#and the poorly made rain

[peacherweasel]

Poorly made meme (Originally was a joke between me & one of my friends on Discord)

[sys-garden]

I love heavy rain, is heavy rain good? uhhhhhhh kinda

[ourladyoftheflytrap]

Mom called me a shitty roommate today bc after months of her telling me to rent a uhaul (too young to do so) and then flaking out on me whenever I asked her if we could it on x day, I gave up on trying to get my bf's heavy TV and dresser and ordered a mountable tv, instead of buying more storage totes so that I could add to the ever increasing stack of totes in our guest bedroom

[kinou]

people left really kind and thoughtful tags on my art and it pulled me out of a days-long funk ;u;

[archersgoon]

tawny man finished. started cheering wildly when patience showed up. other than that i think i will need to reflect awhile before i have anything coherent to say

[4typercent]

Makes me think of 1998 Godzilla

[un-fwuit-un-fwog]

Sometimes, crying is the strong thing.

Part eight of The Rain series

Synopsis: Jamil and Kamil visit The Prefect in the infirmary after Ramchackle's collapse.

TW: Kalim is ooc(? (Personally I think it's just a side of his character we haven't seen), the usual for this series ig

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8 (here), Part 9 (coming soon), . . .

After Idia's visit, you were given another period of rest. The reason was given as not wanting to make you too exhausted with too many consecutive visits in a short period of time.

Your first visitor after your rest period was Jamil.

You didn't even notice him enter. You were only alerted to his presence when the savory scent of a homecooked meal wafted into your nose.

You tilted your head to look at him and were met with the boy's ever-stoic expression. "I know you like that one dish I make, so I crafted up a version of it that would be easier to digest and not too rough on your stomach." He set the insulated bag on your nightstand as he spoke.

You had been given longer to recover than last time, so by now your throat was doing much better. It wasn't in tip-top shape, but it was better: good enough for you to have simple conversations. "Thank you, Jamil." your voice was raspy from misuse and hardly recognizable as your own.

"There's no need to thank me. It was a simple task." Jamil brushes off your thanks and takes a seat in the chair next to your bed. "Kalim will be coming tomorrow, although, I'm sure you've already been informed."

You nod softly at his words. "I was surprised to see his visit listed as after yours."

Jamil's mouth forms a firm line: "Yes, well, this isn't a scenario I was willing to put myself after him in."

His words were spoken in his usual, nonchalant tone, but the significance of them wasn't lost on you. "I'm proud." you smile.

Jamil simply scoffs before taking the bag off your nightstand and pulling out a thermos. "I heard you can't eat on your own at the moment." he explains as he opens the container and pulls a spoon from the bag. He shifts to take a comfortable position next to you on the bed, being sure to be hyper aware of all of your injuries as he does.

He spends most of his visit feeding you and explaining to you the situation with Ramshackle (only after he made sure you were up to hearing it, of course). After the incident, Kalim had demanded a team be brought in to check the remains of the building for any sign of sabotage. He was worried that after the VDC, someone who may have had it out for him had heard of his stay there and his friendship with you and shifted their target to you. The scene was certainly compromised from the initial rain and the use of Leona's unique magic, but there was still plenty to investigate. The moment the team Kalim hired showed up a barrier was put over the scene to prevent any further damage (a spell all the teachers made sure to learn from them (the rescue would have been easier on everyone (especially you) after all if the rain hadn't been a factor.)) No foul play was found in the typical sense. However, there were many 'repairs' that bordered on malice with how poorly they were done. That and the multitude of complaint letters found in the Headmage's office, proving he was aware of the dire state Ramshackle dorm was in, were used as evidence for his arrest.

There's a moment of silence as Jamil packs the thermos and spoon back into the bag before he speaks: "I'm sorry."

"For what?"

"Many of those letters to the Headmage were from me. I saw the state the dorm was in during the VDC, but I took no action to help you further than simply sending in letters. I'm supposed to be a guard trained for disaster, yet I failed to protect you from one that I so clearly saw coming."

"Jamil-"

"No. Don't. I know what you're thinking. I-. . .I just wanted to get that off my chest." With those words, he abruptly takes your hand, giving it a gentle squeeze, and leaves.

He was right. He was trained to be a guard capable of handling any disaster that came his way. He was trained to keep his demeanor calm so as not to cause any extra stress to a victim. He performed his job beautifully in that aspect.

However, the twitch of his eyes as he left so abruptly and the soft choked sounds coming from the other side of the door didn't escape you.

"I hope you know just how warm your food was. How much it made me feel loved." you mumble. Whether or not your words reach him through the door, you're unsure.

Kalim was indeed next; however unrecognizable he was.

His face lacked its usual cheery charm and was instead overtaken by a seriousness you'd never see in him before.

He walked in and stood next to your bed, examining you. Without a word, he sat a small, safe distance from you on the bed.

Just as you were about to speak, he broke the silence: "My family is covering the legal fees that will come with the court case following Dire Crowley's arrest. I'll make sure you get the justice you deserve."

He spoke so coldly that you had to do a double take to make sure this was really Kalim. You knew that he was touchy on the subject of poison: having had people make attempts on his life in that manner before. You also knew that he was the one who ordered the investigation that got Crowley arrested in the first place, but you hadn't expected this change in demeanor.

"You may think I'm going overboard," he mutters "but as far as I'm concerned, his negligence might as well equate to an attempt on your life. Those deserve to be taken seriously."

His expression is cold, so much so it gives you chills. "Kalim." you whisper.

He cuts you off. "I want to." It's like he read your mind.

He gently brushes your hair out of your face and kisses your forehead. Taking one of your hands in his, he rubs gentle circles on it with his thumb. "Rest." he mumbles.

You can tell that his eyes have begun to water. "Rest with me?"

He's hesitant, but he lays down, keeping his careful distance while still holding your hand. The moment his head hits the pillow he's out like a light. You can only imagine how little sleep he's been getting.

As the tears dribble down his sleeping face, you gently reach out to swipe them away.

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[s6daz]

♰ sevika x f!reader ִ⊹ ࣪ ˖

cw: reconciliation, sevika opening up a little to you, sfw/fluff, sevika letting herself be loved, a lot of love and lesbians being happy, prostitute!reader

note: i had another writing about this, but I decided to make it less sad because lesbians deserve to be happy... still if you want me to publish the other ending (angst) let me know!, by the way this is not corrected...

status: fixed

part one here!

days passed since sevika did not appear again, but her presence left a void that seemed to fill every corner of your life. the lights of the brothel, the constant murmuring, the horrible smell of cigarettes: everything was still there, but you were still trapped in a darkness that did not want to disappear.

one night, while you were waiting for your next client and the wind was blowing through the poorly closed windows with a soft rain that marked a constant rhythm on the glass, the resounding footsteps that you knew well began to sound and nervously you turned towards the door, you could see sevika enters, soaked, with her hair stuck to her face and her eyes lit up looking for something you couldn't guess.

sevika quickly closed the door, she looked at you with slight anguish, silence filled the room and you could see that she was trying to find the right words to break the tension.

"i shouldn't have left like that" she finally spoke in a low voice, as if the whole world could break if she raised her voice "and i shouldn't have said what i said either"

disbelief paralyzed you, but not in the way you expected. you felt upset and frustrated, her sudden appearance after days of being without any sign of her only made you feel smaller and weaker, you didn't know whether to yell at her or collapse in front of her.

"why are you doing this sevika? you go, you come back and you leave me with more questions than answers. if this didn't mean anything to you, why come back?"

"because i'm a mess" she admitted, trying not to look you in the eye with her voice full of honesty that she rarely showed. "because i have never felt this and you are the only thing that matters to me but... also the only thing that scares me"

her words hung in the air like a truth too heavy to go away. sevika’s honesty was like an open wound and although it hurt, it was also what you had been searching for.

