#and it's Amber who tries to kill him every time he's attacked!

[autism-swagger]

Just saw your post thinking about Tara and Amber again and I just want to add something to that.

Tara didn't just disregard her own safety just for it to be Amber who attacked her, but Amber knew that she would do that. Amber knew without a doubt that Tara loved her so much that she would face a killer in order to protect her and ensure that Amber didn't leave her. She planned for that to happen. That makes it 10x more heartbreaking!!

WHY WOULD YOU SAY THATTT

God that whole opening scene (and really just Tara as a whole if we're being honest) is so incredibly tragic. Amber is Tara's person, she's literally willing to risk her own life on the off chance that she can protect Amber. Tara had nothing a knife and was going to (presumably) run to Amber's house, just because he thought Amber was in danger.

Just for that to get used against her.

[k-slla]

With You At Last

A/N: so I wrote this last night after work. I just had one song on repeat for the whole day and for some reason it made me think of Ben.

Song used for inspiration

Word Count : ~690

Pairing : Soldier Boy x Supe!Reader

Warnings: angst, language

All mistakes are mine. Feedback is appreciated 🤍

My Masterlist

You were there in Nicaragua, in 1984. You were there when Ben was taken from you. You were there when he was betrayed by your own team.

Actually, you couldn't say that they were your team, considering how Edgar kept you fighting from the sidelines, not putting you on the team. He did admit that you were and had always been very useful to them; you just didn't have…a certain appearance to be part of the official Payback team.

Those were his words to Ben, when he tried to get you on the team, to fight beside him. And as answer to Ben's boldness to question him and threaten to bring you to limelight, he spitefully coerced him to date the Countess for the tabloids. For showing his attitude.

And that fucking hurt. Seeing him with her on the covers of every magazine. Knowing that behind the closed doors he was yours, didn't help at all.

You knew that simple bullets couldn’t hurt him, but then again you didn’t know what could. So when you saw Ben being dragged away from the field, you assumed the absolute worst.

Everything around you collapsed. You were kneeling on the ground, completely shattered as you saw the rest of the team fleeing from the scene, clearly unbothered by the loss of their leader. All but Swatto, but even his death meant nothing to them, as long as they got rid of Soldier Boy. Or so at least it seemed to you.

Ben always hated the fact that you were kept in secrecy. He hated that you couldn't get the recognition that you deserved, just based on your looks.

"Who the fuck cares about our looks? " He had tried to reason with Edgar, who still wouldn’t budge, even after admitting your value to the team.

You had the power to manipulate people's perception. You were present on every battlefield beside Payback, helping them in the most useful ways with your ability. While Payback attacked, you deprived them from their physical awareness, so Ben and others could fight them without getting injured. To him, you were the one who made Payback’s conquests possible.

Ben honestly didn’t know what the fuck had happened that day. Everything went to shit in a split second. Mallory’s base was under attack and you were nowhere to be seen. And then there was nothing.

Until he woke up, restrained to some table, and about to be experimented on. For almost 40 years they held him there.

And all that kept him borderline sane during that time was you. And planning the payback for his former team. But all that was secondary next to you.

He had never thought that he’d ever find someone who would make him want to have something meaningful in his life. Something real. Something that no one would be able to take away from him. He just wanted you.

He wasn't even sure how he was capable of loving you as much as he did. He never received any love or affection from his father. Ben was abandoned, and had been alone since childhood. But he knew he loved you, otherwise he would have forgotten you. Otherwise he would’ve already given up on everything.

He waited for the day he’d finally be free. He knew it was coming and he’d be ready for that.

Still, his hope had started to waver, and he lost himself to loneliness. Hopelessness of seeing you ever again started to take power over his love for you in his mind. And he couldn't fight back to it.

After years of imprisonment and torture, Ben was certain that they had managed to kill him somehow. Or that he’d finally lost his sanity. He wasn't even sure which he would've preferred.

The air was knocked out of him when he saw you standing there in front of him. Even when you held him in your arms after all the years of being separated, he had a hard time believing that it was real. One kiss from you was all it took to convince him. It was real. You were real.

Finally, you had found him and he was not alone.

Taglist: @jackles010378 @cevansbaby-dove @deanwinchestersgirl87 @il0vebeingdelulu @alternativeprincess94

[djeterg19]

Ok chapter 12 part 2 with a summary...for me mostly

Ok soooooo we have Vassarat(Tharn) who is in love with Chalotorn but he only likes her as a friend. Then we have Chalotorn's fiancee who's in love with past Phaya's brother. The brother has a fiancee who is in love with past Phaya but he's in love with the same woman his brother is in love with. Then we have Vanvisa who is Vassarat's sister who's in love with Chalotorn. I think that's everyone? I gave up on names because all these people have a different name in the past than the future except Vanvisa and Chalotorn. If anyone wants a list of them, let me know and I can make a post with that info. I'm like 99.9% sure the show is gonna simplify this.

Ok soooooooo the brothers fiancee followed past Phaya and the brother to the mortal world and saw them meet with Vassarat. Vanvisa also went to the waterfall to tell Vassarat that Chalotorn is looking for her. The fiancee attacked Vanvisa to take her anger out on someone. Vanvisa is rescued by past Phaya and Vassarat. He takes care of the fiancee and they return to Chalotorn. Chalotorn knows something is wrong and doesn't believe the story Vassarat tells so he chases her off and forces the truth out of Vanvisa. Phaya is also confused and basically summarizes like I did above.

Anyways Chalotorn follows Vassarat to the waterfall. It was just Vassarat and the brother so Chalotorn confronted the brother. They fight and Chalotorn's fiancee tries to stop them as the brother she's in love with was about to be defeated and she's injured. Vassarat sees Chalotorn is about to be speared and transforms into a Naga and spits venom at the spear. She hits Phaya in his Garuda form and he falls grievously wounded. Venom covered his body. Vassarat is killed by the other guy as she's trying to get to the fallen Phaya. They both die but Vassarat is able to say:

I prayed for all the merit I have ever committed in my former life...blessing him to be born into nobility...and blessing me...to meet him in every lifetime...to protect him from all dooms

Phaya is remembering all the time when Tharn has said he feels a need to protect him. That he felt like they knew each other in past lives.

Meanwhile Chalotorn and the brother are fighting to the last causing lots of damage to the mortal world. The brothers fiancee took her chance to kill Chalotorn's fiancee who Phaya is in love with. Chalotorn notices and spits venom at her also killing her. The Deity Supreme sentenced the brother and Chalotorn to 1000 years of asceticism.

The visions fade and they return to the present in Phaya's bedroom. Phaya asks why he must be the one to know all of this. Vanvisa says because he wished for it before he was reborn in front of her to Mr. Chadayu. He insists that Vassarat didn't mean it and was just overwhelmed with guilt. He asks why again and Vanvisa says he must discover it for himself.

Vanvisa gives him an amber gemstone and says that he must protect it as it's the last thing Vassarat left. Chalotorn has a gem as well with pieces of her soul. Vanvisa insists that Phaya must reconcile with Tharn as soon as possible and keep him away from Chalotorn as he's not nice anymore(was he nice before?). She says she won't be able to return again and fades away.

Phaya tosses and turns trying to think of how to make up with Tharn until he eventually falls asleep thinking he'll make Tharn breakfast.

[ilovespiderbite]

The leaders, healers and Deputies

AmberStar is the leader of Miracle Clan. He’s an older Tom with some anxiety and paranoia. Becoming leader was one last curse from MiracleStar before his death

SpiderBite and ShadowFrost are the clan’s deputies. After a recent loner attack the clan deputy SpiderBite was left badly injured, until he wakes up from his injury and is fully ok ShadowFrost was made deputy, even after some pushback. SpiderBite is a very kind Tom, he’s very energetic and enjoys his job as deputy though I don’t think he’s thought far enough to realize he might be leader. ShadowFrost is close friend to SpiderBite, he’s the opposite of him being more reserved, quiet and smarter. Extra: ApplePaw is a young apprentice learning from an another warrior TawnySplash. You’ll see her next to her mentor, mother or most of the time her father SpiderBite. She got a lot of her personality from him, she a got a bit of their intelligence too

There are three Medicine cats in the Clan. The oldest being GoldenSight, he’s the one that contacts Star Clan and helps with all the important stuff. He doesn’t like his space being invaded. NoEyes is one of the last cats MiracleStar named. He was a kittypet who was abandoned by his two legs due to so many health issues, he was found after getting hit by a monster. He knows a lot about healing and tries to find solutions using two leg objects, GoldenSight doesn’t like it though so he was demoted to only caring to Queens and kits. PoppyPaw was recently brought to the clan with her father Thyme by SpiderBite and ApplePaw. She became a healer to mainly help her dad with his illness. Her and NoEyes have a good friendship but her friendship with GoldenSight is purely teaching and leaving.

Miracle Clan was originally a clan Gen called Dead Clan but then that whole thing got erased and I got really angry cause I was invested. So I made it Miracle Clan, added some Ocs and some references from the original game such as AmberStar being the leader, who I had to kill off at some point cause his own child died of old age and he still had 8 lives left. Then the next leader had the prefix Amber so technically AmberStar never left. I changed a lot from the clan Gen to actually make a story revolving the clan instead of just HareMoth’s really depressing life and every event where everyone except some random kit from 2 moons ago lived. Time to make Dead Clan interesting and give it a ‘Miracle’ :)

[usermischief]

chapter 57: chaos rising Warnings: violence, blood

You can read it on AO3 as well.

“Isaac.” Stiles kneels beside him. The cold blood drenches his sweatpants. What happened? Who is this? What are you so afraid of? Or rather, who? But none of these questions roll over his tongue. “Are you hurt?” Stiles asks instead. His fingers tremble as he reaches out to touch him. If anyone dared to hurt him-

His hand does not connect with Isaac, almost like he doesn’t exist.

Unless it’s Stiles who doesn’t exist.

At least not here.

Stiles touches his face, strangely relieved when his fingers brush over his warm skin. There’s no guarantee with the supernatural. The Dread Doctor’s mask might as well have killed him, and he simply didn’t notice. He’s no longer in pain. Still, why would he be in a different room in a completely different situation? Besides, he feels alive. Very much so. His heart beats in his chest. The room makes him feel cold.

“What do you see?” Valack’s voice seems to echo around the white room, coming from everywhere.

The mask is supposed to allow him to see the future. Is that where he is? The future? Or a path that may or may not become their new reality in hours, days, perhaps weeks. Unless they get out, unless they’re saved.

Or they save themselves.

Stiles stands up again, gaze wandering across broken glass and destruction, over blood splatters on the wall, until it catches on a person shrouded in shadows that could not possibly exist in this room. His heart skips a beat as their eyes lock – one bright and amber, a color he got used to seeing in the mirror every day – the other dark and silver. They both crinkle in amusement.

Before he can stop himself, Stiles takes a step back. “What did you do?”

A chuckle fills the room.

Isaac whimpers softly.

“Pożyjemy,” Stiles hears his own voice breathe, “zobaczymy.” He watches his future self get to his feet, shadows moving with him, around him, until he stands – and Stiles recognizes they aren’t shadows.

It’s his fox’s aura.

Stiles swallows. “How’s that going to help me?” This isn’t the time or place to drag his babcia’s favorite quotes to the forefront of his mind. He needs to focus on things that matter, like how they can get out of this, for example.

“This has not happened yet.” The fox spreads its arms wide, an almost manic glint in its eyes. “But it could.” Suddenly, it’s right in front of him, the shadows blocking virtually all the light. “Pożyjemy, zobaczymy.” It grins, eyes flashing in amusement.

Then it shoves him.

Stiles crashes to the ground hard. His head ricochets off the stone floor. Pain explodes in his head, and the stench of leather and blood fills his nostrils. He struggles to remove the mask as he tries to control his breathing. A panic attack down here isn’t a fucking option.

“Get this thing off!” Valack bellows, his voice barely audible over Stiles’ blood rushing in his ears.

“Stiles!” Isaac’s voice is coming from somewhere to his right. “It’s okay. We’ll help you, but you need to calm down.”

Despite the edge of anxiety in his voice, hearing him talk dislodges the panic in Stiles’ throat. He takes a deep breath and closes his eyes. It’s okay. It’s okay. Whatever he just saw doesn’t matter. Isaac is fine. Everything he just saw might become nothing more than a nightmare.

Stiles takes another breath as he lowers his hands.

Only a moment later, he’s ripped to his feet. The sweet stench of alcohol mixed with the scent of leather. Stiles recoils, but the grip on his left shoulder is nearly unforgiving. Stiles grinds his teeth until the mask finally falls off a moment later.

It hits the ground with a thud too loud for the silence in the room.

Stiles stares at Schrader, who stares right back at him, fingers digging painfully into his shoulder. Stiles twists his mouth into a smile. “I saw you,” he whispers, knowing full well he’s lying. “Dead.” Unless he isn’t lying. With the amount of blood he saw, he might be telling the truth because it wasn’t Isaac’s. “You’re going to die down here, Schrader.”

Without hesitation, Schrader grabs him by the throat, anger burning in his cheeks.

“Schrader!” Valack’s voice is pure steel.

For the flicker of a second, Schrader very clearly considers defying the orders. Then he steps away and crosses his arms over his chest. Something about his face tells Stiles they shouldn’t end up alone in a room with him again. Only one of them will make it out alive that time.

“Mr. Stilinski,” Valack sounds a little too much like Stiles’ old chemistry teacher, “what did you see?”

Stiles doesn’t answer immediately. He glances at Isaac, holding his wide-eyed gaze for a few seconds. If he’s honest, Stiles is not entirely sure what he’s seen besides Isaac and too much blood. He can’t tell if that other Stiles is him in the future or simply a manifestation of the nogitsune.

But the eye.

Stiles barely resists the urge to reach his hand up. It wouldn’t matter anyway. He’ll have to wait until they’re back in the cell. Last time he checked, however, there was merely a blotch of silver in his iris.

Swallowing around the lump in his throat, Stiles turns to face Valack. “You and everyone who works for you, dead.”

---

“It looks normal.” Isaac tilts his head a little to the side, squinting at him. “I think.” Smiling apologetically, Isaac lets go of Stiles’ chin and pulls his shoulders up. “Theo would probably see a difference.”

Stiles pulls his legs to his chest. “Yeah…” His heart aches just thinking about him. They haven’t been apart this long since Theo returned to Beacon Hills. The distance is wearing him down, mainly because Stiles has been nearly disconnected from the ley lines since wearing this fucking collar. Theo’s spark made him feel safe; now, he can’t even tell if Theo is still alive. It makes him feel lost and alone despite having Isaac by his side.

“Do you think you can find him with that thing?” Isaac leans back on the mattress, hands folded on his stomach as he contemplates the ceiling. “It’s one of their masks. Shouldn’t it help you track chimeras?”

And then what? Stiles wants to ask. What good will it do them if they know where Theo is? Perhaps knowing Theo is okay would ease his mind for a moment. But without a way to talk to him – even if he could talk to him. Valack is expecting their friends to rescue them. Stiles would end up leading all of them into a trap.

“I don’t even know if it showed me the future.” Stiles lies beside Isaac, feeling weirdly protected between the wall and the werewolf. “Maybe it showed me what I wanted to see.” But what it truly did show him was only blood and no bodies. So, did it really reveal what he’s been fantasizing about? Because all he wants is to kill Valack and Schrader in the worst possible way.

For a moment, Isaac is quiet. “And you want them dead?”

Stiles nods slowly, unsure. It’s easier to talk about this with Theo. His views on violence and murder, especially premeditated, are a lot more relaxed.

“Okay.” Isaac pauses, tapping a finger against his wrist, “how do we do that?”

“Do… what?” Stiles eyes Isaac with raised brows.

Isaac shrugs, a sheepish grin tugging on the corner of his mouth. “How do we kill them? We can’t do anything from in here.” Either he’s misjudged Isaac’s opinion on murder, or perhaps the time spent down here has changed his mind.

Whatever it might be, Stiles isn’t going to complain. “Well, if I could get out of this collar…” he trails off, grinding his teeth. If only. That’s not going to get him anywhere. They need something concrete. A plan. A way to get Stiles out of the collar and Isaac out of this cell. They’re useless in here.

They’re going to die in here.

Isaac nods. “Any idea how we’re going to do that?”

“I’m working on it.” Stiles gets back to his feet. There’s no way he can come up with a plan while he’s lying down. He needs to move. Fuck, he needs some fresh air. He needs the sun, his friends and family. Most of all, he needs Theo. His absence hurts. The distance is a constant ache he’s not able to shake. It’s slowly but surely burning a hole in his sanity. Not being able to feel him, it makes him feel so fucking empty. But it’s not just Theo. It’s everyone. His dad. Kira, Lydia, even Brett, Jackson, Danny, and the chimeras. He’s gotten so used to being around them all the time. Right now, he’d sell his soul for a glimpse of Peter Hale.

Further proof that he’s losing his mind.

Stiles lets his gaze trail over everything in the room. A sink, a toilet, a mattress, and some poor excuse for bedding. That’s all they have to work with. “What if you don’t touch it?”

Drawing his brows together, Isaac props himself onto his elbows. “Touch what?”

“The collar.” Stiles sits down next to him and grabs a fistful of bedding. It’s thin enough that Isaac could wrap it around his hands and grab the collar, but maybe that also means it’s too thin. With as much poison as this collar has, it’s highly likely no fabric in the world might stop it from hurting Isaac. That’s probably why they aren’t worried about leaving them unsupervised. “Forget it.”

Isaac grabs him by the arm, not allowing him to stand up. “At least let me try it.” If he’s offended by the lack of confidence, he doesn’t show it. Isaac is nothing but stubborn. Whether or not he believes he can get the collar off himself, he is not going to drop it before he’s tried it at least once.

