#and how thin and clearly a bit malnourished he was

[victim9d]

i am thinking Very Hard ab the way that i think if tate were to show someone he recently met photos of him as a teenager (there arent many) they would struggle to really see it as the same guy or at the very least have that kind of. Moment of thought before the oh wow you look different

[selkies-song]

“The good news is no broken bones, and only a mild concussion. He’s bruised and battered and going to be quite sore for a while, but it could have been a lot worse.” The doctor’s expression fell a bit. “The bad news; he’s severely malnourished and underweight. And there’s a lot of suspicious injuries that appear much older. I’m afraid there’s no delicate way to ask this, but do you suspect abuse?”

Shiro’s jaw clenched. “..yes.

"Tonight he told us they’d been threatening to hurt his horse to control him, but now that I’m thinking back on it…I think it goes a lot deeper than that.” 

“Understood,” the doctor looked regretful but unsurprised, like he was far too familiar with this kind of scenario. “I’ll alert the proper authorities. They’ll probably want to talk to him once he’s gotten a bit of rest, but with the shape he’s in, I think immediate protective custody is likely.” “Okay. Thank you.” “We’ve given him some meds for pain and anxiety, so he’ll probably be drowsy. And we’ll plan to keep him here for the next couple of days to get some nutrients in him. You’re welcome to go in and sit with him, now. I’ll let you know before the police arrive.” “Thanks.” Keith’s room was quiet when Shiro went in, Adam close on his heels. The teen appeared to be deeply asleep. He was hooked up to a couple of monitors, but the sound on them must have been muted. An IV dripped steadily into a line that led to his right forearm. The hospital gown did nothing to hide how thin Keith actually was, or the deep splotches of purple marring his skin, many of the marks notably fresher than others. Shiro was hit by a sharp pang of guilt. How had he not noticed? Had Keith been trying to hide it? Or had he simply been too naive to pick up on the signs? He felt Adam grip his shoulder. “This isn’t your fault,” the other man reassured quietly. “He’s safe now. It’s going to be okay. We’ll make sure it’s okay.”

“How did I miss this?” Shiro replied in a soft whisper, wiping his hand down his face. 

“It doesn’t matter,” Adam insisted. “All that matters now is what we can do about it.”

They’d settled into chairs by the time Lance arrived. The other teen hesitated noticeably in the doorway, clearly as shocked at how small and pale Keith looked as Shiro had been. “H…how is he?” he asked in a hushed voice. “Banged up, but nothing serious,” Shiro replied. “They want to keep him a couple days.” “...” Lance’s expression darkened into a slight frown. “They’re not going to make him go back, are they?” “No.” Shiro’s voice was firm. “The doctor is getting law enforcement involved. They’re going to have to talk to Keith, and investigate. But I don’t think there’s any chance they’ll let them have anything to do with him going forward.” “Good.” Lance hesitated for a moment, before adding, “I talked to my parents. They said it’d be okay if he stayed with us…you know, if he needs to.” Shiro managed a smile at that. “...that’s really kind of you to offer, Lance. I’m sure Keith would like being close to Red, too.” Lance smiled in return, only for his attention to turn to Keith when the other boy stirred.  Shiro was immediately on his feet and moving closer, wanting to provide whatever reassurance he could. “Hey, buddy.”

“Shiro?” Keith seemed to be struggling to keep heavy eyelids open. “..’s Red okay?”

“She’s fine,” Lance reassured, stepping up beside Shiro. “All tucked in for the night in the stall next to Blue, not a scratch on her. You don’t have to worry about her.”

“How are you feeling?” Shiro asked.

“Drowsy,” Keith admitted.

“The doctor said he gave you something for the pain that would probably knock you out for a bit,” Shiro confirmed. “Get some sleep, Bud. You need it. We’ll be here when you wake up.”

“Thanks, Shiro…Lance…” The names were barely out of his mouth before he was out again.

[leggerefiore]

Changes

cw: pokehybrid au, dragon au, Emin centric, cat gives birth, cat also dies from old age, mostly exploring dragon man's thoughts, not romantic really

Being an immortal dragon had complicated moments. Emin was not born. The concept was a foreign one to him. Processing and understand the idea of being young and growing evaded his conceptual abilities. It was viewed as useless information by him as well. His job was to hold balance and govern over the humans in his kingdom, not ponder the idea of birth and growth. Humans respected him and knew his opinion to be better than their own. That's all that mattered. He held these beliefs steadfast. Years passed with him on earth like a blinking of an eye. There was no need to worry about the small details of existence. Emin did his duties that were entrusted to him by his creator perfectly. Changes in his court and servantry never seemed to cross his mind.

It was a day in late spring when he heard the yowling in his garden. A sad, desperate plea from a creature. His advisor froze at the sound. Emin was intrigued by it. What had made it and why? Surely, there was not an unwelcome guest in his garden. He walked over to the bush, here the cries seemingly originated. Peering under, he saw her. A cat pokemon meowed for attention. Her lavender fur was matted and dirty, but she still stood up and moved toward him. She pressed her head into his hand, demanding affection. A recent rain had left her damp and unhappy. His advisor knelt beside him. “Ah, my liege, it is a Delcatty. I will summon a guard to remove it,” he explained. Emin shook his head. He had never seen such a pokemon in Unova. She purred sweetly. His heart felt a strange warmth. “There is no need,” Emin lifted her carefully from the dirt, “I want her to be cleaned and have her needs tended to.” The advisor nodded.

Time progressed, with the pokemon now living within the palace. Slowly, he watched as her body changed. At first, she seemed quite thin and malnourished. Living on her own was clearly harsh on her, but under the care of Emin, she put on weight. More than what had been expected. Concerns were raised about a diet for her from a pokemon specialist, but a maid in the room rolled her eyes. “She's pregnant,” the blonde pointed out, “My Liepard was similar at first. Don't listen to him, your majesty. He's clearly never dealt with felines.” Emin froze. Pregnant? How could that be? She had never done anything of the sort while within his home. The maid giggled a bit at him, her blue eyes gleaming at him playfully. “Your face is flustered,” she explained, “You do know how reproduction works?” He nodded. Of course, he did! He was not put here without general knowledge.

Emin took his Delcatty away from the humans to be alone with him. She was pregnant. It was an impossible idea for him to grasp. Even as she curled into a ball on his lap while purring loudly, the concept evaded him. She was a cute child in his mind, not an adult with mature ventures. He knew that every creature on the planet engaged with it, but he failed to think that his Delcatty had. A soft meow came from her. An adult, she was. The sun gently caught the light of her tan under coat, giving her an orange glow. She was going to be a mother. Emin felt afraid.

He blinked and then found himself staring at a swollen full Delcatty crying and whining while trying to find a comfortable place to lay down. Her pacing was endless while her tail swayed. Eventually, Emin watched as she came to lay beside him on his bed. It was then he realised that she was leaking. Her water had broken. She purred loudly as it began. Emin felt a bit queasy from the birthing process. It was nothing that he had ever seen before. A pink creature was born, and it was quickly followed by another. Carefully and on his sheets, she birthed three kittens. Two girls and one boy. They pressed against her and whined pitifully. He felt strange at the scene. His eyes burned as tears swelled in his eyes. How had she done that? His Delcatty had brought more life into this world. He pet her lovingly and cooed at her.

The journey of the kittens from blind, deaf worms into playful, squeaking demons was a scarily fast one. One moment they were completely dependent on their mother for everything, and then they found themselves exploring his bed chamber excitedly. One seemingly took the chance to run from him at any given moment, while the other two clung to him desperately. The little boy was the saddest, whining and crying whenever he had to leave. Eventually, it became easier to attend court with the tiny kitten in his lap. Emin felt oddly fearful as they continued to grow. They slowly matured into proper Skitties and then into full-grown Delcatties. Their change happened before his very eyes. Growing and changing… He felt complicated thoughts on it. There was happiness that they were no longer completely defenceless infants, but sadness as they grew weaker and frailer.

There was a day of him hiding in his chambers when his Delcatty passed. The discovery was made after he woke up that morning. She had laid down beside him and drew her last breath. He held her limp body close and sobbed. Tears poured endlessly from his eyes as he stroked her cold body. His precious cat had gone from him. He felt alone. These feelings were ones that he had never dealt with before. Loss was simply something he had never considered. Ignoring the changing humans around him, it never occurred to him in such a manner. Servants and court members checked on him, but he simply wished to be alone and mourn the loss. Her children were with him, pressing their heads against him and crawling into his lap. The boy seemed the saddest, but he would not deny the girls' turmoil.

She was buried in the garden, with a commemorative stone placed to mark it. The pain would strike again with her kittens, reminding him that death was a threat always lurking. Even when another Delcatty was given to him, he feared for their inevitable demise. He observed carefully as the humans around him grew old and weary before disappearing to never return. New, bright-faced humans would replace them in an endless cycle. Emin found temporary respite in his Skitties and Delcatties, but he often still found himself visiting the grave of his first. Life and death, something that he was exempt from. She created almost completely by herself. Humans could do that, too, he understood.

He gazed at the infant that a servant had with a soft curiosity. That child would grow and change into a person just as their mother was. A cycle that he had never been a part of; something that he could never properly understand. It hurt. He was destined to be alone.

In tears, he visited her grave and left her a gentle offering of a lavender flower. The solemn moment of memories was interrupted by sobbing echoing in the garden. He stood up and walked to the sound. There, he saw a servant on their knees in tears. A strange calling in his heart told him that he needed them; a protective instinct taking his mind hold. Emin swallowed as he realised what they were.

His mate was finally before him.

[therealvinelle]

Hi, I was reading a post here in Tumblr about how Edward has two gifts, he can hear thoughts and is super fast, so I wonder what is your opinion about this topic?.

Furthermore, what others power might the Volturi's leaders and guards might have?

Edward has one gift, and it’s telepathy. Being fast isn’t a gift.

Strength, speed and even senses is varied among vampires. Some, like Emmett, are on the extreme end, but that doesn’t make Emmett gifted, nor does it mean that the rest are at an equal level. The Cullens have clear variations between them.

Physique appears to play a dominant role in how these variations play out: Alice, who was malnourished and never made it past 4′10″, is the physically weakest of the coven, while Emmett at 6′5″ and a mountain of muscles is the strongest. This is made very clear during the baseball game:

“Emmett was hovering close to third (base), knowing that Alice didn’t have the muscle to outstrip Rosalie’s fielding." (Midnight Sun, chapter The Game)

There’s also the fact that it’s taken for granted that Emmett would be intimidating to other vampires, and he is dismayed when James is more worried about Jasper, who is lean.

I suspect this disparity exists simply because a large frame means more tissue to have blood in. Newborns, animal, and human-eating vampires all having a difference in terms of strength is proof that blood has the final say in a vampire’s prowess, so Emmett being able to contain more of it than Alice and therefore being stronger makes sense to me.

This isn’t the meta for me to get into that, but I don’t think vampires have muscles in the sense we do. Or rather, we can’t know that they do. Renesmée is proof that Edward retains his human DNA, or she would be a clone of Bella. Nahuel is proof that Joham retains a Y-chromosome. Does this mean that vampires have different cell types? Does a vampire’s stone-like skin still contain human DNA? One would think yes - except, if you rip a vampire apart, you get rubble. The parts are all solid. There’s also Carlisle theorizing that vampires digest blood by absorbing it through porous tissue, which makes me wonder why he dismissed his digestive system (my guess: vivisection fun times with Aro in Volterra. Carlisle couldn’t have done it on his own, and Aro is the only one mad and curious enough to be down for that). I’m getting off-topic - what I’m saying is, we don’t know how vampires work, meaning I can’t build this meta off of the assumption that they have muscles. I simply can’t know for sure that they do.

The important thing is that a vampire’s physique is a deciding factor in how strong they are.

There’s also Laurent’s warning about James, that he has “unparalleled senses”, meaning some vampires are better at sight, hearing, and smell than others. I can believe that, because we have canon examples of vampires being bad at tracking.

There’s Edward in Port Angeles, who couldn’t track Bella’s, his singer, scent to her location, and (I admit this one is conjecture but it’s so probable that I say it goes) Carlisle’s creator, who after taking care of the mob must have realized he’d bitten one of the humans, meaning a newborn would soon be loose in London. This is punishable by death by the Volturi. The fact that he didn’t return to finish Carlisle off means that he was unable to find him. I remind the audience that Carlisle was bleeding and suffering the effects by a venom intended to paralyze the victim. To put it this way, Carlisle wouldn’t have survived James, or anybody with a trace of tracking competence. By comparison, Carlisle was able to locate a dying Rosalie by the smell of her blood, even though there wouldn’t have been a trail for him to follow, as her body had not been moved.

When it comes to these disparities in strength and speed among the Volturi, I imagine Jane and Alec are the physically weakest members of the guard, and among the slowest. They’re prepubescent, meaning no muscle for them, and their height (a humble 4′8″ and 4′10″) implies very short legs. They’re simply not going to get as far as an adult would, not in the same number of steps. Renata at 5′0″ is another tiny vampire lady who likely isn’t very strong or fast.

That’s not to say I think these physically weaker members of the Volturi guard are necessarily useless in hand-to-hand combat, Alec at least is a boy stuck in a playful age, and the males around him are trained warriors. He’s probably picked up a few things over the years.

As for the others, Aro is described as frail-looking, which hints at him being quite thin. I don’t think he’s weak, if he couldn’t win a fight he wouldn’t be around, but I do think he’s probably below average in terms of strength. Caius I picture as a Harrison Ford type, so of course I’m gonna think he’s a bit burly, but this is me headcanoning and not actually hinted at in canon. Marcus is 19, so I imagine he can only be so strong.

Back to Edward’s speed.

He’s a 6′2″ teen, that’s code for “very long legs”, though I’m actually going to go ahead and posit that he’s not actually that fast. Strap in for this next part:

The guy was a teenager who lay dying for an undisclosed amount of time. The fact that Carlisle had the time to get to know his mother points to a few weeks, at least. And Edward was very ill:

Elizabeth worried obsessively over her son. She hurt her own chances of survival trying to nurse him from her sickbed. I expected that he would go first, he was so much worse off than she was. (New Moon, page 21)

Muscles atrophy quickly, never more so than when you’re a teen ravaged by fever, on your deathbed. And as I’ve explained above, I think your physique in life ties directly into your vampiric prowess.

I think Edward is certainly the physically weakest of the male Cullens, quite likely weaker than Rosalie as well, maybe even Esme.

Now, speed is not the same as strength. However, for humans, the two are connected. It’s the muscle fibers in our legs that determine our speed. Basically, type I fibers make an enduring runner, type II fibers make a speed runner. So, assuming that vampires retain their human musculature, one could argue that Edward had a lot of type II in life. However, Carlisle when he was human was able to outrun the mob he was with:

He ran through the streets, and Carlisle — he was twenty-three and very fast — was in the lead of the pursuit. (Twilight, page 158)

Carlisle clearly had a lot of type II fibers, and unlike Edward he was in peak physical condition when he died. He was also an adult who’d had more time to develop musculature, while Edward was a seventeen-year-old. If musculature was a deciding factor, one would think they would at the very least be of equal speed, though realistically Edward should be slower.

So, if it’s not muscles, what is it that makes Edward faster than the others?

It could be a matter of technique. Except, the way Bella describes movement when she wakes up as a vampire, it’s all very automated. Her body knows exactly how to do everything, and executes it without much input from her:

After that first frozen second of shock, my body responded to the unfamiliar touch in a way that shocked me even more.

Air hissed up my throat, spitting through my clenched teeth with a low, menacing sound like a swarm of bees. Before the sound was out, my muscles bunched and arched, twisting away from the unknown. I flipped off my back in a spin so fast it should have turned the room into an incomprehensible blur—but it did not. I saw every dust mote, every splinter in the wood-paneled walls, every loose thread in microscopic detail as my eyes whirled past them.

So by the time I found myself crouched against the wall defensively—about a sixteenth of a second later—I already understood what had startled me, and that I had overreacted. (Breaking Dawn, page 251-252)

Growling, crouching - those are all distinctly vampiric, non-human ways to act. Bella didn’t learn this, her body knew it of its own accord. When she later runs, she explains it as happening the same way - she just does it.

The way Bella experiences it, vampiric movement is like a package she downloaded, and that executes her instinctual commands with no need for her to actually know how to do any of this. Her grace is another example of this - Bella Swan may be in charge of her own consciousness, but the venom is entirely in control of her body.

Given these facts, I don’t think it’s technique that makes Edward a better runner than others. His technique is likely similar to everyone else’s. If it isn’t, if technique is what makes the difference, then who is and isn’t fast is an arbitrary process.

With that, we get to my controversial theory about why Edward is the fastest Cullen: he’s not.

Running and being fast is the only thing about vampirism that Edward enjoys. This is for another meta, but Edward is extremely depressed about every single other bit of it. Every aspect of being a vampire torments him.

Except the running. He enjoys all of it, especially being the fastest, so much. And as a newborn, he would have been faster than Carlisle.

But after that, when his newborn strength faded…

I honestly think that Carlisle decided to just slow down a bit when running with him, let Edward have this. It’s no skin of his back, and it makes Edward happy, so why not.

Esme joins the family, and of course she would be down for this. Nothing is more parental, more maternal, than losing at checkers to make your child happy, after all. Could also be she’s not very fast herself, but even if she were then she would downplay it to make Edward feel like Jesse Owens.

Enter Rosalie, who would think it’s completely ridiculous, yes, but she would also recognize this excellent opportunity to call in a big favor from Carlisle later on. There’s also the fact that I think Carlisle has a gift (yes, yes, meta is coming, people) that makes him very persuasive people. And also that for all that Rose gets a lot of bad rep, she is very generous and loves her family, if being fast makes Edward happy then alright.

Emmett is an easy-going guy, he goes along with things. Alice adores Edward and would go along with it. She also has tiny matchstick legs and couldn’t outrun him if she tried. Jasper could not care less.

Bella does get outrun by Edward after waking up, but she also did zero exercise in life (listing this in case musculature matter), had Renesmée devour her from within rendering her emaciated, and then died like a slasher movie murder victim. There’s not a lot of blood in her, and what little blood there is doesn’t have a lot to work with. She does defeat Emmett at arm wrestling, so I’ll concede that. However, there are enough extenuating circumstances surrounding Bella that I think my “Edward isn’t that fast” theory survives his ability to outrun her.

So, I believe Edward is the fast Cullen because Carlisle told a white lie in 1919, no one ever corrected that, and now it’s too late.

[rogermyreligion]

Hi!!! Could you do #19 from the prompt list? Like maybe the reader overheard someone talking about roger and snapped at them and gets all pissy and roger tries to figure out what happened?

Fluff, 19. “Because i love you god damnit!”

A/N: i pictured this fic with 60s roger (smile era) you'll understand when you read it.

You were always the number one fan of your boyfriend, whatever he achieves you would be there applauding him and being proud of him.

He and 2 of his friends decided to form a band several months ago, smile was his name, they used to play at school events, or at parties held at the institution. Roger was clearly the drummer, and in your opinion, he was the best drummer (and the best looking of course) better than the beatles, better than the rollings stones, better than EVERYTHING and EVERYONE.

That's why now you were in the front row near the small stage, a place that you got thanks to pushing many people, but it was worth it, because you just had to tilt your head slightly to the side to have an excellent view of your boyfriend banging those drums with his characteristic fury and passion.

But right behind you were two boys, they were a year older than Roger and they looked very intimidating, big and judgmental, they were known as the school bullies, they wore leather jackets and tight pants.

"The guitarrist looks like a spaghetti," one of them murmured to the other, not bothering to even cover his mouth so what they were saying was not heard, "He doesn't even know how to grab the guitar properly with those long fingers" that went a little louder, his friend complied with a mocking laugh.