"so... don't run away, don't make it more complicated. i'm not asking you to be perfect, sevika. i'm not either... i just want to be something else in your life, something more than a sex worker" you said taking a step towards her.

she looked up at you and for the first time you saw something different in her eyes: vulnerability. it was like she was torn between her instinct to escape or her desire to stay.

"i don't know how to do this" she whispered softly, "i'm afraid i'm not what you're looking for," she admitted so quickly that maybe in another situation you would have been surprised, but here you could only feel happy that he was saying what she thinks and feels, even if it's a little.

you took a deep breath, allowing her words to hang in the air for a few seconds before answering. you didn't want to rush, you didn't want to invalidate her vulnerability with an impulsive response.

“sevika…” you whispered, searching her eyes. “you don’t have to be someone else with me. all i want is you, just the way you are.”

for a moment, sevika looked at you doubtfully as if trying to decide whether she was capable of taking the step she so feared. and then, as if something inside her gave way, she took your hand.

"i don't promise to be easy" her murmured, her voice low and hoarse.

"i don't need you to be" you replied, holding his hand tenderly, bringing it to the corner of your lips and leaving a soft kiss. "i just need you to stay with me..."

and for the first time, sevika was able to get a weight off her shoulders, always tense as if they carried the weight of the world, seemed to relax as she released a sigh that seemed to contain years of silences and burdens. without saying another word she sat down with you on the bed, letting himself fall gently.

with a shy gesture, but full of intention, her took your face in her hands, caressing your cheeks with her thumbs while she looked at you with a mixture of vulnerability and devotion. her lips sought yours, meeting them in a slow kiss, full of contained emotion.

you got closer, regardless of the trail of rain that left her wet clothes, your fingers slid down his arm until they rested on her chest, feeling the beating of her heart, strong and sincere. sevika responded by wrapping her arm around your waist, pulling you closer to her, as if in that hug she found the peace she had sought for so long.

the kisses and caresses became warmer, not out of urgency, but out of a mutual desire to comfort each other and feel close. there were no words, but they were not necessary either. at that moment, they both knew that the void in their hearts was beginning to be filled and that was enough.

[russo-woso]

Comment || Arsenal x reader

Request | Masterlist

Warning mention of bullying, mental health problems, mention of suicide

Summary You accidentally reveal why you don’t interact with your team

A/N this is a sadddd and angsty one so buckle in

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

“Y/N, you’re coming to the restaurant with us, right?” Katie asked, seeing you try to scurry out of the room without anyone noticing.

Unfortunately for you, Katie saw you and was curious whether she’d see you at the restaurant that night.

To celebrate the end of the year and Christmas, the team had organised a meal out at a local restaurant, nothing much but enough to satisfy the whole team.

You hesitated a bit, you also unaware of your own answer.

You see, you hadn’t always had the best experiences with a team.

Your previous teammates had made a few comments here and there about you.

She doesn’t deserve to get minutes

Why did the club even sign her

Shittiest player I’ve ever seen

Drop her back down to the Sunday league

At first, they were just small remarks that happened every so often, but then it turned to 24/7.

In the changing rooms, over text, on the pitch. Everywhere, anytime.

They were bullying you.

And even when you brought it upon the manager, he just shrugged, ‘that’s banter for you’ he had told you whilst laughing.

Maybe you were just being sensitive. Maybe you were taking it the wrong way. Maybe this was how a team was supposed to play.

From that moment onwards, you thought it was normal.

You didn’t complain about it anymore, just bottling up your emotions so they didn’t have to see it.

It wasn’t until a very poorly played game that you realised just how damaged they’d made you.

You had played the final four minutes of the game.

When you ran onto the pitch, your team was already losing 4-0.

And although you’d impacted the game massively and had prevented two goals in them four minutes, you were entirely blamed for the loss.

You had dreaded walking into the changing rooms after, all your teammates angry at their performances but somehow blaming it on you made it a lot better.

One of your teammates had squared up to your shaking body, their finger pointing at you.

Your breath became uneven as you closed your eyes in dread.

“You were shit today! You were the reason we lost! You were a let down today. You made us lose! Do us all a favour, Y/L/N and fuck off. We don’t need you on our team! You just fuck up our play and make us fucking lose! Nobody likes you, Y/N. You’re a shit player!” She screamed, the rest of the girls agreeing. She finished shouting at you, but was not finished without pushing you to the floor.

You put on a strong face, standing up and grabbing your stuff before walking out.

You walked for miles in the rain, no car, your phone dead, just you and your thoughts.

You don’t remember much from that night, you’d passed out on some bridge for most of it.

But you remembered one thing.

You remember laying on the bridge, your body fighting for consciousness and thinking would it be so bad if you were to never wake up?

Would anyone actually miss you?

You had your mum left but she mainly focused on your older brother more - he’s a lawyer and had kids - no more explanation needed.

You were so close to completely giving up, so close to letting ending everything.

You used all your strength, pulling yourself up and taking yourself over to the edge of the bridge.

The river underneath was violent, the water crashing against its beds with purpose.

You started counting down in your head, dunking it with your heartbeat.

3… 2…

“Dear! What are you doing?” A voice exclaimed from behind you.

You turned with watery eyes to see a woman, 65 maybe?

You looked in her eyes, a solace look in them.

“Please… look at me. I’m a complete stranger to you. You don’t know me, I don’t know you. But what I do know about you, is you have so much to live for that maybe you don’t realise you have. Take a look around. What do you see?” She began, taking a few steps towards you.

“Bushes, the river, trees.” You listed, taking deep breaths steady your breathing.

“Trees. Look how they’re blowing in the wind. They’ve got no control over themselves. They’re being pushed around and they can’t do anything, but one thing that they are doing, is having a tiny bit of strength to keep them standing. A storm may have big impacts but at the end of the day, they go away. What you’re going through now is just a storm, I promise. You’re young, you’ve got your whole life ahead of you. Go travel, go to London, go somewhere you’ve never been before. You’re just stuck in a storm, a bad one, but at the end of everyone is sunshine.”

You listened to her words, taking into account what she was saying.

Slowly but surely, you stepped back from the edge, collapsing into the womens arms.

You’ll never forget that night.

The woman, you didn’t even find out her name, but you knew she was your guardian angel that night.

And although you didn’t completely believe her words, she was right.

You were in the middle of a passing storm.

Not only two days later, you were sat in your managers office being told you were going to another club.

You were given a list of clubs that were interested but one stood out massively, a London club.

You were doing what the woman told you to do, you were going to London.

Which leads you back to the conversation with Katie, your Arsenal teammate.

“Umm… I’ll have to see how tired I am.” You lied, making up a random excuse.

“You said that last time, Y/N.” Alessia pointed out, a playful smile on her face, a completely innocent one which meant no harm.

“And the time before that.” Kyra then added, gently knocking her shoulder into yours.

“Please come, Y/N. I barely know you, it’ll give us time to get to know you.” Steph explained

You hesitated between yes and no.

“Okay. I’ll be there.” You finally said after a few moments.

Everyone cheered, telling you what time to be there and how excited they were that you’d said yes to going.

Maybe these girls aren’t as bad.

—

You were one of the first ones to arrive at the restaurant, not wanting to be late.

Katie and Caitlin were already there and called you over.

One by one, the team filled the table, a buzz filling the air as everyone chatted to each other.

You sat quietly at the end of the table, having nothing really to say.

“What’re you doing for Christmas, Y/N?” Alessia asked, obviously realising no one was talking to you.

“Nothing much. I’ll probably get a few snacks in and watch some…” you began but soon slowed down your words as you set eyes on someone from across the room.

There, sat your guardian angel, your lifesaver.

“Y/N?” Alessia asked, confused but followed your eyeline to see the woman. “Are you okay?”

“I haven’t seen her in months.” You mumbled to yourself but Alessia also heard.

“Who is she?”

“She saved my life.” You responded, not knowing it would lead to you revealing your secret.