“Okay.” Stiles nods. “Don’t overdo it, though. You won’t be getting help down here.”

“I really love your optimism,” Isaac retorts as he tests out the thin fabric of the bedding. A moment later, he drops it with a little shake of his head and looks around the room. There is not a lot in there he could use. He sighs, “don’t tell Theo about this.” Then he yanks his shirt over his head.

Stiles squints at him. “Are you afraid of Theo?”

“Afraid,” Isaac tells him while awkwardly wrapping his shirt around his hands, “might not be the right word.” Goosebumps cover his skin, but Stiles doubts they have anything to do with Theo and more of the clammy cold down here. Isaac’s expression, however, seems troubled all of a sudden. He lowers his shirt-clad hands and studies Stiles for a moment. “He wasn’t exactly stable last time I saw him. Satomi mentioned it’s not uncommon for new mates to lose it when separated for too long… and with Theo’s history…” Isaac shrugs briefly, gaze dropping to his hands. “I’m worried that by the time we’re out of here, Theo will have done something he won’t be able to come back from.”

It’s a worry they share, even though Stiles hasn’t allowed himself to think about it yet. While Theo may not require an anchor to stay grounded, his human side certainly does. Theo’s first instinct will always be violence. There is no doubt in Stiles’ mind. He will always struggle with possessiveness and over-protectiveness, and he will never fully fit into any pack structure — not even one he leads as an alpha. As much as Theo craves a pack, the Dread Doctors molded him into a lone wolf. It will take years to undo that damage. Maybe they will never truly “fix” him. Stiles is okay with that. He doesn’t want to fix Theo. It doesn’t matter to him either way.

But that doesn’t make Isaac any less wrong.

Although Stiles hopes Jackson, Peter, and the chimera pack will be able to ground Theo, he isn’t stupid enough not to expect the worst.

“You know he’s coming,” Isaac says softly. “Sooner or later, nothing’s going to stop him… if he knows you’re here.”

Stiles nods. If his message got through, if anybody could sense him being at Eichen and told Theo, there will be a point of no return for him. He’ll come here. He’ll run right into the trap Valack set up for everyone trying to save Stiles, the same trap Isaac walked straight into by deciding to go on a solo mission. “Even more reason to get out of here as fast as possible.”

“Right.” Isaac moves his fingers and rolls his shoulders. “Let’s do this.” He hesitates, just for a moment, then grabs the collar. Neither of them moves, waiting for something to happen. When Isaac doesn’t tear his hands away in agony, Stiles allows himself a flicker of hope. Maybe they can get out like this. Maybe, for once, it’s easy.

But it’s not.

It never is.

The collar doesn’t budge, not even when Isaac pushes his fingers between it and Stiles' neck, making it uncomfortably hard to breathe, and he tries his hardest to break it apart. The collar presses against the nape of his neck, making the constant burn more noticeable than usual. A thin sheen of sweat glistens on Isaac’s forehead. The werewolf’s expression twists into pain for nothing more than a heartbeat. It’s gone so fast Stiles might not have noticed it if he wasn’t looking for it. “Stop.”

Isaac presses his lips together.

“Isaac, drop it.”

The first response is a snarl of frustration, but then Isaac pulls his hands away.

“Show me.” Stiles reaches for the shirt, surprised and highly irritated when Isaac pulls away. It’s pointless. Unless Isaac wants to sit with his hands wrapped up in his shirt until dinner arrives, Stiles will see how much damage this stupid idea caused. “Please, just— show me.”

Huffing out a breath, Isaac holds his hands out. “It didn’t hurt at first,” he mutters, “I thought I could do it.” The fact that he’s defending his action doesn’t exactly bode well.

Stiles carefully tugs the fabric away, expecting the worst. A sigh of relief escapes him when he finds the palms of Isaac’s hands an angry red. It’s surely not bad, but at least the wolfsbane didn’t break his skin. It would’ve, surely, if Isaac kept going. “You should hold them under cold water. That should help a bit.” Although he couldn’t imagine Deaton being so careless, part of him hoped it would work. Pushing this would only mean Isaac getting more and more hurt, and the last thing they need is Isaac being defenseless down here. “You think we got to wash this too?” He gets up and follows Isaac to the sink, holding out the shirt.

“Probably a good idea.” Although Isaac does not look too happy about sitting shirtless down here. He takes the shirt from Stiles anyway. “So, what’s Plan B?”

Good question.

“I’ll figure something out.” What he needs is a reason for Deaton to take off the collar. A medical emergency would probably be the easiest way to achieve that. After all, both Valack and Deaton need Stiles alive. If he dies, the nemeton dies with him, and so do the chimeras. He can’t gamble their lives away like that.

Stiles folds his arms over his chest, watching Isaac rinse out his shirt with cold water.

It’ll be a while until he can wear it again, but it’s probably the better option than to risk getting a reaction all over his chest an back. The amount that’s in his shirt won’t kill him, but it will certainly be highly uncomfortable — maybe even painful. Down here, a little goes a long way.

“We have to convince them to take this thing off you.” Isaac wrings out his shirt and looks around the cell to find the best place to let it dry. Unfortunately, that would be the side of the sink.

Glancing around the room again, Stiles weighs his options. Aside from banging his head against the edge of the sink or toilet, there aren’t exactly many. “Maybe if we ask them very nicely.”

Isaac looks two seconds away from smacking him with his shirt. Instead, he drops it on the edge of the sink and studies his hands again.

“How bad is it?” Stiles draws his brows together. The idea was stupid, and he should’ve never brought it up in the first place.

“Not too bad, but it might take a couple of hours to heal.” Isaac wriggles his fingers and then looks up, shooting a small smile in Stiles’ direction. “I got shit like this all over my body from some herbal coughing syrup I took as a child. Still don’t know what caused that.”

Stiles chuckles, collapsing back on the mattress. “Yeah, Mom grew herbs in our yard for her tea. The chamomile gave me the worst allergic reaction…” He trails off, staring at Isaac’s hands.

“That’s the scheming face I’m afraid of.” Isaac crouches down in front of him, arms crossed over his thighs. “What are you thinking about?”

“An allergic reaction.” Stiles blinks slowly and then springs to his feet. That’s surely a way to get this collar off. “Deaton doesn’t just need me alive. He needs me strong enough to survive long enough to separate the nemeton from me.” And Valack needs him strong enough to use the mask because Stiles doubts he’s happy with the answers he gave him.

Squinting at him, Isaac stands up, too. “If you haven’t noticed, your neck’s been an angry red since he put that thing on you.”

Stiles waves his hand around. “I need you to bite me.”

“What?” Isaac stares at him as if he’s grown a second head.

“I need you to—“

“No,” Isaac interrupts him. “I heard you. I don’t get it.”

“You’re a werewolf.”

“Fascinating, but I still don’t have any clue what you’re talking about.” Isaac raises his brows and crosses his arms, pulling his shoulders up for a shrug. “How about you start at the beginning? I don’t speak leaps of logic very well.”

Stiles blinks. Right. “Sorry.” He’s so used to talking to Lydia when making plans. She usually understands where he’s coming from and what he’s aiming for. Her calculating logic brings order to Stiles’ thoughts. “Like I said, Deaton needs me healthy. This collar is effective enough to keep my powers in check, but it’s not hurting me enough to make me weak the way the injections did.” Injections he could heal from simply by feeding. With Isaac close by, that’s not going to be an issue; in fact, it won’t be an issue no matter who’s close by. They will get out of here, and God help whoever decides to stand in their way. “If I get weaker again, Deaton will have no choice but to take this thing off. When Theo accidentally nicked me, it was basically an allergic reaction.”

“Yeah, one that almost brought the school down on everyone,” Isaac points out, running a hand over his face, “and nearly killed you.”

“Because Theo’s an alpha.”

Isaac stares at him, lips pressed into a thin line. It doesn’t take a genius to see that he is not a fan of this idea. “And I’m not. It might not even work.”

It has to work. They have to do something to get out of here before Deaton gets to start his ritual. Stiles can’t die down here. He refuses to die down here. “Then you bit me, and we figure something else out.” Whatever that might be.

Sighing, Isaac sinks onto the mattress. He’s not happy. Not even a little bit, but he nods to himself as he stares at the empty hallway outside of their little cell. “We should do it after breakfast tomorrow.” Isaac sets his jaw resolutely, locking eyes with him. It’s a mystery to Stiles how he can keep telling the time in here. “People here are afraid of you. If you heal, we can pretend someone’s trying to poison you.”

Absolutely nobody down here would be surprised if one of the orderlies slipped some shit into his food — unless Deaton is personally checking it every time. “Okay.” Stiles sits down next to Isaac. “Yeah, that’s a good idea.” At least, he hopes it is. If this doesn’t work, all he can cling on to is Deaton fucking up the ritual.

Isaac studies him for a moment. “You think Valack wants you to put on the mask again?”

“Of course.” Stiles crosses his arms over his knees, staring out into the hallway. “I’m surprised we’re not still down there.”

“Sounds like you’re not expecting a good night’s sleep.”

Stiles snorts out a laugh. “No, no, I’m not.” In fact, he’d be very surprised if they had the chance to put their plan in motion before Valack drags him back and puts that mask on him, expecting different results. Still, Valack wants him to find something, and he most likely wants him to do so before Deaton is finished setting up his little ritual. “I give him two hours.”

“I’m going to sleep for a week when we’re out of here.” Isaac closes his eyes, scrunching his face a little as he tries to get comfortable.

When they get out. Stiles leans his head against the cold tiles behind him. When. Letting out a long breath, Stiles closes his eyes as well. Yeah, they’ll get out of here, one way or another.

---

When Stiles opens his eyes, he’s surprised to find himself in the same room he’s just left. Well, technically, he’s still in there. However, the last time he put on the mask, the room was white and covered in blood. This time, Valack is lying on the chair, staring at nothing. His eyes and mouth are wide open, almost as if he’s died screaming. There’s no wound on his body, no blood coming from him, yet it’s splattered all over his body. None of it seems to be his own.

Stiles turns to the corner Isaac would be standing in. Isaac is gone, but Schrader is slouched there, throat ripped open by what can only be claws. Isaac. Part of him hates seeing it. Not because Isaac killed someone. They both knew it would come to that if they had to fight their way out of here. It’s just that Stiles wanted to be the one to rip his head off. Still, he’s glad Schrader will find his demise violently and with no hope of survival. He doesn’t deserve anything less.

He turns further, gaze following the blood drops on the ground, until he’s facing the door. Isaac stands there, claws out, ready to strike yet frozen in time.

“That’s where the fun begins.”

Stiles whips back around.

The fox is grinning back at him, still wearing his face, still shrouded in the aura of shadows. Its arms are crossed over the back of the chair.

Stiles distinctly remembers not seeing him there. Then again, he doesn’t remember anything being like this. “Why is everything different?” If he saw the future, or at least a possible outcome, something must’ve changed to cause this change.

“Because we’re at a crossroads.” The fox snaps its fingers, plunging them into momentary darkness before they return to the white room. “And this is all in your head.” At first, everything seems the same. There’s blood on the ground, but nobody in the room. Then he sees it: Isaac, sitting in the middle of the room, holding Stiles’ lifeless body in his arms. Tears have left lines in the dirt and blood on his face, but Isaac isn’t crying anymore. He’s staring into space, seemingly unable to move and refusing to leave Stiles’ body behind.

His heart hammers in his chest, and Stiles grabs the table's edge to hold himself up.

The fox snaps its fingers again.

This time, Stiles sees himself bending over Isaac’s body, a single arrow sticking in his chest. His eyes are wide and empty, staring at the ceiling and seeing nothing. Deep down, Stiles knows it’s his fault. He can tell he did something wrong. He’s failed Isaac, and now he has to suffer the consequences. Stiles doubts he’ll ever be able to forget his screams as he begs Isaac to wake up, but the black lines have reached his heart. The poison has killed him. Slowly. Agonizingly.

In this scenario, neither of them will make it out alive. They’re both going to die in the basement of this fucking hellhole.

“Stop,” Stiles breathes, his voice shaking from unspilled tears.

Another snap of fingers, and they return to Valack’s little hideaway. “You needed to see the risk in poisoning us.” The fox looks disinterested while studying Valack’s dead body, as if nothing that happens really matters to it. Perhaps it doesn’t. Kira’s fox took a life of its own as well, not caring about who it hurt as long as it got its way. He wonders if Noshiko still struggles with her fox or if she has managed to become one with it.

Stiles takes a steadying breath before he asks, “It would work?”

“It would.” The fox snaps its gaze, boring into Stiles’, “but we’d be too weak. If we were to survive Deaton’s ritual, we wouldn’t be strong enough to protect Isaac. One of us will die.”

And that’s out of the question. Stiles won’t allow Isaac to die. They’re both getting out of this hellhole alive. “How do you know? Does the mask-“

“Show us the future?” The fox’s laughter is cold. “There’s no object capable of that. This mask, however, offers us the ability of extrasensory perception. The psychic power to-“

“Acquire information without the help of any known senses, I know.”

The fox all but smiles. “We made a good choice with you,” it whispers, pushing away from the chair. “We could’ve been unstoppable.” It sounds almost fond of the idea, but its features darken again as it steps forward. “We still can be.” Its promise is more than tempting right now. Being unstoppable would surely get them out of here in no time, or at least once the collar is off.

But at what cost?

Stiles noticed a difference in his powers after fully accepting the nemeton. However, part of him still refuses to take down the mental barriers that keep the nogitsune out. It feels too soon, too dangerous, no matter how helpful it would be to access even the smallest amount of its power. The thought of letting it in still feels like it won, after all. Stiles isn’t sure he’s ready to face all the consequences of becoming one with the nogitsune in his head. 

“Why am I seeing this?” Stiles gestures around. At this moment, it seems best to ignore the promise. While he’s accepted being a nogitsune and using its powers, feeding on pain and chaos, part of him remains uncertain of the fox in his head. After all, it is a remnant of the nogitsune that once possessed him. It’s most likely not any less murderous than it used to be.

If it's offended by Stiles ignoring it, the fox doesn’t show it. It merely folds its arms over its chest, standing eerily still as it regards Stiles. “Because we’re looking for a way out. The mask helps us see them.”

“I don’t see how my or Isaac’s death is helpful in that matter.”

The fox chuckles again, cocking its head to the side. “Death is a way out.”

But not the one Stiles wants. Biting the inside of his cheek, he studies Valack’s face. He wonders what happened to him. Is it his doing? Is it the fox’s?

Is it theirs?

There are no signs of strangulation, no snapped neck, and no indication of any other trauma to the head or body that could’ve caused his death. Something killed him. Stiles darts his gaze back to the fox, who has not looked away from him for a second. “How do we get here?” Even if there are more outcomes, perhaps even safer ones, this is a way out that leaves Isaac unharmed physically and mentally.

This might be their best chance.

“You trust us,” the fox replies, stressing every single word by stepping closer until they’re almost nose to nose.

Stiles raises his brows. “Trust you?” His heart hammers against his chest. Trusting it seems like the doing of a madman — or of someone out of options. His gaze darts back to Valack.

Perhaps Stiles is both. 

“Yes.” The shadows darken at the response, drowning nearly all the light from the room as anger swells like a wave — anger so ancient, it makes the nemeton’s power feel insignificant. “We have proven ourselves to you. We helped save Theo’s life, or do you think the nemeton could’ve done it without us?”

“And you have proven to be willing to murder my friends.” Although Stiles doesn’t remember much, he does recall the urge to kill anyone who dared even thinking about taking Theo away from him. His fear of losing him might have made him irrational, yet Stiles doubts that if he were entirely himself at that moment, he would’ve allowed any harm to his friends.

The darkness vanishes after a sigh, and the fox looks tired. Perhaps the collar is affecting it more than it lets on. “We’re not your enemy, Stiles.”

Stiles exhales and turns away, focusing on Isaac standing frozen in the doorway, claws dripping blood. There’s determination on his face, eyes slightly narrowed. He’s alive. He’s unharmed. He’s good. “How do we get here?” What do I have to do to kill Valack and Schrader and keep Isaac alive? Because that’s what matters. That’s the only thing that matters, and if he has to bring his fox into the fold, then so be it.

“We need to get the collar off. You need to trust us.” Shadows are licking around Stiles’ shoulders. The fox is standing so close he can feel its breath on the nape of his neck. “We can trick them.”

Yes.

Stiles widens his eyes. Yes, they can. Isaac doesn’t need to bite him. All Valack needs to think is that he’s dying.

“We’re too valuable to Valack,” the fox whispers, dark laughter clinging to its every syllable. “He won’t let us die.” 

It’s tempting. So very fucking tempting, but Stiles knows it’s dangerous too. Kira’s told him all about it, about how the fox is not easy to subdue — and if she already struggled with it, Stiles has little doubt that he’s going to fail miserably. But it’s their ticket out of here, Stiles knows it is. Perhaps it’s also time to fully embrace every single part of him. If he needs help, he can ask Noshiko and Kira. They both went through this, and they both succeeded. Keeping the fox out will only get him so far, especially after accepting the nemeton with open arms.

“How do we do this?” His stomach twists when the word rolls over his tongue. We. The nogitsune, the nemeton, and Stiles. Them. Together. A team. One force to be reckoned with. It still feels like a bad idea, but it’s going to be fine. They’re going to get out of here with everyone unharmed.

Because they have to.

The fox chuckles, a dark sound so unlike Stiles’. “We shake on it.” It appears in front of him, grin wide, hand outstretched.

