them. There was probably about ten centimetres of snow on the ground, and thick flakes kept piling on top. There had also been reports in the morning of black ice, meaning there could be some hiding anywhere, even though the roads had been salted prior to the snow starting.

"Sorry for not wanting us to crash," Teddy replied dryly.

James's stomach turned. "Not criticizing your driving. Sorry."

Teddy reached out a hand blindly, patting James's thigh. "I know. It's fine, just fucking hate driving in this weather."

James hummed and resisted taking Teddy's hand in his. He knew it was safest for Teddy to have both hands on the wheel even if he wanted nothing more than to feel Teddy's hand in his. Even through his leather gloves, James would be able to feel his warmth. A reminder that they're both okay.

"Think they'll end up cancelling the game?" James asked.

"Dunno. If they haven't yet, I doubt they will now." Teddy slowed at an intersection and looked at James when he was fully stopped. "You okay?"

"Hm?"

"You look kind of pale." Teddy reached out, brushing his leather-clad finger against James's cheekbone.

James shut his eyes for a moment, breathing out slowly. "I'm fine. Just..." He waved a hand vaguely at the windshield.

"Yeah," Teddy sighed. He leaned away as the light turned green. "We're almost there."

James hummed non-communicably.

There were only a few other cars at the intersection, and none were going straight through, so Teddy gingerly inched the car forward.

It was fine. No one around them was slipping or sliding. No crashes happening. Teddy was a good driver. He had brand new winter tires on. It was fine.

As Teddy was turning, the car swerved. There must have been some of that damned black ice or something.

"Fuck," Teddy exclaimed.

James's blood rushed to his ears. If Teddy said anything after that, he did not know. All he could hear was his heart pulsing in his skull. His muscles tensed so much that all his aches and bruises from their last game throbbed in tune with his heartbeat. White invaded his vision, like the snow had broken into the car, sinking its icy fingers into every inch of the space around him.

He shut his eyes, waiting.

Waiting for screeching tires.

Waiting for the crunch of metal.

Waiting for his body to be shoved.

Waiting for sharp pain.

Waiting for shouts beside him.

Waiting for the air to plunge several degrees.

Waiting for a metallic tang in the air.

He flinched when a light weight landed on his thigh. Peeling his eyes open, he looked down.

It was only Teddy's hand, giving his leg a gentle, reassuring squeeze.

James swallowed down bile and took in the scene. No crushed metal or gone-off air bags. No pain. No screams. No crash at all.

Teddy had righted the car and made it out of the intersection.

They were fine. Relatively.

James couldn't breathe. He still could barely hear anything, except now instead of his heartbeat it was just muffled static. He felt too warm suddenly and his stomach twisted, panicking, worrying he'd wet himself in fear. He gasped in a breath.

The fingers on his thigh curled tighter.

James felt terrible. Like every bad feeling possible was happening. He couldn't breathe. He felt like he was going to puke. He still couldn't tell if his bladder had betrayed him.

"Out," James managed to choke. "Need--Teddy."

He heard Teddy's muffled response, felt the car slow to a stop. His fingers felt numb as he struggled to undo his seat belt. It was trapping him, cutting into him. He whimpered pathetically. Then Teddy's hand pushed away his and the belt loosened.

James quickly turned and scrambled out of the car, gasping in lungfuls of stinging air. He hunched forward, shaking hands on his knees. His cheeks burned in the sudden temperature change. His body shivered violently. The freezing air helped him realize he had not in fact wet himself. He'd just expected to feel the sharp, cold air and not the comfortable warmth of the heated seat.

"James," Teddy's anxious voice rang through the air.

James gulped in a breath, coughing when the cold hit the back of his throat.

Teddy's feet appeared in James's field of vision. One hand held his hip and another rested between his shoulder blades.

"You're okay, it's okay." Teddy's hand slowly moved in circles on his back. Even through his turtle neck, sweater vest, and leather jacket, James could feel his touch.

"It's okay," Teddy repeated. "We're okay. Do you want to sit in the back with me for a bit?"

James shook his head, closing his eyes. He swallowed. "I feel--might puke."

Teddy sighed. "Oh, Jimmy."

The utter sadness in his voice made James's eyes well up.

He tried to repeat Teddy's words in his mind. You're okay. It's okay. We're okay. James sure as hell didn't feel okay.

His side ached and his knee throbbed with phantom injuries. He could almost feel the hot, sticky blood soaking his clothes. He could taste the blood, pooling in his mouth from where his teeth had pierced the lip all those years ago.

He gagged. His pre-game shake lurched up and he painted the snow with it. He clenched his eyes, waiting for it to be over.

Teddy's hands left his body and James sobbed. "No."

"I'm just getting you water," Teddy said softly. "Do you still feel sick?"

His stomach still ached, but he knew there was nothing left in it. He shook his head.

"Alright, c'mere." Teddy gently manoeuvred him into the backseat. Teddy followed, shutting the door behind them. He kissed James's forehead before going onto his knees and reaching into the trunk. A moment later, an opened water bottle was being held to James's lips and he let Teddy tilt his head back. James took small, tentative sips.

After he drank enough to satisfy Teddy, he was being guided against his boyfriend's chest, arms wrapping around him securely but loosely.

"You're okay," he whispered, kissing the top of James's head.

"Sorry," James mumbled. The cold air mixed with the water helped his mind clear, though he still felt awful physically.

"Don't you dare apologize," Teddy replied. "You can't control a panic attack."

Shrugging, James pressed his cheek against Teddy's soft sweater. "It's my dad."

"What is?" Teddy asked slowly.

"The... reason I freaked out." James sniffed. "I never told you how he died."

Teddy was silent, but his arms tightened.

James took in a breath. "We were on the way to a U13 game in December. We were on the highway. It had been snowing, but the roads were mostly clear. We were singing Christmas songs... Someone without winter tires on spun out in the left lane, slid right into us. Hit the back seat of the driver's side. We ran into a guard rail on the right. I really shouldn't have been in the front seat, but I wanted to sit with my dad... I had a couple fractured ribs, dislocated my knee." He shut his eyes, voice dropping to a watery whisper. "My dad... when we got to the hospital, he was hooked up to so many machines. He never woke up."