“Oh my god…” Alessia whispered, realising it was a big moment for you seeing her again. “Is she a doctor? Were you ill?”

“No.” You shook your head, your eyes not leaving the woman. “My old team, they used to make comments about me. It started with a few - what I thought were harmless - comments but they continued coming. Over message, in the changing rooms, on the pitch. They made me feel like I didn’t belong there - that I didn’t belong on earth. After the match against PSG—” you began

“—The one where you played a few minutes?” Alessia questioned, you nodding in response. “You played incredible that match. You completely turned the game around.”

“Yeah, I thought that too. But after the match in the changing rooms, I got blamed for the loss. My old teammate pushed me to the floor and the rest of them laughed at me. I ended up walking into the rain and walked for miles. I collapsed on this bridge at some point and I decided to go towards the edge. I was counting down in my head. My heart wasn’t racing, I think it was the calmest I’d felt in years. It was what all my teammates wanted so I was going to do them all a favour. I was going to… I was on seven when I heard a voice behind me. It was her. She saved me.” You explained, looking back to Alessia but seeing 25 sets of eyes on you.

Most of the girls had tears in their eyes, your story hitting them hard.

“That’s why it took so long for to come out with you. It wasn’t any of you personally and I’m sorry if it felt like that but I don’t think I can ever trust teammates again.”

“Y/N, don’t say sorry.” Leah’s breathed out, leaning over the table to take your hand in hers. “I’m so sorry you had to go through that.”

“I know it might take some time to realise but not all teams are like them. If you can, can you please trust us. We want to show you what being in a true team feels like.” Kim told you, rubbing your back comfortingly.

“I’d like that, thank you.”

“We’re here for you, Y/N. Here at Arsenal, we’re not just a club, we’re a family. Whether you like it or not. Some of us - Kyra - can be annoying sometimes but at the end of the day, we’re a family, and that’s the most important part. We’d like nothing more than to be your family from now on.” Lia added, sending you a smile.

“A family, huh? I think I’d like that.” You said, a smile appearing on your face.

“Enough of that now. That’s your past, it’s time to think about the future. And I’m not having you all alone on Christmas so you’re coming with me to my family on Christmas.” Alessia stated confidently, not giving you any choice.

“Alessia, I can’t, it’s your—”

“Ah, no — remember we’re family.” Alessia told you, hitting your shoulder with hers.

“Family.” You whispered quietly, smiling to yourself.

You took another look over to the woman.

She was still talking away to the man she was with but managed to catch your eye.

She sent a wink and a smile over to you.

You took your eyes off her for seconds and when you looked again, she was gone.

You never knew her name, and you didn’t know who she was, but you couldn’t be more grateful.

Not only had she saved your life that night, but she had also brought you a family.

[silasoctakiseron]

Regarding the Eighth House's appearance and lack thereof in Harrow's River bubble

I want to preface this post by saying that before you read literally any of this you should go read no speculation in those eyes by @onmentalsafari on ao3, because it's a) possibly my favorite Silas fic of all time and b) definitely my favorite handling of the Canaan bubble as a concept. Anyway. Moving on.

This post is almost certainly not going to tell you anything you don't already know. It is nevertheless going to be an extended examination of Silas and Colum's presence in Harrow's River bubble mimicry of Canaan House, with specific regard to whether Colum appeared at all and why Silas conducts himself the way he does.

Despite both being dead and both being people Harrow encountered at Canaan House, the Eighth are not prominently featured in the Canaan bubble. On its face, this shouldn't much matter, given their marginally relevant status as widely disliked side characters. However, people Harrow never met at all — namely, the real Dulcinea and the living Protesilaus — are present, active, and fully-fleshed in the bubble. People she met and didn't know well, including Magnus and Abigail, Jeannemary and Isaac, and Marta, additionally appear as whole, real spirits with independent thoughts. The only people who appear as poorly-fashioned constructs of their real selves are people whose souls Harrow could not call to the bubble, either because they are not dead or because they are somewhere other than the River.

Silas's full and complete soul, rather than a construct in his image, has been pulled out of the River and is trapped in the bubble with everyone else. His primary appearance is in chapter 26, when Harrow finds him on the terrace, which I'll discuss later. This is the only time we see him in person in the entire book.

He appears elsewhere a couple times, chiefly when Abigail attempts to recruit him in hunkering down in the Second's rooms for warmth/protection from the Sleeper (ch. 21) and tells Harrow they were unable to get him to do so (ch. 28):

“Dulcie—Lady Dulcinea, do you mind if I ask you to get Silas Octakiseron with us? He’s neither to hold nor to bind to me, but he might listen to you.”

“I told [Dulcinea] that I didn’t think we’d get Master Octakiseron first time round … She won’t tell me what he said to her, just that he ‘was horrid.’” [Shocker.]

It's clear enough here that Silas has a personality and control over his own behavior that are independent from Harrow's influence on the bubble, and the other ghosts recognize him as a person rather than a construct. The fact that he chooses to use this independence to presumably be insane alone in his room for nine months is his own problem.

Either way, he doesn't appear to be doing well. I've mentioned before that frankly, Silas very obviously falls rather to pieces¹ in the Canaan bubble, as described here in chapter 26 of HTN:

The Eighth House necromancer stood there with the wind flapping his wet alabaster robes, his braid torn to wisps and ribbons ... From closer up, Harrow saw that he was all in disarray: his clothes were smudged and a few of his buttons were not done up. The rain and the fog had lashed him terribly.

He looks great. He's doing awesome. He's clearly capable of appropriate self-maintenance and has clearly not been losing his shit over the fact that he's alone to fend for himself.

I've also said before (see above link) that everything that seems off about Silas in the bubble is related to Colum. Colum sometimes appears alone in GTN, but Silas doesn't appear independently of Colum a single time in the entire book — indeed, Colum occasionally speaks for him or quietly interprets social cues for his benefit. Silas is also, obviously, completely dependent on Colum to perform his necromancy. While it's shown that he physically can siphon from other people, as he does to Ianthe in GTN ch. 34, it's also made clear that soul siphoning works best (or at least, is strongly believed to work best) when the participating necromancer and cavalier are closely genetically compatible, and it's not incontrovertibly certain that Silas can siphon from another person without using Colum as a jumping-off point. Colum's marked absence from HTN is a blip in the broader narrative, but to Silas would have been like having an arm torn off.

The void where Colum used to be gives us a fairly ready explanation for why Silas has "gone to ground" in the bubble, as Magnus puts it in HTN ch. 28; he's completely vulnerable to any and all external forces and doesn't trust anyone else in the building as far as he can throw them. It also explains why he looks a complete mess when Harrow finds him, other than the fact that he's standing in an active rainstorm. We're aware from GTN ch. 28 that Colum is responsible for a lot of Silas's personal upkeep, including specifically his hair, and it's clear that Silas is either struggling to do it alone, failing to prioritize it because he has bigger problems, or both.

All of this being said, having established that he's clearly not present for the vast majority of the bubble's existence: where is Colum Asht?

While Colum never appears onscreen in the Canaan bubble, it's a common misconception that he's never mentioned at all. This is very close to true, but not completely. Colum is never mentioned by name, but vague sketches of him appear in the background until Silas's apparent death.

Something in Colum's place appears by implication in ch. 8, when everyone "arrives" at the Canaan bubble:

They were led away in twos—barring the Third House trio—²

Abigail also alludes to Colum's existence in ch. 28 shortly before learning of Silas's disappearance:

“I tried to make [Dulcinea] take the bed—she was so upset that the Templar pair weren't on board.”

There's one other, less certain mention. The Eighth House are represented in some capacity at Harrow's ball for the hand of Her Divine Highness in ch. 41, though no specific reference is made to its scion or cavalier:

The other seven Houses present³ were flaunting as though they were birds in a particularly baroque mating season.