But there is still the issue of losing control. It might not happen, yet it is a very likely possibility. He’s been a kitsune, or at the very least part kitsune, for only a few months. Keeping the lid on the remnant of a thousand-year-old nogitsune won’t be a walk in the park. Not at all. “Isaac—”

“We won’t touch him,” the fox says, sounding sincere — as sincere as a fox can sound in his mind. “We won’t make the same promise for anyone else standing in our way.”

“I don’t care about anyone else,” Stiles replies and grabs the fox’s hand. Everyone else can go to hell for all he cares.

Shadows wrap around him instantly, drowning him and everything else in darkness. He closes his eyes, letting himself fall and be caught by something ancient, something nightmares are made from.

Stiles snaps his eyes open, returning to a room of silence. The pain the mask usually causes is gone. He feels strangely calm, his heartbeat steady in his chest. He tries to move his hands, but Valack made sure to lock him down — for his own safety, of course. They’re hot against his skin. Poisoned too. It’s not just the collar they need to get rid of.

He curls his fingers around the armrest. First things first, he needs to act the part until he’s able to spit out the hallucination. Because if he can’t do that, then there’s no getting out of here.

But this should be easy. Manipulation, after all, has become his second nature. All he needs to do is concentrate. Under normal circumstances, that would be an issue, but even his brain cooperates in life-and-death situations.

Stiles closes his eyes, remembering the diary of the girl Theo gave him what feels like ages ago. All the things he can do with just his mind – and he can see it already; himself, having a seizure, bleeding from his nose and mouth.

It takes seconds for Isaac to call for him, panic painfully clear in his tone. Hearing him makes it almost impossible to keep the hallucination up, but Stiles can’t risk stopping – not now. Not when he’s this close to finding a way out.

Because Valack is panicking too, just for an entirely different reason, “I cannot lose the nemeton.” Although it is the fox he needs. But Valack doesn’t care about details. He wants to keep him locked up down here for selfish reasons, power, an advantage, perhaps even to keep an eye on supernatural creatures or to have someone who can tell the future with the help of this mask; such a pity he didn’t believe Stiles when he told him he’d die. It would’ve prepared him better for this very day.

The mask is pulled from his face, allowing Stiles to see past the darkness and his hallucination. Isaac is staring down at him, eyes wide and filled with panic. Schrader and Valack are there as well. While the latter worries he might lose his newfound prized possession, Schrader seems more entranced, almost as if he’s enjoying his view a little too much. It wouldn’t be surprising if that were the case.

“Get it off.” Valack gestures in the direction of his neck.

After a moment, Schrader looks up. “Boss, I don’t think-“

“Listen to me,” Valack snaps, yanking Schrader closer by the collar of his shirt while he keeps staring down at him, seemingly frozen in fear, “I don’t care what your business with torturing this kid is, but I want him alive. Take that damned collar off!” He shoves him off before returning his attention back to Stiles, probably worrying about what he’ll tell Deaton if this goes south.

Good thing he won’t have to worry long about this.

Schrader fumbles with his keys, and Stiles makes sure to change his hallucination enough for him to lie still. He can’t risk this going wrong now. It’s easy. Bending the illusion to his liking feels like second nature, like something he’s been doing since before he learned to walk. Schrader pushes the key into the little lock, believing nothing amiss.

Good.

The collar opens with a soft click, and the second the cold metal leaves his skin, power rushes back into him so fast it makes him dizzy. It’s bad enough that Stiles doesn’t have the energy to get up immediately. Since Schrader is currently unlocking his handcuffs as well, it probably isn’t the worst idea to remain still for just a little longer – even though looking up at Isaac’s distraught face makes it hard to keep the illusion up along with the power rushing back into every fiber of his body. He didn’t expect this much power, although he should’ve probably expected it. He’s holding more than just the nemeton’s power now. Having unlimited access to the nogitsune’s power does make a huge difference.

Schrader steps back, metal clanging against metal. Stiles doesn’t move. Not immediately.

“Check his pulse,” Valack orders.

But Schrader shakes his head. There’s no way he’s getting close to Stiles again without any security. His precaution is smart, and a little bit unsettling – and Stiles has an inkling as to why that might be. Although nobody is pointing a weapon at him any longer, Isaac remains calm and unmoving. Stiles can manipulate what he sees, but he cannot hide his steady heartbeat. Isaac caught on.

Good.

Muttering something under his breath, Valack approaches him, probably trying not to look like a coward in front of his most unhinged orderly. His movements are slow and hesitant. Stiles can smell his fear, spice and sweet. Noticing it comes with a surprising hunger. As much as he would like to draw this out, to make Valack shiver and fear, he’s too starved to enjoy this for long.

The very second Valack bends over him, Stiles grabs his face. Instantly, the illusion shatters.

Isaac is on Schrader, all his anger culminating in the attack. He doesn’t hold back. Not for a second. The first punch breaks enough bones in his face to make Schrader nearly unrecognizable. If that hasn’t killed him, the second punch for sure does.

One less person to worry about.

Stiles cocks his head to the side, returning his attention to Valack. “That was easy.” He chuckles before slamming Valack onto the chair, keeping him down with a hand around his throat. Valack opens his mouth, but he doesn’t say a single word. How very surprising to see him speechless. People who say Stiles talks a lot haven’t met Valack. If someone’s in love with hearing themselves talk, it would be Gabriel Valack. “Let’s see, Gabriel, what are you afraid of?”

“I have Theo!”

Although part of him expected this to be nothing more than a weak attempt to distract him, Stiles can’t help but hesitate. There is the possibility of Valack getting his hands on Theo. It’s Theo, after all. Stiles wouldn’t put it past his boyfriend to go on a solo mission, doing exactly what Stiles would do – and what Theo keeps trying to stop him from doing. Recklessness might be Theo’s least favorite trait about him, but that goes both ways. “Do you?” Stiles asks, narrowing his eyes. “Let’s check that really quick.”

Accessing the ley lines happens in a heartbeat. Stiles doesn’t even have to close his eyes. He finds Theo within seconds, and while he’s not at home, he’s also not inside Eichen. But close. A little too close.

The operating theatre.

At least he’s not alone.

“And here I thought we’d be honest with each other, Gabriel.” Stiles sighs. “How disappointing.” With a single shake of his head, Stiles presses his fingers harder against the vulnerable skin of Valack’s throat. He can feel his heartbeat pick up, can sense his panic filling the room. Slipping into his mind comes just as easy. There are no barriers, no defenses to keep him out. Valack’s mind is a blank canvas for Stiles to create his worst nightmare.

Interestingly enough, the thing Valack fears the most is being locked up down here again. In the dark. All alone. It’s easy enough to create after being locked up down here himself for a while. No food. No company aside from the monsters Valack left down here, lurking in the shadows just outside of Valack’s view, vanishing whenever he turns his head to catch a glimpse of them. Stiles puts him into this nightmare, not allowing him a way out – until Valack’s screams disappear, and the man is nothing more than an empty shell.

Stiles pulls his hand back and turns to look at Isaac, who is standing in the doorway, watching, waiting. “They’re in the tunnels.”

“Idiots,” Isaac mutters, rolling his eyes.  

“Are you surprised?”

Isaac doesn’t reply immediately. He studies him, almost curiously, for a few moments. “No,” he replies then, curling and uncurling his fingers. His skin is still covered in blood. He didn’t even bother to wipe Schrader’s blood off. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah… why?”

“Because I’ve yet to encounter a spontaneous eye-color change that occurs naturally.” Isaac raises his brows. The smile on his lips does not reach his eyes. He’s skeptical. He doesn’t trust him.

Stiles doesn’t find it in him to judge Isaac. Although he’s not been possessed, he went through shit because of the nogitsune too. It was an infection that was caught by everyone Stiles has ever touched, and he wishes he could make it better. “I’m me, if that’s what you’re wondering.” Stiles crosses and uncrosses his arms, suddenly weirdly self-conscious about fully embracing the nogitsune. “But I guess that’s what everyone would say.”

For a moment, Isaac doesn’t reply. It’s almost impossible to know what’s going on in his head. “I reckon, yeah.”

“I was right, by the way.” Stiles is aware there’s probably nothing he can say to make Isaac trust him fully, and while this does hurt a little, he can’t blame him. “Your bite will poison me.”

“You could be lying.”

“I could.” Stiles pulls his shoulders up in a slow shrug. It’s fair of Isaac to be careful around him. After all, he just killed Valack with his powers – something he wasn’t supposed to be able to do. It wasn’t supposed to be in his nature. “But we both want to get out of here, right? So, how about we call it a truce until we’re with the others?”

Isaac clenches and unclenches his jaw. His gaze darts from Stiles to Valack’s body. It lingers there for a few seconds as Isaac’s probably considering the chances of getting stabbed in the back or abandoned. They’re both aware he needs Stiles to get out of here. Isaac narrows his eyes slightly before he locks eyes with him again. “You think we can still get out through the showers?”

“Yeah, we can.” And if not, Stiles will make them a way. He caused quite some damage the last time. Surely he can do it again.

After another few seconds of silence, Isaac nods and slips out the door.

Stiles follows him instantly. It’s probably a good idea to use the time they have before everyone figures out what happened down here. Although he is ready to clear them a path, it doesn’t mean Stiles is hoping he’ll have to. If he’s got any say in this, he’d prefer to get out of here as quietly as possible. Their chances of doing so would be easier if he knew the time of day. He’d prefer to break out at night because that’s when the basement should be completely empty.

As they’re rounding a corner, the hallway in front of them is completely empty. Their first hurdle is the door a few feet away. Although it probably shouldn’t be hard to break the lock and get them through.

“Is the electric lock going to be an issue?” Isaac asks, stopping next to him. He keeps his distance to the gate, glancing at the invisible line of mountain ash with a sneer. If not for that, Isaac could break the lock, and they’d be out of here in no time.

Stiles wonders if he can somehow rip it off. There’s no way he will be able to break it. Supernatural strength or not, he’s not as physically strong as Isaac. “I doubt it,” he says anyway. If he’s not strong enough to do it by hand, he’ll use magic instead. They’re getting out of here, even if it’s the last thing he does.

But the moment his fingers nearly touch the bars, they bump against some invisible force. A glimmer of blue light emanates from absolutely nowhere, leaving a soft prickle upon his skin. Stiles yanks his hand back.

“What was that?” Isaac asks, an edge of panic in his voice.

Stiles’ heart pounds in his chest. They both know exactly what that was. But that’s impossible, right? He was able to walk in and out of Eichen House multiple times now. The mountain ash was never a problem. Why now?

 Still, Stiles reaches for the electric lock again. Maybe he was accidentally brushing against one of the bars. He’s stressed and running on adrenaline. Maybe he just imagined this.  His fingertips brush against an invisible wall once more, and again, even if only for a brief second, he can see the mountain ash flash at the contact. This isn’t his imagination.

They’re locked in.

“No.” Stiles pushes his hands against the bars, watching as the wall of mountain ash glows in the otherwise dark tunnel. The touch doesn’t hurt. It’s merely a weird tingle, but that isn’t exactly a relief right now. Because they’re stuck. They’re locked in. But that’s not possible. It shouldn’t be.

How can they be locked in?

“Magic, mate. You can still use magic.” Isaac grabs Stiles’ shoulder and yanks him around. Despite his reasonable tone, he looks just as panicked as Stiles feels. They were both banking on Stiles being able to walk out of this place without any issue because that’s how it’s supposed to be.  

“Right.” Stiles nods, trying his best to calm himself. “I’ll break the line. It’s going to be fine.” Peachy even. This is nothing more than a minor setback.  

“Yes,” Isaac agrees as he steps away to give him more space. “Destroy the floor, break the line.”

Sounds easy enough. Plus, he’s done that before. Multiple times. He’s good at destroying the ground. It shouldn’t be a problem. They’re standing right on top of a bunch of telluric currents. The ley lines are powerful here. He can absolutely break the line. A little bit of mountain ash won’t be able to stop the nemeton’s power, right?

Taking a steadying breath, Stiles crouches down and presses his trembling fingers to the cold stone. He closes his eyes, forcing himself to take several deep breaths. His heartbeat slows as he finds the ley lines responding to his call. It takes seconds until the ground rumbles and roots break through, bringing back memories of the night Theo got hurt. Stiles opens his eyes. He can’t dwell on that now. The past is the past. Now, he needs to focus on getting him and Isaac out of here.

And they’re close, so very close. It will take only a few seconds until the roots have reached the gate and destroyed the line of mountain ash.  They’re so close to getting out of here. Once they’re through, they’ll only have to get upstairs and get to the showers. They’re basically out of here.

But then the roots slam against the wall of mountain ash and crumble to nothing.

Stiles grinds his teeth and stands up again, ignoring Isaac’s cursing. No. No. Absolutely not. Stiles darts his gaze around the room, looking for anything that might help. He will not be bested by fucking mountain ash. The roots have left some rubble behind. Fine. That might work. He lifts his hands, focusing on the biggest pieces around him. His muscles ache, almost as if he’s trying to lift the rubble with his bare hands. Merging with the nogitsune clearly doesn’t mean he won’t have to feed anymore.

And he’s starving.

Badly.

Since being down here, he was only able to feed just enough to heal. Using his powers, especially the nemeton’s magic, takes its toll on him. Still, the rubble rises off the ground even if a little hesitantly. It works regardless, and that’s all that matters right now. They can figure the rest out once they’re out of here.

Stiles takes another deep breath and hurls the rubble forward with all his might. Once again, the stones slam against the wall of mountain ash. The gate is left standing without a scratch.

Stiles is about to scream.

“Guess you’re not a chimera any longer,” Isaac deadpans, running his fingers through his hair.

And that’s the problem, isn’t it? Stiles said ‘yes’ to the nogitsune and turned himself into a kitsune, a real one. Not a chimera. He didn’t even know that was possible – and isn’t this what Noshiko and Satomi have been afraid of when they tried to poison him all those weeks ago? He doesn’t get it. Why would they be afraid if he’s stopped by a single line of mountain ash?

Stiles curls his hands into tight fists. “Lucky me.” He kicks one of the larger stones next to him, wincing at the pain coming and going in flashes. They’re out of their cell, and yet, they’re still very much locked up. All because Stiles trusted the nogitsune. He was so desperate to get out of here, to protect Theo, that he trusted the fox in his head and got himself into an even bigger mess.

“What now?” Stiles stares at Isaac, hoping he’d come up with another idea. Maybe there is something Stiles is missing. As powerful as everyone thinks he is, right now, he’s nothing if not fucking useless.

“We probably shouldn’t stay here.” Isaac grabs Stiles by the arm without missing a beat and leads him back into the room they’ve just come out of

His gaze catches on Schrader’s completely unrecognizable face, and his breath catches in his throat. Stiles knows Isaac doesn’t shy away from a fight, but he’s never seen this level of violence from him. Not that he’s got any room to judge. Stiles glances at Valack’s body. He’s enjoyed doing that, and he’d gladly do it again.

“Someone’s going to check out what happened after that commotion.” Isaac closes the door behind them. “Can you hide us?”

“We need to get out, Isaac.”

“We need a plan,” Isaac snaps back, “and that means we need time. So, if someone comes looking, you need to hide us, got it?”

Stiles stares at the werewolf. For all the times Isaac hated being in charge of anything, he has zero qualms ordering him around. “Yes, I can.” He crosses his arms over his chest and glares at the ground. “But they’re going to know something’s up when they see what I did.”

“Then you should come up with an idea fast,” Isaac suggests cooly. “That’s something you can’t screw up.”

What the fuck?

Stiles stares at him.

Isaac blinks a couple of times, and then his face falls. “I’m sorry.” His tone softens just as his expression turns guilty. “I don’t know why I said that.”

But Stiles does, or at the very least, he’s got a hunch. “Not a chimera anymore, remember?” While he’s always been able to cause strife within others, it used to take more time until it affected the emotions of everyone around him. Looks like now he’s got full access to the nogitsune’s powers instead of a mere fraction of them.

Great. Nothing beats learning about all these changes while they’re in Eichen House’s basement of horrors with no way out.  

“Bloody hell.” Isaac sits down in front of one of the shelves and lets out a breath. “I didn’t mean that. I just want to get out of here.”

That would make two of them. Stiles sits down next to Isaac, scooting close enough that their arms and legs are touching. “I did fuck up though.” If he’d known what would have happened by accepting the nogitsune, he’d never have done it. His being a chimera was their ticket out of here. The only other way of leaving Eichen House is being escorted out by one of the orderlies, and they all know that’s not going to happen anytime soon. Deaton made that very clear.  

Isaac shakes his head. “You couldn’t have known.”

But maybe he should have. Before letting the nogitsune fully in, they were two separate entities. Stiles was nothing more than the glue holding them together. They were co-existing, all needing each other to survive. Stiles would’ve died back in junior year if the nogitsune didn’t leave remnants of itself inside of his new body. The nogitsune and the nemeton would’ve killed each other if not for Stiles being their vessel. They were sharing a body, and Stiles just so happened to be able to benefit from both of their powers. Now, they’re one and the same. Now, a nogitsune is wielding the nemeton’s power, and Stiles doesn’t want to think about what might happen if he ever loses control.

“Who knew I’d ever be excited about seeing Theo.” Isaac grimaces.

Stiles stiffens. “I can talk to him.”

“Yes,” Isaac says, eyes widening in delight, “yes, you can.”

“I might not be able to hide us at the same time, though.” Stiles draws his brows together, watching as Isaac scrambles to his feet.

The werewolf gestures dismissively. “I’ll figure something out. Want me to turn off the lights?”