He bursted into laughter when his eyes met the tall, thin man, but his attention was suddenly stolen from the boy behinds the drums, "Look! Did you see at the drummer? He has girlish features," he pointed out shamelessly, "And he looks rather malnourished."

As soon as the words 'drummer' and 'malnourished' reached your ears, you felt the blood rush through your veins, your eyes were still on Roger but your attention was not entirely on him, but on the pair of idiots chuckling and mocking behind of you.

The fact that you have a strong character like a spark was not helping at all, because you wanted to knock them down like god damn hell, you couldn't contain your inner anger, you couldn't stand these assholes talking about Roger like that, with so much impunity, so you turned on your heels, you faced them, they were taller than you, much taller, and the way in which their eyes scanned you from top to bottom with amused looks made your vocal cords join the party.

"Can you shut that smelly mouth of yours?" You blurted, placing your hands on your hips and tilting your head up so you can look into their eyes.

One of them couldn't help but laugh in your face, he had to cover his mouth, but that made things worse, because his other friend opened his mouth, "Turn around lady, don't screw it up unless you want to make that skirt talk," He said with a superb attitude, eyeing your school skirt, which made you a bit insecure but not enough for you to drop this argument, you wanted to put their ass in place.

You weren't buying his arrogant attitude so you tried to imitate it, "I don't wanna hear you talk about my boyfriend like that again," you crossed your arms, voice determinated, "is that clear?"

They kept laughing at you, making fun of you, dying to humiliate you, "What is clear is that you chose the wrong boy darling, that weak and tiny boy could not last even 4 minutes in bed, you should try with one of us," said one of them while the other clapped while he laughed out loud, drawing the attention of some people.

You made a sicken face at his haughty behaviour and pushed him away, he lost his balance, grabbing his friend's shoulder in order to not fall backwards, "Don't say that again because i swear to god-" you were trailed off abruptly by someone grabbing you by the wrist and pulling you to a side, away from the two boys and inside of a empty room.

You were so into the discussion with the two dickheads in front of you that you didn't even notice that the band had stopped playing and that almost everyone present was admiring the situation, some petrified, others laughing and mumbling, murmur noise filling your head until the anonymous person who intervened turned you to face it.

The person was Roger, accompanied with his extreme worried face, he was very scared when he perceived what was happening since he was afraid that you would get hurt, "What the hell is going on?" His grip on your wrist was becoming lighter and less tight.

"Those jackass were talking shit about you!" you said, furiosity still clear on your tone of voice.

Roger's face began to soften when he noticed that you were fine, apparently it was nothing serious, "Baby, it's fine, i don't care what people say about me, they don't exist for me," the hand that was holding your wrist began to slide to fully grasp your hand, rubbing his thumb over the back of your hand.

"Well I care what they say about you" you slowed down a bit, the silence of the room made you go down to the ground, but you were still pissy.

"Why?" He asked, trying to understand your swiftly outburst, "Why would you care about what those pricks say?"

"Because i love you god damnit!" You snapped, you didn't want to yell but your fighting energy surpassed you.

He smiled at your guts, "My girlfriend is a time bomb, isn't she?" He hugged you and you braced your arms around his neck, "So cute but so dangerous at the same time" he giggled.

You sighed, now relaxed and coherent, "I'm sorry, i know i ruined it," you laced your fingers with his locks behind his neck, "I just couldn't handle the things they were saying about you,"

He stepped back a little to see your face, "You didn't, i was just terrified they did something to you, you know, touch you or something, i'd freak out if that happens," he pecked you on the lips, "You have to be carefull darling, you never know who are you facing,"

"I know. I know, sorry again," you giggled, cupping his face and running your eyes all over his mouth, "I love you"

He bit his bottom lip, "I love you" he kissed your forehead, something he always does when he wants you to feel protected.

Masterlist

[tinaotaku]

Can you do muzan x child!reader p2?

 Note: this is a bit short. I’m sorry... (Angsts ahead)

Trauma and sadness kept on torturing you. They're always there, making you felt worthless than before. You knew that running away is useless now after Muzan made that very clearly. 

On that same night, he tortured you endlessly. He broke your arms, legs, even almost choked you to death. He also kicked and punched your body for hours. Don’t forget how he made you to his lab rat. For an 8-year-old girl, you suffered more than you can think of. 

Now you must suffer your punishment from Muzan which is something you don’t look forward to. Which is endless torture and experiments that your body must endure. 

As time goes on, he didn’t let you step out from the fortress at all. You never saw the Sun or the Moon again. You can’t remember the last time you met the same human as you. You just can’t remember how green does the forest looked or how blue the sky is. You don’t remember anything else rather than how lifeless your life is. 

All you remember that Muzan will never let you go out of his sight. 

-

You coughed as Muzan kicked your body for hours in front of the Upper Demons. You are sure that your ribs are broken and your body will not support you any longer. The lack of vitamins and nutrients inside your body is shown through how skinny and malnourished you looked.

His frustration was piled up because of his inability to find the damn flower: blue-spider-lily. He’s been finding that for centuries with the help of his demon army and he still can’t find it! Can you believe how much does he have to go before he can conquer the sun? His patience is growing thin. 

“M-Muzan-sama...” Douma called softly. His heart can’t bear to see the innocent human girl go and suffered all of their punishment. It’s not fair! Douma slowly realized that the human girl will not live to see the sun anymore. Akaza knew what Douma is feeling, so he sucked it up and tried to hold his tears back. 

Slowly but surely, the human girl laid lifelessly on the floor with her blood surrounded her. Somehow, Muzan stab the girl’s stomach with his legs and killed her in a second. Muzan ignored the dead girl and looked into the Demons. 

The smell of blood filled the Demon’s nostrils but they have no appetite to take a bite of that girl. They now knew that the girl can die and didn’t have to suffer more punishment. Just imagine if that girl has turned into a demon, she will forever be chained to Muzan! 

Muzan growled before he dismissed the Upper Demon. “Find that flower before the end of this month. If all of you failed, do NOT expect to go and see the day ever again,”

In a second, all of the Demons left the fortress with a last glance at the poor girl. 

But one thing they can’t believe is she died with a smile on her face. 

Muzan sighed annoyingly before looking down. He expects his love kneeled like the perfect pet she is supposed to be. What he planned is to bring her to a nearby town and find a place to eat. But what he can’t believe is the one he love passed away because of his anger. 

All because he can’t keep his anger to himself. 

[antoni-anxiety]

Tommy is babey, literally tho

3RD PERSON POV- WITH TOMMY

Run. Run. Run was all that could go through his mind right now. Dream was chasing Tommy. Tommy just wanted to get away from there. Dream blew up Logstedshire; Tommy had nothing to lose, apart from his life apparently, which was what he was running for right now. After about 15 minutes of a very close chase between Tommy and Dream, Tommy seemed to outrun the elder, which he was ever so thankful for.

After running so far, Tommy was exhausted and rightfully so; he almost just died. He was so, so cold, he was stuck, surrounded by snow. The boy decided to walk north for a bit further, in hopes that he would find rescue, and just as he hoped, he did. In the distance, he saw a small spruce cottage, with smoke erupting from the chimney, signaling that someone lived there; whoever it was, Tommy prayed that it wasn’t Dream. Uh oh. His vision became dotted and he could barely see, that probably wasn’t good. Right as he reached the front door and was about to knock, his legs collapsed and his mind went blank. He had passed out.

3RD PERSON POV- WITH TECHNO

Technoblade finally had some time to himself. He’s been busy breeding the hounds and organising all day and he hadn’t had much time to relax in a while, and therefore he was now all cozy next to his fireplace, reading some books on greek mythology. He was pretty relaxed, well, until he heard a thud at his front door that is. He contemplated leaving it however his curiosity got the better of him. As he opened his door, he saw someone laying on the front step, ‘There’s no way that they’re older than 16.’ he thought to himself. Now, Techno is a ‘lone wolf’ as some might call it but he wasn’t gonna let some malnourished kid freeze to death on his front step. The man maneuvered the boy from outside onto his small couch; now that he got a better look at the boy, he couldn’t believe his eyes.

This frail, skinny boy was his younger brother. Worry filled Techno’s eyes, even though he pretended that the younger annoyed him ever so much, he had a soft spot for him, the kid could brighten anyone’s day by just saying hello. He had no idea what happened but that kid who was a ray of sunshine suddenly looked as if he hadn’t eaten in weeks and if anyone were to merely touch him, he’d crumble right then and there on the spot. Techno didn’t really know what to do except make Tommy comfortable until he woke up, and once he did, he’d ask him about everything. Techno couldn’t help but wonder what Tommy had gone through before he was there, ofcourse, he knew about Tommy’s exile but if it was like when he was exiled for the first time, Tommy wouldn’t be like this. Techno scoured his mind for what he knew of Tommy’s latest exile; Dream was to look after him, well clearly he wasn’t doing a good job. Oh fuck. Dream must have been abusing his little brother. With that thought, Techno stood up in rage. He was gonna kill that green bastard. That was until he heard stirring and a small whine from the couch. Whipping his head around, he saw Tommy try to sit up and ran over to him. The second that Tommy saw him he immediately started panicking. Techno being the awkward man he is, hugged Tommy in attempt to calm him down. This was gonna be a long night.

3RD PERSON POV- WITH TOMMY

Tommy opened his eyes to be in an unfamiliar place, so of course, his first instinct was to panic. He sat up as quickly as he could and looked around, he saw his older brother approach him. Still in his tired state, his mind was all over the place and all that was going through his mind was ‘POSSIBLE DANGER. RUN’. Before he could process what to do and where to go, Techno had seemingly sensed his anxiety and hugged him tightly. The physical affection seemed to do its job and calm the younger down but it also made him feel loved, something he hadn’t felt in such a long time. The overwhelming emotions made the boy burst into tears, something in his mind seemed to shift, it made him feel younger. However, that was utterly absurd, it must’ve been the stress getting to him. Oh no. Tommy realised what was happening, he almost forgot that he used to do this to cope during all the wars. Of course, nobody knew about it, he’d be caught dead before he let anyone know he regresses; however, his mind was too foggy right now to tell what was happening and therefore reciprocated the hug. Techno was surprisingly a good hugger, and when he finally let go after 5 minutes of a silent hug, only filled with Tommy’s little sniffles, the younger slightly whined at the loss of the calming touch. When Techno looked at Tommy’s eyes, something about them was.. different. They were filled with a somewhat childish innocence which made Techno suddenly feel so protective of him. Tommy seemed to come to his senses and tried to get out of headspace, which he somewhat succeeded at, and immediately apologised to his big brother. ‘I’m s-so sorry Techno- fuck- Imma go, imma go now,’’, Techno was now worried for his baby brother so he couldn’t let him get off the hook so easily. ‘Hey, Toms you’re not going anywhere, you’re clearly ill and I’m worried, tell me what’s going on, hm? You usually wouldn’t burst into tears just like that..’ Techno stated with clear worry in his voice. Tommy was contemplating just lying to Techno but he knew that it wouldn’t work. For someone who barely socialises, Techno is really good at reading people just like open books, so Tommy decided to, reluctantly, tell him about his regression above all of his other issues, seeing as he was already on the verge of regressing again. ‘Uh so about the crying thing.. have you ever heard of fuckin.. Age regression or little space of some sort?’ Tommy just hoped that this wouldn’t go badly. Techno of course, read a lot, so he had the general grasp of what Tommy was talking about, he guessed that his little brother regressed, and he couldn’t lie, just the thought of it was utterly adorable. The piglin hybrid noticed that he hadn’t actually answered Tommy’s question and nodded, ‘So.. you regress? I know a little bit about this stuff, do you wanna be little?’. If he was being completely honest, Tommy had no idea that Techno would be acting this accepting and.. caring? He subconsciously made the choice that Techno was friendly and it was okay to regress around him, and he gave a small nod, on the edge of completely slipping.

3RD PERSON POV- WITH TECHNO

Techno sat himself comfortably next to the younger boy, looking at him in awe; the boy was only 16 and he’d gone through multiple wars and several betrayals, he was so very strong, Techno couldn’t even begin to describe how proud he was. ‘Hey buddy how old are you feeling?’, Techno got a reply of Tommy shying away into his hands and raising 3 fingers. ‘Very small then hm? We should get you into something into a bit more warm, you look quite chilly buddy.’, Tommy made grabby hands at Techno and how could he deny such an adorable request? Techno lifted the skinny boy and brought him to his bedroom, placing him on his bed. Techno once again couldn’t help but get upset once again that his former friend hurt his baby brother; Tommy could have gotten frostbite or hypothermia with the tattered, thin clothes he had been wearing in such a cold biome. Techno finally fished out some joggers and a red hoodie he hadn’t worn in a long time. When he turned back from his closet to his bed, the sight he was met with nearly gave him a heart attack with how pure and adorable it was. Tommy was sat on the bed, knees tucked to his chest and played with his fingers softly, a tiny smile painted on his face. Sadly, this is the happiest Techno had seen Tommy in months, or years even. Techno sat on the bed, next to his younger brother, and helped him get dressed, slowly and carefully, making sure that he didn’t startle the baby. Techno picked Tommy back up and placed him back on the sofa; the two were just cuddling, that is until they heard the front door open. Tommy curled himself into a ball, while Techno protectively placed himself in front of him. The older was slightly relieved to see Phil in the doorframe, however he didn’t know how their father would react to Tommy’s regression, or whether Tommy would even want him to know: Techno could tell that Tommy was very shy and secretive about it. ‘Hey Techno, mate, who’s that?’ Phil asked, clueless about the stress that his sons were in because of his presence. Techno was almost physically sweating with the pressure being put on him, he awkwardly replied ‘Oh uh, hey Phil,’ Techno looked to Tommy who looked terrified. ‘Hey Toms? It’s just Phil, you’re okay..’ Techno whispered to the boy in attempt to calm him down; it seemed to work quite a bit. Unfortunately for the boys, Phil heard what Techno said and jumped at the opportunity to talk to his youngest son, ‘Did you say Tommy? Hello Toms, what’s up?’. Tommy froze and slowly looked up at his dad, tears gathering up in his eyes, Techno noticed and went to comfort his little brother. Phil was beyond confused, and did what anyone would do, ask what was going on. Techno looked to Tommy for approval before telling their dad, to which the boy nodded. With the knowledge Techno had gathered, he tried his best to answer Phil’s question; Phil is a nice guy, he helps anyone who needs it, and so he knew of quite a few coping mechanisms, and this was one of them. The eldest seemed to grasp onto the idea surprisingly quickly, and was immediately helping Techno coddle the younger. Neither of them could deny, the baby was adorable, babbling to himself and chewing on his fingers, which wasn’t exactly sanitary but adorable nonetheless. With the three being fully aware that Ghostbur wouldn’t mind this version of Tommy, and would have fun taking care of Tommy, Techno and Phil couldn’t help but hope that their family could grow close once again. Philza was sure to never let his baby boys go again, they would all rekindle their relationship with each other day by day, and soon were a fully functioning family once again.

[poliel]

Surprise Egg 3/13: Surprise Labor

Heads up, for kinda graphic labor in this chapter. It's an egg though so it's not as bloody and stuff as a live birth would be. But it's still something that I feel I should give a warning about in case anyone needs/wants one.

I bet this chapter came a lot sooner than y'all were expecting. It happened this way because A. Buddy doesn't know and it's important to the story they don't know until after they birth the egg for reasons y'all will see later and B. the immediate aftermath of them laying the egg took a lot longer than I expected and the following consequences of how bad this pregnancy and birth was for their body while being malnourished also come up because it wouldn't have felt complete if I didn't cover that aspect of it in the fic. So basically what I'm saying is this was supposed to happen towards the end of the fic but then I discovery wrote my way into that not being the case.

~

Convincing Shelda to go back to town hadn’t been difficult on a technical level but her requests had been particularly aggravating. Normally Buddy were good at keeping their cool but they were tired, hungry, and felt awful, even more than had become usual, making them tempted to growl at her every time she spouted nonsense. They’d resisted though, remaining mostly polite throughout. And now she was finally gone and they could rest for a bit. …

Except they didn’t have time to. While they were here, they should catch that buffalocust for Cromdo and a picantis for Gramble. Also, they had their self-imposed task of catching every bugsnax and there were several others here that hadn’t caught yet. Not to mention the whole being expected them to bring back enough bugsnax to feed everyone in town. Ugh! If only they’d given in to Filbo’s insistence they stay and rest, take today off. But… they really couldn’t afford to no matter how awful they felt. So they allowed themself no more than ten minutes resting in the shade of Shelda’s lean-to before forcing themself back up to their feet and gathering up their equipment to start hunting.

It started as just a small twinge in their abdomen every now and then, little more than an annoying distraction as they stalked their prey. But then it started getting worse; more painful and more frequent. Until eventually one rolled through them so bad it had them doubling over and clutching at their middle. It lasted for several seconds, leaving them panting once it finally passed.

What even was that? And how concerned should they be? Probably a lot, right? No way anything that hurt that bad could be…

Something sharp stung their shoulder, making them jump. That dang scorpepper! They turned to growl at it but quickly gave that up because their fur had caught fire again. Sending them rushing over to submerge themself in the thankfully nearby water instead.

Dripping wet now, they stepped out to sit on the shore. They then twisted their head to inspect the spot as best they could, fighting back the urge to gag at the smell of burnt fur. The fire hadn’t spread far and they’d taken care of it fast enough that the flesh underneath hadn’t suffered much damage. It was just one more minor burn to add to the rather large collection they had on their body now, some of which were from that same exact Scorpepper earlier today.

Standing up, they turned to face it with a growl. From this distance it was completely invisible on its dumb rock face. They lifted a paw to flip it off anyway. They were going to catch it and they were going to enjoy feeding to someone because it was an asshole.

They took two steps towards it before another wave of pain washed through them, doubling them over around their midsection again. It brought them all the way to their knees this time. They growled to themself as it passed. Vengeance would have to wait, they needed to deal with whatever this was first.

Now, should they try to get back to for help town or wait this out and hope it got better? On one hand it was clearly something serious on the other though, the thought of dragging themself and their equipment all the way back to Snaxburg while doubling over in pain every few minutes was not appealing. Especially with all the many aggressive bugsnax between here and there. The last thing they needed while dealing with this was to also have to deal with being rammed by angry spuddys or set on fire by the various snax that hated them and could do such. So… waiting it out was their only real option, huh?

With a groan, they dragged themself back over to the lean-to. They’d just finished putting aside their backpack and sitting down before another wave rolled through them. They were definitely getting closer together. Was that a good or bad sign though?

After it passed, they put a paw on their belly, pressing down lightly and then a little harder because it felt weird. Kind of like there was something hard was inside them? … And they were certain it wasn’t Sprout’s buggy ball either so what the fuck?

It would’ve been nice to think on that mystery more and solve it but they were exhausted and their body was already tensing in preparation for the next wave of pain. They lay down on their side on the thin sleeping bag. Ready for it this time, they gritted their teeth when it rolled through them. As it passed, they were left panting again but they had high pain tolerance so they’d get through whatever this was and then go back to Snaxburg and sleep cuddled up with Filbo for however long they could. And maybe they’d even finally do as he’d been asking them to for a while now and take tomorrow off. And then everything would be fine again.

Sometime later

Nope! They weren’t going to make it through this. They were going to die for sure. Out here in middle of the wretchedly hot desert they were going to die alone and a failure, their big story untold and their only legacy being one of disappointment after disappointment.

They whimpered and rolled, trying unsuccessfully to find a more comfortable position, ultimately just ending up back on their side, curled around their middle. Clawing uselessly at the sand, they desperately tried again to purr to feel better, only managing a broken stutter.

More than anything they wanted Filbo with them. They’d be willing to do almost anything to be held by him right now. The fact that he wasn’t here and wouldn’t be coming brought tears to their eyes that they didn’t even bother trying to hold back as another pain rolled through the middle. The screamed as everything inside them tightened again.