Notably, the Coronabeth construct does appear at the ball even though Silas destroys it almost 15 chapters prior, meaning that his absence elsewhere doesn't necessarily bar something resembling Colum from having been present. This presence is definitely doubtful, in my view, but it is nevertheless not impossible.

One tall, astonishingly built Third House princess had chosen to sit among their number like a butterfly in a grey bog: she wore a silk robe in gold and breeches that showed off a calf too fit to be called a necromancer’s, and she was holding a glass of champagne and laughing at something she was being told.

All of this suggests that for at least part of the time the bubble was in effect, something resembling Colum was present enough that nothing seemed blatantly amiss, at least not to Harrow et al.

That said, it's clear that ghosts who were close to the real people replaced by constructs in the bubble recognize very quickly both that something is wrong with the construct and that they and/or the construct ought to be dead. The best examples we get of this are Marta's experience of the Judith construct's death in ch. 18 and Abigail's description of what Marta found wrong with the construct in ch. 43.

[Marta] said, with uncharacteristic frenzy: “Why am I here? ... I want to know—I just want to know—” ... “She had eight metal projectiles spun at high speeds through her midsection,” said Harrow. She knew that some people took comfort in the idea, so she added: “She would have died very quickly after her heart was destroyed.” “No,” said the lieutenant, and now Harrow thought she seemed dazed. ... “That’s not … Don’t know why I thought … No.”

“Why did you only pull some of us as ghosts? Why did the others appear as—varyingly ludicrous constructs? Lieutenant Dyas was certain Judith was wrong before she even died, that she was like a confused parody of herself.”

Being as it is that Colum is Silas's constant companion and has been since he was a very small child, it beggars belief to posit that he would not recognize anything appearing in Colum's stead as a construct or other insert rather than the man himself. Like Marta, he also seems to have figured out the truth about Colum's and his own deaths fairly quickly. (Marta says in ch. 45 that "the Second House doesn't overthink the River"; the Eighth absolutely cannot say the same.)

We know that Silas knows both that Colum is dead and how he actually died, including the parties involved, because of his conduct in ch. 26. Silas encounters the Coronabeth construct — though whether he found it where it was or manipulated it out onto the terrace himself isn't clear — and destroys it.

As of ch. 34 of GTN, immediately prior to his death, Silas has no particular quarrel with Coronabeth. If anything, he might consider her vaguely complicit in the crime of Ianthe's ascent to Lyctorhood, but that's about it.

Silas sounded quite normal now when he turned and addressed the monotonously crying girl by the slab: “Princess Coronabeth. Is she speaking the truth? And did you, at any point, attempt to stop her, or know as a necromancer what act she was committing?” “Poor Corona!” said Ianthe. “Don’t get on her case, you little white excuse for a human being. What could she have done?”

But Silas's destruction of the Coronabeth construct isn't about Corona herself. It's about Ianthe, and he says as much.

“And somewhere out there, may all the blood of your blood suffer even a fraction of what I have suffered.” He pushed. The eldest princess of Ida dropped from the side of the docking bay with swanlike ease. ... The Eighth House necromancer stood there ... and he did not even look over the side.”

As I've said before, there is no evidence that Silas had ever experienced any particular suffering prior to his and Colum's deaths that would drive him to seek revenge, particularly not on an apparently unrelated party like Corona. Until his arrival at Canaan House, Silas lived what appears to have been an extremely sheltered existence. The suffering to which he refers here, evident in the clear collapse of his ability to keep himself in order, is very obviously the grief of Colum's death, and may refer in addition to the emotional turmoil he experienced upon discovering the Colum construct and remembering Colum's demise in the bubble.

To Silas's understanding, Coronabeth is to Ianthe as Colum is to him. She's Ianthe's family and companion, the person for whom Ianthe clearly cares most and upon whom she most heavily relies. The Faustian bargain of Lyctorhood demands that Lyctors sacrifice the people closest to them in the world for power. Ianthe made that trade with counterfeit money — she got the power and eternal life without being forced to kill the person she loved most. Silas received neither of these dubious rewards and still lost Colum so completely that he can't even locate his ghost after death.

But wait, I can already hear some of you commenting on this post, wasn't Colum's death very obviously Silas's fault? Didn't Silas directly cause Colum's death by siphoning him without his permission and then splitting his focus while they fought Ianthe? The answer to this question is obviously yes. Silas violated Colum's bodily autonomy more extremely than he ever had before in order to defeat Ianthe, and in doing so recklessly he killed Colum. We, the readers, know this.

We also know that the Eighth House, and Silas in particular, are not in the business of admitting wrongdoing. Silas is both a self-righteous 16-year-old boy and a product of the House which is perhaps the single most loath to acknowledge even the capacity for moral error on its part of any of the Nine Houses.

In Silas's mind, whether Colum's death was caused by something he did is irrelevant. The fact of the matter is that he only did what he did because Ianthe made it necessary to do so. If Ianthe hadn't insisted upon ascending to Lyctorhood, then insisted upon refusing her sentence for heresy, then insisted upon fighting back instead of going quietly, Silas would never have been forced to siphon Colum at all. Therefore, this is all Ianthe's fault, and Ianthe deserves to suffer. Whether Silas similarly deserves to suffer in his own mind is irrelevant — he perceives himself as suffering either way, and he believes it unjust that Ianthe is not experiencing the same punishment.

Then, of course, Silas throws himself off the terrace and into the water below. We know that Harrow perceives this as suicide; we know that Silas does not.

“I don’t give a damn about White Glass mysteries or cryptics,” [Harrow] said. “I care that you just pushed one of the Tridentarii to her death.” “Death?” said Silas.

Silas has no intention of killing himself in ch. 26. Silas is a River specialist, and Silas is knowingly entering the River.

Silas Octakiseron had launched himself fearlessly into space after the tumbling body of Coronabeth Tridentarius. ... Harrow thought she perceived a tatter of something penetrate the cloud. Her heart pounded rhythmically in her ears, and she thought she saw, absurdly, a sudden gush of watery blood, as though the fog itself had been knifed; but it was gone almost as soon as she had seen it.

The water Harrow sees when Silas breaks through the boundary of the bubble is confirmed to be River water, rather than a hallucination or any other visual phenomenon, in ch. 53.

[Harrow] popped the bubble, and the River came rushing in. It came down around her in shreds, as light and insubstantial as drifts of spiderweb. The water sprayed through white holes, rushing in with a pounding roar: that brackish, bloodied water that only existed within the River.

We can infer from the connection between these passages and Silas's general behavior in the bubble that wherever Colum may be, Silas believes the River is how to get there. If this theory doesn't hold water to you, we can determine that Silas believes that staying in the bubble is actively hindering him from reentering the River and, at bare minimum, "wait[ing] for our Lord's touch on the day of a second Resurrection" (per Magnus, ch. 45). That said, knowing that the rest of the Canaan bubble crew have struck out into the River to help Matthias Nonius ally with Gideon the First, wherever he may be, it's difficult for me to imagine that an aggrieved and mourning River necromancer with nothing else whatsoever to do with his afterlife would not similarly go in search of the only person in the universe who has ever cared about him.

We know that wherever he's headed is dangerous. The River is, of course, dangerous anyway; we know that devils travel up through it, and that human souls stagnated in the River for too long are driven to insanity and become revenants. However, Abigail explicitly states in ch. 45 that she's concerned for the state of Silas's soul given the haphazard method by which he exited the bubble.

“I worked out how to return [the Fourth] to the River first thing. They didn’t want to go, but I overruled them. I would have done the same with anyone else—if only Silas had asked me; what has happened to his soul worries me horribly.”

Eighth necromancers' interactions with the River, which chiefly seem to consist of sending the souls of their cavaliers to wait on its bank in order to create empty conduits for its energy, obviously differ significantly from those of Fifth necromancers, who predominantly call spirits out of the River. However, it's my view that Silas could probably have gotten himself across the River safely if he'd wanted to, or at least to whatever point within it to which he deemed non-heretical to travel. I think that Silas has a goal in mind in the River that would not be served by merely transporting himself along it in a manner that would have been guaranteed to keep his soul safe and intact, and I think whenever he reaches it is the point at which we'll find Colum.