“Yeah, that would help.” Stiles pulls his legs to his chest and closes his eyes. If he’s entirely honest, he’s not super into the idea of asking Theo to come to him mere moments before all of Eichen figures out two supernatural creatures are on the loose. However, if they don’t get out of here, Isaac is going to die, and Stiles might too. Valack might’ve been interested in keeping him alive for his own benefit, but Deaton wants the nemeton. He doesn’t care what might happen to Stiles as long as he gets it.

Moments after the room is plunged into darkness, Stiles can feel himself slipping into the in-between that connects him to the ley lines. The place is welcoming him home still. There is a sense of safety in this realm that Stiles is unable to put into words. Maybe it’s the proximity to the ley lines, or maybe it’s Theo’s spark. It’s stronger when touching him directly. Just feeling him in the first place fills Stiles with so much longing it hurts everywhere. He’s missed Theo this whole time, but now that he’s so close to him again, it’s impossible to ignore the distance between them.

When he finds them, Stiles settles onto a ley line closest to Theo. He wishes he could kiss him, hug him, or at the very least see his face instead of merely a silhouette. Instead, he has to watch him sit on something, arms crossed over his thighs. He’s keeping his distance from the others. Even Tracy is pacing on the other side of the room.

Stiles lets his gaze travel over the people he can see; Peter, presumably leaning against a wall, arms crossed over his chest, is the one closest to Theo. It’s nice to see that the two of them are at least managing to be in the same room. Stiles wonders if Jackson is here as well. Brett is standing in the middle of the room. Judging by his stance, he’s propping himself up on a table, studying something lying on top of it. Corey, Josh, and Hayden are standing on the other side of it.

“Since we know he’s alive-“

“We knew he’s been alive the whole time,” Brett interrupts Theo without looking up from whatever he’s studying, “because your betas didn’t drop like flies.”

“Since we know he’s alive,” Theo repeats, sounding a little more pissed off than usual when being in the vicinity of Brett, “I don’t get why you refuse to let me in there.”

Brett lets out a long breath and turns to look at Theo. “Because I value my existence. If anything happens to you, Stiles is going to have a field day with me.” It would almost be funny if it weren’t true.

“So?” Theo pulls his shoulders up.

“Boys.” That’s his father, and he sounds more than resigned. Judging by his tone alone, it’s pretty clear that their interactions have not become any friendlier with Stiles out of the picture.

Stiles rolls his eyes. “Good to know nothing’s changed.”

Theo whips his head around, staring straight at him. Something that didn’t happen the last time. He kept looking in his direction, but now? Now, it’s like Theo can actually see him.

“Well, you know Th-“ Brett cuts off, glancing around the room as if he’s not entirely sure he heard that right. “Stiles?” That didn’t happen the last time, either.  

“You can hear me?” Stiles blinks in confusion. He thought it was the mating bond that made all of this possible. Then again, he does share this weird connection with Brett as well, and who knows what changed because he’s essentially leveled up. Somehow, he has the feeling that there will be a bunch more surprises awaiting him in the near future. “Never mind, I-“

“Kiddo?” The hopeful tone in his father’s voice nearly shatters his heart. “Can you hear me? Are you okay?”

As much as he missed Theo, he also missed his father. It was easier to ignore his feelings when he had Isaac to keep him company. They stopped each other from wallowing in their misery, but that doesn’t mean Stiles didn’t have moments, especially just before falling asleep, when he naively wished his father could tuck him in again even though he’s not a little child anymore. It was way worse before Isaac became his cellmate.

“I’m okay, Dad,” he says, even though he knows his father can’t hear him. Perhaps if he could, he would’ve tried to keep his voice steadier.

Theo slips off his seat. “He said he’s okay,” he says as he walks towards him, and Theo only stops when he’s standing right in front of him. Nobody says anything. They’re all watching Theo as he’s raising a hand as if to cup Stiles’ cheek – only to touch nothing but air.

Stiles squeezes his eyes shut for a moment, trying his best to keep it together.

“How is Isaac?” Brett asks, looking in his general direction but not directly at him.

Taking a deep breath, Stiles opens his eyes again and looks from Theo to Brett and back again. “We’re stuck.” He would love to linger, to spend more time right here, right now. But Isaac is waiting for him. Time in this place is complicated. “We’re not in our cell any longer, but we can’t get out.”

“What,” Theo starts, then stops, most likely furrowing his brows in confusion. Stiles didn’t have any issues going anywhere the last time they were down there. “That doesn’t make any sense. Why can’t you get out?” The question ‘what’s wrong’ hangs heavy in the air. The only reason Theo isn’t asking about it might be the presence of Stiles’ dad.

Stiles wishes Theo wouldn’t ask so many questions for once. “I can’t cross mountain ash anymore.”

“What?” Brett asks, pushing away from the table completely. The alarm in his voice makes everyone in the room clearly nervous.

“What’s going on?” his dad asks, panic sneaking into his voice.

Stiles focuses on Theo and Theo alone. “I need you to listen to me,” he says in a low voice, fingers itching to grab Theo’s face, to cup his cheek and press their foreheads together, “I would never ask you to come and get us, but– Deaton wants the nemeton. If he finds us, he’s going to kill Isaac, and I’m going to be thrown back into this fucking cell, and I– I can’t go there again, Theo.” Despite his best efforts, his voice finally cracks.

Theo reaches for him again, this time for his hand, and he growls in frustration. “I’ll get you out, I promise.”

“We’re holed up in an old office–“

“Stiles.”

He whips around and then looks up, trying to locate the direction of the voice. Then it hits him. Isaac.

“I have to go.” Stiles swallows, forcing himself to step away from Theo. “An old office on the lowest floor.”

“Stiles!”

“Please, be careful.” And he pushes himself away from the ley line. Within seconds, Stiles snaps back into reality, gasping for air like a drowning person.

Isaac grabs his shoulders, worry etched onto his features. “Someone’s coming.”

Part of him is still clinging to the ley lines, refusing to let go. Stiles shakes his head, trying to get rid of the drowsiness that comes with surfacing from that other realm. His gaze darts across the room as he grabs Isaac’s shirt and pulls him next to him. It’s easy to pretend it’s empty, easy to see it right in front of his inner eyes. Valack is no longer lying on the chair. Schrader’s body doesn’t exist. The collar doesn’t exist in this version of the room, and neither does Stiles and Isaac.

When Isaac mutters something under his breath, Stiles knows he’s been successful.

And not a moment too soon.

The door bangs open, followed by the light turning back on. Nobody says a single word. Nobody enters the room either. For what feels like forever, nothing at all happens. The silence is almost more unnerving than anything else. Stiles isn’t good with silence, especially not the one that means someone is lurking in the darkness.

Waiting.

Stiles gets why Valack was afraid of that.

Something metal clangs against the ground. Stiles digs his fingers into Isaac’s arm, blood rushing in his ears. The silence drags on. It’s impossible to tell how much time is passing. Seconds are most likely creeping by as Stiles holds his breath, waiting for the inevitable to happen – whatever that may be.

The silence is suddenly broken by a loud pop and Stiles breathing in a mouthful of dust. Or sand. Or a powder. Whatever it is, it burns his mouth and, nose, and throat. It burns enough to destroy his focus. The illusion shatters within seconds around them, and there is nowhere else to hide.

Stiles raises a hand, trying to shield his face as he’s still coughing up his lungs. What the fuck?

Next to him, Isaac gets to his feet. A low growl fills the room.

Every fiber of Stiles’ body wants him to stop, not to approach, to sit right next to him where it’s safe. But Isaac doesn’t. He moves fast, his footsteps echoing next to Stiles’ coughs.

Until they don’t.

Isaac howls in pain, and Stiles is pretty sure his heart stops for a few seconds. Still coughing, he lowers his hand and tries to focus on what is happening while his throat feels like he’s choking on sandpaper. No. Stiles’ gaze catches on the arrow sticking out of Isaac’s chest. While the arrow itself would not be a problem, the yellow substance clinging to it sure the fuck is. He’s instantly going through everything he knows about yellow wolfsbane. Mostly, he’s considering how much time Isaac’s got left. Brett was merely nicked, and everything went bad for him fast.

That arrow is way too close to Isaac’s heart.

“I can help him.”

Stiles shoots Deaton a look. It’s no surprise he’s the one behind this fucking powder. When people realized they were out of their cell after Stiles caused a commotion a while ago, Deaton most likely expected Stiles to try to hide them. In that sense, he’s a lot more dangerous than Valack. Deaton knows what he’s up against and how to deal with it. Since the powder didn’t affect Isaac, it’s most likely wolf lichen.

Grinding his teeth, Stiles scrambles to his feet. He doesn’t feel weaker than before, but his throat and mouth are burning.

Powdered wolf lichen will stop him in his tracks. Good to know.

“I’m going to kill you.” Stiles is aware he probably doesn’t look all that threatening as he all but stumbles over to Isaac, voice shredded as if he’s been screaming all night. Even though all he wants is to crouch down, to help him., Stiles knows he won’t be able to do anything. Not alone. But Theo is coming for him. All they have to do is hold out until Theo is here, and Isaac’s going to be fine. “I’m going to kill all of you.” He curls his hands into fists as he assesses his situation; Isaac is dying behind him, and Deaton is surrounded by six guards – two on his left, two on his right, and two right behind him.

There’s a line of mountain ash in the door.

They’re locked in.

Deaton raises his hands. “There is no need for violence at this point,” he says as if there aren’t six armed hunters surrounding him.

“You shot Isaac.” Stiles can feel his nails bite into the palms of his hands.

Isaac wraps his hand around Stiles’ wrist, and the amount of pain he’s in makes Stiles almost jump out of his skin.

Swallowing around a lump in his throat, he turns to the werewolf. He’s still aware of everything surrounding him, apparently, but he’s sweating, and his face is red. There are no black lines, no visible poison. But Stiles doesn’t need to see it to know it’s working overtime, not as long as Isaac’s grip is vicelike around his wrist.

“Take it,” Isaac says, using his other hand to drag the arrow out of his chest. It only doubles the pain. “Take it and get us out of here.”

“Stiles, you know you won’t be able to cross mountain ash.” Deaton doesn’t even sound surprised, almost like he knows exactly what happened to Stiles, what he did. Perhaps he’s been hoping this would happen.

Then again, “You won’t be able to separate the nemeton from me any longer.” Stiles looks back at Deaton as he grabs Isaac’s hand just as tightly. He’s not going to take a lot of his pain. Just enough to take the edge off, maybe give Isaac more strength to fight the wolfsbane. Taking too much from Theo has taught him a lesson. There’s a point where Isaac’s body would simply stop fighting the poison, and Stiles is not going to risk this. He can fight them off as long as it takes Theo to get here – and once he gets here, it’s not going to be pretty for Deaton.

The smile he gets in return is more than just unpleasant. It seems as if Deaton has been able to mask his real feelings better than Stiles expected. “I don’t need to.” He pushes his hands in the pockets of his white coat. “All I need is for you to get back in your cage.”

With how relaxed Deaton acts, Stiles doubts he expects anyone to come to Stiles and Isaac’s rescue anytime soon. Which, in turn, begs the question of how much Deaton truly knows about his powers. Valack and Deaton both have their own approach. While the latter has learned how to deal with the supernatural himself, Valack relies on the people around him.

But with Valack dead and Deaton thinking he’s got him cornered-

A scream echoes through the basement. Loud and shrill enough to make Isaac wince and duck his head despite the wolfsbane putting him through some of the worst pain Stiles has felt as a nogitsune.

Stiles smirks.

Lydia.

“You’re so fucked.”

Deaton’s smile finally vanishes. His new expression is cold. “Take the fox. Kill the wolf.”

Six arrows point at Isaac. Not a single hunter dares to step over the line of mountain ash.

“Nice to see what you really think about us.” Stiles lets go of Isaac’s hand and tugs his arm free from the concerningly weak grip. Without hesitation, he steps in front of Isaac. He promised him they’d get out of here together, and he’s got every intention of keeping that promise – no matter the lengths he will have to go to. After killing Valack and Donovan, a few more won’t make much difference. “You want to kill Isaac?” Stiles curls his fingers slightly, feeling the familiar heat of his energy against his palms. “You will have to go through us.”

Deaton cocks his head to the side, watching Stiles for a moment as if to contemplate his next steps. Then, he gestures for the hunters to lower their weapons. “If you let me in, I can help him.”

Stiles isn’t that stupid. “No one is going to touch him.” Narrowing his eyes, he targets the light in the room first. The bulb explodes into a thousand tiny shards. Some of them hit Stiles, but he’s hardly bothered by it. They’re plunged into momentary darkness. Fear spikes in the room as everyone scrambles to find their flashlights.

Pathetic.

Even with a line of mountain ash separating them firmly, everyone cowers.

Stiles hurls a ball of energy at Deaton. It crashes into the shield of mountain ash, illuminating everyone on the other side for a few moments. Someone shrieks.

There we go.

Stiles does it again, and when the light illuminates Deaton’s face for the flicker of a second, he looks genuinely concerned. Probably because he knows mountain ash isn’t foolproof. Scott got through it with the help of the nemeton. It nearly killed him, but he got through. So, Stiles could too – or he could, at the very least pretend to try until Theo gets here.

Three pairs of flashlights turn on. Full kitsune or not, Stiles prefers the darkness. Perhaps he does so now more than ever.

“Get in there,” Deaton orders, gesturing for the hunters to move forward. “Shoot him too, if you must. But make sure not to kill him.”

Stiles quirks a brow.

Isaac coughs behind him. Coughing wasn’t a good sign for Brett. Coughing meant he was vomiting, too. And that meant he was close to death.

Stiles whirls around, and his heart lurches in his chest when he sees Isaac slumped over, body spasming viciously. He drops next to him, frantically grabbing his face. His eyes move rapidly behind his lids. His breathing is too shallow. Fuck. Sharp. He needs something sharp. A knife. A shard of glass. Anything would do right now.

His gaze cuts to Schrader’s body. Stiles is sure he’s carrying a knife, but running over there means exposing Isaac. No matter how quick he is about it, he’s not going to risk leaving him defenseless. Not for a single fucking second. “Isaac.” Stiles grabs his face again, shaking the wolf. “Isaac, please, open your eyes.” This wasn’t supposed to happen. Isaac was supposed to stay untouched.

Glass crunches next to him.

Stiles is on his feet in a heartbeat. Four of the hunters are in, and two have stayed with Deaton. Without a second thought, he’s on them. There’s no time for nightmares. There’s no room for niceties. The first hunter he gets to is young, maybe in his mid-twenties. He’s the one who’s enjoyed pointing wolfbane arrows at Isaac. Stiles snaps his neck and grabs the collar of the next before his body hits the ground. He’s older. Maybe in his late forties. Maybe he’s a father. Maybe he’s not. Stiles knows they think they keep monsters locked up, but the reality is quite different.

His plea for life makes Stiles grin.

Then he smashes his face against the wall with all his might. Twice for good measure. His body drops like a puppet. His face warrants a closed-casket funeral.

“We told you,” Stiles says without turning to Deaton, “you’re all going to die.”

Terror is the poignant stench in the air. It matches his anger.

Stiles grabs the knife from the younger hunter’s belt and crouches down next to Isaac again. They won’t try again to interrupt him. Not anytime soon. Deaton could try to send an army into this room. Not even one would make it out alive. Stiles would make sure of that himself. “Thanks for teaching us, by the way.” He’s not forgotten how to help someone poisoned by yellow wolfsbane.

Carefully, he lays Isaac on the ground. Seeing him right next to the dead hunters makes him feel queasy, but he knows it’s only for a few moments. With a flick of his wrist, the ground rumbles once more as a couple of roots shoot out of the ground, wrapping around Isaac’s shoulders and hips. The bruises will be worth it in the end if it means he’ll survive because there’s no way Stiles will be able to hold him down and make an incision.

“Stiles!” Deaton bellows, the edge in his voice betraying his desperation. Healing Isaac will take away his leverage. “You could kill him. Let me help you.”

“Come in,” Stiles whispers, snapping the knife open, “see what happens.” He doesn’t take his eyes off Isaac for a single second. No one is going to do anything stupid, not with how terrified they all are – frozen in fear, that’s how he likes them best.

For now.

Swallowing around the lump in his throat, Stiles presses and cuts Isaac’s shirt open with a surprisingly sure hand. He pushes the fabric aside. His heart is pounding in his chest. His own anxiety starts to match his wrath. Yes, he could kill Isaac very easily. But he would also kill him if he did nothing. Isaac is not going to die tonight, not by his hands or anyone else’s.

And he won’t allow that.

Isaac will get out of here alive.

Stiles licks his lips, then presses the blade into Isaac’s skin right between his collarbones. It sinks in so easy, only emphasizing how vulnerable Isaac has become. Stiles releases a trembling breath and then drags the knife down. Yellow dust releases into the air, and with every inch of skin he cuts open, Isaac’s body relaxes more and more – until he stops moving completely, and Stiles pulls his hand away.

For what feels like an eternity, the cut doesn’t heal, and Isaac doesn’t breathe.

“Come on.” Stiles whispers, looking for a pulse. It’s there. Weak. But it’s there. Stiles stares at his own bloody fingers pressing against the stark pale skin. Time feels frozen as he waits for something to happen.

And then Isaac gasps for air. His body starts healing. His breathing becomes regular again, but Stiles remembers how long it took Brett to regain consciousness after being poisoned. The worst is over, but the things ahead of them might not be much better.

Stiles lets out a shaky breath, allowing the roots to vanish as he gets back on his feet. Now that he knows Isaac will be perfectly fine. He can focus on the issue at hand again.

Getting them out of this hellhole.