How could their insides possibly hurt so much without whatever it was killing them on the spot? How much longer could it even go on for? The gaps between the pain and tightening that came with it now were only a few seconds apart now. Surely something had to give eventually!

With another wave of pain, pulling another scream out of them as their whole body tightened again, something suddenly did give way as they quite literally pushed something out of their body. The tension gone from their body, they started shaking as they panted lying limp on the ground.

It was… over? … Finally? Really? … They waited, prepared and dreading another wave of pain but… it didn’t come. … It was really over.

Their eyes welled with tears again, this time tears of relief. After they’d caught their breath a bit more, they carefully pushed themself up to examine the… egg between their legs? Huh? It was much too big to be an eggler and the faded burnt orange and light blue splotches on it made that even more clear because that meant it was a grumpus egg. What the fuck?

Sex-ed was forever and a day ago now but they were pretty sure the colours weren’t random; they came from the parents, right? So meant… they’d been carrying Filbo’s egg for… probably since after their heat, huh? That… certainly explained some things. They’d had no idea though. … Whoops.

What now? … Back to town. They’d take it back to town and show Filbo and then rest and then they’d figure out what to do about it. Because right now they could barely even think let alone make any kind of important decision about this.

Shaking even more now, they sat all the way up and reached into their pouch to pull out Sprout’s buggy ball. “Sorry little guy, you’re going back into the pack for a bit.” They pulled the pack over and put him inside, being sure to zip it up so he couldn’t escape. Then they turned to look at the egg again; their and Filbo’s egg… ugh. Carefully they picked it up and pushed into their pouch. Despite being a bit bigger and a different shape, it felt and looked an awful lot like how Sprout’s buggy ball had being in there had. Well, that’d make ensuring Filbo was the first one to know easy.

Taking a deep breath, they pulled the backpack on. Lucky for them, they’d left all their hunting equipment attached to it so they didn’t have to worry about that right now. Except for the fact that it made it heavy, normally not an issue but now… eh, it’d be fine. They were used to it and thanks to the whole surprise labor thing the only bugsnax they’d successfully caught today was the black razzby so it certainly could’ve been a lot heavier.

They stood up. Or tried to, anyway. Blackness ate at their vision before they were even all the way upright, sending them to their knees and then…

~

They woke to the sound of something heavy being dragged across the ground. Whatever it was, they were lying on it on their back, judging based off the way the sound seemed to come from all around and matching the sensation of movement they felt. With a groan they opened their eyes to see clear blue sky high above high above them, framed on either side by the familiar canyon walls of the Scorched Gorge.

Underneath them was their backpack and… turning their head a little… they were lying on a wooden platform that looked an awful lot like it used to be part of Shelda’s lean-to. But who was pulling…

A monster was pulling the platform by the pole that had once kept the lean-to upright. Or not a monster but a grumpus shape thing made of food. A bugsnax?

Their heart skipped a beat as their fur prickled with excitement and a drop of fear. They snatched up their camera for where it hung around their neck and took a photo. Probably not a good one though so they took another and another. And then, annoyed with the angle, they sat up to snap another.

It glanced back at them with big empty googly eyes, of which they took a pic of, of course. Yes, definitely a bugsnax! A giant one. Intelligent too based off the way it was clearly intentionally dragging them somewhere. How intelligent though? And where was it taking them?

With a well-practiced quick motion, they pulled their journal, pencil, and recorder out of their pack’s side pocket. They flipped open to a new page and pressed the record button.

“Hello. Can you understand me?”

No response.

Holding the journal and recorder with one paw, they snapped a few more photos with the other, just to be sure. “I’m a journalist and I’m here to study bugsnax. If you can understand me, I’d like a…”

It growled. Wet and menacing, it sent a chill down Buddy’s spine and brought an excited smile to their face. That was the same sound they’d heard that night a while ago now when everyone had gathered around the campfire to tell ghost stories! Probably this was also the thing Gramble and Beffica saw that other night. So this thing had been lurking around town for who even knows how long. Why though? Buddy intended to find out.

“Growling works. How about a long growl for ‘no’ and short a one for ‘yes’?

It growled again before stopping and melting into the ground.

“Wait, wait, come back!” Their paws being full made getting up to their feet hard but they were nothing if not determined and managed anyway. “I wasn’t done talking to you.”

But alas, it was gone. Nothing remained of where it had just been standing mere moments ago. Dammit! … Well at least they had some pics and some recorded audio. That was a hell of a lot better than nothing.

After letting the camera hang around their neck again, they stopped the recording and put it and the notebook and pencil back in the side pocket. Then they looked around to ascertain their location… just outside Snaxburg. The… Snaxsquatch – Yes! That’s what they were going to call it! – had brought them back from the desert. So it was friendly too. … They simply had to go tell Filbo about it and then probably everyone else too.

[dakotafoster]

Werewolf Bakugou x reader!! I’d like it if there was a lot of his wolf form!! Maybe the reader is a mage as well!! Perhaps there’s a war happening and they got separated in the midst of battle and one gets slightly injured. I know you said no gore. Sorry this is so all over the place!!

Thank you for requesting! This is my first request on this blog and I tried my best with this one-shot to meet it to your expectations so I hope you like it ♡ I went for a sort of forbidden fantasy love narrative if that’s alright.

ᴍᴏᴏɴ ᴄʜɪʟᴅʀᴇɴ

ραιяιиg : werewolf! katsuki bakugou x fem! mage! reader

ɢɛռʀɛ : fluff, a tiny bit of angst

ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢs : none

աօʀɖ ƈօʊռȶ : 4.2k

𝕤𝕦𝕞𝕞𝕒𝕣𝕪 : Amidst a raging war between your fellow sorcerers and the Werewolves, you find yourself unexpectedly in love with their Alpha.

╔═══°∴,*⋅✲══〖✰〗══✲⋅*,∴°═══╗

It was an absolute nightmare. It was not how you wanted to use the gifts you had been given, you didn’t want this. Your refused to use your grandmothers teaching of spells and magic for carnage and murder, you wanted to help and save, to nurture those who could not help themselves. You had been sent to fight a pointless war, driven by null excuses. Dragged and thrown into confrontation by your father and mother, who seemed to care little or not at all about your say in the matter. Everyone in your village, every sorcerer and mage believed that such beasts shouldn’t exist, that lycanthropy was nothing more than a demon’s stunt to lure you to Hell, going so far as to say their leader or Alpha was their term, was the embodiment of Lucifer himself.

You on the other hand, you thought that they were a misunderstood species. You wished to simply understand them, to perceive their culture and recognize them for who they truly are. Not based on some silly rumor to terrify children into being proper. You abandoned your family and left to start a life of your own, where you had the privilege to make your own choices. Though, nothing went according to plan. Third night of being in complete solitude, with nothing but the faint pale light of a full moon to keep you company, you had found yourself surrounded by beasts of the night. Ghouls and vampires alike, all frothing at the mouth like rabid animals.

You were sure you had met your maker, when out of the same obscurity appeared a small pack of wolves. Leaping from the wilderness both beautiful and utterly massive. Your saviors had either chased or mauled your captors, only when they turned to you snarling and barking you began to realize your relief was short-lived. At the head of the band, an enormous golden wolf with pearly grand canines and vibrant scarlet eyes. You couldn’t help but stare in awe at how bulky he was compared to the other wolves surrounding him, and how gorgeous he looked under the silver moon. His frame hunched as he gradually made his way toward you, lips pulled back with a thunderous snarl.

“W-Wait! Please!”

Your voice was hoarse with dehydration, your body shivered from the bitting cold and eyes swollen with how many tears you had shed throughout the whole night. You didn’t want to die like this, you refused to give up, even if you were far to frail to fight back. Your prayers must’ve been answered because before the blonde creature could pounce, a second voice boomed from afar.

“Bakugou wait.”

A crimson brute stepped around the blonde and stood in front of your trembling form. His audits pulled back in a pleading manner. Bakugou—was his name— was far from pleased.

“Move aside now Kirishima. Do not make me ask again. She’s a fucking wizard, she has to die.”

“Bakugou look at her, she’s dying. There’s no way she could cast a simple spell without killing herself. Spare her and let us help her.”

Bakugou sneered at his right hand man. Deep down he knew he had a valid reason, and when he peeked around his friends shoulder. You looked horrible, your clothes barely clinging to your rather boney frame, and you appeared to be severely malnourished. He couldn’t help but feel small pang of remorse just with a short glance.

“Please Bakugou, She needs help. Don’t be the monster they say you are. Prove them wrong.”

His scowl worsened, enraged by the Beta’s comment and his pack mates hostile and dissatisfied with the cardinal male. He jumped the at the male, puffing out his chest in a dominating manner and gave him a throaty growl. “You think I give a shit? Let them think what they want of me. Merciful or not, I’m doing it to protect you and the damn pack. My answer is final. No.” With a final snap of his jaws at Kirishima he turned his back on him, a deafening bark commanding the additional wolves to follow.

“No! I beg of you don’t leave! P-please..!”

The Alpha froze. Audits no longer dragged behind him in irritation but now rather set vertically upon his heavy cranium, clearly interested at the sound of your abused voice.

“I-I’ll help your pack. I can use my magic for harvest, livestock. I-I can heal your comrades! I’ll do anything! Just please... Don’t l-leave me to rot away here...” The other wolves became suddenly interested at your proposal, giving each other quick glimpses in question to whether or not you were trust worthy. Even so it was eerily silent with nothing but the weak chirps of crickets filling the void. For a moment everything seemed to freeze before Bakugou promptly padded toward your paltry physique, large paws mere centimeters from you when you felt his hot exhale on your cheeks. You gazed up at him locking into those bloody visionaries, pupils nothing but thin slits.

“Mark my words sorcerer. Attempt anything to harm me or my pack, and I’ll leave you to vampires to properly feast on. Do I make myself clear?” The emphasis he used on each word sent chills down your arms leaving you covered in goosebumps. You hastily nodded, receiving nothing but a firm grunt. Bakugou swiveled around once more and turned his attention to Kirishima, getting uncomfortably adjacent with his companion and repeating the same actions he had done with you.

“And you will be held accountable.”

Without so much as a second glance he sauntered away, his intimidating aura and the other wolves following along behind him. Kirishima assisted you as you climbed onto his woolly back and silently rested while you both made your way to what seemed to be a lions den. The clan was hostile and cruel towards you, you were certain that Bakugou would throw you to them like a damn bone once he was through with you.

You would have laughed if fate told you he would mark you as his mate and lover just weeks later.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　　 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

“Bakugou!”

You and Katsuki both bolted from slumber at the frantic yelp coming from outside the cozy teepee, small flickers of the flame lanterns shone through. You looked over at Bakugou who was adorned with nothing but coal cotton trousers, and you in a simple nightgown. He caught your gaze with tired yet alarmed optics, molding his large calloused palm into your slim silky hand tenderly. Giving your fingers a gentle squeeze he swiftly removed the fur blankets from his body and made his way to the the broad curtain and heaved it open. Revealing a bruised and evidently exhausted Kirishima, you and Katsuki gazed wide eyed at the male. It only took you a second to quickly scamper to your lovers side. Katsuki grabbed a hold of the red-head’s arm, who you now had the privilege to call a dear friend. “Kirishima? What the hell happened to you?”

“Bakugou... It’s the sorcerer’s village. They’ve come. Oh god Bakugou... They have killed so many of our own.”Kirishima wailed, heaving feeling as though his lungs would collapse any second. Your heart seemed to be running a marathon in your chest, terrified for what was to come between your former folk, your former family. Katsuki growled lowly, pivoting on his heel aggressively and stomping his way to seize his fiery red cloak. You sweat dropped with every action he took, you felt like bauling your eyes out when you came to the awareness of what Katsuki was going to do. He was making his past you before you roughly grasping his wrist.

“What are you doing?”

What a stupid question. You knew better than to be so simpleminded. You knew exactly what he was planning, but you wouldn’t let yourself believe it for even a second. The look he gave you said it all, it let you know that you were at the point where you could lose him. He was at his wits end with this war, and he was going to put an end to it once and for all. Even if it meant laying down his own life. You sobbed, squeezing his wrist impossibly tighter, praying that if you did he wouldn’t be able to leave, to leave you behind. Katsuki released a shaky sigh, he let himself incline down to your level and pressed a sweet kiss to your lips. It was short, but by the way his eyes were clenched shut you could see he was resisting the urge to ravish himself in your beauty. He exhaled through his nose, nostrils flared when he turned away from you, lips tight lipped as he began to regain composure. He refused to meet your scrutiny, afraid that if he examine your beauty for a second longer he would have second thoughts.

“I love you (y/n). Please forgive me.”

“...What?”

He untangled his wrist from your sweaty palms, his once raging stare occupied with nothing but heartache and heavy sorrow. That all disappeared when he met Kirishima’s optics with a scowl and a stern nod. You trembled when you watched Katsuki clap his grip onto Kirishima’s shoulders, the former stumbling slightly at the impact.

“Take her as far away from here as you can, and if I don’t come back... You take care of my girl you hear me?” His profound voice trembled, and as soon he received a nod of affirmation from his friend he turned his back on him and you. Without so much as a sparing glance, and your heart dropped 50 feet below you.

“No! Katsuki no!”

You whimpered. You instantly made a run for your lover but before you get too far Kirishima grabbed a hold of your waist and pulled to back whilst you writhed in his arms, howling and sobbing after Katsuki.

“No! No! Let me go Kirishima! Let me go! Katsuki come back! KATSUKI! ”

Tears flowed your face without remorse, your throat ached as you screamed at the figure that disappeared into the trees, the silver beam of moonlight that broke through the tree line outlined powerful structure splendidly. Kirishima whimpered beside you, struggling to persevere in keeping you back as you howled and weeped after his friend. You eventually fell limp in his grasp, too weak to resist him any longer and only containing the energy to wail in agony. Kirishima’s knees wobbled, stifling his own cries he struggled to keep you upright and move. He failed. Falling to his knees all he could do now was mourn with you and whisper his apologies.

“Come.... We must leave before they get any closer.” Kirishima whispered after a few prolonged moments, his voice nasally and gruff. He carefully rose from his knees—which still trembled terribly— and grasped your elbows to assist you as well, but he froze when he saw he look on your face. An expression of renewed vigor and determination.

“(y/n)? What are yo—“

It was a plain graze to his bicep, but it was enough to send a sudden pulse through his body and his eyes rolling to the back of his skull as he fell limp. A simple sleeping spell you had learned at a young age, yet it’s effects last only 10 minutes before he would awaken.

“I’m sorry Kirishima. I refuse to run from this.” You scanned his unconscious form a moment, and made a mad dash into the trees in the direction you last saw Katsuki. The bare soles of your feet ached, sprinting over twigs and sharp rocks. You would only falter when you got deep enough into the forest in which you began to hear the howls and hollers of both man and wolf, occasional screams and yelps as well. You kept running until you found yourself in a large clearing at the mountain side, and just a couple meters ahead you could make out the shapes of some senior mages you knew and wolves who seemed to be outnumbering their foes quite drastically, but were at a disadvantage in terms of power.

Cautiously, you made your way around the commotion and squatting behind the thickets. you had been an apprentice under your grandmother to become a storm mage like her, but even if you knew some fairly powerful spells it wasn’t going to be enough to take on a handful of far more experienced sorcerers. Adrenaline flowing through your system, pounding about in your chest and head as you struggled to come up with a plan of action. Your legs throbbed but you couldn’t remain hidden forever, peered over the small sprigs and leaves to search for a specific golden canine.

It was moments before you finally spotted him, farther into the clearing he was evading the attacks of a elder mage. Large orbs of energy being thrown at the Alpha male proved futile when he practically sidestepped each one, and the sorcerer was growing quite frustrated and desperate. Katsuki was too occupied with the man in front of him he failed to noticed another approach him from behind, bright amber flames flickering across his palm and a devilish grin across his lips as he got increasingly closer to the Alpha. In a split-second you took one great leap from out of the vegetation and sprinted in his route, the adrenaline surges through your body so fast you could feel bile rise to your throat and the sailva thicken on your tongue. But not for a second did you hesistate, as you got closer you flexed your fingers, feeling a piercing heat spread from your fingertips to your forearms. Once you had gotten close enough you pounced and tackled the fire mage to the ground.

You both fumbled, twisting your body so you straddled the man and before he could counter you gripped his head between your hands and let an intense wave of electricity through your palms. The male in return shrieked, falling comatose in your grasp in mere seconds. You unfurled your fingers from his cranium, taking quick huffs and slowly standing to your feet. You gawked down at the mage, your muscles slightly sore and weak from the exertion.

“What the fuck are you doing here?!”

A booming growl broke your trance, pivoting on your heels to look at the wolf who marched toward you furiously, the elder sorcerer lay mutilated behind him. “You shouldn’t be here! You could’ve gotten yourself killed!” He snarled breathily, you appeared so frail in comparison to him, he towered over you even in his wolf form though he hunched over slightly to meet your (e/c) visionaries. You met his own crimson ones, completely livid. “You’re a fool if you really thought I’d let you turn your back on me like that. You’re a complete asshole!”

You pushed a finger to his woolly chest, your movements frantic as you hollered. Katsuki could only stand there dumbfounded, startled by your unexpected outburst. However he just wasn’t capable of resisting a smirk as you kept up your rambling about how selfish and moronic the ruffian was.

“Are you even listening to a single thing I’m saying Katsuki?” You finally ask and in response he unleashed a deep chuckle “Not a single word princess.” You growled and promptly pinched his blonde audit roughly which left Katsuki to jerk away from your grip with a small yelp. “What the fuck, you shitty woman?! The hell was the for? You know how much that shit hurts!”

You watched in amusement at such a dominant figure pussy away from a small nip, his ear now lopsided as he hopelessly to try and remove the stinging throb. You carefully amble toward him and seize his soft cheeks into your hands. “Because Katsuki, the fact that you sincerely thought you could just leave like that.. It breaks my heart. You do not get to abandon me once everything goes to shit, you chose me as your mate. I am not going to run, not from this and certainly not from you. Argue with me all you want, be a stubborn ass. I don’t care, I’m with you through it all.” You whisper, Katsuki huffed in defeat at your declaration and decided it would be best to keep his mouth shut. Threading your digits through the wild tufts of fur. Katsuki emitted a heavy purr at the action, his eyelids fluttered close.

His lids flew back open and his nostrils flared. The faint aroma of an unreleaved individual left him stiff, on instinct he sunk his canines into your night gown and launched you to the side. In an instant, all too familiar splinters of ice striked Katsuki head on, his form colliding violently at the base of a tree. “Katsuki!” You hollered after him, appalled at the motionless bundle of blonde laying in the fields of grass. You didn’t have the time to check if he was still alive when a figure stepped from the shadows.

“Mother?” You gaped at the woman in front of you, her once calm nature gone. She glares at you like an absolute savage, her mouth agape in a silent scream and her hands covered in frost from the use of her magic. Your mind all but clear, frozen to any movement you begged to take so all you could do was speak. “Mother.” you repeated and curled your lip, never had you thought you could so much resentment toward someone who had once meant so much to you, that was until now. Her scowl intensified at this, sneering in disgust as she began to circle you.

“Your judgement has been tainted by that demon! That... Devil! You’re not my daughter. My daughter would never allow herself to manipulated by such a beast. Allow me to be so kind and put an end to your misery!”

Her palms aimed toward you, a slew of words spilled from her lips and another wave of ice raced towards you. You still couldn’t move, and even if you could the rate the icicles we’re reaching you wouldn’t be able to evade it in time. On impulse, you raised your own hands. The same heat and prickles coarsing through your veins, and with your own mumbled words an enormous discharge of lightning boomed through the ice, tearing it in half and send shards flying all around you. The bolt of lightning didn’t seem to cease in momentum, charging rapidly toward your mother. All she could do was watch as the powerful fulmination surged toward her, and with a final screech it striked devastating blow to her chest. She soared backwards, her body disappearing back into the darkness of the forest. You stood triumphant, but in a great deal of pain.