Footnotes below.

¹ We can actually compare this to his appearance in chapter 28 of GTN, when he's recently been scared off Lyctorhood by whatever the Ninth trial was and is similarly clearly not doing great:

Gideon must have caught [Silas] mid-ablutions, because his chalk-coloured hair was wet and tousled as though it had just been rubbed with a towel. It seemed frivolously long, and she realised she had never seen it except pinned back. ... Silas looked as though he had not slept well lately. Shadows beneath the eyes made his sharp and relentless chin sharper and even more relentless.

If you wanted, you could establish as a tentative rule that the worse his hair looks, the worse he's doing. I won't, but you could.

² Interestingly, a vague allusion to Babs or something like him is made here, too, and he is genuinely never mentioned again, even in future references to the Third in the bubble. We obviously know where his soul is and that it's inaccessible to Harrow because it's not in the River, so there's likely something to the fact that he and Colum are excluded from the bubble in roughly the same way.

³ This could technically refer to the presence of the First House at the ball for the purpose of presenting Kiriona, but it's fairly straightforwardly clear in my view that the seven Houses which would have an interest in "flaunting" themselves are those which could marry into the House. I'm clearing this up in advance because I know some of you love to argue.

[arlana-likes-to-write]

Taste of the Devil

!!!!MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!!! 18+

Summary: When your girlfriend needs your help, you are more than willing to offer your services.

Warning: vampire!Kate Bishop, super solider!Reader, smut, fluff, lots of talk of blood, dom!reader, sub!Kate, mention of subspace, fingering (Kate receiving), nipple play (Kate reciving), reader is a little freaky, pet names, swearing, no y/n, no physical description of reader but they are strong, poorly written smut lol

Word Count: 2.4K

“Shit, fuck,” you heard your girlfriend say when you entered your shared apartment. Kate swore like a trucker, so that was no surprise to hear, but her worried tone made you realize something was wrong. You toed off your shoes and gently closed the door behind you. No one heard you come in, not even your girlfriend’s four-legged companion. The dog was trying to provide some comfort to his distraught owner. The archer was on the couch, her hands covering her face and leaning back.

“Katie girl,” you said softly, not wanting to startle the girl, and sat down next to her. Lucky’s ears pricked up at your sudden appearance, but he kept his head on Kate’s lap. “What’s wrong?” she threw her hands to the side with a huff.

“Problem at the blood bank,” she mumbled. Her left leg started to bounce. “Tony can’t get any.” Ah, there it was. She was hungry.

“When was the last time you ate?” You whispered, even though no one else was in the apartment.

“Last week, maybe. I can’t remember. It’s been busy,” Kate was right. Usually, you were better at picking up on her cues when she was hungry. But you were stretched thing with helping the Avengers and Yelena. “Tony said it might come in tomorrow or the day after, but I-”

“You’re hungry,” you placed your hand on the back of her neck and gave it a comforting squeeze. The contrasting temperature of her skin against yours was one of your favorite things about dating Kate. You knew the archer was different the moment you were introduced to her. With your enhanced senses, you could never hear a heartbeat and never hear her inhale air into her lungs. Sometimes, you caught her eyes flickering from blue to red—her healing ability was on par with or better than yours.

You became fascinated with the archer, and a close friendship turned into you asking her out on a date. She told you the truth about what she was: a vampire. The Bishop family can be traced back to the 18th century.

Sometimes, you forget how powerful your girlfriend is. Most of the time, she was gentle and soft. She was easy to fluster, and she stumbled over her words when you told her how beautiful she looked. She was your Katie girl, the best dog mom, and a little clumsy from time to time. Under all that, she was a predator, and predators needed to be fed.

Which led to the current predicament. Her kind stopped feeding on humans centuries ago due to the donation of blood banks; Tony was in charge of all the paperwork. She was an animal lover and hated the idea of hunting. Besides, she told you that blood tastes weird if the animal had a disease. The same was said for humans. Humans poured junk into their bodies - drugs, alcohol, even vitamins, and it could be tasted in their blood. Clean blood is hard to come by, Kate said.

However, that got you thinking about what you tasted like. You knew you smelt good to her. On movie nights, her nose would be pressed against your neck, and her deep inhales and exhales caused goosebumps to form on your skin. She said you smelt earthy, like the smell of rain - a dampened forest, a mixture of pine and mass. The deep, earthy scent of the Earth after a storm.

Maybe it was wrong to fantasize how it would feel to have her drink from you. The sharp pinch of her teeth and the way she would be filled with your blood. You pushed those selfish thoughts away. “You know,” you said slowly, playing with the baby hairs that couldn’t be pulled into her ponytail. “You could drink from me.” Kate physically recoiled away from you. Your hand fell to the couch.

“No,” she snapped.

“Baby,” you tried to move closer to her, but she stopped you. “You can’t hurt me.”

“We don’t know that,” she countered. Yes, but you’ve endured worse injuries. Even Professor Xavier was impressed with your healing ability. It was as good as Logan’s. There was one time you traveled from Russia way back to the city with a piece of rebar in your side. You were proud of yourself, and you only passed out once.

“You need to eat. I bet you are starting to get a headache,” she allowed you to touch her temples and massage the area. She moaned quietly at the relief. “My little bat,” you cooed. “Aren’t you a little curious about what I taste like?” Her eyes turned red, and every bit of blue was gone, as she looked at the vein in your neck.

“Do you want me to bite you?” Her voice shook. Her resolve was breaking.

“I wouldn’t have offered if I wasn’t 100% okay with it,” you wondered if she could hear your heartbeat. The very idea of it sent your body into overdrive. You were excited, nervous, and maybe a little turned on.

“Okay,” she whispered.

“Okay,” you repeated.

*

Kate brought Lucky upstairs and locked him in your shared room with a Kong, bones, and toys. You changed into a white tank top and a pair of sweatpants. You sat on the couch, patiently waiting for Kate. Tapping your hands on your thighs, you took a few deep breaths to calm yourself down. “You can change your mind,” you turned to see Kate. She also changed into one of your shirts and sleep shots. “I can hear your heart pounding from upstairs.” You chuckled.

“Just anxious,” you told her as she sat beside you. “Just don’t go all Dracula on me.” The archer glared at you.

“I hate that movie,” she said. “It ruined the image of my kind.” You laughed and cupped her cheek.

“I’m sorry, baby, I trust you,” you kissed her softly. “It’s okay. Feed.” You felt her letting out a shaky exhale against your lips.

“Stay still, okay?” You nodded and tried to control your breathing as she leaned into your neck. You expected her to sink her teeth into your skin. Instead, you felt her lips kiss the spot, gently soothing the area with her tongue. It was a nice gesture, but it did not help the beating of your heart. Her cold fingers touched the vein. “Just stay still,” she repeated. “I-” she stopped before she could finish her sentence and sunk her teeth into you.

“Shit,” you grunted in pain, face contracting briefly. Soon, it was replaced with pleasure that washed over your entire body.

You remembered Kate telling you how intimate it was to drink from a person. It was why she tried to avoid it even when it was allowed. This feeling was euphoric, something you’ve experienced before. Her lips on your neck as she sucked and fed on you was sending you into a spiral. Adrenaline was pumping through your veins, and you loved it. You were addicted to it.

You grabbed the nap of her neck and pulled her against you, demanding her to be closer. Her hand moved to your chest, pinning you to the couch. It was a silent reminder to stay still, but the sudden display of strength caused your hips to buckle.

“I said,” she detached herself from your neck. “Stay still,” she licked the wound she created. “Shit,” she said in disbelief. “You do heal fast.” You chuckled and turned to look at her. Her eyes were slowly returning to their normal color, but she needed more. Without any words, you pulled her onto your lap. She gasped at the sudden movement.