Flicking the knife between his bloody fingers, Stiles watches Deaton – and Deaton does nothing but look back at him. Although he is still tucked safely behind the line of mountain ash, Stiles figures he seems a lot more concerned now that his only leverage is gone. Even with four hunters pointing their weapons at him again, he looks like someone who knows they’ve lost.

With Lydia causing chaos somewhere in Eichen, it won’t take long until everyone is here.

“Isaac still needs treatment.” Deaton’s voice is steady, but his expression is unconvincing.

Stiles narrows his eyes and stops flicking the knife. Instead, he points it at Deaton. “We’re going to kill you.” He might not have gotten to kill Schrader, but he sure as hell will not allow anyone to get his hands on Deaton but him. All of this, it’s his fault. He locked him up down here, separated him from everyone he loves, and put a collar on him like he’s a fucking dog. He’s not going to get away with that.

Grinding his teeth, Stiles throws the knife right at Deaton’s face. He didn’t expect anything to come from it. The mountain ash is still separating them after all. Yet Deaton flinches out of the way, and the knife hits the wall directly behind him, sinking into stone instead of hitting the wall of mountain ash.

Stiles blinks.

Huh.

Looks like there is a way through the mountain ash after all – and Deaton knew that anything not touched by his magic can still pass through.

“Alan,” Stiles croons, watching as the hunters exchange nervous glances, “you kept secrets from us.” Their fear keeps escalating, and Stiles wonders how much of his influence the mountain ash truly keeps out. If he can sense them that much, perhaps he can play little tricks on them, too. After all, the mountain ash isn’t quite as impenetrable as it once seemed. “That’s not very mentor-like of you.” Then again, he probably should’ve expected it. Deaton has never been particularly forthcoming with information unless it was strictly necessary or beneficial for him. Maybe Deaton didn’t want anybody to know about the mountain ash’s biggest weakness in case he ever needed to lock up a supernatural creature. If they’d known about this, a lot of things could have been avoided tonight.

“Stiles, I need you to think about what you’re doing.” Deaton steps closer to the door but doesn’t dare cross the mountain ash. “You’re not in control.”

“Oh, no, Alan, we’ve never been more in control than we are now.” Stiles crosses the room. With every step he comes closer, the hunters take one back – right up until one of them hits the wall and flinches when his head hits the knife. “We’re going to get out of here,” Stiles whispers, cocking his head to the side. His anger is still burning out every other feeling. There is nothing he wants more than to return the favor and become Deaton’s worst nightmare before tearing him limb from limb. “This is your only warning: run.” Stiles grins as he pushes away from the doorframe.

The longer he drags this out, the more he can feed.

And he’s been starving for so long.

The hunters don’t waste a single second, but before they’ve made it out of Stiles’ sight, the first one drops like a stone. His face smashes against the ground, eyes wide in panic as his body refuses to cooperate.

Tracy appears out of nowhere, nicking the other three before they have the chance to realize what happened to their partner.

For the first time Stiles has known him, Deaton is truly afraid. It’s a sight to see, something he wishes he could relish in it for a little longer. However, Deaton whirls around.

Only to be stopped in his tracks immediately.

“Boo,” Theo smirks and grabs Deaton’s throat. His claws dig into the vulnerable skin in a way that’s too familiar — and just like that, Theo rips the man’s throat out like it’s made from paper.

It’s too easy. Too fast.    

Stiles steps away, curling his lips in disgust as Deaton falls to the ground, one hand pressed against the wound as if that could stop him from bleeding out. Just like Valack and Schrader, Deaton only thought he held any power over him. No, he’s not powerful. Not like this. He’s dying in seconds, bleeding out right at his feet.

There’s nothing satisfying about watching the light go out in his eyes.

Pursing his lips, Stiles nudges Deaton’s lifeless body with his foot. “That’s not very nice,” he whispers and snaps his gaze up to lock with Theo’s. “You don’t steal other people’s food, Theodore.”

“What’s wrong with his eye?” Tracy asks as she steps next to Theo, brows furrowed slightly.

Corey shifts a little behind Theo. “Are you sure you’ve got this under control?”

Theo rolls his eyes. “Just get Isaac.”

Stiles narrows his eyes and shifts in front of the door again. No one is going to touch Isaac. No one.

“Theo?” Tracy asks, eyes darting back and forth between him and Stiles before she grabs his arm as if to pull him out of harm’s way.

Thisbitch.

After everything she’s done, not just to him but to Theo as well, Tracy still has the nerve to act like nothing at all has happened — like she has the right to touch what’s his.

Stiles raises his hands. The hunters’ flashlights lift off the ground at his mere command. He can feel the exhaustion nag at the back of his mind. The nemeton’s powers are still costly, but it’s about time Tracy learns a lesson. He smirks. “Let’s have some fun, shall we?”

“Great,” Theo mutters, “I hate when he’s right.”

Without waiting another beat, Stiles crushes the flashlights and plunges them into darkness.

[noisydeergalaxy]

The Amber eyed dreamwalker Part 13

Warnings: violence, language, torture. I think that's it

Also I've just realised my spell checker has been spelling thanator as thantor and I don't have the patience to go back through all the parts I've written and change it so I'm just gonna stick with it, sorry I know its not 100% accurate.

Miles screamed in agony as multiple electro prods where jammed into his skin over and over again, the sweat poured of his body as the soldiers continued their abuse "you just have to tell us where they are and the pain will stop, it's not that hard" Ardmore's voice rang in his ears as mikes gritted his teeth "I won't tell you anything, leave them alone" Ardmore shook her head and kneeled down to miles eye level while he remained restrained on his knees "they are nothing to you, flea bitten savages where your words if I remember right, why protect them now huh?, what are you hiding" miles avoided her gaze and cried out as another round of torture began, his sore body and mind weakening by the second, his body shook as tears built up in his eyes.

Now Standing up ardmore nodded to the soldiers who continued their abuse of miles "you'll talk, you'll talk or you'll die miles, it's your choice, you can die waiting for them to save you, you can die protecting a race that you would of happily seen wiped out a few years ago" She snorted darkly "the pandora air has made you soft old man, time for someone else to finish what you should have when you had the chance" miles snarled at her, his eyes glaring. "You can kill me general, I'd rather die than betray my family" miles puffed his chest out as ardmore glared back at him, grabbing a knife she held the point at his throat "how about betraying your own species? You may look like them but deep down you'll always be the bitter human, you'll never escape that no matter how hard you try" miles eyes widened as her words echoed in his brain. The visions and words in his dreams coming back to haunt him. He snarled and tried to pull against the restraints which only tightened and nipped at his skin.

Ardmore dragged the blade across miles chest leaving a faint trail of blood on his skin as he hissed at the sharp sting

"Lock him back up" ardmore said with an angry sigh, with that miles was dragged away back to the segregation cells in a near by building.

It took every ounce of jennas self control not to rush out and rip that women's head off as she watched the scene unfold from the secluded spot she was hidden in. Pùla snorted next to her, his neck frills raised aggressively. Slipping back quietly to the rest of the pack that had accompanied her "we need a distraction to pull them away from that building, I don't care how you do it or how many sky walkers you kill, they've taken enough from us" the other navi nodded in agreement as they discussed a plan, a large group moved off to the tree line to prepare for a surprise attack while jenna and the rest moved closer to the segregation building waiting for the opportunity to move.

Miles ikran screeched from above as It dived on the soldiers in the camp, creating an uproar of havoc. The pack of waiting navi took the chance to ambush the unsuspecting soldiers, arrows and bullets flew between the two parties as the group and navi had thr upper hand jenna and pùla broke away from the group and made a run for the segregation building, pùla ripped the door off its hinges causing alarms to blare around them, soldiers rushed at the pair but where struck down with ease by jennas arrows, jumping off her thantor jenna began searching each cell for her mate, her fear and anxiety building as each cell she looked in lay empty, finally coming to rhe last cell jenna stopped in her tracks as she saw miles broken and bloodied body restrained on the floor of the cell, pushing the button the cell doors loudly hissed as they opened, jenna rushed through the doors and slid across the floor to miles and unhooked all of the restraints, Jenna lifted his head and examined his injuries. "Miles wake up" jenna shook his body as miles groaned but did not wake. Jenna whistled and pùla appeared moments later, prowling into the cell, jenna hauled miles up the best she could as pùla lowered his body allowing jenna to heave miles onto his back as she pulled herself behind him. Slinking back outside of the building, the commotion still, jenna's war cry rang out as the navi retreated back into the forest, miles ikran threw a soldiers body across the ground and swooped back into the air with a screech. Jenna urged pùla into a fast run before more soldiers could appear .

As the new wave tended to the wounded that had survived the navi attack, general ardmore stood and took in the scene of carnage before her, she breathed angrily and stormed to the segregated building, anger filling her as she saw the empty cell of her captive, she snarled and punched the wall.

Hearing running steps behind her, she turned to address the soldiers infornt of her "we've lost alot of men general, more than half of our platoon" Ardmore seethed as the men continued "we've radioed for more men, more supplies, weapons and such....we're awaiting your ordered general" Ardmore remained silent for a moment then pursed her lips.

"Kill them all"

[kierarhawke]

(Another) The Hawk's Regret Snippet

This is a longer snippet, but it's one of my favorite moments from the story, so I really wanted to share it. Hehe. I hope some of you enjoy it as much as me. *munches popcorn*👀🍿

(Warning: contains a battle scene and somewhat graphic violence, as this is a chunk of the fight against Danarius)

The disdain in Danarius’ eyes as he watched her approach added a hint of amusement to Deirdra’s anger. The magister didn’t seem to think all that highly of the Champion of Kirkwall, an apostate mage from Ferelden.

So be it.

She struck first, surprising Danarius as a wave of fire raced up the stairs toward him. Strands of dark gold swayed in front of her face, highlighting her blazing reddish-amber gaze as she glared up at him from the bottom of the stairwell.

While Fenris and Varric fought the remaining slavers, an explosive duel between mages had begun. 

However, the scales did not favor Deirdra at first.

Danarius was teleporting from place to place, shielding himself with a barrier the instant he stopped for a moment. She had yet to make a dent at any time, simply frustrating herself. 

Her control wavered.

Her jaw clenched, teeth bared. 

She wouldn’t be able to win like this.

“What are you fighting for right now?”

An echo of her father’s voice, slipping from the memory of when he taught her and Bethany. The day he told them what to do if they felt their control slipping due to heightened emotions.

Center yourself on one thing. 

Focus on why.

On who.

…I’m fighting for him.

The next time Danarius appeared, before his shield could go up and shades could be summoned to his bidding, a ball of fire exploded at his feet, consuming the bottom of his robes.

But the flames only burned what she intended, leaving wood and stone untouched.

He looked up to see the Champion smiling, confidence blazing in her eyes once more. 

Deirdra didn’t give Danarius long to breathe.

No matter where he teleported to, her fiery rage was there, as if knowing where he would appear. Growing frustrated, Danarius lashed out with a bolt of lightning, only for Deirdra to deflect it with her staff. 

That a Ferelden barbarian, a backwater apostate, could reduce him to this state…

He set his sights on the Champion of Kirkwall, no longer running as he put everything into his spells. 

She would know her place.

And yet, nothing he did seemed to phase her. Even when he tried to attack her companions in an attempt to throw her off-balance, she thwarted him, protecting them. 

On the contrary, every time he tried, her anger seemed to grow, her magic burning ever brighter.

The fire she wielded flickered in her very eyes. 

Fenris looked up after cutting down a shade, strands of white hair getting in his eyes as he searched for Deirdra. When he found her, the sight sent a shot of fear through him.

She was facing Danarius alone.

“Hawke!”

But there were too many reanimated corpses in the way for him to reach her. His grip on the hilt of his greatsword tightened. Blocking an attack, he countered and sliced the walking corpse in two. Seth leapt past him with a snarl to tear into another coming at Fenris’ back.

“Focus on the undead trying to kill ya’, elf! No need to worry Hawke right now.”

Fenris knew he was right, though a part of him couldn’t help worrying. “Fenhedis!”

Varric fired another bolt, smiling in satisfaction as it took down a corpse in a single shot. He had to admit, he’d been concerned at first too, seeing Deirdra go after Danarius alone. However, the look in her eyes…

“She’s going toe to toe with a Tevinter magister for you, Broody,” he called out to Fenris. “She’s fighting with everything she has to not lose this fight. To not lose you.” If he knew Hawke, Danarius wouldn’t be getting out of this in one piece. 

Messing with them tended to be suicidal, after all.

And, considering the fact that Deirdra still had enough attention to spare to heal them when the wounds were getting bad while keeping Danarius in check, there didn’t seem to be much to worry about on her end. 

Reaching out a hand, Deirdra enveloped Danarius in a crushing prison. There was ruthlessness in the way she tightened her grasp until his very bones creaked. His staff clattered against the floorboards as it fell.

There was a moment in which the urge to simply finish him proved an irresistible temptation. Thoughts of what he had put Fenris through, what he’d done to him, fueled it.

…No.

Releasing Danarius, she summoned forth a storm of fire, setting the remaining corpses ablaze and leaving the tavern silent. Then she walked forward, grabbing Danarius by the collar of his robes.

She threw the battered and bleeding magister at Fenris’ feet. 

His fate was for Fenris to decide.

She would not deny him that.

[sezja]

Febuwhump Day 13: "You weren't supposed to get hurt" Fandom: Final Fantasy XIV Characters/Ship: Jeryk Motplowe, Bekwyl; background WoLs from @lesenbyan Triggers/Content warnings: n/a

Bekwyl lies in the shade, curled up on his side, unwilling to move for fear the strange red drahn woman might come back and finish the job - that he's even alive at all must've just been an oversight. He's sure she thinks she finished him off; he's just glad she's wrong. That wicked axe of hers! Nothing like the glorified woodcutter's hatchet he's touting around.

He'd lain there waiting for her to take his bloody head off with it. Only when he'd opened his eyes, she was nowhere to be seen.

Thaffe and Jeryk, he thinks, guilty and terrified all at once.

What must've happened to his friends? He didn't hear any screaming. Maybe he'd heard the distant sound of a scuffle, somewhere far off - but that could just as easily be the coyotes scrapping over territory or food. He remembers how swiftly the axe-wielding woman had put him down - not even a sound out of her, like she hadn't even broken a sweat. Like she killed men like him every day.

What chance would Thaffe and Jeryk stand? They weren't even armed. Hells, Thaffe doesn't even have so much as his miner's kit on him. It's supposed to be Bekwyl's job to keep an eye out while they're working; he's supposed to keep the other two out of danger...

He'd been the first to notice the strangers creeping around the railyard, poking around at the old machinery. He'd told Thaffe and Jeryk to hide - and to stay hidden - while he circled around to the storehouses, trying to plan his angle of attack. There were six of them; Bekwyl can't remember ever seeing so many people wandering into the Hills of Amber all at once. Two men, strangely dressed. Three women, even more strangely dressed. And one girl.

And nearly every one of them, armed.

Not merchants. Too intent on the remnants of the trolley yard to be just passing through - and passing through to where?

He'd pondered his odds, knowing full well it was a lost cause; fighting people isn't like fighting the occasional gnome or knocker in the mines - and these people looked experienced, like they knew how to fight, how to kill. Maybe... maybe if he tried to distract them, got them to split up...

And then, seemingly out of nowhere, the red woman had appeared. Bekwyl barely had enough time to draw his axe before she was on him like a force of nature, and in two mighty swings that didn't seem like they should be possible from such a small woman, she'd taken him down... and there she left him, presumably for dead. He gingerly feels at the worst of his injuries, prodding gingerly.

His fingers come back clean. No blood.

That doesn't seem possible. Surely she must've...

"There you are!" Bekwyl starts at the unexpected voice, half-anticipating the return of his attacker... but no, it's just Jeryk, looking a bit scuffed, but none the worse for wear. Cheery as ever. He kneels next to Bekwyl. "You're still in one piece, right? Why are you still laying there?"

Godsdamned idiot- "They could still be around! Get back into hiding!"

A quizzical look passes over Jeryk's face. Then he smiles again. "Oh. No, it's alright; it was all just a misunderstanding. They want to use the trolley, not steal parts from it. Thaffe's taking them back to Twine now - maybe they'll bring Magnus around."

"Did you hit your head?!" He tries to sit up, still shaking with nerves. "One of them tried to kill me!"

"Well, we did try to attack them without knowing their intentions, Bekwyl," Jeryk says, as if he's the one who can't fully grasp the situation. "You weren't supposed to get hurt; they just had questions about the trolley, that's all."

Gods, Jeryk. The strangers'd said the magic word - trolley - and suddenly they were the man's best friends.

Bekwyl prods at his aching head again, wondering if maybe she had cracked his skull and drained him of all sense. "What happened with you and Thaffe, then?"

"We fought too," Jeryk says, beaming, with more pride than his obvious defeat warrants. Bekwyl's never so much as seen Jeryk throw a punch. "Of course, if we'd known they were just after information on the trolley-"

"Why do they even-" Bekwyl shakes his aching head. "Never mind. Magnus'll never help them."

Jeryk stands, brushing off his coat. "He could," he says, in all his unquenchably boundless optimism. "You never know. Can you stand?" He offers a hand, and after a moment's stubborn reluctance, Bekwyl takes it, letting his friend haul him back to his feet.

He sways, dizzy - she might not've cracked his skull, but the woman had whacked him over the head with an axe. "Ugh-"

"There you go, you can lean on me," Jeryk says, wrapping one of Bekwyl's arms over his shoulders, supporting him, as they begin the walk back home. It galls Bekwyl not a little to need the support, from little Jeryk of all people - he's supposed to be the one keeping the others from harm - but he's already been fully humbled today; the last thing he needs is to fall off the tracks and finish what the red woman started.