Your arms where left severely burned and a furious red, the dull pounding made your head spin. Though you ignored the aching and immediately sprinted to Katsuki’s unconscious frame, small crystals of ice clung to his fur on the side of impact. As you neared his body you just about cried when you heard the heavy breaths that left his mouth, labored and raspy but a clear indication that he was still alive. You maneuvered tourist his large cranium upon your lap and assessed the damage done to him. You reached out to caress his coated chest, around the location the ice rammed into him. Katsuki began to whimper in response and you quickly retracted your hand. You choked on your sobs as you stared at him, you were far too weak to perform any healing spells on him. Even if you tried you would kill yourself before you would even be able to mend a single bone in his body. With that the tears broke out like water from a dam, you had never felt so powerless in your life, so weak. You knew you could’ve done more to insure his saftey but you simply were not strong enough.

Loud and boisterous howls sounded off behind you almost in a cheering manner in the direction of the clearing. You smiled crookedly, turning back to the wolf in your lap you cupped his cheeks once again threaded your insensate digits gingerly through the blonde pelt. “Katsuki, wake up. They did it. We did it. Wake up so you can see! Please..” You pleaded in a whisper to the unconscious male, fruitless attempts to soothe him through his suffering. Your heart clenched painfully with every passing second “I’m sorry Katsuki.. I’m so sorry..” You sounded like a fucking child , you were crying hysterically as you continued to observe your love’s trembling and broken form.

Thunderous pounding resonated behind you, gradually getting closer and without hesitation you roared in the direction of the sound.

“Over here! Katsuki’s badly hurt!”

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　　 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

“Come with me. I want to show you something.”

His voice was as inticing as ever, his hand outstretched for you to take. You gave him a gentle smile and intertwined his fingers into yours, peering back to examine the three miniature silhouettes outlined by the candlight covered in pelt and wool blankets.

“They’ll be fine, they’re heavy sleepers.”

You snorted at this, rolled your eyes dramatically as Katsuki led out out of the comfortable teepee and into the woodlands. “I wonder where that got it from.” You squeezed his palm teasingly, Katsuki grumbled lowly in reply. He escorted you through the forest, the warm milky glow of the moon lighting the way. “Where are we going?” You finally asked, huddling into his side and nuzzling your cheek into his bicep . “Weren’t you ever told that patience is a virtue? We’re almost there.” He stated with a click of his tongue, his stride never stalled for a moment as he continued to lead you through the trees.

It was minutes when he then guided you through some brambles and bushes, and the sight you had been graced with was absolutely breathtaking. There you stood on a grassy cliff side by the sea, the ocean vast and wide. The waves boldly clapped against the boulders and stones below and wafted the briny aroma to your nostrils. You could almost taste the salt on your chapped lips, though that wasn’t even the best part. The Moon was the utter show-stopper. The Moon stood enormously in the sky, hovering just over the sea and seemed like a mere arm stretch away.

“Do you like it?” Katsuki broke your attention on the scene in front of you, tenderly wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you into his firm chest. You found yourself so entranced with the view it was getting increasingly harder to focus on anything else. “It’s incredible Katsuki… I love it.” You murmured, tracing soft lines on the arms that trapped you and relaxing in his hold. He ran the tips of his calloused fingers up and down your hips “I’m glad. It’s called a Super Moon, it only happens every couple of years, and I’ve been planning to show you this for some time.” You cackled, giving a small pinch to the mucle on his right forearm. “Wow, I’m impressed Katsuki. Who knew you could be so romantic.” You could almost feel the blood rush to his face, a crimson tint decorating his handsome face. “Tch, shut up.. It’s just my way of saying thank you.”

“Thank you? For what?” You brows furrowed in confusion, you focused your regard onto the the smooth ripples of the water. You felt Katsuki rest his chin on your dome, his pecs expanding on your shoulder blade when he sighed. “For everything. For saving me my ass, for giving me a couple of rebels for kids, and for loving me despite my reputation. You gave me something to live and strive for, so thank you.”

You grinned from ear to ear at his confession, biting your lip to suppress the intensity of your love for him. “I suppose I should be thanking you too. You gave me something to live for as well.” Katsuki gave a heavy chortle, leaning down slightly to indulge himself in your neck. His fiery breath against your artery sent tremors down your spine, nose nudging vertically up your collar.

Times changed, people along with it. His arrival in your life was unexpected and yet fulfilling to a great extent. You found each other in a place where darkness resides in, and together you and Katsuki illuminated a future you had both been blind to. You felt as though your eyes had been opened to new side of life. Surrounded in clarity, fullness and most of all, the beauty in love.

So you both stood embraced on the cliff side bathing in the pure rays of the Moon, who seemed to shine brighter than the brother Sun. Blessing the sky with her divine presence and joining the stars that freckled the black sky, the navy ocean acting as a mirror, reflecting the Moon flawlessly. She was the mother of the night sky, a goddess watching over every beating heart, because she is always there, close to our earth to keep us company while she can.

“I love you Katsuki.”

“I love you too princess.”

.•° ✿ °•.

“ тнe мoon тeacнeѕ υѕ тнaт darĸneѕѕ can’т нιde тнe вeaυтy oғ lιғe, ιғ we ĸnow нow тo reғlecт тнaт вeaυтy. “

- ᴅᴇʙᴀsɪsʜ ᴍʀɪᴅʜᴀ

╚═══°∴,*⋅✲══〖✰〗══✲⋅*,∴°═══╝

Tumblr really likes to test my patience (≧Д≦) I kept forgetting to save the draft and lost about 1,000 words each time, I honestly thought about deleting it out of frustration. That and I’m not really that proud with how it turned out. But here it is! Thank you for reading and requesting. You are more than welcome to leave feedback on my works. ♡

- 𝖑𝖎𝖟 ☾ ✩

𝙥𝙤𝙨𝙩𝙚𝙙 : (𝟔/𝟐𝟑/𝟐𝟎 - 𝟕:𝟓𝟖 𝐩.𝐦.)

[local-paranoid-cryptid]

SBI ft reader part 1

ya’ll didnt think I was gonna post the entire thing right? anyway, the reader is based off of mother nature and in this techno is gonna be a family friend (so no cannon family)

tw: none that I can remember :)

word count in this chapter:1661

status: unedited

It was a warm spring day, Phil scouted the area around the castle. He was the best at spotting and hunting people down, after all he was hand picked by the king himself out of almost 300 men and women.

Phil was a young man, around his early 20s, with sharp eyes and massive wings. He earned himself the nickname "Angel of Death" because of his scarily amazing combat skills and his ability to attack without a sound, but unsuprisingly he had little to no friends or mutuals due to his intimidating reputation and apperence.

Thats when he met a boy, about 9, maybe 10, stealing bread from the local bakery. Phil caught him, of corse, but when he saw the state of the boy, clearly malnourished and tired, he didn't make him return the food, instead Phil paid for it and watched the boy scamper away into alley. He later learned that the boys name was Wilbur and it wasn’t uncommon to see the boy stealing or getting into large street fights for money. Phil had offered him food, and of course he didn’t pass up an offer for food, but by the time Phil opened his mouth to ask him something he was gone.

One day Phil runs into the boy again, but not in a way you’d expect. Phil had finished doing his usual patrols around the castle when he feels something tug at his sleeve. Looking down he sees a small boy in a large dirtied shirt with holes, bright blue eyes, and blonde hair with bits of mud stuck in it. He must have been about 5 or 6 because he spoke in a fast and nervous voice, too fast for Phil to process. Next thing he knew though was that he was being dragged by the sleeve by a dirt swearing child, to see Wilbur thrashing against police hold. “Is there a problem here?” He asks the police, they explain that Wilbur was under arrest for assault and theft. The kid grunts, seeing the blonde boy behind Phil, “Tommy what the fuck?! I told you to run!!” He yells, seeming less angry and more frustrated. “These kids are with me, unless you have a problem with that, mate.” He spreads his wings threateningly, the police knew who he was and let Wilbur off with a warning. And that was how Phil adopted two kids off the street.

3 years had passed, Wilbur was now 12 while Tommy was 8. Phil was happy with the way things were, but eventually there were rumors of a new, powerful material deep in the hellscape they called the nether. The material was said to be a dark ashy black, and so powerful that it doesn’t burn in even the hottest of fires of the nether. That was the reason for its name, Netherite. Phil wanted to set out and look for the metal but we was worried for his kids so he found a babysitter that also happened to be his only friend from work, Captain “Sparkles” Jordan.

“Are you sure there gonna be fine mate?” Phil asks nervously with a backpack of supplies slung over his shoulder. Jordan assured his friend that the children would be fine, and with that Phil headed off to the nether.

To say the nether was hot was an understatement, it was a raging, blistering feeling when entering. The sudden change in temperature causes your head to spin and your body to feel a wave of overwhelming amounts of nausea.

Phil stared out in the horizon of at a group of striders, aww-ing at the babies and how they rode of the parents back. His eye caught on to a large black monument, a bastion.

He flew over the colossal lava ocean and landed softly on the ground. Phil’s eyes scan for any danger, but seeing nothing, and although he was grateful he was also uneasy about the situation. He looks through each chest and managed to find a lodestone, some iron and golden nuggets, and a golden pair of boots. Nothing too interesting, though he did find a disc in one of the chest. Phil decided to take this items and go on his way to find netherite.

A few hours of mining had passed and phil had manage to find 3 scraps. It was a bit disappointing in his opinion, he’s running low on water and his wings began drooping down to maintain coolness. Phil almost heads back to the portal when he sees something pink and black. He decided to take a look around the surrounding blue forest. After a few minutes of looking he spots what looks like a child with matted curly dusty pink hair, blood-red eyes, tusks pointing out the corners of his mouth, pink floppy ears atop his head, a thin build, pink bipedal legs, hooved feet, and a pink boar tail twitching lowly. not to mention the boy was soaked in blood, yet no visible signs of any injuries. Phil hears the boy clicking his teeth, a common warning amongst both piglins and domestic pigs.

There was something about the kid that tells him that the kid was dangerous, but nevertheless he pursued. He takes a step, slowly reaching into his bag. He pulls out a  baked potato, one of the many he brought for this expedition. Phil slowly reached his hand out, beckoning the hybrid to take it. It didn’t, and instead left. Phil leaves the vegetable on the floor and walks away, sitting cross legged about 15 feet away. He watched as the hybrid peaked around a blue tree, cautiously sneaking to the vegetable. He picked it up and scurried back to the trees.

This exchange continued for about a week, Phil enters the nether, puts a baked potato on the floor for the boy, sat and watched him from a distance as he grew more and more comfortable with Phil. So Phil was allowed to sit closer and closer, but the hybrid always scurried behind the same blue tree. Phil began talking to him, nothing specific, just what ever was on his mind, and the boy listened.

One day Phil brought the boy a carrot instead of a potato, the boy didn’t eat it or even touch the root. That’s when Phil grew more and more curious about him. He brought a variety of foods for the kid to try, a golden carrot, an apple, and three types of stew.

“He seemed to favor the suspicious soup and the golden carrots.” He spoke out loud  as he wrote in his leather-bound journal. His back was turned to the boy as he ate. The boy tilted his head and walked to the man, glancing over his shoulder at what he was writing. There he was a drawn picture of himself. Phil froze as he sees the boys shadow peer over him, but he continued writing, “likes apple, did not like rabbit or mushroom stew.”

Eventully Phil was allowed to sit next to the boy as he ate, giving him paper to write and doodle. that's how Phil found out his name, "technoblade".

One day, the boy just wasn't there, so phil left. after a week, the boy still hadn't turned up. He assumed that he'd left to his family, and left it at that.

Years past and the memories of the boy faded but were never completely gone. It was the first day of SMP earth, so Phil had a lot on his mind, but out of the corner of his eye he sees a man, about Phils height, but more muscular. He had an unreadable expression, peony pink hair, blood-red eyes, tusks poking out the corner of his mouth, scared floppy ears atop his head, bipedal legs, and a pink boar tail twitching lowly. His outfit was plain, a white button up top, black pants, and knee length gray boots. He looked familiar, but now Phil was too distracted by him and his sons parting ways to their own expeditions in conquest.

Technoblade watches the man hug his family, he recognizes him as soon as he saw the green and white striped bucket hat and those massive gray wings.

Techno turned his attention to someone else though, a girl whom he knew little about. There was just something about her that radiates both happiness and fear into people, not him of corse. He was the blood gods vessel! Feared by many, both powerful and powerless! yea..

When techno arrives onto Africa for resources he didn’t expect to see the girl. He’d managed to get a good view of her as she reached out to a trees branch, the tree leaned into their touch, miraculously bearing fruit for them.

The girl wore a long brown corduroy coat, a green knit turtleneck tucked into a long black skirt, several tattered green fabrics layered over her skirt, and a black belt tied around her waist to keep it all in place, and oddly enough, no shoes. she had messy hair with an array of sticks and flowers crafted into some sort of crown. She tucked the fruit away gently into her bag and went on her way. Techno watched her leave into the woods and left without a sound to the volcano.

When Phil stepped out of his boat onto the crunchy snow he assumed there was no one there, until he sees footprints. When his blue eyes followed to trail of foot prints it led to the pink haired man he spotted in the entrance, and a girl he didn’t recognize. Phil flew to a level edge of the mountain, but techno hears the flapping of wings and moves in front of the girl protectively, sword in hand. Their defensive stances were tense until techno lowers his sword and his eyes soften, “Phil..?” Said man looked confused until he realized that he was standing in front of the same hybrid Piglin from years ago. “Technoblade?”

[cordria]

Gloves

Jack Fenton sat down in the uncomfortable chair, his bulk moving slowly and carefully to avoid scaring the girl sitting on the other chair. There was something odd about her, the way she held herself, the little glances out of the corner of her eye, the way her hair didn’t quite fall right. Jack couldn’t quite stop himself from cataloging all the little differences about her, even as he tried to stop himself and see her as just a girl. A girl in need of help. “Hi,” he said, keeping his voice gentle.

“Hello,” she said. 

Jack opened his mouth to say something more, but nothing came out. He couldn’t think of anything to say. He let his mouth close again, his lips twisting in frustration. There was certainly plenty that needed to be said. 

“Why are you here?” the girl asked, her thin fingers digging into the cushion of the chair. Although her knuckles turned white with the pressure, the stiff vinyl didn’t seem to notice the effort her hands were putting in.

“I like Seattle,” Jack said. “Nice city. Always wanted to do the haunted tour…” He trailed off, wondering if bringing up ghosts was, perhaps, a bad idea.

She scoffed. “Seattle’s not haunted.” The IV machine she was hooked up to beeped loudly, and the girl flinched. She studied it for a moment before sighing and sinking back against the hard chair. “That’s not what I meant. I called Danny, not you.”

“Danny couldn’t come.” Jack sort of fudged the truth. Danny could come. Danny had come. But not being 18 yet, the hospital didn’t particularly care what Danny had to say in the matter, requiring Jack’s presence. “I’m here to help.”

“I don’t want your help,” she said, shoulders crunching up around her ears.

Jack shrugged, falling silent, watching the girl glare around the small room. He had only the briefest of explanations as to who this girl was - a genetic malfunction, an aberration, a splintered example of a not-quite-human - and he understood almost none of it. His gaze fell to his bag, and he reached down, pulled out his latest needlework project, and quietly got to work. Jazz had said to do that when he was at a loss for words. She’d thought it might be helpful. 

It was nearly twenty minutes of silence, the girl watching him slowly work through his project, before she spoke. “What is that?”

“It’s going to be a quilt,” Jack said, turning the scrap of fabric so she could see a bit better. “All the different types of ghosts from stories around the world. This one’s a banshee. Sits under windows and cries and screams, usually associated with someone dying.” 

She studied it. “You’re… pretty good at that.”

“Lots of practice,” Jack said with a shrug. 

“You don’t seem like… like a guy that would do something like that. Art stuff.”

“It’s calming and good for the mind,” Jack said, tying off the string and picking out a new color. “Jazz got me started on it years and years ago. I’m hoping to have the whole thing done by August, so I can put it in the county fair.” He chuckled. “I won’t win, not compared to the artwork of other people, but it’ll be nice to finish a project.”

Her eyes were blue, just like Danny’s. But there was a shadowed, haunted feel to them - and a blankness that hurt Jack’s heart. 

Perhaps Danny was right. Maybe Maddie should have come instead.

The IV machine beeped again, and this time a nurse knocked and entered the room. ���Hello,” he said, walking over to check the machine. “The battery on your IV is getting low. Gotta plug it in.” He smiled at her, holding out a hand. “Back to the bed, please.”

The girl sighed, but reached out for the assistance. She was unstable and barely able to hold her own weight. It was only a few steps, but Jack had to bite back the offer to carry her. She settled against the bed - too skinny, too broken, too empty - and laid her head on the pillow.

Jack was quiet as the nurse fussed for a few minutes, plugging in the IV machine, taking her blood pressure and temperature, setting the blanket over her legs.

Then he turned to Jack. “Parent?” he asked.

Jack wondered how to answer that. He set down his needlework, dug a paper out of his bag, and held it out. It was fake, of course; there were no real legal documents in the world for her. But the stamp was real, and the judge’s signature was real, and that was enough. “Legal guardian, for now.” 

The girl on the bed flinched.

The nurse glanced at the papers. “As of yesterday, huh?” he asked. “Nice to meet you, Mr Fenton. Wanna chat in the hall?”

Jack leveraged himself out of the chair and followed the man into the hallway. “She’s going to be okay?” he asked.

“Eventually,” the nurse said, walking him to a quiet alcove. “How do you know her?”

“She’s a relation,” Jack said, trying to avoid being specific. “Her and my son are very close, although I haven’t had any real contact with her yet. She called him two days ago and we’ve been figuring out how to best help her.”

The nurse nodded. “She was found in a park, unconscious. Came in massively dehydrated, malnourished.” The nurse glanced around, his voice quiet. “She’s not saying much, but she definitely hasn’t been treated right.”

Jack frowned. 

“I’ll send the doctor along, but it doesn’t seem like there’s anything permanently wrong with her, physically anyways. Really fragile mentally.” The nurse frowned. “The police have been around a few times to chat with her. Don’t think she’s said much to them. She’s in for a long road.”

Jack glanced over his shoulder, through the cracked-open door. She was picking at her sheets, staring at the sky through the window of the room. She looked so small. Twelve years old. Her third year of being twelve, if Danny’s explanation was right. And she’d be twelve until her broken body stopped working, whether that was next week, or five years from now, or ten, or twenty. “Anything else I should know?” 

“Gentle, slow, careful. She’s a nice girl, when you can get her to talk. I’ll be around every fifteen minutes or so, checking on her.”

“Can she have visitors?” 

The nurse hesitated, but then nodded slowly. “If there’s one or two people you think would do her good, I can’t see how that would hurt.”

“My son will probably scale the outer walls and sneak through the window if you try to keep him out any longer,” Jack said with a smile. “He’s worried out of his mind about her. He can probably get her to talk like nobody else.”

“Sounds great. You let me know if she needs anything,” he said.

Jack stood in the hallway for a long minute, trying to decide what he would say. From what little Danny had told him, the girl had been literally programmed to hate him. Created, somehow, in a lab from a mix of Danny’s genetic material, donor tissue from the corpse of a dead girl, and a ghost. Created and programmed, like a computer, for a task - to be used and then thrown away.

He walked closer, standing in the door, frowning at how little of the bed her frame took up. Her arms were too skinny against the hospital blanket - almost skin and bone. Whoever had created her had certainly not taken care of her.

She noticed his gaze, turning to study him with those sunken, haunted blue eyes. “You don’t have to be here,” she said.

Jack hummed, walked in, and dropped back down into his chair. The vinyl squeaked. “I want to be.”