“Then bite me again,” you whispered, breathlessly. Kate looked you over, probably checking to make sure you were okay with continuing. The second bite was much less hesitant, and you knew the type of pain to expect. Instead of holding onto her neck, you moved your hands to her hips. Both of your hips buckled into each other. Her moan rattled through your body.

“Fuck,” your eyes rolled in the back of your head and grabbed her ass. It was on instinct to start moving her hips against you. Your body was on fire. Every sense was Kate. Her cold skin against yours. The soft moans in your ears. The smell of her arousal hit your nose. “So fucking beautiful,” you groaned. Your hands traveled underneath her (your) shirt and covered each inch of her skin with your hands. You pinched one of her nipples, and she removed her teeth from you as a quiet moan ripped through her. Kate’s hips stopped moving as her forehead rested against yours. Her eyes were closed, but her chest was heaving like she ran a marathon.

“Did I tell you to stop?” you asked. Her eyes snapped open. Gone was the red, but they were glossy—a look she only got when you pushed her into a certain headspace. “Awe, my poor baby,” you cooed. Did your head get all fuzzy because you are full of my blood?” She wined, eyes rolling back slightly. “Do you always get wet when you feed?” you joked.

“Do you always get wet when someone bites you?” She used your words against you.

“Cheeky little bat,” you smiled, connecting your lips with hers. You pushed your tongue into your mouth and moaned at the taste of your blood. Shit, when did you turn into a freak? “How do I taste?” It was your turn to press kisses against the column of her throat.

“Sweet,” she began to move her hips against yours. “Like honey,” she chuckled breathlessly. “Better than the blood bags.” You took great pride in that statement. You knew you weren’t the greatest with your body, drowning your past in alcohol and the occasional drug use. It must be the serum she was tasting that ran through your veins. Still, if those were going to be a recurring trend, you made a promise to yourself to treat your body better.

“I guess you have your personal blood bag,” you teased, and your hand moved over the top of her shorts. “Shit, baby,” you ran the tip of your fingers over her folds and collected the wetness. “You’re soaked.” Her head fell to your shoulder.

“Please,” the archer mumbled. A simple kiss to your neck sent a shiver of anticipation down your spine.

“Please, what, Katie girl?” You teased. “Use that pretty mouth of yours and tell me.” She huffed and sat up straighter to look down at you.

“Need-” A moan interrupted her as you began to rub her clit. It was such a beautiful sound that made your clit throb. “Need your fingers.” She added a pout and gave you her best puppy dog eyes she could muster; you chuckled and applied more pressure.

“My fingers?” You questioned with a confused tilt of your head. “You have my fingers. I’m touching you right now. Is this not enough?” You were being mean. You knew it was hard for her to form words when she got like this. But you would give it to her. All she had to do was say it.

“Inside,” she groaned, her hips became frantic. “Need your fingers inside. Need to cum all over them.” Bingo. There it was. Usually, it took her longer, but she must be desperate for release. With how busy it has been, you haven’t had time for this.

“Good girl,” you praised. She was wet enough to slip two fingers inside her easily. She gasped at the sudden feeling; her hands gripped both your shoulders, and her eyes rolled back. “So wet and warm, baby,” you moaned and pushed her shirt up. “Come on, little bat,” you encouraged. “Take what you need.” She did, and damn, it was a sight to behold.

Kate rode your fingers with a fierce determination to get herself off. She was gorgeous, and you counted yourself to see her like this. Her pussy squeezed your fingers, and the smell of her arousal mixed with her moans and the blood loss was bringing you embarrassingly close without being touched. Ignoring the ache in your wrist, you leaned forward and swirled your tongue around her nipple. You smirked at the gasp.

She was close. All these months together with Kate, you knew her tells. Her hips would begin to stutter and lose their rhythm. She became more vocal. Your girlfriend wasn’t loud during sex, but it always excited you when you could pull a loud moan from her. The final tell was her eyes. The blue of eyes darkened, almost black. It was intoxicating that you were the one giving her this pleasure. She wore your shirt. She fed on your blood. Your fingers were going to make her cum.

“Close,” she moaned. “‘M so fucking close. I need-”

“Take it, baby,” you encouraged. “Take whatever you need.” You expected her to push your hand closer to her so your palm would be against her clit, or she wanted you to kiss her. Instead, she leaned forward and sunk her teeth into your neck.

“Fuck yes,” you moaned and used your free hand to lite Kate up slightly. The sound was obscene. Your fingers moved faster. You felt her witness drip down your hand. “Cum for me, baby, please,” you pleaded. Her body went ridged against you, and you felt the coil snap deep in the pit of your stomach. You kept your fingers moving to help ride out her high and only stopped when she slumped against you. Her teeth released from your neck, and her nose nuzzled against you. Her breath tickled you. “I’m going to pull my fingers out, okay?” You felt her nod. Removing them slowly, you cooed softly as she hissed from the overestimation. “How are you feeling?”

“Better,” she mumbled. Sleepy.” You chuckled and kept her against your chest as you moved to lay follow on the couch. Slowly, you removed the ponytail from her hair and brushed the strands with your fingers. A list of things ran through your mind. You wanted to draw Kate a bath, let Lucky out, and eat something for yourself. Helen would give you a juice box and an orange when you had donated blood.

“Baby,” you hummed, so Kate knew you heard her. She moved so her chin rested on your chest. Her eyes were back to their normal blue—your favorite color. They were like diamonds—calm but bold, warm but cold. They were windows to her soul, and her gaze felt like home. “Thank you. I don’t know what I would do without you.”

“Always,” you smiled. “I love you, my little bat. Now and forever.”

[1980shorrorfilm]

hopelessly devoted to you

click here. resources for palestine, congo, sudan, and other countries.

pairing…ellie williams x gn!reader

in which…a certain someone remembers your birthday.

before you read…fluff. angst. cutie patootie ellie <3

it was a grueling day. the sky dim from the consistent storming, the rain damping your body and hair, up until you and jesse had taken cover at a moldy gas station. you sat there for an hour, listening to him talk about dina and their separation…their tenth separation? you lost track a while ago.

but you don’t judge, you hummed in agreement to his frustrations and nodded the entire time. you get him, you do. your failed love life could be a ten-minute-long monologue, you think. relationships are hard in the small community of jackson, everyone has their person or keeps to themselves. you prefer to keep to yourself. you don’t necessarily need anyone— not if you can’t have her.

infected that were migrating through had run you out of the gas station, you and jesse dodging branches and heavy rocks throughout the forest as you ran back home. you, of course, tripped over a dead stump and banged your head on nature's floor.

if you were jesse you would have laughed at yourself, but your generous friend could only watch in horror, worry painting his features while he helped you up, practically dragging your stumbling self until you were in the clearing.

every single muscle in your body was aching when you arrived at jackson’s gates, it felt like seeing the gates of heaven itself. you don’t know what time it is, the sky has been dark the entirety of the day, and your head is pounding.

“we should get you to the infirmary, just in case,” jesse tries, however, you are ready to call it a night and worry about your current issues tomorrow. probably a bad idea, sure, but you don’t care that much in the worn out state you’re in. “i’m fine, jesse,” you lie to the man, but the smile you give him is enough for him to back off, “just need a bandage and a very comfortable bed. not one of those cots.”

“you’re stubborn…ellie’s rubbing off on you.”

“shut up,” you jokingly tell him, chewing your bottom lip as your mind goes to ellie. the idea of seeing her sweet face after the day you just had would provide you more comfort than the bed you so desperately yearn for.

to hear her voice, telling you about the day she had, that you know for certain was miles better than yours. and that’s amazing— ellie williams doesn’t deserve a hard day in her life. you would take all of them for her, even if each one felt as cruel as today.

jesse walks you all the way home, an illuminating glow coming from your windows, despite turning the lights off before you had left. or at least, you had thought you did. you say goodbye to jesse, having to promise you will take care of your injury before bed so he would leave.

you open your door with a deep sigh of relief, eager to shred your backpack and soggy clothes, and slip into something comfortable.

you drag your feet down the hall, stopping in place when your shut bedroom door, swings open before you.