He sighs. "So who are they, anyway?"

"I haven't the foggiest," Jeryk replies, unbothered. "They say they need to reach Nabaath Areng."

"Why?"

"They didn't say, but they do need the trolley to do it!"

"You're hopeless, you know that?"

Jeryk hums a little, smiling. "They're very kind, once you get to know them a little," he says, carefully maneuvering both of them over the gap between the tracks. "I hope Magnus takes a shine to them, as well; we might just see the trolley repaired after all, if he does."

"Is one of them going to pull a hunk of leonine out of their-"

"Who knows? One's a mage. Have you ever met a proper mage before?"

Gods, but his head hurts, and Jeryk's a headache unto himself, no matter how fond Bekwyl is of the odd little bastard. Why couldn't Thaffe have been the one to come looking for him; at least Thaffe might be able to give him a straight answer...

"What happened to you?"

The voice makes him look up. They've reached Twine, just in time to catch Kee-Satt of all people heading out - out to the mines, no doubt, on whatever secret errand had brought the Kholusian mystel all the way out to Twine...

Bekwyl's tongue ties itself in knots. "A... accident at the..." He clears his throat. "Accident at the railyard." He adds, "Good luck out there." Gods know the ronso miners won't spare the mystel half a kind word.

The man narrows suspicious violet eyes at him, and says nothing, stalking off with his head held high.

"'Good luck out there,'" Jeryk teases, grinning. "You should say something, you know."

"Say what? That he looks like a scrawny, shaved ronso? Shush, you." He untangles himself from Jeryk, and stalks home, nursing his wounded head and pride all at once.

[jaxteller87]

show off part 2

We took a week off from both work and the club and headed to New York for a small honeymoon. We rented a room, Jax let me pick out the honeymoon suite. We spent the days sightseeing and the nights tangled up in each other’s arms whispering naughty things to each other. One day we had lunch with Mary, she seemed a bit down and she had seemed off when I had spoken to her in the phone the last couple of times. I didn’t want to push her, so I waited for a her to come to me, when she was ready to talk.

“Jax, help me,” I said panicked when I noticed Mary starting to have a panic attack. He was coming back from the restroom and rushed over to us.

“Mary, sweetheart, you’re safe. I’m here, just breathe,” I said gently as I took her hand in mine. “Jax, I’ve never been on this side of the panic attack, I don’t know how to help some,” I looked up at him frightened and scared to say something wrong to make it worse.

Jax nodded and smiled warmly, “you’re both doing great. Mary, you are safe. Amber and I are here for you.”

Mary nodded as she tried to control her breathing. “You think the five things might work for her?” I asked curiously.

“Maybe,” Jax shrugged. “Try five things around her.

I nodded, “alright sweetheart, I want you to try something for me,” I said calmly. “try and find and focus on five things around you.”

Mary nodded and looked down at her hand in mine. “Your hand. It feels soft and comforting,” she smiled weakly.

“Good,” I smiled at her. “What sound is there to focus on?”

“Umm…” she looked at me.

“It’s okay, take your time.”

“Cars going down the street,” she smiled proud of herself. I could see her breathing getting more normal and her focus getting better.

“Good job, babe,” Jax leaned in and whispered with his hand on my shoulder.

“Oh, and I hear Lady,” Mary smiled as the dog walked in the room to see what was going on. The pup laid her head on Mary’s lap.

“Good girl, Lady,” I smiled and looked at the dog.

Once we got Mary calmed down, we had a nice lunch with a lot of catching up. She apologized for ruining our afternoon but we told her it wasn’t a problem, she would have done the same for me without blinking.

A few weeks later – Jax’ point of view

I hadn’t heard from Amber all day. I had sent Juice to see if he could find Amber, but he couldn’t. Donna hadn’t heard from her either and I really started to worry. I left work and went home to check the house.

The house was silent. I took of my shoes and looked around every room, but still nothing. My phone buzzed as I stopped in the kitchen.

Feed Spike

“Spike? He’s been dead for…” I looked at the text confused until I remembered what it meant. A few years ago, a girl from Charming was kidnapped. Amber and I came up with code word, just to be safe, so that if she was ever put in a situation like that, she could text me and not awake any suspicion. Our code word was feed Spike.

I jumped up on my bike and raced down to the club to let everyone know what happened to Amber, so we could get on the case.

“I swear if that bastard hurts her, I’ll kill him with my bare hands and bury him where no one can find him,” I yelled pacing the chapel room where Clay, my mom And Opie sat around the table.

“Jackson baby, you need to calm down,” my mom said.

“Calm down?” I growled, “that asshole has my wife,” I continued yelling.

“They won’t hurt here,” Clay sounded surprisingly calm, “they’re not that dumb that they would hurt the VP’s old lady. It’s probably one of the other clubs who have her.”

“I got it,” Juice popped his head in the room. He had been trying to figure out where the text was sent from. Juice had a piece of paper in his hand and before he could react, I ripped it out of his hands.

I stormed out the club and passed most of the boys on my way.

“Where is she?” Chibs asked.

“An abandoned warehouse,” I yelled without looking as I jumped up on my bike.

“Chibs, please take the guys and follow him. He’s not thinking straight,” I heard my mom yell as I drove out of the parking lot.

I busted through the door to the abandoned warehouse and saw a few men standing there. They looked like they had been waiting for me to arrive, but none of them looked heavily armed.  

“Teller, you took your sweet time,” the older guy smirked at me. I recognized him, he was clearly a member of one of the SONS’ competing clubs but I couldn’t remember which one or what his name was.

I pulled out a knife from my belt and placed it against his throat. The other guys pulled out their guns and pointed them at me, but I ignored them. They both looked too young to even know how to handle a gun.

“Easy there, boy,” the older guy said. He raised up his arms like he came in peace, but if he was cruel enough to kidnap an innocent woman, I knew he would be capable of much worse.

“Where’s my wife, you asshole,” I growled. It wasn’t even a question but more of a threat as I pushed the knife up harder against his throat.

“You agree to our deal and I’ll tell you.”

“No,” I yelled, “not until I see my wife.” The knife was slowly cutting into his skin, but he still wasn’t ordering his boys to do anything.

“Alright.” He nodded towards one of his goons, “go get her,” he still had that cocky smile on his face. like he had the upper hand.

“Amber,” I gasped. The man carried her into the light, she had her mouth gagged and her hands tied behind her back. He sat her down on the cold ground and I ran over to her. “Babe, I’m so sorry,” I stroked her hair and she looked up at me with tears in her eyes. I could tell that she wasn’t hurt, but I knew this would have to have messed her up in her head.

“See, not a scratch,” I could tell the old man came closer, “so do we have a deal?”

“Yes, we have a fucking deal, you can have whatever you want.” I yelled back without looking at him, I was busy untying Amber’s hands. Once I had removed the gag she fell into my arms and started sobbing. “Sssh, it’s okay baby, I’m here now.” I didn’t care what they wanted, I would give anything to have Amber back unharmed.

“We want the SONS Irish contacts to ourselves.”

Now I knew which club they belonged to. Way back we had shared our Irish contacts with another club in the neighbor town, but then we got them to ourselves. We brought in a better profit than the other club, and the Irish stopped working with them.

I looked back at the old man. He had a confident look on his face. I scoffed at him as I got up on my feet.

“You can have them,” I didn’t care about the contacts, we hadn’t used them forever and the Irish were getting way more careful with their shipments to America. “Tig, Happy, give these guys the information you have on the Irish and the next shipment.”

They were standing in the doorway and had watched the whole thing. They just nodded; they knew the Irish weren’t good for nothing anymore.

I walked slowly over to the old man, who looked surprised at how easy the whole thing went. “And hey, how about you just ask nicely the next time?” I punched the guy in the nose and he staggered a few feet before falling on his ass. “Fucking asshole,” I muttered. His goons were too shocked and young to do anything and he just sat there, he probably had a concussion from the fall. 

I returned to Amber, “is it okay if I pick you up and carry you out?” I asked gently.

She nodded silently.

I carefully scooped her up in my arms and carried her outside. Even though there wasn’t a mark on her, I decided to take her to the hospital to be sure.

“Yes, I’m fine,” Amber reassured the nurse, who was checking her, “just a little shook up,” he smiled.

“I’ll get the discharge papers ready for you,” the young nurse smiled.”

“Thank you,” Amber smiled. “Jax, stop pacing, I’m okay. My wheelchair though… I have a spare at my parents’ place, I think.”

“Okay,” I said gently as Amber hugged my waist looking up at me. “I don’t know what I would have done, if I lost you sweetheart,” I kissed the top of her head.

“You’re not going to leave me out of your sight for the next few days, are you?” she asked.

 “No,” I smiled and kissed her forehead.

[cannibalcoyote]

Scar's Adopted Brother Ch.1: Life as the Little Brother

Ch.2

(Epilogue)

Crow is a male, black maned lion with a rusty golden-red body, and coal black eyes with flecks of silver and green throughout his iris'. He is also smaller than other lions in his family's bloodline. All the other lions also have a golden-tan coloured body with a bright, golden mane with silver streaks throughout the mane with reddish brown eyes; the only probable reason as to why Crow has a black mane is because his father has a black mane.

His father was chosen by Crow's mother as her mate to rule this pride with her. Crow is the second born son to the king and queen of the Draconian savannah territory; with his older brother, Shyam; a large and bulky tannish brown male lion with a silvery-golden mane who's destined to be the next ruler of the Draconian territory. However Shyam is an arrogant, selfish lion who uses his power to get what he wants, he also bullies smaller lions including his only brother. Crow doesn't think about it too hard as he is currently training himself to take Shyam on for leadership.

Crow has been training secretly so that he has better endurance, speed, and agility; developing lean muscles so he's not too bulky but has great strength at the same time. He's been learning as much as he can about fighting strategies, the most common and used attacks, the best ways to navigate harsh terrain as well as how to intimidate someone, all so that one day he can overthrow Shyam.

———————

(Summer)

Shyam has been the ruler for nearly three months now, he hasn't learned very much seeing as he almost always just thinks for himself. He even sent out a hunting party of only two lionesses. One of them came back badly injured from a fight with an antelope which managed to use their small number to its advantage. When she returned, Shyam merely waved off the injury and continued to move their pride through harsh days with scorching sun and barely any water.

———————

(Story Begins)

(Winter)

Crow's POV:

It's the middle of winter now, Shyam has been ruler for nearly a year and we've already lost a quarter of our population to starvation, dehydration, or from dead tiredness. I'm extremely worried, however, mainly for my mother because she has fallen ill, and Shyam has been exiling elder lions who have fallen ill or need help to survive. I believe Shyam will even kill her if she refuses to leave, and I don't plan on letting that happen.

———————

Shyam has settled the pride down in an area surrounded by some brush to try and keep the cold wind out partially. I see him walking towards me, I sit as tall as I can to not seem weak to him; heck I'm surprised he hasn't tried to kill me yet.

He simply walks past me, his golden-silver man flicking in the wind whilst his amber eyes shift menacingly over to our mother. He walks forward until he's standing right in front of her. Out of nowhere he pounces forward and tackles her to the ground, growls of anger and pain being produced from the tussle. Father only stares in shock knowing he's too weak to stop Shyam.

Anger bursting through my veins, I get up and ram my shoulder into Shyam's rib cage with such strength that he is thrown nearly seven feet away. My body is bursting with energy, adrenaline, and hatred; urging me to get revenge on all those years of fighting, and for hurting our mother - the only one who ever truly trusted and believed in me.

I stared at Shyam as he pushed his body off the ground and looked back to see who his attacker was. Unsurprisingly his face lit up with joy as I always knew he wanted a reason to fight and kill me, a valid reason to finally get rid of me once and for all.

"Well well well. If it isn't my baby brother Crow." Shyam snarled with malice as he strided forward and began to strut in a circle around me. I just stood there, my tail slowly flicking from side to side as I listened, watching his every move for the slightest hint on when and where he would try to attack me. Shyam turned and sharply lunged at me, but I simply fell to the ground, turning my body upwards, allowing me to claw at his belly, leaving several gash marks on his body which began to bleed profusely.

"I challenge you for leadership of this pride Shyam!" I roared, but it sounded more like the loudest thunder. I see him getting quite annoyed by not being able to land a single blow on me, so I decide to wait knowing his attacks would be out of anger which makes them much easier to see coming.

Shyam gives off a fake humorous laugh, then turns to me with a serious expression, and growling.

"If you challenge me, do not be afraid when I kill you."

Ch.2

[warriors-rewritten-chaos]

can I maybe have some trans ftm leopardstar x sasha hypokits?? :o

Warriors Ship Hypokits: FTM!LeopardstarxSasha Edition

In this AU, Tigerstar kidnaps Sasha after she tries to leave him after she discovers how awful he is and imprisons her in the ShadowClan camp. Around this time, he also begins threatening RiverClan, which was much more heavily affected by the flood than in canon and has been left incredibly vulnerable. When Tigerstar approaches RiverClan with an offer to combine their forces, he makes it clear that RiverClan has no choice in the matter and if they do not willing join him he will take them by force. When Tigerstar takes Leopardstar to the ShadowClan camp to further threaten him into complying discuss their new alliance, Leopardstar is horrified when Tigerstar introduces him to his captive "mate". Leopardstar begins trying to help Sasha as best he can while trying to undermine Tigerstar and free his clan from his influence. This all comes to a head when Tigerstar tells Blackfoot to kill Stonefur. Leopardstar gives a special signal and the entirety of RiverClan attacks. Due to the surprise nature of the attack, they win. Stonefur and Leopardstar gang up on Tigerstar and kill him nine times until he finally dies for good. Sasha is freed and understandably wants to leave after all the stuff that has happened to her but is too heavily pregnant to do so. Leopardstar lets her stay in RiverClan to birth her kits. She gives birth to and raises Hawk, Moth, and Tadpole in RiverClan. Unlike in canon, Leopardstar doesn't let anyone talk badly of her and her kits and is very protective of them. While he has developed feelings for her, he doesn't impose because she just got out of an abusive relationship. Sasha appreciates it. While she originally planned to leave after her kits were ready to be on their own, she ends up staying after catching feelings for Leopardstar. The two eventually get together after a long process. Mothwing, Hawkfrost, and Tadpolesplash are especially enthusiastic in their celebration of the relationship.

Leopardstar and Sasha have three kits together via a donor. Sasha carries the kits:

Mudlight- shaggy-furred brown point tom with amber eyes. Cis tom, gay. Named after Leopardstar's loving father Mudfur, who passed sometime before the birth of Mudlight and his siblings. Mudlight is a quiet and contemplative cat who is most often found staring off into space, completely lost in his thoughts. When he was a kit, his parents thought that something was medically wrong with him or he was experiencing visions from StarClan, but it turns out he’s only a chronic daydreamer. He makes entire worlds up in his mind and imagines how things would be in those places. Sometimes Mudlight gets a bit too-engrossed in his daydreams and walks into things or falls into nearby bodies of water, but he always picks himself right back up and starts back where he left off. He is an excellent storyteller due to his impressive imagination and his stories are enjoyed by many cats. He is a Lake-Watcher.

Brighttongue- sleek blue-gray point tolly with blue eyes. AMAB nonbinary, toric (nblm). She uses she/her pronouns. Named after Leopardstar's mother Brightsky. Brighttongue is a chatty, friendly cat with a bit of a mean streak towards the few cats she dislikes. She prefers to spend her time gossiping, and loves going to Gatherings for that reason alone. She loves learning new things and skills and is a jack-of-all trades despite technically being just a Scout. She has a lot of friends in both RiverClan and beyond who she talks to about everything under the sun. She knows the gossip in literally every Clan and will happily discuss it with anyone with no regards to consequences. She probably has a half-clan relationship (or several) during her life. Brighttongue is a Senior Warrior by the time Mediators are implemented, but she insists on becoming one until her retirement. She is a Scout, then a Mediator.

Jaguarpelt- brown spotted tabby demi-tom with blue-gray eyes. AMAB Demi-tom, asexual. He uses he/they/ae pronouns. Jaguarpelt's resemblance to Leopardstar was quite the surprise to both his parents, but was a very welcome one. Ae are a lazy cat who spends most of aer time either napping or nodding off. They often shirk their duties to nap, asking apprentices to do their work in exchange for a favor later (which is most often Jaguarpelt letting them get away with something that would get them in trouble otherwise). Leopardstar tries his best to keep his child engaged- and it works sometimes. While Jaguarpelt is basically a bum, he enjoys swimming and does it for fun when he isn’t asleep, making him surprisingly muscular and strong from the exercise. Ae are also a startlingly good climber and jumper, although ae reserve that behavior as a party trick to impress cats and startle those who think ae does nothing but sleep. They are a Diver Hunter.

[thatoneao3writer]

I posted 246 times in 2022

196 posts created (80%)

50 posts reblogged (20%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@the-amber-shadow

@annikathewitch

@thatoneao3writer

@tellmeicantdothis

@hayden-thefuck-whywouldyoudothis

I tagged 212 of my posts in 2022

Only 14% of my posts had no tags

#ttau - 165 posts

#ask - 158 posts

#fencer anon - 81 posts

#badboyhalo - 44 posts

#askers hq - 26 posts

#callie - 25 posts

#karl jacobs - 22 posts

#sapnap - 20 posts

#awesamdude - 16 posts

#asks - 15 posts

Longest Tag: 65 characters

#we now have a love nonagon and no dont ask me why we do but we do

My Top Posts in 2022:

#5

Dream: Favorite horror movie?