“Because Danny told you to.” She sounded sullen. “It’s okay to hate me, you know.”

“I don’t hate you,” Jack said, surprised at the thought. Where had she decided that he hated her? What had he done to make her think that?

“I hate you,” she shot back, eyes narrowing. She leaned forwards a little. Little sparks of green shone against the blue.

Jack shrugged. “Join the club,” he murmured. He rested his arm on the bed, but drew away when she flinched away from him.

“I don’t want you to touch me,” she snapped, clearly uncomfortable. 

He nodded and kept his arms to himself, careful to keep his arms to the small armrests. “I plan on sticking around, just so you know. And Danny’s planning on stopping again by after school.” He picked up his needlepoint, studying the messy shadowing job he’d done with a frown.

“Again?” came her soft voice after a minute of silence.

“He was here… day before yesterday,” Jack said, squinting at the banshee’s arm and trying to decide the easiest way to fix it. “You were out cold, and the hospital wouldn’t look twice at a 17 year old. Came and got me instead.”

“He told you who I am, right?”

“Yup.” Then Jack shrugged a half-shoulder. “Okay, a little. Getting anything out of Danny is only slightly easier than storming Fort Knox.” He grinned at her. “I got that you’re important to him, and that you’re family, and that I can help. That’s enough.”

“I’m a monster, you know that,” she said. 

Jack pointed at his needlepoint. “This is a monster. You look like a scared young woman in need of some help. Maybe you’re not as human as me, but that doesn’t make you a monster.”

She bristled, but didn’t respond.

Jack let the quiet last for a few minutes, slowly fixing the bad shadowing on his banshee. 

“I don’t know what you want from me,” she said.

He glanced at her. She’d drawn her knees up to her chest, and was hugging them close. She looked lost and broken, and somehow even smaller and younger than before. “I don’t want anything from you,” he said, confused. 

She frowned.

“Danny said you wouldn’t trust me,” Jack said, deliberately keeping his gaze on his needlepoint. Jazz had been correct in packing it for him - it did seem much easier for the girl to talk when he wasn’t staring at her. “But you can, you know. Jazz has already cleaned out her bedroom for you, and Danny-”

“Bedroom?” she asked.

Jack blinked at her. “Room. With a bed in it.”

She scowled. “I know what a bedroom is-” she cut herself off, like she was going to say something more. She let out a breath through her nose. “You make it sound like I’m coming to live with you.”

“You are!” Jack grinned. “See, we got the legal-”

“I’m not coming to live with you,” the girl snapped. “We’ve been over this. I hate you. I don’t trust you. Why should I live with you?”

Jack twisted his mouth into a half-frown, turning his eyes back to his needlepoint. “Why wouldn’t you?”

“Take off your gloves.”

Jack hesitated. He didn’t take off his gloves. “Why?”

“Because I’m a monster. I’m contaminated. I’m broken, and seeping radioactive liquid, and, and, and I can hurt you just by touching you.” Out of the corner of his eyes, he could see her eyes burning a toxic, horrible green. “And I want you to take off your gloves.”

He watched the way the light gleamed off the black glove, slowly twisting his fingers. He didn’t take off his gloves. He just didn’t. Since learning how contaminated Danny was, Jack had even gone to great lengths to not touch his own son. 

But Jack knew, in the depths of his being, that Danny wasn’t a monster. And neither was this girl. Yes, she could hurt him with just a touch. But...

Slowly, he took off one of his gloves. His skin was extremely pale, fingers a bit wrinkled from the moisture inside the gloves. His fingernails were in need of clipping. He flexed his fingers and ran them over the intricate stitching of his needlepoint, feeling details he couldn’t through the gloves.

Then he held out his hand to her.

[spaceskam]

don’t give into what the careless feel

day 4 of @whumptober2020 : caged 

Pairings: Michael Guerin & Alex Manes

warnings: torture mention, Caulfield, imprisonment

ao3

It was stupid, really.

Alex knew better. He’d always known better. Did that stop him from doing dumb things? Absolutely not. And he wasn’t about to start today.

He hummed casually as he walked through the hall of dark prison cells with impenetrable glass doors, trying to seem like all he was doing was his patrol to make sure they were all sleeping. It was late. The night shift was in full gear and it was Alex’s night to guard the basement. The first night he’d gotten to do it alone. It was what he’d been waiting for since he was twelve years old.

He got to the cell that he’d been drawn to since he was first brought here to view the place with his dad. On the other side of the glass door was a man his age who was kind and intelligent with a head full of curls they only allowed him to keep for a little while until they shaved it for experiments. Alex had managed to arrange things to let him grow it out more because it made him happy.

It’d been over a decade of getting to know him through either a glass door or before he was torture. When they were little, Alex would sit outside his cell and teach him how to do crossword puzzles. Then he’d sit with him and they’d play together, almost forgetting that they had a wall between and couldn’t really communicate outside of Alex talking at him and N-29 nodding or shaking his head or drawing shapes on the glass. He picked up the alphabet and spelling fast. They did that until he started working there himself.

Alex remembered the first time he touched him. It’d been like his skin was set on fire. He wanted to enjoy it, but that wasn’t an option. Alex had to be the one to drag him to the lab on the third floor. He watched as they stripped him, as they strapped him down, as they poked and prodded and tortured him. And then he had to take him back. It wasn’t the way he would’ve liked to have touched him for the first time. He called in sick the next day, hungover on booze and tears and the image of this boy he was attached to in some explainable way being violated in the worst way. After that, he went out of his way not to be near him when it was time.

Tonight, though, was different. Tonight, they were alone. Tonight, they could sit in the dark in his cell and talk for real. They hadn’t gotten to just sit with each other in so long. Maybe next time he could bring a book of crossword puzzles...

Alex looked both ways before he pressed his thumb on the little scanner that cleared him to open the door. He planned to erase the log of that as soon as he was done and before they had a chance to check it. Then he slowly pulled the door open.

Subject N-29 stood up quickly at attention, his eyes wide in absolute terror and not even trying to hide it. Even when he noticed that it was just Alex, he didn’t relax. It hurt his feelings a little bit, but he tried his best not to take it to heart. They hadn’t been able to bond really since Alex joined the Air Force. Alex hadn’t gotten to do much other than hope his eyes spoke for themselves.

“Hi,” Alex whispered, “I just... I wanted to say hi. Like, in person. Without all the stuff.”

“Without all the stuff?” N-29 repeated. Alex smiled. It was the first time he heard his voice and it was gorgeous. He wished he could’ve heard it when they were little, wished he could’ve heard him grow as much as he’d seen him.

“Like, my dad and stuff. The, the mean stuff,” Alex said. N-29 nodded slowly, still keeping himself as far away as Alex as he could. “I’m not gonna hurt you, I promise.”

“I see,” he said.

This wasn’t exactly how Alex expected it to go.

Maybe it was naive to think that they were just going to mesh entirely, that N-29 would immediately just see Alex how Alex saw him. As equals, right? But they weren’t, not really. Alex had been put in a position of power over him and, whether he liked it or not, he still had a hand in, well, everything. Alex would just have to earn his trust.

“So, uh, do you have a name? I sort of hate calling you N-29, it’s... dehumanizing.”

“Dehumanizing?” he repeated, clearly trying to figure out the meaning of the word with context clues, “I am not human.”

“Yeah, I know, it’s more like...” Alex trailed off, “Like, uh, it’s, like, not right. Like, it means treating someone like they aren’t as good as you. And I think you’re as good as me. So I could call you by your name and you can call me by mine, things we choose to be called by instead of labels.”

N-29 stared at him for a long time. Alex was beginning to think maybe this was far too good to be true. Maybe he waited too long. They were no longer little boys doing crossword puzzles. Alex was the one literally standing by and walking him to torture. Silly him to think they could be friends. Or, more than friends if his stupid 16 year old thoughts won over. 

“I do not know,” N-29 said, voice tight and controlled, “You do not let me see my mother to know.”

Alex licked his lips, feeling more than a little grim. He didn’t know how to fix that. He was already pushing it by being in here with him, he couldn’t just reunite mother and son. Though he wished he could.

“My mom was taken from me too,” Alex tried, “We lived on the reservation with her when my dad was overseas and when he came home to run this place, he took us from her and I haven’t seen her.” 

It was too much information, he knew it, but he wanted so badly to bond with him. He wanted that smile he gave when they were kids, the little smirk he wore when they were teenagers and did crossword puzzles in a way that felt like flirting, the spark he felt when he touched his shoulder. He didn’t like the coldness that started the minute Alex told him he wasn’t going to see him as much because he had to go to basic training. 

“We were friends when we were little, right? I always thought we were friends,” Alex added when the story of his mother got no reaction.

“Do you mean before you were one of them?” N-29 asked, “Or maybe you were always one of them. Nice men do not work here. I know that much.”

Alex swallowed and tried to think of a good excuse. It was hard when he didn’t disagree with him. Nice men didn’t work here. They were all the worst breed of man Alex had ever met. But, when Alex was faced with a choice, it seemed better to be here and do his best to dilute the negativity the best he could than to run away and pretend he never saw it.

“I’m trying to help. I got them to let you grow your hair out. You said you liked it when we were younger,” Alex tried. N-29 slowly sat down on his cot. Alex wasn’t foolish enough to see it as a sign of comfort.

“Do you think I want hair over my mother?” he asked, “Over family?”

“Do you have other family members here?” Alex asked, genuinely curious. 

He only knew which one was his mother because even now she was hellish to experiment on. Knowing her son was so close kept her fire burning and she fought everyone who took her out. That or when she’d sing with her head pressed against the wall that was closest to his cell before bed, hoping he’d hear it. Alex had fallen asleep to it more than once when he was little.

“They are all family like all the people who hurt them are yours,” N-29 said. Alex furrowed his eyebrows.

“They aren’t all my family,” Alex said.

“They are,” he corrected him, “You follow them, they are your family.”

“I-I don’t follow--”

“This is all I have known and I know it is wrong, why don’t you?” N-29 all but demanded.

Alex didn’t answer right away, breathing slow and staring at him. For a man who lived in a prison cell his entire life, he was awfully incredible at making eye contact. It was both impossible to keep and impossible to look away.

“Isn’t it better that I’m here and trying to help than ignoring it’s happening?” Alex asked.

“Who are you helping? Not us,” he said. Alex looked around and peeked out of the cell to make sure they were still alone before he gave N-29 his full attention.

“How should I help? I can’t make them let you go, I don’t have that power,” he said. N-29 huffed a laugh.

“Then you ask them to use things they already have instead of hurting us. You ask to allow our abilities to not be suppressed. You ask to let us out for more than just pain,” N-29 listed. They weren’t bad ideas, but Alex would really have to think about how to make them happen. Maybe he could talk to Kyle.

“You know why they do that, right? I’m not saying it’s right, but you understand the point, don’t you? They don’t want you congregating because they know you could hurt them,” Alex explained. N-29 huffed a laugh, shaking his head as he stood up.

Alex watched as he took off his shirt and held his arms out, baring his body as if that was proof of what he wasn’t capable of doing. He was thin, possibly malnourished, and was covered in scars from all the poking and prodding they’d done since he was little. N-29 was tattooed on his shoulder, forever branding him with that title. And, maybe most importantly, he had a port implanted into his chest that was where they injected him with suppressants daily. 

“We are weak. Do you see me? What could I do?” N-29 demanded. Alex swallowed harshly again, looking away. “If you think you are my friend, help us. Please.”

“I’ll try,” Alex said. It was all he could say, really. He couldn’t defend himself anymore. No one had ever really laid it out that way. He could lie to himself that he was fixing it from the inside, but he wasn’t really. And that just meant he was just as much of a bad man as they were.

N-29 sighed and put his shirt back on.

“Try, try, try. The last man said he would try and did nothing, just left,” N-29 said. That caught Alex’s attention and he looked back towards him.

“What man?”

“The early one,” he said.

“No, what do you mean?” Alex prodded. N-29 looked frustrated that he didn’t just know.

“The one like your father.”

Alex thought about it, raking his mind through who the hell could’ve possibly offered to help them and just disappeared that also was like his father. And then it clicked.

“Tripp?” he asked. N-29 just stared and Alex took it as a yes. “He tried to help? But he went missing. That doesn’t--Oh.”

“Oh?” N-29 repeated. Alex felt cold and even more nervous than he had when he first walked in here. He again peeked his head out, scared he was going to get caught. He needed to erase any evidence that this was happening.

“He went missing,” Alex said, softer this time, “And if you’re right and he tried to help, then... Then something not good happened. I’ll have to look more into it to make sure, but...”

“I see,” N-29 said, voice soft for the first time. Alex looked back at him and took a very hesitant step closer.

“I’m going to help,” Alex said firmly. N-29 furrowed his eyebrows in confusion.

“Then you will go missing.”

“Sounds like even more reason to help,” Alex said, “If they’re willing to do something like that, then there’s something even worse than I thought going on. So I’m going to figure it out.”

“Why?”

“Because you’re right. No good man just works here and sits by. I would really like to be a good man,” Alex said. He didn’t really look like he believed him. “You have no reason to trust me, I don’t expect you to. But I’m just letting you know. Because I do consider you my friend.”

“Friend,” he echoed. Alex tried to manage a smile despite the fact that his mind was reeling. When he came here tonight, he hadn’t expected to accidentally learn about a possible cover up.

“And, um, it’s not much, but maybe I can ask your mother what your name is?” Alex offered. N-29 swallowed, his jaw clenched as he nodded. “Okay, I have to go now. Before we get caught.”

“Goodbye,” he said. Alex nodded and slowly exited the cell. Closing it back hurt him more than he would admit.

As Alex walked back to the control system and started to quickly wipe the evidence off the drive, his mind stuck on what could’ve happened to Tripp. What did he do to get caught? Did he get caught or did he run? Was he threatened? Did his grandpa have something to do with it? His father?

Alex quickly grabbed his phone and typed out a message to Kyle. He was in medical school, but he was training to come and work at Caulfield. Not out of choice, but because he was told to. So, he texted him in the code they’d created the minute they figured out their dads were probably reading every text they sent.

Alex: treehouse. 9805.

Kyle: next week

By that time tomorrow, he’d be with Kyle at a creek in the woods they found when they were 13. And they were going to start investigating.

And Alex was finally going to actually do something to help.

[aquietwritingcorner]

Comfortember 2020 Day 30: Recovery Word Count: 1127 Author: Katie/Ally (aquietwritingcorner/realitybreakgirl)   Rating: T Characters: Olivier Armstrong Warnings:         Summary:  Its time for Olivier Armstrong to return to her fort.   Notes:  This ties into Whumptober Days 1, 24, and 30, and Comfortember Days 1, 3, and 3 (yes there were two of them)

 Recovery

 Olivier Mira Armstrong looked out the window of the car as it drove. An icy, snowy landscape fill the view, and she relaxed back into the seat of the car as she watched it go by. There was still at least another hour of this ride to go, and there was no point in trying to rush it. Things could only be rushed so much before they became harmful. She had learned that lesson more then once in her recovery.

She suppressed a shudder at the thought. A year and a half ago she had been rescued by a team from her fort, from Rura Penthe. She had thought it nothing more then a desperate dream at first, but it hadn’t been. She had really, truly been rescued from that place, a fact that had made her weep with sheer relief when she had realized it was true.

She found out later that she had been there for nearly seven months. Seven months at Rura Penthe. Seven months in the hands of Geogreg Sodeset. Seven months of torture. She had lost all track of time while she was in there. She had no idea how long it had been. To find out that she had survived seven months in there, at his hands, and still managed to be in a recoverable state? It was nothing short of a miracle.

She had been a mess when they had pulled her out of there. She had been with it enough to know that, but she hadn’t realized just how bad off she had been until later. She had seen the reports, seen the pictures. They showed a woman who was thin, bruised, burned, cut, whipped, and broken. Under the bruises and the wounds, she had been pale. Her hair had been brittle, and had been chopped off and pulled out. The reports had said that she had many small fractures and broken bones, damage to an eye, and some internal damage that had only partially healed.

Seeing those pictures and reading those reports explained the looks that people had given her. She remembered seeing her parents’ faces when she had finally been transferred to Central. They had been horrified, and her mother had actually wept over her. When the extent of her injuries and their likely causes had been told to them, her father had grown angrier than she had ever remembered seeing him. Her siblings, likewise, had shown strong reactions when they saw her. Amue had stopped short, taking a sharp but small gasp, and Strongine had taken a step back in shock. They had definitely cried over her, although Amue, to Olivier’s surprise, had shared more of her father’s anger then anything. Catherine, shocked, had fallen apart fairly quickly.

It had, interestingly enough, been Alex who had kept it together the best of her siblings. She didn’t know if he had finally grown a spine, or if it was just because he was military and had been exposed to at least the possibility of such things before, but although he was clearly upset and angry, he had been able to step up and be there for their sisters—and for her, through her recovery process.

Recovery. It seemed a simple word, but the process had been anything but. Her body had been weakened severely, and she needed surgeries to try to repair some of the damage. There were questions about what she was strong enough for, and what should come first. She had been tortured, after all. It was less of a question of what should be healed, as more of what they could focus on and what her body could withstand. It had only gotten worse when infections had set in and sent her through a round of high fevers that the doctors hadn’t been sure she would survive.

Her body had needed to heal, but so had her mind. She was plagued with nightmares, triggers, and anxieties. She woke up more then one night screaming, sometimes fighting, and more times then she would care to admit, in tears.

Still, she had pushed through, fighting through it all. Her family had been by her side, as well as her men, in visits and letters. It had been a hard journey, but Olivier had never been one to give up before, and she wasn’t about to start then.

Finally, a year and a half after her rescue, she was returning to her fort—to her home. She had been gone from it for over two years, first in enemy hands, and then in recovery. And now? Now she was coming back home, to claim her place again, to sit on her throne once more and prove to the world that Olivier Mira Armstrong wouldn’t be taken down—and to prove to Drachma that they had thrown their worst at her, and she had still survived.

The car approached Fort Briggs, and she couldn’t help but look at it as they did. It looked much the same, still standing tall, strong, and formidable. She could see men outside of it, working, seeing more and more men the closer the car got to the fort. As the car pulled to a stop, she saw the temporary leader step out, along with her staff, dozens of Briggsmen surrounding them and hanging off of the fort itself, wherever they could.

Olivier took a breath. She wouldn’t be stepping out of this car the same woman as the one who left it. Her hair was still shorter, cut in a bob that barely brushed her neck, the new growth not having started until her body was no longer malnourished, and most of that needing to be cut off because of how brittle it was. She moved a bit stiffer now, because of all of the scar tissue on her back. She couldn’t see well out of one eye. She had nightmares that would send her into a frenzy. She a plethora of scars on her body. She had been damaged, and some of it couldn’t be undone.

But the core of who she was, that was the same. She had retained that. It fueled her resolve and with that knowledge, she stepped out of the car, feeling the cold wind whip through her, tousling her hair. The temporary commander looked at her with a smile, and she gave him a bit of smirk and a nod in return. The message was clear. Even if the official handover hadn’t happened, he knew that she was in charge.

“Well?” she said, looking around at her men, seeing many of them hanging off of the balconies and the roof. “What are you all doing standing here? We have a fort to run!”

There was a chorus of “Yes, General!” and then the men scrambled back, cheering for her as they went. And as the command changed hands back to her and she stepped through the doors of her fort, she knew it: she may have more recovery to do, but she was home, and that would help her more than anything else.