“fuck.”

“ellie?” your brows dip, a quiet laugh escaping your lips at the surprise, “what are you doing?”

“i, uh, well,” she scratches the back of her neck, turning around, waiting for you to follow her into your bedroom. you do, mind drifting to the thought of how unkept you left it earlier, not having time to deal with the laundry at the end of your unmade bed. ellie had seen that; you’re embarrassed.

you gulp, stepping inside the room, and the sight you’re met with confuses you. your bed is made. your clothes are gone. instead, there’s a beige teddy bear, one that’s unfamiliar to you, that’s never been in your room before. it’s undeniably cute, even with its left ear ripped and its eye poorly patched back on.

laid against its belly is a large and flat square object wrapped in old newspapers, tiny pieces of duct tape holding it together. where a classic and beautiful ribbon would be, are shoelaces, making a bow. or an attempt at one.

and laid against that, is what appears to be a doodled on piece of paper. you glance at ellie, then your bed, then ellie.

“i…” she begins, the soft expression on her face suddenly hardening when her eyes trail to the single droplet of blood falling from your temple, and down the side of your face.

“what the fuck happened?” ellie takes a few short steps towards you, grabbing your face with her coarse hands, and turning you so she can inspect the area. even when you try to turn your head, she keeps you still.

“gonna tell maria to pair us. i love jesse but—”

“i tripped, ellie, it couldn’t have been prevented,” you cut her off, but her suggestion does make your heart flutter, and you wouldn’t be opposed to it. you’d spend every last second you have in this universe with her.

“you don’t know that,” ellie says, the woman thinking she could do anything to protect you— even simple mistakes you cause yourself. she exits the room for a moment, and you can’t help but walk to the foot of your bed to get a closer look at the objects on it.

you pick up the paper, realizing it’s not just a piece of paper, it’s a card. a makeshift one. and the doodles aren’t just doodles, it’s a dinosaur holding three balloons. three of your favorite colors. happy birthday, it says. birthday…your birthday…it’s your birthday.

it had not crossed your mind once today, this week, or this month. you only thought about it a couple of months back when it was briefly brought up in a conversation. how the community you were born into utilized calendars even if there was nothing to look forward to anymore, and how you almost wish you weren’t informed on the day you were born. there was nothing to celebrate, no one to celebrate with.

ellie was determined to change that, and she did.

you open the card, a paragraph in the center of the paper.

hey y/n, guess what day it is :) if you couldn’t tell by the extremely beautiful dinosaur in a party hat, it’s your day!! happy fucking birthday, y/n. probably doesn’t feel like much of a celebration today. little do you know i celebrate you everyday. don’t tell anyone that. i honestly think i’d die without you so never leave me, yeah? i love you y/n. i could take up this whole page telling you every little thing i love about you but i’m not going to do that because i don't think i could stop. i hope you had a good birthday. if not i hope this helps. love, your ellie.

“sit down,” ellie reenters the room, not noticing the card in your hand, too focused on the medical supplies in hers. when she does, her face heats up, her pale face flashing red. you continue to hold it as you obey her, sitting next to the teddy bear. she waits for you to speak first, and you do the same to her, which causes a moment of silence as she kneels on the floor before you.

you’re taken back, utterly shocked by how fucking precious the girl could be, how good it feels receiving appreciation from her. getting love from her. not the love you have for jesse or dina, something different, something incomparable. she has your heart clutched tightly in her fist.

“thank you, ellie.”

“it’s nothing,” she shrugs, pouring a bottle of water on a bathroom towel, then bringing it to your face. she’s gentle as she wipes the dark red liquid away, dabbing the injury, scanning your face for discomfort so she can stop immediately. she’s definitely going to yell at jesse.

“it’s something,” you tell her, “and it means a lot to me…it really does.”

she halts her movements for a second, the embarrassment that maybe she did too much, vanishing from her body. “yeah?”

“duh,” you laugh slightly, “i didn’t even remember it, ellie. i was too busy having a shitty day. so thank you for making it better.”

ellie smiles slightly, holding back the grin threatening to spread across her face. she continues to clean your injury, knowing she could scold you for not seeking medical attention right away, but she won’t ruin the moment.

she finishes up by placing a clean bandage over the wound, pressing it delicately against your skin, an odd urge to place a kiss on your forehead to signal she was done. she thinks it’s weird, and doesn’t do it.

ellie reaches for the newspaper-wrapped object beside you, taking the card from your hands and replacing it with the gift. “open it.”

“you didn’t have to—” “open it.”

you groan, doing as told, fighting the annoying strong duct tape and peeling the paper off carefully, not knowing what’s beneath it. ellie keeps her green irises steady on your face as you do so, watching your mouth part faintly when you see the uncovered gift. “ellie…”

it’s a vinyl. an old one. one you’d listen to on a cassette tape until it deteriorated, and you had lost access to the heavenly vocals of the band you so greatly adored. ellie’s not familiar with them, but she had told you she would like to be after how highly you had spoken about them.

she hadn’t forgotten that conversation, or that band, and excused herself on patrol to seek out the damn vinyl in every music shop. she didn’t know it would be so hard, but even if she did, she would search again and again and again. it’s not only a gift, it is a reflection of ellie’s admiration of you.

“how— why— i don’t even have a record player,” you point out, eyebrows dipping slightly at the harsh reminder. “so?” she asks like you just said the silliest thing in the world. “i do…we can listen to it together.”

it’s then that you notice her hand on your knee, thumb grazing through the denim of your jeans in a repeated motion. you forget about the throbbing in your head, and you no longer care about the soreness of your body. that, along with the entire world, seems to fade away right now.

it’s not just your heart in her hands. it’s you, your mind, your soul, everything you have is in her palms. everything she tells you makes you feel weightless, like time pauses and you don’t have to worry about a single thing. just her. nothing else. just ellie. no one else.

“i love you.”

ellie smiles, “love you too.”

“no, ellie, i…” you hesitate, sucking in the air and then exhaling. your eyes are on the birthday card next to you, the vinyl in your hands, and then her widened pupils. you realize then, that you don’t need to repeat yourself, you don’t need to emphasize it. ellie gets it. your hands are trembling, and she holds them. but something is wrong.

the moment stretches on endlessly, watching a shadow of sadness flicker over her beautiful features. without her saying a word, that she has yet to do, you understand. she won’t say it back. not in the sense that you wish for her to.

“i…dina came to me…after her and jesse…she…” ellie’s quiet voice drifts off, sparing you the details of the night dina first showed up at her door, a repeated pattern until they finally shared an intimate moment that led to a short-lived kiss.

something you missed, because you weren’t searching for hints they had something. something you crave. her head is down, “i’m sorry.”

your confession now hangs heavy over both of you. you feel sick. you feel dumb. and yet, you force a small, understanding smile. “it’s okay.”

the words feel hollow. ellie feels like shit. she’s never cried in front of you, and she’s fighting back the tears that so desperately want to fall right now. she hadn’t meant for this to happen. she hadn’t met to fall in love with her best friend, all while her other friend was falling for her.

she could’ve waited— she would’ve waited. but it happened so fast, and ellie had made a decision already.

“i’m um…really tired,” you chuckle, trying to ease the tension, but it somehow makes it worse.

“y/n—” “do you mind if we call it a night?”

“you hit your head pretty bad,” ellie says, the sorrow tone of her voice now mixing with worry, “you should stay up.”