George: It

Sapnap: Saw

Quackity: Annabelle

Karl: High School Musical. after watching it I spent all my middle school years terrified that the entire school would start singing something and I’d be the only one who didn’t know the lyrics

~ Quotes☆Anon~

Skeppy nodding along cause he doesnt know what a high school is

-💮

22 notes - Posted January 4, 2022

#4

There is some prophecy buried somewhere stating that on the day Bad finally swears, the world as humanity knows it would come to an end.

Sometime after the Crimsonpocalypse, someone finds this. And, seeing as how the last time bad swore was when his father arrived, they have made it one of their main concerns to keep Bad from swearing.

Every time Quackity, Tommy or someone else tries to get Bad to swear, this person gets a mini heart attack.

Bad is extremely oblivious to the reason as to why this person has suddenly started following him around a lot more often.

It's Crumb

Crumb found the prophecy please let's make it Crumb

-💮

22 notes - Posted March 13, 2022

#3

See the full post

28 notes - Posted January 3, 2022

#2

The longest amount of time 5up has ever been able to keep a plant alive was in college. He made sure to check exactly what that kind of plant needed. It had the right kind of soil. He had a little lamp set up on a timer to make sure it got just enough light. He checked its soil every day, watering it whenever it was dry and only when it was dry. His roommate thought he was crazy. It was just a jade plant. They’re pretty difficult to kill. (5up informed his roommate that he was fairly certain that he was cursed).

Somehow, against all odds, 5up managed to keep the darn thing alive… up until the end of the first semester. He wasn’t even sure what he did. He’d stayed up all night the night before studying, and had still been doing fine then. Admittedly, he hadn’t checked it that morning in the rush to get out the door to his physics exam, but… Point is, it was dead by the time he got back. (5up’s roommate now fully believes him about the curse. I mean, how the heck do you kill a jade plant? On top of that, none of their potted plants have been doing so great lately…)

Doc has a fairly sizable hydroponics setup in his lab bunker. Said hydroponics set up is in a room adjacent to the main lab, with a huge (bulletproof, obviously, given the rest of the security in the place) window instead of a wall, so you can see the plants. When the Crimsonpocalypse hit, Fundy’s first sign that anything was wrong was seeing every single plant in the hydroponics room wither and die at once. Then he looked over at 5up. His eyes were glowing subtly and his burgundy sweater had turned grey.

-🤺

GAHHHHHHHHHHHHHGGGGGG

-💮

35 notes - Posted January 7, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

After Bad and Skeppy got together, the rest of the Titans, HIVE, etc., are left to figure out who won the betting pool. (This much is already canon). It was Karl, but he got so many specifics correct that he was disqualified for using time travel to cheat.

-🤺

The runner up was Fundy no one knows how

-💮

40 notes - Posted February 3, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

[maddmuses]

“There’s something your not telling me… and I want you to admit it.” There was a rare stern tone to Izumi’s voice. Maybe not rare rare… but there was a new level added to it, as Amber eyes stared into obsidian. For the first time in her life… she didn’t trust him. @musesofchaos (me who just skimmered over the hokage AU… I’m already invested 👀 also thank you for the follow!)

One of the fundamental shinobi disciplines was to be able to craft believable, sometimes intricate, sometimes with multiple layers, falsehoods. Though Itachi had the practical ability to do so reliably, and had executed it many times. But even he had his blind-spots.

Izumi was one of the big ones, though unlike Sasuke who he might drop a cryptic hint to, there was often a pained look on his face.

Though the official story of the fire outside of the Uchiha's part of the village had been part of an enemy assault, a great accident that killed many of their clan's elders, he'd known the truth. Though it'd only been a few weeks by that point, he couldn't help but feel a pain in his chest each time he looked at Izumi, Sasuke, or any of his other compatriots.

Her confrontation of him was only natural, and as her gaze met his, the young clan head, recently instated, set the book he'd been reading down.

"... I'm sure you're observant enough to have figured it out by now," Itachi's voice not totally steady as he began the explanation, taking a deep breath before continuing, "but the reality is there was no foreign attack on our clan."

Hand gripping tightly, enough to start to hurt, Itachi pressed on with the explanation, "After Shunsui killed himself, elder Danzo told me to kill our entire clan. But Lord Third and I..." Would he mention Kakashi? It seemed like there was already a bias against the man within the clan, so maybe it was best to protect his identity, "We organized a strike team because, my father and the elders were planning to attack Konoha."

"They wanted to abduct Sasuke's classmate, Naruto, because," he paused. Dare he break the law? He knew there was some degree of judicious consideration to specific cases, but was this worth it? "he's a jinchuriki, and hosts the 9-tailed fox spirit. My father wanted to use his mangekyou sharingan, and mine, to control the fox. It was part of some great revenge against the Senju clan and the village our clans built together. They wanted to repeat the attack from a few years ago."

"So I killed them. My parents, your parents. Every elder who was a conspirator to the attack. I'm not sure if there were others, but all of the adults who died that night? It was either me, or Lord Third, or another of our countrymen."

He tried hard to fight back a pain in his chest as he confessed to, what the young jonin felt like, was murder. His father's back had been turned, and the other elders had not been expecting to be attacked by other knoha shinobi. A tear welled into his left eye unwillingly, one he quickly moved to clear, though the evidence was already there. Even if admitting to this was a somewhat cathartic feeling, in all the same moment his heart felt this overwhelming rush as he relieved himself of some of the weight of his guilt.

@musesofchaos

[mrsgojosatoru]

The funny thing you are missing is Amber Heard is the abuser, she has repeatedly been violent and instigated fights. You can hear in the audio. There’s plenty of evidence. Even before she was with Depp of her violent streak. She also has some mental health issues that have been brought up. She needs to be taking medication for. It’s actually quite disrespectful for her to claim she’s a victim when she’s the one who’s been abusing and being physically violent with people. It’s all just very sad. She even mocked JD saying no one would believe him if he ever tried to come forward. She is only giving a bad rep and making it harder for those who actually go through these kinds of things. She’s been caught in a lie many many times. It’s very obvious that its premeditated.

And JFK is going to come back any day now and put Trump back in his rightful spot in the presidency.

I'm really sorry school has failed you so much that you fell for an online smear campaign without looking at any of the other evidence. You should work on your media literacy skills.

Amber did what is called reactive violence, this is not uncommon in abuse. Amber did not have the power to abuse her older, heterosexual, wealthy, famous husband. An expert witness just testified the other day about this. How much of the trial have you watched? Or are you just regurgitating an a smear campaign from Adam Waldman in my inbox?

Anyways her partner claimed that report was filled due to homophobia.

Amber was diagnosed with BPD and the defunct histrionic personality by a doctor wined and dined by Depp who talked to her for 12 hours. Other doctors have diagnosed her with PTSD and Battered Wife Syndrome. But I should stress even if Amber does have BPD to use that against her as a sign she is an abuser is gross and ableist.

That audio of her "mocking" D*pp is a clip taken out of context and passed around the internet as part of a smear campaign orchestrated by Adam Waldman. (Who btw has ties to Russians oligarchs who likely spread disinformation about the 2016 election.) The clip cuts off before she goes “Because you’re big, you’re bigger and you’re stronger. And so, when I say that I thought that you could kill me, that doesn’t mean you counter with you also lost your own finger. I’m not trying to attack you here. I’m just trying to point out the fact of why I said call 911. Because you had your hands on me after you threw a phone at my face. And it’s got crazy in the past, and I truly thought I need to stop this madness before I get hurt.” 

You're really going to tell me the pictures, witness testimony, videos of johnny breaking stuff, expert testimony on IPV, the fact that johnny just got caught in a lie about his finger yesterday, the misogynistic text messages, and the fact that a judge ruled in the UK that amber was abused all is just what? A lie?

For that to be true, Amber would have had to been plotting this and faking this since she started dating D*pp. Diary entries, emails, text messages, fake photos, getting people who aren't even her friends anymore to keep lying for her. For what? 7 million dollars? When she was entitled to over 30 million? Like what's the pay off? SO she could have people attacking her every single day, calling her a gold digger and a liar and amber turd, and a psychopath. Like what was the fucking benefit to do all that?

For Johnny to have abused her a man with a history of violence would just have to have used his power to abuse his much younger wife.

Amy Dunne isn't real, Harvey Weinstein is.

Anyways get better soon bestie, and brush up on your media literacy skills. Maybe stop getting all your news from tiktok memes. We've got an election coming up in 2 years and at this rate it'll be so easy for Trump to pull another misinformation campaign on ya'll. I mean that's who's pushing all these anti-amber heard stories on social media anyways.

[peachyyykid]

Deceivers Ch. 11 - Revenge

Word Count: 4089

Chapter 10 - Parting

Chapter 12 - Daytrip (nsfw)

Disclaimer! tw: y/n is having a panic attack

As someone who experienced panic attacks before, I realised that writing one invested me a lot emotionally. If a detailed description of a panic attack triggers you, you might want to skip that part. Also, everyone experiences them differently and coping mechanism differ as well. Just remember that all of these experiences are valid and that you are loved! :)

---

"Kid!"

You didn't question the urge to run into his arms, but you didn't expect him to catch you either. But he did, and as his non-metallic arm pulled you into his chest, you felt something you hadn't felt in a very long time: safety.

You clawed at his fur coat, muffling your sobs with the soft fabric.

"What did he do to you?", he whispered into your ear lowly, while his angry eyes never left Deku, who was scrambling around on the floor with his trousers undone.

"G-get off my ship, p-pirate scum", he stuttered, visibly scared of the huge pirate that just sent his door flying.

"I will", Kid snarled at him, "but you're joining us."

And with that he extended his metal arm by adding more and more random metal, grabbing Deku's throat. He tried to get away, but to no avail. Kid strengthened his grip and he let out a gargling sound, kicking his legs in the air.

The redhead spun Deku around and hurled him right through the empty doorframe towards his ship. Killer was waiting on the other side and knew exactly what to do. He caught the flying man (who was looking awfully pale) and slammed him down on the deck. You heard a faint scream in the distance, right after Deku's body hit the ship.

After making sure that Deku couldn't run away, Kid looked down at you, wiping away your tears with his rough fingers. He had let go of all the metal, but his eyes were still angry as he took in as much of your face as possible.

"Tell me what happened", he whispered in a commanding tone, and you sniffled before you spoke.

"W-we fought, and he said awful things to me, and then he tried to rape me and he... he had my parents killed. K-kid, he's responsible for all this. He killed my parents!"

You started sobbing desperately again and your knees felt weak. They gave in and you sunk towards the floor, but Kid picked you up. He pressed your trembling body against his and held you safely while he jumped aboard his own ship, the cold air cooling your tear-stained face.

Deku was trembling as well, but for different reasons. Killer was towering over him with his arms crossed and the rest of the crew was shooting him intense, blood-lusting glares. No one in this world would want to swap with him.

Kid landed and gently placed you on the deck. You slumped down to your knees immediately, staring into the distance with blurry eyes. The sun was setting already, painting the sky in beautiful red and orange hues. It would have been a wonderful start into a new life, but Deku took all that from you. Your body felt weak and lifeless, your arms hanging down your sides.

Kid kneeled down in front of your trembling frame and looked at Deku, who was sitting a few metres away from you. He was whimpering pathetically, looking for a possibility to flee, as if Killer would let him.

"Wire, take some men and ransack the ship. Then sink it", Kid commanded.

"Roger, Captain", Wire's calm voice answered, and he and most of the guys entered Deku's ship.

Then his face turned back to you. He gingerly took your jaw in his big hand and brushed your cheek with his thumb, just like he did in that one night.

"Look at me", his rough voice told you, and you obeyed.

Seeing your puffy eyes and your tear-stained face awakened something deep inside of him, and he wanted to destroy whatever was causing you this kind of pain. You looked at him like he was the only one who could make it all better, and he understood, his face absolutely serious.

"Angel. I want to hear it from you."

His amber eyes bored into yours. They were full of rage, but not because of you.

"Do you want me to kill him?"

Killing was wrong. No matter what kinds of horrible things someone had done, killing wasn't the answer. That's what a previous version of you would have said. But looking at Deku, you only saw a monster. A deceiving monster that had dared to take your life into his hands. You wanted to hurt him like he hurt you, he didn't deserve forgiveness.

Kid knew exactly that you couldn't do it yourself, so he had asked you if you wanted him to do it for you. And you really wanted it. There was not even a hint of compassion that you could spare for this man.

You looked at him, his eyes were pleading with you. Kid had asked you to make a decision. You could easily show mercy and say no. Deku mumbled apologies directed at you, rambling about how he shouldn't have overreacted and that he would treat you well as a mistress.

With empty eyes and the calmest expression on your face, you took in the satisfying sight of Deku shaking with fear.

"Yes."

It was merely a whisper, but everyone on the ship was silent. The only sound to be heard was Deku's pathetic whimpering. You didn't take your eyes off him, not even when Kid stood up slowly, revealing his full height again. The setting sun stretched his shadow, and it swallowed Deku's body whole.

Kid slipped off his coat and put it over your sunken shoulders without saying a word.

His shadow was coming closer to Deku with every heavy step he took, and he anxiously scrambled away from him, only to bump into Killer's legs. He was cornered between the two men, and he yelped in fear when Kid took the shiny knife out of his bandolier.

The knife fell, and Deku probably thought that Kid had dropped it by accident, because his eyes widened, and he opened his mouth when the knife didn't hit the ground. It hovered under his chin instead, the blade forcing him to look up at Kid.

"W-what kind of magic is that?", Deku screeched.

"It's a devil's fruit you moron", Killer mumbled and shook his head in dismay.

"I'm just making sure that you know who's the boss around here", Kid growled and pushed the blade a little further into Deku's skin, drawing a thin line of blood.

"I really wonder what she saw in you", he scoffed.

"P-please I will do anything... y-you can have the 15 million b-berry! You can have e-everything, just let me live!", Deku pleaded, trying to grab Kid's trousers. He looked up at him with doe eyes, in a futile attempt to gain his pity.

Kid bared his teeth and kicked off Deku's hands as if his futility was contagious, while an array of swords gathered behind his tall figure. They hovered in the air, framing Kid to make him look even more dangerous.

"You're not even worth listening to. Just by looking at your stupid face I can feel the wretchedness trying to rub off on me", Kid growled.

His signature smirk was back, and with a flick of his hand, all the sword's blades turned towards Deku. They made a clunking sound that filled the silent air and seeing their reflection in your glassy eyes gave Kid the final push.

With another flick of his hand, each and every of the swords sped towards Deku's trembling body, swallowing his cries for mercy.

He screamed in pain and desperately tried to protect his body, but there were just too many blades impaling him. They pinned him to the ground in an upright position, covering him in his own blood. His breathing became more and more shallow, and he looked at you with pain-filled eyes.

You watched the sight like in a trance. You felt inner peace for a split second, but then

nothing.

Nothing at all. It was gruesome to look at, but it didn't bother you the slightest.

With wheezing breaths, Deku's life ended in front of your eyes and your face didn't show any signs of remorse.

"Feed him to the fish", Kid growled and then blocked the space between you and Deku's body so you couldn't see him anymore.

You snapped out of your trance and realised what had just happened. It was good that you didn't see your ex-fiancé's dead body anymore because your stone-cold facade might have faltered.

Kid kneeled down in front of you again and you finally looked at his face. His frown was back, but his eyes were almost too soft for someone who just murdered a man without hesitation.

"Thank you", you mumbled flatly, but he didn't say anything.

"I'm going to take a bath", you added instead, sounding absent. Your body was there, but you felt like your soul was just hovering over it. The bath didn't actually matter, you just wanted to get away.

You tried to get up, but your legs were still too shaky. Kid was watching you for a few seconds, huffing at the fact that you couldn't take even a single step without tumbling over.

Suddenly, Kid flung you over his shoulders without a warning, ignoring your shriek.

He just scoffed and carried you to the cabin's bathroom, placing you in the empty bathtub. You raised an eyebrow at him when he sat down on the toilet, making no move to leave the room.

"I'm really thankful that you took revenge on my fiancé for me, but that doesn't mean you can watch me bath... naked...", you said quietly.

"There's no fiancé anymore. You're single and I saw your tits already", he smirked.

Although you couldn't deny that, it wasn't the best time to point it out and no excuse to creep on you in the bath.

"That's not the point."

"Then leave on your underwear, but I'm talking to you right here and now", he demanded with a growl, and you were too worn out to discuss and you knew that he wasn't really the patient type anyways.

Your gut didn't give you any warning signals either, so you just rolled your eyes and slipped of your shirt, shoes, and socks. The bra that Charlos had given you didn't cover anything and didn't give you any hold, so you had gotten rid of it immediately. Once your training had started, you made your own bra out of bandages from the infirmary, so this was what you were wearing at the moment.

Not ideal, but better than being naked.

You let the water run into the bathtub under Kid's watchful eyes, and when it was half full and after you put a nice foamy soap into it, you realised that you could have taken a bath later, after Kid was done talking to you. But it was too late for that now.

You watched the foam floating around on the surface for a second, thinking about the events of today with a frown.

"Where do you think you're going next?"

His question caught you of guard and you blinked some tears away that you couldn't really prevent from building up.

"I don't know. I need to see my brother."

What happened with Deku today absolutely destroyed your chance to be reunited with Tenmon and it became painfully clear to you right now.

"And where do you think you're staying until you find him?"

"I don't know", you said again.

He was quiet for a second and then displayed his signature smirk.

"If I promise you to help you find your brother, you will stay on the Victoria Punk as our doctor."

You shot him a sudden look and raised an eyebrow. Why did he offer you so much help out of the blue? Suspicion rose in you, and you narrowed your eyes.

He just scoffed in response.