[iceshard1011]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Sanders Sides (Web Series) Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: Creativity | Roman "Princey" Sanders & Dark Creativity | Remus "The Duke" Sanders Characters: Dark Creativity | Remus "The Duke" Sanders, Creativity | Roman "Princey" Sanders, mentioned logan patton virgil and thomas Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Creatures & Monsters, Background Logic | Logan Sanders and Morality | Patton Sanders, Dark Creativity | Remus "The Duke" Sanders Being Dark Creativity | Remus "The Duke" Sanders, Explicit Language, Angst with a Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, Violence, Blood and Injury, Brief suicidal thoughts, Imprisonment, Temporary Character Death, Character Turned Into a Ghost, Inspired by Art, I Tried, i've had creativitwin brainrot for weeks, something had to be done, Time Skips, Haunting, Creativity | Roman "Princey" Sanders is a Good Brother, Dark Creativity | Remus "The Duke" Sanders Has Issues, They need hugs, Minor Original Character(s), they're just unnamed antagonists Summary:

Remus wished there were more stimulating things down here. Or that he wasn’t down here in the first place. Or that he was dead.

so @fangirltothefullest is an absolute sweetheart and allowed me to mess with some story concepts from her #halloween au, so cheers. i hope you don’t regret it.

5k word story below the cut :)

A modern-day architect would rather have called the castle a mansion, as it may have remained for that long but certainly not in its prime. By then, it would be overgrown and unkempt, with the rock stained dark and wood rotting, and one of the wings would be half-collapsed. By then, it wouldn’t be considered a castle, much less be considered livable. By then, the lonely halls would be acquainted with grief and heartbreak and a sense of ambition strong enough to feel stifling. By then, the mansion’s story would be long irrelevant and forgotten, save for two important variables.

After all, for a castle, it didn’t have a dungeon.

The cellar, for as large as it was, had not initially been very entertaining. It certainly was at least a little interesting now that anything within Remus’ reach had been torn apart and strewn across the floor. The shackles around his ankles and wrists were thin and flimsy but damned hard to break. He hadn’t even got a crack through the links.

Remus hadn’t gotten any ideas until one asshole ventured down into the cellar, gave Remus a smug smirk from where he was tethered in the corner, and snagged a handful of bottles from the far wall.

After she’d left, sauntering up the stairs like they owed her a personal favour, Remus had stretched his leg as far out as he could and kicked the shelf hard enough that it tipped. The sound of crashing glass and the inevitable distress from future intruders, stumbling down for a bottle of shitty whisky or rum, was enough to satisfy Remus.

Only for a small while.

When they’d found out what he’d done, a few brave pricks had tried to make him pay for it, but he’d got one of them in the groin and the other in the eye. They’d quickly decided the gashes in his legs from the littered glass was enough of a lesson.

It wasn’t.

Taking away their small pleasures wasn’t enough. Making them mildly irked at their lack of celebration drinks only fuelled Remus further.

The next thing in his reach were the barrels. The food didn’t matter all that much; potatoes, apples, a few boxes of nuts. He tipped them over, kicked them open, tried to make the ground as gross as possible and the food as uneatable as he could, all the while trying not to wince at the waste.

The only things that seemed to love it were the rats. Remus wasn’t sure how they got in, because as far as he was concerned the only animals that got into the castle were the ones he had occasionally brought in (at the expense of a poor few maids and their sense of sanitation and Roman’s patience) but they ate at the mess he’d created on the floor. He wished he could have said it was one of the best days of his life when they found the fermented grapes. They also ate the spiders in the darker shadows of the room, which he appreciated. It was a bit of a pain when his body defied him long enough to shut down and linger on the edges of unconsciousness only to wake up and find vibrating spiders itching up his face.

Sometimes, Remus’ acts of vandalization were less petty acts of revenge and desperate attempts to escape his own head because everything hurt and he couldn’t stop thinking and every time he closed his eyes, he was crimson soaked and he hated it and it was too much he just wanted it all to STOP—

Those were the times when the old portraits and unfinished artworks were kicked to the ground, dragged around, torn and ripped and cracked and destroyed. The canvases soaked with the floor and strengthened the damp, musky smell which anyone else would have hated but Remus was used to because he always returned home from trekking through rivers or swamps and Roman would wrinkle his nose at him and shoo him away to get cleaned while Remus just laughed in his face—

The noise made as Remus curled in on himself and pressed his clammy forehead to the ground was nearly inhuman.

He didn’t feel much like a human now anyway. Perhaps more accurately a feral werewolf, or a mutant cannibal with a mouthful of fangs, or maybe even a malevolent spirit scratching and clawing at chains wrapped along his body, if spirits exist, which Remus was loath to admit he had yet to be proved so.

(He’d always said that if he ever found a ghoul, he’d drag it into Roman’s room and set it on him for the pure joy of proving his brother wrong and god fucking damnit could his mind stop thinking for TWO SECONDS?)

Remus wished there were more stimulating things down here. Or that he wasn’t down here in the first place. Or that he was dead.

No one came down here, not after he’d attacked the food and drink and then any face that wasn’t familiar. Which included all of them, now. They had all probably figured that he had enough in the cellar to sustain him for however long they were going to leave him down here. Or they were going to let him die of malnourishment. He didn’t have much of a preference.

(He did, but it wasn’t the “right” preference.)

Once, he wasn’t sure how long ago now — hours, days? — a timid, shy looking servant had plucked up enough courage to venture into the cellar with him. They’d offered some clean food and a cheap chalice of water. He’d been mildly surprised when they’d gone so far as to placing it easily within his reach and not expecting him to pop a shoulder from its socket trying to get it.

Remus remembered thinking, for a moment, that they probably shouldn’t have been down in the cellar, and that food and water was probably not supposed to be for him, and they were probably risking something by doing this, and that they certainly hadn’t been part of the initial takeover.

But then he’d taken one look at what he’d been brought; the cruel reminder that he was stuck in a basement, chained and alive and he would rather just—  just—

He didn’t remember knocking the tray aside or lunging for the servant despite the chains painfully biting and tearing his skin. He could vaguely picture their terrified expression as they whirled and scrambled back up the steps, and the way the light dimmed with the slamming of the door.

He never saw or heard from that servant again. He hoped it was merely because they were scared of him now, and not something more sinister.

Remus shifted, his legs scraping across the ground. He wished the sharp sting coming from where the embedded glass pieces were enough to distract him from the bone deep throb echoing through his whole body.

He twisted his hands, a habit that had gotten him wrists rubbed raw and nails chipped and bleeding. It made his shoulder ache, too. He’d dislocated it at some point. Before or after being thrown into the cellar, he wasn’t certain.

It wouldn’t be much of a surprise if Remus found out he was already dying. Injuries he’d been dealt previously had yet to be treated, and he was willing to bet any chance of freedom that the open, festering wounds were now infected.

Breathing was painful, too. Whether that was the result of broken ribs or something else, Remus had yet to decide.

It didn’t really matter all that much to him, anyway.

Remus closed his eyes and wished for sunlight.

  The bush had clearly been munched. Remus leaned down to squint at it, eyeing the berries and the half-eaten leaves. The muddy banks of the creek proved Remus’ suspicions with a small, almost indistinct trail of hoofprints.

Remus grinned. He shook off the persistent black beetle, which had been trying to crawl onto his boot and turned.

“Alright Moonshine,” he announced. “We’re on the right track.”

The Appaloosa nickered in reply as he swung back onto her back.

“Yeah, I know I can’t call you that in public,” he said, “but there’s no one else around here, is there?”

Moonshine snorted in agreement. Remus nudged her sides and she started forward, delicately clopping over the riverbed. She was much more tranquil than Remus’ old horse, who had been an absolute delight to go on adventures with. Too bad Roman let the stupid advisors boss him into getting rid of her, since she was such a menace. Admittedly, she had been a menace, and admittedly, Remus had loved her very much.

Roman had given him Moonshine and told him to call her Moon in front of anyone else. Remus had decided it wasn’t an all-bad apology. This horse didn’t kick him when he approached her, which he supposed was a bonus.

Given Moonshine’s naturally mild attitude, he was understandably perturbed when she stopped in her tracks and began to back up. Remus frowned and scanned the surrounding trees.

“Nothing’s there, girl. Go on.”

Moonshine snorted anxiously. Her ears swivelled. Remus followed them, glancing back the way he’d come. They weren’t that far from home. What was going through her head?

The horse’s hooves skidded across the ground. Remus narrowed his eyes.

“You smell something?” he asked. Moonshine waved her head from side to side, her eyes rolling. Remus glanced up. Past the treetops, there was a trail of smoke curling up towards the clouds. He couldn’t see where it was coming from, but the unsettled feeling in his gut told him he was quite sure he already knew.

Despite her protests, Remus twisted Moonshine to face the direction of the castle and dug his heels into her sides.

 The slamming of the cellar door flung Remus’ eyes open, accompanied by the rapid thumping of his alarmed heart.

He scowled at the thudding of heavy boots on creaky stairs and wondered where Moonshine had gotten to. He hadn’t seen her since he’d reached the castle doors. He hoped she was still intact. Perhaps she had run away the moment he’d dismounted. Perhaps he was more of an unrealistic optimist than he knew himself to be.

Three pale faces bobbed down the stairwell and approached Remus. Remus greeted them with a snarl and feint, to which they all reacted wonderfully with varying degrees of fear. It satisfied Remus enough to remain passive while the guards gripped his arms and detached the chains from the wall. They dragged along the ground with a painful scrapping ring as they heaved Remus up the stairs.

He waited until they’d kicked the cellar door closed behind them to punch the first guard in the face.

He got a kick to his knee for it, and it collapsed under his weight, but they only had to put more effort into keeping him upright, so was it really much of a loss?

Remus didn’t know for certain where he was being taken — dragged, really — but he had a vague inkling that made something in his stomach uncurl ever so slightly.

Twenty minutes later, the first guard with a soured mood, the second with a bruised cheek and the asshole at the back with a broken nose, Remus considered it a win by the time he was flung to the ground at a pair of pretentiously shined stolen boots that glinted maliciously up at him.

“Providing my guards with a hard time, were you?”

Remus bared his teeth skywards. The asshat snorted, like he was amused at the display, and anger curled in Remus’ gut. He shot up, his chained hands reaching, grasping, clutching mere inches from that smug dickface’s gob.

“Go piss into a wolf den, asswipe,” Remus told him. He got another laugh in reply, so he jerked forward and smashed his head to the man’s jaw.

The dickweed staggered back with an agonised cry, and once more Remus felt something in him curling and clenching and biting because really, he couldn’t handle a little bit of a chipped tooth?

“Fucking pussy,” Remus scoffed under his breath.

The man, who was no more a leader than he was a sack of shit sitting in the middle of a grandly polished entrance room, waved to the balcony. “Get him out there.”

The balcony, Remus quickly found, was the centre of attention for a goddamn amphitheatre-esque performing stage.

“Putting me on my knees?” Remus asked as he was shoved to the ground a second time. Whale Penis sneered down at him, still rubbing his swollen jaw. “It’s not the most romantic setting I’ve ever seen. And you haven’t even taken me out to dinner yet.”

“One more word out of your mouth, and I’ll cut out your tongue before your head.”

“Sorry, you skunk-smelling scumbag-of-puke-smelling plaything for a dog,” Remus spat. “I’m into that.”

Cocksucker curled his lip distastefully. He waved his hand, and Remus was bent over a slab of wood that bit into his throat.

“Personally, I’m a bit of top, myself,” Remus said despite the glint of metal now shining ominously above his head. He had to shout over the noise of the people below. “But whatever. If you’re into doggy style—”

“Enough!” Son of a Screaming Banshee Bitch yelled. Silence fell. Remus squinted down at the crowd, but he couldn’t discern any familiar faces. Either they were hiding themselves from him, or… “I thought you would be far more amusing, yet unfortunately, you’ve proven me wrong. I have had enough of this,  and you.” He shoved a finger at Remus’ face. He’d bite it if he could. (Given his head was trapped between wood, waiting to be severed from his shoulders, he very clearly couldn’t. The urge was still there, though.)

Murderous Bastard turned to the man standing above Remus and said, “Execute him.”

The blade swung down. Remus grinned.

Finally.

 When Remus strutted out into the room, wearing before multiple servants, council members and advisors a frilly green dress blown out around his feet and shrinking down his chest so much it was a relief he did not possess the ideal female body, Roman’s headache returned tenfold.

It didn’t help matters that Remus was continuing a rant from the night prior — one that involved his very open, very shameless, very dangerous thoughts about some poor attractive sod he had seen the week he had ventured into town.

“Remus,” Roman said placatingly.

“You should’ve seen it; he was just looking for trouble dressing like that!”

“I can imagine,” Roman said, not unkindly. Normally, he would indulge Remus for longer, but he could tell that the others in the room were beginning to grow agitated and uncomfortable.

“And I don’t even know why I like him. He’s not even that interesting!”

“It’s all about looks,” Roman assured him blandly, moving his attention to the scrolls before him. One advisor leaned down to murmur their input to him.

“Ah, right!” Remus said, bonking himself on the forehead with the palm of his hand. “Dick size! How could I forget? I must be ill.”

“Remus,” Roman said with a sigh, and his brother finally, finally fell quiet. “I would like to hear more of this, truly, but… Perhaps at a different time?”

Remus wrinkled his nose.

“When I’m not in the middle of a meeting?”

Remus’ scowl deepened.

“That you should be a part of as well?”

Remus’ sour expression dropped. He glanced away, wearing the face of someone who knew they were caught red-handed doing something they should not have been doing. Roman raised his eyebrows.

Remus whirled. His dress swiveled around his ankles. “I’m going hunting.”

“Wearing that?” Roman asked after him. Remus flipped his brother off on his way out the door. Roman squelched his smile when he spotted the disdain on the advisors’ faces. He continued to discuss with the others in the room, quietly wondering how many more seconds in Remus’ presence they were from all having simultaneous strokes.

Luckily (or not) that didn’t happen when Remus poked his head back into the room, his dress swapped for his hunting attire and announced, “I’ll be back by sunset, probably.”

Roman hid his smile and told him, “Bring back dinner.” Remus grinned brightly and Roman was sure one of the counsellors almost squawked in outrage.

Roman was loath to admit it in front of anyone, but going about his day as he was required was a duty nothing short of exhaustingly mundane without Remus. His brother always provided some level of amusement, even if it became distracting at times. Roman supposed that burying oneself into one of the empty armour suits used purely for  décor  and prancing around to ambush unassuming servants was not an agreeable practice. Remus never enjoyed being cooped up in the castle, though. He got restless, and Roman knew he wasn’t simply “acting out” when crammed into small spaces, no matter how large the castle.

By the time Roman emerged and escaped to the balcony, his headache had spiked to a near-migraine. He tried not to slump but leaning against the railing felt pitifully relaxing after sitting rigidly straight for the entire day.

He was so busy massaging his temples that at first, he hadn’t registered the sudden disturbance down the corridor from him.

Don’t groan, Roman told himself as he stifled a heavy sigh and turned, venturing towards the noise. What was he going to have to deal with now? With any luck, Remus was back and causing mayhem. Roman could do with his brother’s carefree nature at the moment.

He didn’t expect the Great Hall’s polished floor to be splattered with blood and all exists guarded at weapon-point.

“I’ll ask once more,” a voice called. Roman traced it to one of the strangers, who was now looking down at a councillor. “The lord of the mansion is… where?”

The advisor’s gaze caught Roman’s, and he pointed without a moment’s hesitation. Disappointing, Roman supposed, but he didn’t have it in him to be surprised. The intruder turned, a wide smile plastered to his lips when he spotted Roman standing in the hallway entrance. The look in the stranger’s eyes was full of confidence, but one that Roman couldn’t see in a leader.

“It’s prince, actually,” Roman said, briskly walking to the centre of the room before one of the lingering members included in the odd style of takeover could take a swipe at him. “Given our parents were connected to the royal family.”

The man tilted his head. “Interesting. Do you always talk so highly of yourself?”

Roman tried not to scoff indignantly. “Do you always invade people’s homes to mock them?”

“It’s a profession.” The man stalked forward, strides long and slow and not unlike a hunting predator. Roman didn’t miss the sabre at his side.

Still, he only barely managed to repress the flinch when the blade was brought inches from his neck. “Are you aware of how many people your parents fucked over?”

Roman gave him a raised eyebrow. “Were you among them?” he asked, his voice pitched innocently.

The man’s expression darkened, but then dropped to be startled when he found his sabre being obstructed by the blade of a golden-handled rapier. Roman gave him a considering look and a smirk that bordered between sly and puzzled.

“This is not how I remember duels beginning,” Roman said. The man frowned, but the way he immediately tried to kick Roman’s knees told the prince pretty much all he needed to know.

“You’re not very experienced, are you?” Roman asked, easily sidestepping a slash for his shoulder. “Did you think you could just storm a random place with force and some scary blades?” He twisted away from a swipe at his ankles.

“I have help,” his opponent assured him. “If I wanted it, you’d be dead already.”

“You should meet my brother,” Roman said. Blood sprayed to the ground when his rapier left a line along the man’s cheek. “If you weren’t trying to invade our home right now, I believe you two would make a great pair for collective destruction and carnage.”

“I’m sure.”

Roman just barely managed to escape the severing of the tendons of his wrist with the next attack. He skipped a step backwards and used the change of weight and positions to darted around the challenger (a mild and rather polite label for the gang who had already taken several lives unauthorised and attacked without the laws of a proper duel in mind). The man’s legs buckled beneath him with one kick, and Roman leapt away before his own legs could be caught by the edge of a blade.

“What is this all about, then?” Roman asked, frowning at the man as he struggled up from the ground. His sword was lowered, if only in consideration for not attacking a felled objector, but his senses were still running on hyperdrive; the servant at the back of the room was still alive, just barely, despite the blood projecting from their throat. The two intruders near the hallway that lead to the armoury looked like they were discussing bets. To the left, a gang member was inspecting the rings on the hand of a dead councilman. “Surely you could have robbed this place by now.”

“I’m not going to monologue and give you a chance to hatch some grand escape plan,” Roman’s combatant snapped, rising to his full height. “I’m not that dull.”

“Oh, no,” Roman said, because that hadn’t actually crossed his mind, “I’m genuinely wondering what you’re thinking.” He was levelled with a doubtful look, so he continued; “This all seems either incredibly planned out or a spur-of-the-moment decision that carried you here with a number of men and weapons. So what do you want? Money? Is it a ransom? The actual lord and lady of the house died months ago. You can’t get revenge on them.”

“No,” the man agreed. “But I can with you.”

Blazing hot pain sliced along the back of Roman’s leg. It was so sudden and intense that he couldn’t bite back the scream that tore his throat. His knee buckled but he regained his balance by twisting away from his attacker from behind and waving his sword.

“I have help,” the man reminded him with a smug smile. Roman’s lip curled in distaste.

“No honour among thieves, I suppose,” Roman mused, grinding his teeth and forcing himself to stand straight. He wrinkled his nose after a moment. “What the hell are you burning?”

“The gardens.”

Roman rolled away from an attack from someone at his flank and whirled to glower at their leader. “Why?”

The brute dared to look Roman in the eye, shrug, and say, “Felt like it.”

Roman growled and left an open gash along his assailant’s dominant arm. The man shouted and teetered back. Roman swiped another wound down his calf. He dodged a hit from behind and ignored the shriek from the attacker behind him as they clutched at their eye.

Two other guards dropped the more their leader was pushed back to the point of the stairs at the back of the Great Hall, where he was tripped and pinned by a blade to his throat.

Roman glowered down at him. “I was already in a foul mood today,” he said informatively, “and I am less than impressed at your vandalization as well as the murder of the people who live here.” His eyes darkened dangerously. The tip of his rapier brushed the bob of the man’s throat. “Letting you go to live the rest of your life in a prison cell seems like a generous offer to me.”

The entrance doors burst open with a thundering crack and Roman jolted, his grip tightening on his hilt in fear of dropping it. He wasn’t expecting his brother to explode into the room in a furious whirlwind and start swinging his morning star.

“Remus!” Roman barked, almost involuntarily. What the hell was he doing here? “What are you doing?”