"That's it, sweetheart. There's no catch. I will protect you until you find him, and you'll protect my crew in return."

You thought about his offer. If there was no catch, you could only win. And you had to be honest with yourself, there was no way you would even last a day in the New World on your own.

He held out his hand and you looked at it before you slowly put yours in his. Your hand was tiny compared to his, and you studied all the calluses and the roughness on them. It was obvious that he had worked hard with these hands, and it just added to the fascination that you already felt for him.

Suddenly, as soon as his hand enclosed yours, he pulled you towards him harshly. The water splashed against the edges of the tub and Kid's grip was strong around your hand. You let out a startled yelp and to your dismay, you felt your face redden.

His face was so close to yours now. It had become a familiar feeling to you, just like the smell of expensive rum, mint, and metal. He licked his lips and pulled you even closer. Your tits were pressed against his hard chest, and he placed his mouth next to your ear.

"We're gonna be a great team", he purred into your ear lowly, his breath tickling your neck.

You prayed that he didn't see that you had goosebumps all over your body. Your face felt so hot that you were sure you looked like a tomato and a tingling feeling spread from your chest to your stomach, to your crotch, and even into your thighs.

What the fuck is that?

Who were you kidding, you weren't stupid and not as innocent as Deku and your parents had wanted you to be. Just because you never experienced lust, didn't mean you wouldn't recognise the feeling if it ever came. You were sure that this was it, but why today and why with Kid?

He leaned back and your heart told you to pull him back, but the rational part of your brain interfered, so you just sat in the tub dumbfounded.

His smirk didn't falter, and something told you that he knew what an effect he just had on you. How embarrassing, you thought and slowly turned around, facing the wall.

He chuckled and finally left the room, and once the door was closed you took of the makeshift bra and let yourself slip under the water surface, mentally cursing yourself and Kid until you had to come up for air.

You stayed in the bathtub for as long as you could justify, to avoid Kid. You hoped that he was either not in his room, or already fast asleep. You dried yourself extra slowly and scolded yourself for not having asked Killer for another shirt.

You tried to put on the white button-down but as soon as the material touched your skin you had memories of Deku leaning over you and pinning you down flashing through your mind. You shuddered and bile rose up in your throat.

You looked at the shirt and felt new anger and sorrow in your heart. With gritted teeth and a frown, you pulled on the sleeves as hard as you could and ripped the shirts to shreds. Seeing the heap of white cotton pieces gave you a small feeling of victory. You couldn't let a dead Deku control you like that.

After putting the bandages around your chest again, you took a deep breath and slowly opened the door to the bedroom.

Kid's back was turned towards the room, and he was breathing steadily, probably meaning that he was sleeping. As quiet as possible, you made your way to his desk. There must have been a place where he stored his clothes, but the desk was really the only option in this room. Actually, thinking about it, you had never seen him with a shirt on.

You carefully pulled out one of the bigger drawers and to your surprise, you saw a few neatly folded shirts in there. All black.

I bet Killer folded these...

You grabbed the first one and couldn't resist taking it up to your face. It smelled as you expected: Fresh laundry and metal. It smelled comfortable.

You shook your head rapidly and slipped the shirt over your head. You looked absolutely lost in it, but it would do for sleeping.

On tiptoes, you neared the bed and slipped under the covers. You didn't feel the need to roll one of the blankets into a sausage anymore, and you looked at the ceiling wondering why. So many thoughts were ghosting around in your head...

Why do I trust him all of a sudden?

Just because he killed someone who did me wrong?

He didn't just do me wrong though, he literally had my parents killed.

But still, why would Kid kill him? There's no personal gain for him.

Why is he so keen on helping me lately?

What's in it for him?

Does he still hate me? He's still complicated, but it feels different.

He could have done unspeakable things to me the last week, but he didn't.

Don't even get me started on the other night... or today.

How he touched me. Like I'm precious.

I haven't felt precious in such a long time.

And why do I get butterflies when he touches me?

Why the fuck did I feel lust when he touched me tonight?

Oh my God, what on earth is wrong with me?

Your eyes widened almost comically when another thought hit you.

Do I like him?

You covered your face with your hands and tried not to scream into the quiet room. You gave yourself a small slap, but you couldn't deny that Kid was... interesting. He definitely was, but that didn't mean that you liked him.

Yes. Yes, that's the point. He's interesting, but that's it. It's just a very stressful time I'm going through. Of course I would feel fascinated by someone like him.

You sighed in content. You found an explanation that was fitting your narrative.

The mattress shifted abruptly, and your heart jumped, thinking that Kid was awake. But he had just turned around and his face seemed peaceful, the kind of peaceful look that one could only have while sleeping.

You couldn't turn your face away without studying his. You took in the sight of his sharp features and his fluffy, red hair. It fell on his forehead because it wasn't held up by his goggles, making him look a little younger. It was refreshing to see him without his furrowed brows.

You couldn't resist the urge to take a strand of his hair into your hand. You never touched it before, and it was just as soft as it looked.

It was also the first time that you could look at him without him noticing. There was no smirk, no angry eyes or frown.

He didn't look like a pirate anymore, just like a young man. He almost looked vulnerable, and you realised that he must have seen a lot. You wondered about his motivations to become a pirate and if all the things he had experienced left marks on him, inside and outside.

Like you said, he was fascinating.

You watched him breathing calmly, the blanket raising and lowering in a steady pace. It hit you like a brick.

"You saved me so many times", you whispered so quietly that he couldn't wake up from it.

You were right when you thought that killing Deku had no personal gain for him. He could have taken his ship and his belongings anyways, but he made sure that you decided Deku's fate and then acted accordingly.

It was a twisted sense of justice, but you had to admit that you didn't care.

It had been another hard day that left you absolutely drained. The knowledge about the circumstances of your parent's death scooched in between the thoughts about Kid and became prevalent.

You never got to say goodbye and they died without knowing what had happened to you. They never got the chance to see Deku's real face. You regretted not telling them about the conversation in the garden back then, maybe everything would be okay right now. Deku's words were ringing in your ears.

You chose to disrespect me that night, so I made you pay.

Yes, your parents wouldn't have backed out of the marriage deal. Deku had them wrapped around his fingers. He had buttered them up completely to make sure that anything you would say about him would fall on deaf ears.

You tried to steady your breathing when you felt hot tears forming in the corners of your eyes. The insufferable feeling of guilt washed over your whole body. Throughout your childhood you had learned how to speak to a future husband, and if you hadn't decided to throw all that courtesy stuff overboard at some point, your parents would still be alive. Of course, your life with Deku would have been horrible, but at least your family could have been happy.

Screw you for becoming your own person with your own wishes and morals.

Deep down you knew that it wasn't your fault, but the guilt felt so strong. It was crushing you, causing you to question every decision you ever made.

Suddenly, your heartbeat was picking up. It happened so rapidly that you were scared it would rip your chest open, so you clutched at your shirt and pressed your hand down. But feeling your speeding heartbeat like this made it even worse. It made your chest hurt like someone had punched you. It tightened and it was becoming gradually harder to breathe, a lump of suppressed tears forming in your throat. Your body felt hot, and you couldn't move, only shake. Your eyes darted around frantically and breathing felt more like choking. You wanted to get up, get fresh air or a glass of water to calm you down, but you were losing control over your body. Wheezing breaths mixed with the sound of quiet sobbing, while your vision blurred. Every cell in your body was screaming for help. You tried to get at least some air into your lungs, but it felt like they had shrivelled up.

You weren't in the right headspace to think anything of Kid opening his eyes suddenly, now looking at your shaking body while you still fought for air, your sobbing and whimpering filling the room. He let out a low growl and moved his hand towards you.

You tensed up immediately but surprisingly, his touch didn't scare you at all. As soon as he saw that you didn't flinch, he grabbed the small of your back and pulled you into his chest, enclosing your trembling body with both of his arms.

"Breathe with me", was all he said.

Your chest was flush against his and you could feel how he inhaled and exhaled slowly, in a steady pace. His heartbeat was calm, and you tried to concentrate on his breathing, mentally counting the intervals between each breath.

After a few more ragged breaths, your heartbeat synchronised with his and you followed his breathing pattern. You were still shaking a little, but the scariest part was overcome. Soon, the sobbing died down as well.

With each inhale and exhale you got calmer, and soon you felt like you were in control of your own body again. Hesitantly, you wrapped your arms around Kid's body as a silent thank you.

He stiffened but didn't push you away. He expected you to let go at some point, but you didn't. You didn't want to. You experienced the same feeling as earlier this evening when he held you after saving you from Deku. It was a comfortable feeling of absolute safety, like nothing in this world could do you any harm.

You wanted more of this feeling, so you kicked off your blanket and went under his instead, entangling your legs with his. He let out a breath he had been holding and snuck his other arm around your head to place his hand on it, brushing your hair with his thumb.

There was no empty space between the two of you, but at this very moment this was exactly what you needed. You forgot about all the pain and guilt in his embrace and enjoyed the comfortable feeling of warmth and safety.

It didn't take him long to fall asleep again, and you followed soon after.

Memories of the last week rushed through your mind and you realised that being here wasn't all that bad.

[queensoybean0724]

Succession Chapter 18 (Karl Heisenberg/female reader) Resident Evil Village fanfic

Title: Succession Chapter 18

Characters: Karl Heisenberg, female reader

Rating: NC-17 for sex and language (soft sex, P in V, unprotected sex *wrap it up, kids*)

Summary: you discover a long lost relative has died and made you his sole beneficiary.  While flying to collect your inheritance, you crash in a village in Romania.

Author’s Note: I do not own the characters from Resident Evil Village.  This is a work of fiction.  Anything remotely similar to anyone living or dead is purely coincidental.

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter 18

Heisenberg laid on his stomach with his arms pushed underneath his pillow.  He closed his eyes, inhaling and exhaling slowly, his face turned towards you.  The crackling of the fire sounded from the hearth.  The sheets sat over his body from the waist down.  

He smiled at the feel of your fingertips skating along his back.  You laid on your side, your head resting on your arm.  A heavy blanket covered you from the waist down.  You weren’t as used to the cold as Heisenberg.  Your gaze took in his back, his biceps, his mussed hair falling around his face, and the peaceful expression on his features.

“Your fingers on my skin are so relaxing…” Heisenberg murmured.  You smiled at his words.  The man probably didn’t know much peace in a place like this.  His constant work in the factory, hours and hours working on his army in order to carry out revenge on the woman who took him from his family...you wondered how much sleep he allowed himself before you came along.

“Are all of your scars from years of working in the factory?” you asked, trailing your index and middle finger down the thick scar tissue on his bicep.  Heisenberg opened his eyes and looked at you.  You were focused on his skin, your touches light and soft.  

The question brought back memories...memories of a day that felt long ago but also seemed so recent.

“Some of them are,” he replied, “working with metal, tools, jagged scrap metal.  But most of them are from something else…”

You sensed the unease of his answer and how he was careful with how it was worded.  “You don’t have to tell me if it’s personal or too difficult,” you said, your hand moving up to pull the hair away from his face.  

Heisenberg’s gaze looked over your features.  You smiled softly and it was like a rusted knife in his heart.  Your eyes on his made him want to look elsewhere or turn his face away.  He felt happy with you, happy for the first time in years...for the first time since…

“About thirty years ago, I fell in love with a girl who lived in the village.  She and her family had fled from Bosnia before the conflict started in 1992.  They settled here.  Her father was a painter...her mother a schoolteacher.  I was walking through the village and saw her gathering eggs from her family’s chickens...I fell in love with her the moment I saw her…”

You listened intently, intrigued by the way he described the girl.  He looked as if it was the first time he had thought of or spoken of her in a long while.

“...I didn’t speak of her to Miranda or the others, but they started to become suspicious of my absence.  We kept it a secret from her family as well.  She would sneak away, come here to be with me…”  

He didn’t say the words, but the silence spoke volumes.  A sliver of jealousy pricked at your heart knowing that he probably fucked her in this same room as he did with you.  But you pushed your feelings aside.  It was naive to think that he never had a lover in all of the years he had been alive.

“...when Miranda’s experiments began to increase and she took more and more of the villagers, I begged the girl to hide here with me, but she wouldn’t leave her family.  She tried to warn them, but their faith in Miranda was unwavering…”

You knew that this story wouldn’t have a happy ending.  The village was now desolate and empty.  Lycans ran wild.  Aside from Heisenberg, Miranda, and his siblings, there wasn’t anyone left.  Anxiety slowly rose in your stomach as you continued to listen.

“...Miranda took her family one by one...saved her for last.  I ran to her house to bring her back here, but the place was empty.  By the time I got to the ceremony site, Miranda had infected her with the Cadou…”

You released the breath you didn’t know you had been holding.  Your fingers held his bicep, gripping tighter and tighter as the story continued.  “What did it do to her?” you asked.

“She laid there unconscious,” Heisenberg answered, “I thought she was dead.  She was cold to the touch and her skin was pale...but then she opened her eyes.  Those beautiful eyes of hers...there was no trace of her left.  The Cadou...it turned her into a lycan.  She changed so fast.  Her teeth and claws cut through my clothes and into my skin.  I pushed her away, but she jumped on me and continued to attack me.  She swiped at my face, cut across my nose...she almost gouged my eye out.  Miranda and the others simply stood back and watched.  The more I tried to subdue her and press her to the ground, the more violent she became.  She was gone...and I didn’t have a choice…”

Tears threatened your eyes.  “You killed her…”

“Yeah.  I snapped her neck...she went limp instantly.  All I could do was hold her, rock her in my arms...tell her I was sorry.  Miranda looked defeated, not because the girl had died, but because the Cadou failed.  I looked to Miranda and she simply shook her head and walked away…”

Your heart broke for Heisenberg.  “I’m so sorry, Karl,” you whispered.

Heisenberg rolled onto his side and faced you.  “Moreau followed me back here and patched me up.  Sowed the deep cuts and dressed my wounds.  When he was done, all I did was tell him to get the fuck out...I didn’t even thank him…”

You moved closer, pressing your body to his, and softly kissed his cheek.  “So that is the real reason why you didn’t want me to leave...if Miranda finds me, she’ll experiment on me, too…”

“Yes,” he replied gruffly, “I won’t put you through that.  You mean too much to me…”

You looked into Heisenberg’s eyes, your lips parting slightly.  “I mean something to you?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

He lifted his hand and softly caressed your cheek, his gaze fused to yours.  “Yes.  Y/N...I’m falling in love with you…”

Your breath was lodged in your chest.  Time seemed to stop.  The cold wasn’t as intense anymore.  The sentiment you felt towards him had just slipped past his lips.  You smiled softly.

“Karl...I’m falling in love with you, too…”

The edges of his mouth curled into a sincere smile.  His amber eyes were warm and tender.  This moment must have been the first time in a long time, perhaps the first time in thirty years, that he felt love.  His stubbornness and rigid manner when it came to you and keeping you in the factory were clear.  He wanted to keep you safe.  He wanted to right the wrong he made all those years ago.

Heisenberg’s lips pressed to yours softly.  His arm wrapped around your body, his hand pressing to your back, pulling you against him.  Your arms wrapped around his neck as you rolled to your back, pulling him on top of you.

He moaned as he felt your legs part.  His body molded to yours perfectly.  You released a shaky breath as his lips trailed across your cheek and down your jaw.  

Solitude was something you had become accustomed to over the years.  It had become so common that you forgot just how painful loneliness felt.  That pain had dulled and transformed into something familiar and regular with each passing day, month, and year.  You had long forgotten that it wasn’t normal to feel that way.

Heisenberg knew solitude just as much as you.

“Karl…” you moaned, arching into his body.  His lips trailed down your neck and to your breasts.  His mouth worshipped your soft flesh.  You felt his cock slowly harden between your legs and it made you wet.

“I need you, Y/N,” he growled between your breasts.  You spread your legs wider and rolled your hips.

“Yes,” you whispered.

He reached for his dick and slowly pushed inside of you.

Heisenberg’s mouth went to your ear and he grunted softly with every thrust.  Your arms held him close to your body, his skin pressed to yours.  His body rocked with yours, his touches and kisses soft and intimate.  Your head pushed back into the pillow, feeling his cock pulsing inside of you.  

“Y/N...oh fuck...yes…” he moaned into your neck, his arms holding you tight.  His hips began to thrust faster, the soft and sweet movements becoming hurried and passionate.  You lifted your legs higher and circled them around his waist.  His teeth nibbled at your skin and his tongue licked along the marks they left behind.

“Karl...Karl...please make me cum…” you begged, your fingers digging into his back.  The bed creaked as he thrusted harder.  His right hand moved to your lower back, pulling you closer, making you arch upwards into his body.  Tears slid from the corners of your eyes, his mouth and hands worshipping you in ways you only dreamed of.

“I love you, Y/N…” he whispered gruffly into your ear, “...cum for me...cum for me…”

His words pulled your orgasm to the forefront.  You held onto his bucking body tightly, feeling the skin of his groin rubbing back and forth along your clit.  Tossing your head back, you screamed his name again and again as you came.  Heisenberg was desperately barreling his length into you as you yelled for him.  With a guttural growl, burying his face into your neck, he emptied his cum inside of you.

In a tangle of arms and legs, the both of you continued to slide against one another, your orgasms subsiding.  You smiled as you felt Heisenberg’s full lips kiss along your shoulder and collarbone.  The tickle of his beard and the soft aftershocks made you quiver underneath him.  His tongue licked from your chest, up your neck, and to your waiting mouth.  The kiss was soft, deep, and probing.  He kissed you in a way that could only be described as heavenly.

“I won’t let her take you from me,” Heisenberg whispered against your lips, “I’ll die before that bitch lays one hand on you…”