His brother glanced up, looked Roman in the eye, and smashed the head of one of his attackers beneath his boots. Roman grimaced. More blood spilled onto the floor.

The leader of the foolish escapade launched himself from the ground while Roman was distracted, and the two of them rolled down the steps. Roman flung his arm out to deflect a dagger stabbing for his face, but his sword flew from his grasp, spinning across the floor with a singing screech. He got another punch in on the leader before one of the moron’s backups dove to pin his arms down.

Remus shouted his name, and he twisted his head in time to watch his brother get kneed in the stomach and thrown to the ground.

He couldn't get up; the leader’s dagger was positioned to just barely be touching the edge of his eye in silent threat. He was going on about something to do with revenge and blah blah I’m a villain.  Roman pressed his knees to their chest, gifted him a winning smile, and kicked.

The moment that the man went flying Roman clambered away from the other guard, making for Remus at the same time as his brother smashed heads with his attacker, sending them slumping to the ground.

Relief made Roman’s muscles go weak for half a second, but it was all the leader needed to pounce on him a second time.

“Consider this a generous offer,” the man snarled and buried the dagger to Roman’s chest. Roman scrambled backwards, still looking around for his sword. If he could just—

He cursed as his arms dropped his weight.

“YOU SON OF A BLOOD-SUCKING PIG FUCKER,” Remus roared.

Roman kept his breathing even. He glared up at the criminal. “You’re a coward.”

“And you’re dead,” the man replied. Remus careened forward, missed the leader when he dodged, and paid him no more attention in favour of skidding over to his brother. Behind him, a guard raised a crossbow, but he was waved away. The leader watched the pair before him, something akin to sadistic interest lighting his eyes.

A few moments later, though, he’d wave a hand, and a group of his followers would pin the one with the angrily twitching moustache to the ground and drag him somewhere to be contained. There were more exciting things to deal with, and an emotionally repressed brother going through grieving was not one of them.

Remus was snarling like some wild thing, and when he stopped shaking his brother he whirled around, teeth bared and fists clenched and eyes unfocused.

He was knocked to the ground before he could attack. The leader got a fat blob of spit on his shoes and a disgustingly unfavourable insult hurled at his person shortly before a sword hilt connected with the back of his skull and he went as limp as his brother.

 Remus was having a Very Bad Day.

He wasn’t sure when he decided, exactly. It had probably been on its way for quite some time, but Remus was always bad at calculating emotional responses and realising when Bad Days were on their way, so perhaps this was not completely unexpected. It did not make anything any easier.

The smallest noises around the mansion had him jumping. Earlier, he’d snarled at the door that always creaked in the kitchen. He’d given Thomas a bad scare, too, when he’d looked at the werewolf and lunged for him with his own bared teeth.

Remus hadn’t realised it was so bad until Patton had walked into the room, screamed, and Remus had spun to see all the furniture levitating off the ground.

Growling, he shuddered from head to toe, trying to dispel the jittery energy tingling in his limbs. Which was stupid, he was being stupid. He wasn’t even physical anymore, he shouldn’t be feeling bugs crawling beneath his skin.

He regarded the jagged shards grouped on the ground and wondered if Logan was sick of him breaking his vases. Several vases, multiple lights, any painting he came across and a variety of decorative plates and bowls had already been destroyed in his trail.

He wanted to kick at one of the pieces, but only the wisp of his body misted around the ground uselessly. The chains strapped to his body scraped across the floor. Remus blinked down at them for a moment, and they began to morph into a pair of blood-splattered weapons and a soaked uniform.

Vehement fury boiled out of him in the form of a low snarl.

The furniture in the room lifted again, now shaking like Remus had dumped the bugs on them instead. Something behind him shattered with his clenched fists.

Movement caught his eye and he whirled, claws elongated and teeth sharpened.

Roman regarded him mildly, calmly taking in the destruction of the room. Remus shifted, still bristling, but now silent as he watched Roman move past him and try to push a flowerpot back onto the desk from where it was dangerously tilting forward. It didn’t move, even with his effort. Remus swallowed needlessly and joined him, successfully pushing the pot to a safer position.

“Sorry,” said Remus, sounding like dragging chalk and screeching metal.

Roman glanced at him. He didn’t ask what he was apologising for. He never did. Remus wondered if he feared the answer. “You’re a poltergeist. Isn’t this behaviour standard?”

Remus worked his jaw, but nothing came out. Roman’s gaze swept back over the room. “Logan will be grateful you spared his photo frames.”

Remus cracked a cheek-to-cheek smile full of teeth. “Only for when Patton’s not in the mood.” 

Roman visually sighed, though no sound accompanied the gesture. Remus tried scratching at his arms, but they only phased harmlessly through. He growled to himself. Roman squinted at him. “Your neck is bleeding again.”

Remus took the opportunity to tilt his head exaggeratedly and unnaturally to the side. Roman’s face twitched, a hint of a wince.

“Remus,” he admonished quietly.

Remus shrugged and shifted away. He frowned at the far wall. Roman did not reach for him. He never did. Remus never asked; he had a solid idea why. If he were in his brother’s position, he wouldn’t care much for being affectionate with him, either.

“Virgil and Thomas were making warm drinks when I last left them. Would you like to join them?”

“We can’t drink that shit,” Remus spat.

Roman didn’t react. “It’s not about the drinks.” Remus curled his lip. “I know you don’t like to interact with them, but perhaps it will be good for you.”

Remus gnashed his teeth. The chains curling heavier around his body. He glanced down the hallway. If he concentrated hard enough, he could imagine Thomas’ joyful laughter and Patton’s giggles. It made him angry, how they could be so carefree. How they got away with being monsters and could still smile.

“Come on.” Roman brushed past him, their shoulders just barely touching for a mere moment. “If you hate it still after a little while, I won’t bother you again.”

Remus huffed. He trailed after his brother, shoulders slumped. Roman glanced back at him and he scowled back, making his point evidently clear without whining further.

Then, Roman gifted him a small, genuine smile. Something in Remus’ chest leaped, but it couldn’t have been his heart because that thing didn’t work anymore.

He grinned back, but by the sad look in Roman’s eyes, he could tell his brother knew it wasn’t genuine.

“Only a little while,” Roman reminded him. Remus sighed, low and grating and painful. The blood around his throat lessened, only slightly.

“A little while,” he echoed, and followed his brother.

[chokemedaddyclown]

Big Bad Wolf

Bob Gray x Reader | Smut Request

Anon Request: Any chance of a bob gray Drabble about him finding a girl outside his house crying after her boyfriend breaks up with her, like he lures her in by comforting her and then fucks her silly like the creepy pervert he is, very specific request I know but I feel like he'd definitely be one to take advantage of a vulnerable girl.

A/N | WARNING: I made this very filthy and degrading. With that being said, I need to put a trigger warning. If anyone is sensitive to: degradation, rough sex, bodily fluids and/or CNC kink (Consensual Non-consensual), Please DO NOT READ. This 5,000+ word bad boy turned out to be kinda dark. This shit is nasty, and I should probably be ashamed of myself.

××××

Today had turned out to be one of the worst days of your life. A night out with your boyfriend had turned into a complete shitshow. Silly you, you had thought that maybe he had taken you out and been acting so nervous the whole time because he was going to propose to you.

Oh, how wrong you were.

Instead, here you were; dumped out on your ass, alone and bawling your eyes out as you sat on the sidewalk in front of an old rickety house on Neibolt Street.

"'Fraid I'm gonna have to ask why a pretty little thing like you is crying in front of my doorstep," a gravelly voice called from behind you.

You gasped, your head snapping around towards the sound to be met by an unusually tall, thin man that stood in the doorway of the house. He was wearing an old pair of slacks, with a billowy long-sleeved shirt that was stained with what looked like white paint. He had long, spindly limbs, like a spider -- he looked downright malnourished, with a receding hairline to boot.

He had a vacant stare in his piercing blue eyes as he gazed down at you, they seemed to look through you more than they actually looked at you. A small smile formed on his face, revealing two sharper teeth in the front of his mouth.

He seemed a bit.. Odd..

Okay, he was really odd, and even odder looking -- creepy, even. But there was something about him that seemed almost charming at the same time, and you couldn't help but stay put right where you were. Any other time, your better instincts would tell you to get the hell out of there, but no such thoughts popped into your conciousness now.

You wiped the tears from your eyes, smoothing down your dress over your knees as you stood up, sniffling and feeling a little more than embarrassed by your current predicament.

"Excuse me, sir. I'm sorry," you choked. "Just a bad day.. I didn't know anyone was-"

He chuckled lightly. "I know a broken heart when I see one," he said, giving you a knowing nod. His eyes were narrowed at you in a peculiar way. "Why don't you step in? Get yourself together before you go on your way. Little thing like you shouldn't be around here alone, especially not in the state you're in."

Well, he did have a point, didn't he?

"I wouldn't want to impose," you gave him a small head shake.

"Not imposing at all, you'd brighten an old man's day," he croaked, opening the door wider to the inside of his house, ushering you in.

Something inside you was telling you not to go in, to just walk away and get as far away from this menacing place as possible, but it was too late. The motioning of his long, bony fingers and his smile convinced you otherwise. You took a few small steps forward, still apprehensive as you looked up to him. His frame was large and lurching, and it was obvious that he wouldnt take no for an answer.

You gave him a small smile as you walked past him. You could feel his eyes moving over your body as you entered through the door. It was a dirty feeling to know that he was leering at you, and yet there seemed to be not a whole lot you could do to stop yourself from going right along with him anyway.

The floorboards of the old house creaked as you stepped through the door. The house was dimly lit, and the smell inside of it was musty, with dust seemingly covering the whole place. Something was very off about the place and the man as a whole.

"So, what's your name?" You asked, turning back to face him as he closed the door quickly.

His large frame turned towards you. "The name is Bob Gray, and you, pretty thing?"

The way he said "Pretty thing" made your skin crawl, but it also made a familiar heat rise in the pit of your stomach.

"It's (Y/N)," you said shyly, brushing a piece of loose hair behind your ear.

"Well, (Y/N), wanna tell me why you were out there crying?" Bob questioned, cocking his head at you as he took another step forward.

"My- my boyfriend dumped me," you admitted, chewing the side of your lip.

"Awwe," he cooed, curling his top lip to reveal his sharpened teeth again, "Well that's a damn shame. What's wrong with him.. Not man enough?"

You let out a nervous laugh, taking a step back as he took a big step forward, towering over you as he gazed down at you, focused solely on your face and your changing facial expressions. He seemed very fixated on watching how you reacted to every word that left his overly wet lips. You had just noticed that here seemed to be stray patches of that same white paint that was on his shirt on his face

His lips parted, and drool began to puddle within the crevice between his gums and bottom up until it overflowed, a string of it dangling loosely until it separated from his plump lip, dropping to the floor in front of your feet. You winced at the sight. The man didn't seem all the way there, if at all. He was creepy and clearly disgusting, and it was starting to show the longer you stood in this dilapidated kitchen with him.

"I guess so," you shrugged, your eyes fixated on the door behind him. "I think I'm just gonna be headed out now."

You tried to step around him but before you could, slender fingers caught you by the arm. He held you in place as he rolled his eyes to you, giving you that same, vacant stare under a heavy brow.

"Why don't you stay a while." It wasn't a question or a suggestion. He was telling you that he had no plans on letting you leave.

"Oh no," you squeaked. You could feel the slow rising burning his your chest as a slow moving wave of panic began to set in. "Please, just let me leave now, mister."

He chuckled, his lips upturning into a pointed smile. "Shy little thing, aren't ya? No need for that now, darlin'."

"I need to go," your voice was strained, trying to remain calm as you gently tried to pull yourself away from him.

He jerked you closer to him, staring down at you with eyes that had very obviously shifted from blue to golden right before you. "Why don't you let ol' Bob take care you, babydoll?"

"What?" You gulped, trying to swallow down that lump of fear that was stuck in your throat.

"Oh, c'mon now, I don't think it a coincidence you ended up by my doorstep.. You little whores always find a way to me," he crooned in a revolting tone, another glob of saliva dripping from his lips. "Just close your eyes."

"Fuck you," you snapped at him, trying to jerk your arm away.

But it was a failed attempt, and he overpowered you without so much as breaking a sweat as he grabbed ahold of your throat with the other hand, squeezing around your windpipe until you gasped for air. He shoved you back against the old, wooden kitchen table as he gave you a violent shake, lowering his head to yours. His hot breathe was blowing in your face as he took a breathe in, smelling you.

And why the fuck did this send a jolt of arousal through you?

He chuckled, giving you a big, wicked grin as he held onto you tightly. His fingers were still digging into your throat, pressing in so tightly you began to feel light-headed. "Oh, yes. Yes, you certainly will, like a good little fucktoy.. I can smell you.. you think I can't already feel that your cunt is dripping and desperate to be filled.. Filled by me."

"Get off me," you tried to push him away from you, panicked and coughing for air. "You fucking freak."

"Oho, now that's rude, princess." An audible growl escaped Bob's throat as he shook you again, making your neck pop as he slammed you against the kitchen table. A cry escaped you as you felt our lower back hit the side of the table, a jolt of pain shooting up your spine. "Shut your fucking mouth, stupid little girl."

He stared down at you, wrapping both hands around your throat now as he watched, smiling with a sick glee as you began to turn red from the pressure he exuded on your neck. He lowered his head, pressing his wet lips against yours as he slipped his tongue inside of your mouth, sliding it down your throat.

What was wrong with his tongue? Why the fuck was it that long -- What was this guy? And why the fuck were you beginning to get wet with each increasingly perverted thing he did to you?

You moved against him, a muffled scream escaping you as you tried to push him off of you again to no avail. He began to get a little more than annoyed with you as he pulled himself away from you, grunting something under his breath that you couldn't make out, with his heavy brow creasing as he pressed you back onto the table again, forcing your legs to spread to let him step between them as a sharp slap from him seared the skin across your face.

This is the shit that shouldn't be getting you turned on.

"Please, don't hurt me," you begged, your breathing was beginning to get get shallow and ragged as you tried to force yourself to remain calm.

He watched you as you sat there, fearful and completely at his mercy as you begged and pleaded with him. None of your words held any weight with him, though, and he was getting such a sickening satisfaction to know what he was doing to you. He pressed himself in between your legs, and you could feel his cock was hard and straining against the old slacks that he wore as he rolled his hips into you once, grinding against your clothed slit.

"Mmm, daddy ain't gonna hurt ya.. Not too badly anyway, not as long as you be a good slut for me," he cooed in a deep, throaty tone.

He pressed his large hands against your breasts, humming and grunting like some feral beast as he squeezed them together until it hurt. You yelped, frozen in place, and you didn't dare move a muscle. You didn't know if it was purely out of fear or your curiosity for wanting to know just what else this terrible man was going to do to you. He pressed his erection into your cunt again, keeping a slow pace as he dry humped you.

He ripped into your dress with ease as he slipped it off of your shoulders, letting the flimsy material pool at your sides on the table as his attention went back to your exposed breasts. The drool dripped consistently from his lips now, most of it landing right on your bare thighs. He slapped your breasts with his hand, seeming intent on not letting any part of it feel good as he hunched over, pressing his mouth to your heated skin, sucking and biting into one of your nipples.

You whimpered at the pain, the tears beginning to well up in your eyes as you sniffled, a few stray drops staining your cheeks as you opened yourself up for him, hoping he take the attention away from your breasts.

Suddenly you were wondering what his tongue would feel like inside of you.

He rolled his eyes up to get a look of your face. "Oh, little girl, seeing you cry only makes my cock harder," he said lowly, almost a moan. It was more than clear that he was truly enjoying himself.

God, he was nothing but a fucking bastard.

"No, no, no..," was all you could say as your voice trailed off, your mind in a daze as you stared into his golden eyes.

He reached his hand between the two of you, pressing two of his slender fingers on your wet, clothed pussy. He hummed again, definitely not overlooking just how wet you were. He pressed into you, slipping by the delicate underwear as he pushed a finger into your entrance before pulling it back out. He brought the hand up to his face, sniffing at his fingers before lapping all them in a vulgar display with his tongue.

"You say no.. But this dripping cunt of yours says otherwise.. What's the matter... ashamed? Embarrased that you're a filthy bitch in heat that wants ol' Bob to fill your tight, soaking cunt? Ain't that right?"

"Fuck you," you growled again, narrowing your eyes at him, knowing that he was right.

As fucked up and sadistic as it was, it was turning you on beyond belief, and you just wanted this filthy fucking pervert to fuck you ragged on this goddamn kitchen table, to make you his fucktoy and degrade you in ways you wouldn't speak about again after it was over.

"Disrespectful little cunt," he growled.

Suddenly, without warning, he spit in your face, leaving you stunned as you looked up at him, the tears mixing in with his saliva on your cheek as he reached up, spreading it over your face with his hand, further degrading you as much as he possibly could. He shoved his dirty fingers into your mouth, pushing them down into your throat, making you gag. He tasted like cheap whiskey, popcorn and tobacco.

"Don't bite my fingers now.. Wouldn't want to have to rip some of your teeth out, would I, pretty thing?" He gave your face another hard slap.

You pulled your head back, grunting and narrowing your eyes at him. You pressed your hands into his nasty shirt, but instead of trying to push him away, you latched onto his shirt, refusing to let go of him.

"Mmhmm, don't really wanna leave ol' Bob, do ya? Wanna stay and be an obedient lil' fuck doll for me, don't ya? Must really be a little slut to let a filthy old man use you up like this," he chuckled, grabbing your face again, pressing his fingers into the hollows of your cheeks.

The drool from his mouth was still running out in string after string. It had all but coated your naked thighs at this point. All of it felt so wrong, and as much as you tried to hold yourself back, you couldn't help but obey his every command, like a dog waiting for a treat.

You stared up at him for a moment, the two of you seemingly in a standoff as you blinked at him. You gave him two, slow nods of your head as he was looking at you as if he was actually expecting an answer from you. He pulled his hands away from you face, reaching down to grasp at your panties, ripping them clean off of your body. He brought them back up to his face, pressing them against his nose as he inhaled deeply, giving you the same sinister smile.

"I'd gag that little mouth of yours with these, but I think I'd rather hear your screams," he laughed, narrowing his eyes again as he pocketed the garment.

The fear and arousal was still coursing through you, it was stronger than ever at this point, and this man seemed to be able to sense it. He seemed to be playing on both of the emotions to excite any kind of reaction from you, because to him, they were one in the same, and either way, he loved it, that was obvious.

He pressed himself back against your bare cunt this time, one of his hands darting back down between your legs to press against your swollen clit, forcing a moan out of you while the other hand grabbed your throat again, giving it a hard squeeze.

"Look at you, all wet and needy..," he purred, grabbing you by the hair as he pulled you off the table.

He didn't bother to help you as you stumbled to your knees, but it's clear that's exactly how he wanted you as he reached up to unzip his pants, his other hand still firmly grasping your hair. You could feel the tears welling up in your eyes again as he pulled his hard, waiting cock out of his pants. It was like his tongue, it was abnormal and didn't seem entirely human.

"Be a good girl for me and suck my cock now..," he ordered, yanking you forward, pressing the tip of the pre-cum leaking, swollen head against your lips. "No teeth, bitch. Remember what I said about ripping them out."

Again, it wasn't a question, he pressed his cock into your lips, prying them apart as he slipped himself in, giving a thrust of his hips, gliding his way back into your throat, making you gag at the sudden intrusion.

Your salivary glands worked overtime as saliva accumulation in your mouth, seeping out the sides of your lips around his massive cock while he grabbed the back of your head with both hands, giving his hips a roll as he started fucking your throat. He let out a wicked laugh each time he made you gag. This was disgusting, he was disgusting, and you felt so sick to your stomach, but so turned on for this evil man.

Your cunt began to ache with such a ferocity that you felt like you needed something filling you now, like you couldn't wait a second longer for whatever he wanted to do to you. You reached down, running your fingers between your folds until you found that sensitive bundle of nerves that had was now swollen and hard beneath your fingers. You rubbed circles around it, bucking your own hands against your hips as you moved your head along with Bob's thrusts, moaning softly as you took his inhuman cock in as far as it would go down your throat.

"I didn't say you could play with that filthy little cunt of yours, now did I?" You heard Bob's gravelly voice sound from above you.

You only rolled your eyes up to him to see a sneer on his face. He yanked your hair roughly, giving the side of your face another smack as he bucked his hips violently. His cock sank deeper into your throat, making you cough and gag again as he fucked your throat relentlessly.

Your nails dug into the dusty wooden floor beneath. Your cunt and mouth both dripping now as he did exactly what he wanted to do to you. The saliva was pouring out of your mouth in long strings, running down your body as you tried to do your best to time your breathing with his strokes. Your face was growing red and even more heated. The sweat beaded up on your brow as your body begged for oxygen. Bob only watched on in pleasure as were you damn near close to passing out as he continued fucking your throat with wreckless intent, not giving a shit of you could breathe or not. Truthfully, if you had passed out, you were positive it wouldn't stop him.

When he finally got bored with it, he jerked you back by your hair, pulling his cock free from your mouth, pushing you back down to the floor, making you land on your ass. You laid back on the floor, coughing and gasping, trying to catch your breath. All of the air coming back into your body all at once left you feeling dazed.

You laid there, half suffocated, with a sheen of sweat and saliva coating your body. Bob looked on at you silently for a moment, admiring his handy-work.

"Such a greedy whore, trying to play with your cunt without my permission," he said, his heavy brow locked in a scowl.

He reached down to pull you up by your arms, spinning you on your heel before he pushed you forward into the table so hard that it scraped against the floor as it was pushed forward. He pushed your head down into the wood, making you bend over for him as he pressed his body into yours. You could feel his cock pressing right into your entrance. He grabbed you by the hair again, pulling it taut against your skull, giving your ass a hard slap. The stinging sensation made you cry out as you pushed your hips backward, grinding against his throbbing cock.

"Such a whore," he noted, watching you writhe against his length. "Think I should punish you, hmm? What should I do.. Spank you?" He gave yet another, even harder slap to your ass, digging his nails into the skin. "Or, maybe...," he trailed of with an mischievous giggle as he brought his thumb up to his lips, letting the drool dripple out onto it as he reached down, pushing his thumb past your cheeks to press it hard into your asshole. "Maybe I should fuck this tight little ass of yours, huh? Make you scream bloody goddamn murder while I stretch all of your holes out with my cock."

You grunted, moving your body forward to get his hand away from you, but he held it firmly in place. You shook your head at him, as much as you could with him holding your head down anyway.

"No.. P-please," you stuttered as your body began to shake with fear and excitement.

"Mmm, that scare you, pretty thing?" He huffed, pulling his hand away from your ass. "Maybe next time.. Besides, you smell so good, I want to get a taste of you first."

Next time?

He finally released your hair, letting you move your head around freely as he bent down on one knee. He grasped your ass with both hands, spreading you apart, exposing all of you to him as he spit directly on your cunt. He used one of his hands to gather the saliva on his fingers, spreading it all around your sensitive clit, lips, and up to your asshole again.

It was all wrong, so fucking wrong.

He pressed his face into your pussy, letting his tongue delve inside of your core as he flicked it around, tasting every bit of you as his bottom lip rubbed against your sensitive clit. You moaned, digging your nails into the table this time as you purposely widened your stance for him, giving your hips the smallest grind as you leaned back into the grip he had on your ass.

He pulled you back into his hold, forcing his tongue as far inside you as it would go. You could feel the drool and your own secretions running down the inside of your thighs while he made a mess of you. The sound of his mouth slurping and sucking at your pussy was gross, and you should have found it gross, because you were letting some perverted stranger have his way with you, but you were too far gone in your pleasure to even have the slightest semblance of giving a fuck anymore.

He finally pulled his tongue out of your core, running his tongue along the outside lips as he then shoved his fingers inside of you. They moved and stretched your pussy for him as he curled those long fingers to press into your g-spot, with his tongue trailing upwards until it reached your asshole. He pressed his tongue into that sensitive, tight ring of muscle, massaging with his tongue as he pumped his fingers in and out of you roughly. It left you feeling more than just a little exposed.

You whined, dragging your nails even further into the table as you placed your head down out of sheer embarrassment. No one had ever treated you like this, or done these kinds of things to you before, and having this old bastard do it to you now was making you feel things you never felt before.

It was almost like an awakening.

You wanted him to treat you like a whore, and to keep doing these nasty things to you.

"Still a shy thing, aren't ya?" Bob sighed, clearly sensing your bashfulness.

Before you could get too into what he was doing, he ripped both his hand and tongue away from you, snaking his skinny body back up yours. He grabbed your hair again, yanking you back by it, forcing you to bend your head back for him as he shoved his wet fingers into your mouth, making you taste yourself on him.

"That's right, slut, taste yourself," he croaked, his thumb curling down to press into the bottom of your jaw.

You could feel his cock pressing itself against your entrance again, and you shifted your stance onto your toes, raising yourself up to grind against it. All you wanted him to do now was to fuck you into this table like the whore that he said you were. You wanted him to humiliate you and hurl those nasty obscenities at you.

"Mmm, maybe not so shy after all, little girl," he groaned, pulling you up by the hair so your back was pressed into his chest. "Is this what you want, hmm? You like being a nasty little cumslut for me, don't ya?"

"Yes.. Yes, I do," you finally admitted, groaning softly as he pressed his cock into you again.

"That's what I thought.. Knew you'd stop fighting me soon enough, the good little whores always do for daddy," he praised, pressing his face into your hair, inhaling deeply.

He bucked his hips against you again, reaching down with his free hand to line his cock with your entrance before plunging his hips forward, burying his length inside your pussy all at once. You cried out, startled by the sudden uncomfortable pressure of his cock stretching you open. He rocked his hips against you, wasting none of his time in getting you adjusted. You getting pleasure out of this was your own luck. He was here to satisfy himself, and that had been obvious from the beginning.

"Good girl," he grunted gruffly, shoving your head back down to the table. "So tight.. so wet. Don't think I'm gonna want to let you go, even after I fill you up with my cum, and leave you in a pathetic mess."

Your body was shaking and weak as he rammed his cock into you, bottoming out with each thrust as he hit your cervix violently. It hurt, but it also felt so fucking good to have him fill you like you've never been before. You were atleast glad you had a table to lay across once your legs felt like they were giving out.

Bob pounded into you, the only sounds in the room were your moaning cries and his ferocious grunts and growls as a slew of obscenities left his lips, the sound of his skin slapping against yours was a melody of the most primal kind.

The tears were streaming down your cheeks once more as you felt that familiar, tight knot in your stomach ready to snap at a moment's notice, but it too was a different kind than you've ever felt. You could already tell that this was going to be intense, and it was somewhat concerning for you. You were coming to the end, you you knew without a doubt that there wasn't much more you could take.

This man had indeed used you up.

Your breathing became very labored, and your moans were nothing more now than choked out whimpers as you laid there, waiting for that coil in your stomach to break.

"You gonna cum for me, pet? This what you like? Being treated like cocksleeve." He growled, thrusting his hips against yours in rapid succession as he reached out to wrap his hands around your throat again, purposely choking you. "You gonna cum on an old man's cock like the worthless cunt you are?

"Ye- yes.. Yes.. I'm going to cum," you choked out, your throat was already raw and burning from his earlier actions.

"Then fucking do it, babydoll. Now, before I change my mind and pull my cock out to cum on that pretty face of yours," he spat at you, slapping your ass again as he pressed you into the table.

Your orgasm crashing down onto you like a tone of bricks. Your whole body tensed up, leaving you rigid as you screamed, with your belly heaving and your vision going black for a moment as you came hard. Your walls contracted so tightly around his cock that you could feel him throbbing inside of you, drenching his cock as a gush of your release soaked his cock and slacks as it flowed down your legs.

"Oho, look at you, nasty girl," he growled, still slamming his hips into you. "You're making such a mess of yourself.. Now I'm gonna fill you up."

He grunted, pulling you up to his chest, shoving his fingers down into your mouth again as he pounded you, his rhythm and pace becoming completely erratic as he growled into your ear, wheezing, with saliva dribbling onto your neck. His other hand reached up to squeeze and press into your breasts, alternative between the two of them as he pinched one of your nipples. The jerking of his hips finally faltered as he pushed you back down to the table, a loud, feral grunt escaping him as you felt him release his seed deep into your aching cunt.

He took a moment to collect himself before pulling out of you. His cum was seeping out of you now, and you were a wet, disgusting mess, with your whole body being coated with a mixture of body fluids from the two of you.

Bob grabbed you by the hair again, lifting you up only to push you back down to the ground again. You had no chance of breaking your fall even if you tried. You were completely exhausted and mentally drained at this point.

"No, I don't think I will let you go," he cooed, leering down at you, admiring the mess that he had made out of you.

He wasn't gonna let you go, and truth be told, you weren't sure you even wanted to leave. You looked up at him wantonly, blinking a few times. All you wanted to do was please him, you wanted his praise.

"Now, why don't you sit there for a while and think about how what you've done," he gave you that same eerie smile.

"Really?" Your lip curled up in disgust.

"Yes, unless you want another punishment. Be a good little girl for me, and I might let you clean yourself off.. Be bad, and I guess I'll just have to tie you up somewhere." he narrowed his eyes at you.

You sighed, giving him a nod that you understood as you leaned back onto the ground, too tired to even stand up or even really worry about what he was gonna do next.

He hummed at you, "Go ahead.. Rest up, pretty thing. You're gonna need it."

Soon enough, he had disappeared from the room, but he'd be back, and that was the only thing you were sure of.

[ajokeformur-ray]

I want a dog. I have wanted a dog for years since my childhood dog passed away. So I was wondering... what if Arthur surprised me with a puppy one day?? How do you think he’d react to having a loving little critter around all the time?? To learn how to care for it and train it (by me probably lmao)? How would he feel when it shows him all the love and affection he deserves???🥺🥺🥺

Geeeeeeeeeeeen ~ 🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰😭😭😭🥺🥺🥺🥺😊😊😊😊 I love you I love you I love you and this is such a sweet thing to get to write for you omggggg ~ I hope that you enjoy this, darling!!!!!💗💗💗💗

I CAN’T DECIDE WHICH GIF IS CUUUUUUUTERRR OMGGGG BABIESSSS 😭🥺 I wanna smother both in kisses asdfghjkl; THE STRUGGLE IS REAL skskksksks 💕💕💕💕💕💕

Word count: 2, 086

Normally were you not concerned when Arthur was gone all day. He had a job, after all, and you knew that Hoyt was less than accommodating when it came to Arthur’s oddly timed gigs. You were sure that it was no mistake that Arthur worked later and longer hours than his co-workers, though of course was he paid the same rate as they were. It was more work for less money. The more you thought about Arthur’s job and the way that he was treated, the angrier you became; he was good at his job, you had seen him professionally perform as Carnival multiple times, and sometimes you even got to see him practice his act in front of you, with the soft orange glow of the street lights illuminating the rapidly darkening sky. The horizon was poisoned with grey high rise buildings, neglected apartment complexes and other ugly buildings, but Carnival, as he danced in front of the still open window, made it look ethereal.

Stardust was in his very veins, you were sure, as was music in his soul and love in his heart, and Arthur was one of the most beautiful creatures you had ever had the pleasure of seeing. He was more than his life, he deserved so much more, but though he struggled so deeply that not even Arthur was fully aware of the full extent of the damage inflicted upon him, most especially by the person who was supposed to love him the most out of anyone in the world, it was never in vain. How could it be, when he had you, his Gen, his one and only person who understood him and so did he consider himself to have the world.

You considered yourself to have everything you had ever needed or wanted in Arthur, too, and as your thoughts turned to him, as often did they, you became aware of the fact that he was late. 

Arthur was never late.

Always would he find a way to let you know that he was going to be home at a different time, whether he begged Hoyt to let him phone you from Hoyt’s office or whether he used his last $0.28 to phone you from the pay phone near the subway, Arthur always communicated clearly with you as best as he could. Though you did your best to not overthink, you couldn’t help it. Gotham was a dangerous city, it preyed on those who had not yet mastered the art of apathy, of living one’s own life passively. Dead were the souls of the citizens of Gotham, their bodies zombified under the mental strain of an increased living cost, though the hourly wage remained the same, of rising debt, and even of the city itself; a cruel, relentless mistress who took more than what she was given and gave nothing back. To live in Gotham was to die decades before your time in a spiritual sense, even if your body lived to an average age. 

You hated it when Arthur was late home. It always filled you with fear and anxiety, and just at the point when you were debating whether you should phone Hoyt at his office, there was that beautiful sound of a slightly bent key being jiggled as it was inserted into a rusting, ancient lock. You could hear Arthur softly giggling to himself under his breath and it made you smile from where you were stood in the kitchen making dinner for the both of you; so thin were the walls of the apartment complex.

“No, no - shush, you silly thing. Are you sure you’re not a worm? So wriggly,” You could hear Arthur still trying to vain to stifle his giggles and you wondered who he was talking to you. Not you, surely? You were always greeted in a similar fashion to the way the gentlemen in those old home films which Arthur so loved to watch greeted their wives. It was just something that Arthur loved to do, admire did he all those gentleman in the films. “Gen’s gonna love you, I - no, shush...” 

Curiosity may have killed the cat but satisfaction had brought it back and as you rounded the corner, you saw Arthur stood by the door, struggling to carry his usual brown paper pharmacy bag in one hand, the handle dangled between two fingers. He struggled to carry the bag because both arms were focused on the small wriggling lump under his well loved and much worn mustard yellow hoodie. Arthur heard your footsteps and looked up expectantly. When he saw you, he beamed. Momentarily were you stunned but his voice quickly brought you back down to earth, so grounding was your love. “Gen!” You smiled, of course you did, like there was a red string of fate tied between your mouth and Arthur’s did his smile always cause the same gesture on your own face, and the same was equally true in the reverse. “Come here, angel, I have a surprise for you.”

“A surprise? For me? Artie, I - “

Arthur’s eyes sharpened as he quickly grabbed whatever was wriggling underneath his hoodie and you realised that you needed to be quick - Arthur’s surprise wouldn’t remain hidden for too long. You stepped forward and Arthur smiled in silent approval; so intuitive were you. It was one of the things he so loved about you, your beautiful mind and all the ways in which it worked. He had known that you would understand him, even now when you had no idea what was happening, though your mind was beginning to assemble puzzle pieces which you hardly dared to believe.

“Hold your arms out and close your eyes, darling.”

You did what Arthur had uncharacteristically but confidently asked of you without thought, without hesitation and without question, so deeply and so completely did you trust him, and there was some shuffling, some more gentle murmuring, and then a weight was placed in your arms. There was a small yip, a hot tongue and you felt... fur?! Instantly did thoughts of your childhood dog fill your mind and you bit down hard on your bottom lip as those puzzle pieces slammed into you like a brick. No. No way were you living this moment. You had wanted a dog for so long and you knew not how Arthur had acquired you one, but it only made you love him more.

“You can - you can look.” Arthur sounded nervous, but you both knew that he had no reason to be. 

Your eyes shot open and your knees almost gave out. Had it not been for the way Arthur quickly wound an arm around your waist, perhaps sensing that you needed some extra support right now, you were sure that they would have. There was a puppy in your arms. Their fur was a bit messy, presumably from being stashed under Arthur’s cosy hoodie for who knows how long, and they were cold from the wind outside (now you understood why Arthur had stashed the dog in his hoodie), but the puppy was perfect.

You somehow managed to both coo at the puppy and speak Arthur’s name at the same time, and you ducked your head so that you could nuzzle your face into the puppy’s midsection, taking a few seconds to discreetly wipe your eyes and to just breathe in the scent of the fur and of the moment. The arm around your waist tightened and you were pulled forward into Arthur’s chest. It was a loose hug, though it was also warm and loving as kisses were rained down upon the crown of your head, a Queen were you. Aware was Arthur of the puppy, which accounted for the loose hold he had on you, and you knew in that moment that it wasn’t just this puppy who had found a forever home...

So had you.

                           ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

In the hours and days which followed, your serotonin remained at an all time high. Every time you thought that you would turn around to find that the puppy you could hear even across the worn and threadbare carpet was just an intense daydream, you would be teary all over again upon discovering once more that it was real, so in love were you with the small creature. It turned out that Arthur had been taking on extra shifts and longer hours, rationing his daily cigarette intake and skipping meals for months, all to save up to buy you a puppy from Gotham’s only rescue shelter. You were rightly angry when you found out that he had been denying himself his only real vice and his basic physical needs for you, but that anger had come from a place of deep love and you had made sure to cook dinner for the both of you with extra butter for Arthur, just to help him along the way in regaining any weight that he had lost. So malnourished already was he and concerned were you for his physical health, though of course did you attend as best as you could to his mental health, too. 

You had to teach Arthur how to take care of the puppy but together did the two of you come to learn that the puppy was extremely affectionate. Rather than preferring one of you over the other, the sweet puppy preferred you both equally and it loved nothing more than to curl up on your lap or on Arthur’s but to stretch out so that their head rested on the other’s lap. It prompted the two of you to cuddle even closer together, and sometimes your legs were thrown over Arthur’s lap, and the puppy laid on the top of your legs. As yet, the puppy hadn’t laid directly on Arthur, it had only reached out for him or been stroked by him, but you knew that it was only a matter of time. The love which radiated off of Arthur was impossible to resist once one stopped to listen to it, to feel what he so willfully gave out to the world, though none of it had he received back in kind before he had met you.

On one such night as this, a week after Arthur had come home, a thought occurred to you and the words were half out of your mouth even before you had fully decided to speak it. “Artie, did I ever thank you for surprising me?”

Arthur paused, his pursed lips frozen around his cigarette. As he inhaled deeply, his hand moving to brush away the falling ash which dusted his lap, he shook his head and guilt overcame you, but as he exhaled, tilting his head upwards to avoid getting smoke anywhere near you or the puppy, he said, “You didn’t need to. You say thank you every time you look at our dog. Your tears, your smile... you always thank me, Gen.”

Ohhh, help you, there it was. Every time you thought that you couldn’t love Arthur any more than you already did, he said or did something which made you fall down the rabbit hole all over again. Just at that point, as your eyes met Arthur’s, the puppy jumped up from your lap and stretched languidly, one of its paws coming to rest on Arthur’s arm. Arthur’s green eyes fell upon the puppy and he leaned forward to stub out his half consumed cigarette in the pink ashtray which was on the coffee table. As he leaned back, the puppy wriggled into his lap and Arthur gasped sharply, sitting still. “Gen, what - “ 

Arthur sounded truly shocked and it broke your heart to know that he believed himself to be unworthy even of a dog’s love. You smiled sadly as you reached forward to scritch the puppy behind the ears and you leaned further forward to press a tender, lingering kiss to Arthur’s weathered cheek. His skin sunk under the touch of your lips and you kissed him again and again and again in that same spot, until he was giggling underneath your reverent touch. “Our dog loves you, Artie... and so do I.”

It was your simplest, deepest truth and you knew that you would be speaking it for the rest of your life, as would Arthur. The love which existed between the two of you would withstand the test of time, written were you into the very fabric of the universe.

AF/J @impulsiveclown   @astheworlddturns @fluffedstar @jokersqueenofchaos @germansarechill @tsukiakarinobara  @lynnesm @sagyunaro  @docsportello  @flowerglitterwoman @ben-solos-writing-avenger @jokers-doll @jokerslilhyena @arthurjokersgirl @antonija89 @lilliryth @hotpacino @obsessedandthirsty  @call-me-harley-quinn  @anais-angel