“you’re not my doctor, ellie,” you immediately catch the snappy tone you give her the moment the sentence leaves your mouth, biting your tongue in response. ellie doesn’t point it out nor make an argument out of it. she is the most understanding with you. even if the context is her simply looking out for you. you fold in your lips, still holding the gift, ellie finally standing up.

she doesn’t know what to say. at all. she could say sorry a million times but eventually they will mean nothing to you. she doesn’t even know if they do now. “i uh…i’ll leave you alone.”

the worst words you could ever hear from the person you love the most in the world. of course, part of you wants her out of sight after the humiliation you just walked yourself into, but the other part of you wants to go with her, play the vinyl she had gifted you, and lay together in her bed as her finger taps in rhythm to the music on your thigh. but you can’t do that. not when her bed is reserved for someone else.

you barely nod, “okay.”

she gulps, hesitantly walking to your bedroom door, the one she was so happy to walk into just an hour prior. there’s guilt in each step she takes, her cheeks hot and mouth dry. she stops in your doorway, tugging at her bottom lip with her sharp teeth, glancing back at you.

whatever she was prepared to say, dies on her tongue, swallowing it down and opting for something else.

“happy birthday, y/n.”

then she’s gone. and you’re left alone with a teddy bear; a permanent reminder of this night. happy birthday to you.

[fangswbenefits]

Sharing is Caring (I)

𓂅 𓄹 Summary: A mission has both Miguel and you sharing a room… what could possibly go wrong?

𓂅 𓄹 Pairing: Miguel O’Hara x spider-woman!reader

18+. ‘There’s only one bed’ trope. Dry humping. Fangs. Wet dreams. Love bites. Miguel in denial of his lust for the reader, but secretly touch starved.

You glanced at the watch on your wrist, suppressing a yawn.

Three in the morning had rolled around, and there were still no signs of the anomaly. Miguel O’Hara stood by the hotel window, gazing into the distance through narrowed and ever-watchful crimson eyes.

He was also not showing any signs of stopping for the night, but you were already far too sleep deprived to go on.

“Miguel…” you said miserably, sinking into the bouncy matress. “We should get some rest. We’ve been at this for hours…”

His face hardened slightly. “Get some rest, then. I’m staying up.”

Impossible man.

He was as relentless as he was stubborn. Once he had his mind set on something, there wasn’t much one could do to talk him out of it. He always had to have his way.

“We have sensors scattered all around the perimeter,” you said, feeling every last ounce of patience leave your body. “Any movement and we’ll be on it.”

This time he turned his head to you. “Sleep,” he grumbled, positioning himself closer to the windowsill, but just out of range of the raindrops that began to fall hard outside.

You exhaled in defeat. “Suit yourself.”

The bed squeaked as you moved to find a comfortable spot, eagerly flopping onto your back, facing the bland ceiling of the poorly lit room.

“The bed’s really comfy,” you said with a sigh of sheer relief, feeling the soft material dig into your sore muscles pleasingly. “You’re missing out.”

“The bed’s too small,” he said simply.

Right.

Trust Miguel O’Hara to find flaws in anything whenever it's convenient.

"Don’t be ridiculous," you scoffed, earning an intense glare from him. “We can totally fit here.”

“Uncomfortably, yes.”

You bit the inside or your cheek to keep yourself from mumbling a snarky reply, deciding not to push it and dive into a never-ending argument. You knew better than to do that with him.

Miguel suffered from chronic last word syndrome.

You exhaled noisily, as you pulled the soft sheet up to your shoulder before flipping onto your side to face the wall, ready for a much well deserved break from this boring mission.

Thankfully, the pouring rain outside presented itself perfectly, lulling you into a state of relaxation, and you felt your eyelids heavy as you drifted into sleep.

You weren't sure what time you awoke, but the room was now engulfed in darkness, with only the moonlight casting a dim light through the window.

The bed was dipped lightly behind you, and you glanced over your shoulder to find Miguel sleeping on his side. He had retracted his digital suit and you were now faced with his broad bare back.

You had never been in such close proximity with him, let alone in this state of nakedness, which had your stomach do a sudden flip. But both of you were beyond tired, so you told yourself to go back to sleep.

But then you heard it.

A soft grunt coming from him made you look over again. The muscles in his back twitched lightly with each breath. But something was off. his breathing was harsh and erratic, as if he was in a state is distress.

Another low and throaty moan was heard.

Was he having a nightmare?

He suddenly flipped onto his back and you were met with his bare chest, covered midway by the flimsy sheet you both shared. His face was twisted into a light frown, eyed firmly shut, but mouth parted, revealing his protruding fangs.

That was odd... Miguel wouldn't bare his fangs lightly unless the occasion called for it during missions.

But then your eyes traveled down his body to find a tent rising in his lower half, and your eyes nearly bulged out.

Miguel O'Hara's cock was pressing against the fabric proud and erect. The faint lighting was enough for you to make out the growing wet stain. From time to time, his hips would buck instinctively, causing a few beads of precum to seep through.

Oh.

You had nearly forgotten Miguel wore nothing under his suit.

Your mouth went suddenly very dry at the realisation that Miguel was actually having a wet dream.

Maybe you were the one dreaming, because the alternative just felt too much to be true. Witnessing the Miguel O'Hara in such a vulnerable and intimate position was not something you had on your bucket list, for sure.

Did you find him attractive? Yes. Would you gladly fuck all that grumpiness out of him if given the chance? Definitely.

So now you were torn on what to do. Should you wake him up? Should you just try to ignore the pant and grunts that kept spilling from his mouth? Should you also ignore the way your clit was now pulsing?

But the answer came with him moaning your name.

Your eyes widened and you gasped, immediately flinching away from him, turning to face the wall, heart drumming fast and in unison with your clit.

Before you could fully process the initial shock, a second one quickly followed as you felt him shift next to you to swing a strong arm over your waist. The top half of your suit had ridden upwards from all the commotion, and goosebumps immediately spread across the point of contact between him and you.

"Miguel..." you whispered, too afraid to make a sudden move.

He hummed softly, his large hand pressed flat against your tummy, as he pulled you closer into him, his breath hitting a sensitive spot just below your ear. But what truly made you jolt against him was when his cock came into contact with your ass.

At this point, you knew you had to brace yourself somehow, because you were too far gone to fight the overwhelming wave of pleasure that washed over you. It hit you slowly at first, and then all at once, as he slowly jerked his hips into you.

You were essentially trapped between his large body and the wall, leaving you with no choice but to press your hand against the latter, trying to steady yourself as he picked up the pace.

He mumbled your name under his laboured breath once again, rubbing his cock harder against you, the unmistakable spill of precum now coating your skin.

Your eyes were fixed on your fingers that soon curled into a fist against the wall from the jaw-dropping sensation, and you couldn't stop yourself from undulating your body to match his.

"Miguel..." you groaned in a miserable attempt at waking him up.

His hand slid up and below your covered breasts, his thumb dipping inside the tight fabric of your suit.

You immediately clenched around nothing, and felt your own wetness drip into your underwear.

There was only so much one could take. The voice of reason inside you was telling you to put an end to this right away, but you were not one to listen to reason, especially when you had Miguel O'hara humping you desperately.

His hand slid down to the hem of the bottom half of your suit and began to tug at it.

That was enough to snap you from the haze of lust. "Miguel!"

The reaction was immediate and you found yourself quickly being flipped onto your back and pressed firmly into the mattress, arms pinned above your head, as a breathless Miguel positioned himself on top of you, baring his fangs.

"Miguel... it's me," you said, eyed meeting his crimson ones. "You were..." your voice immediately died down as you felt the weight of the underside of his cock pressed firmly against your covered clit.

The grip on your wrists loosened and his eyes narrowed as confusion settled on his face. "What..."

You were trying your best to ignore his heavy cock, but failed miserably with a whimper, eyes snapping shut and your back arching reflexively.

Miguel grunted from the friction, and you felt him press further into you. "What are you doing?"

With a roll of your hips, you moaned. "Me? You were having a wet dream about me and dry humping me..."

His face drew near yours. "Nonsense."

"It's true..." you whispered shakily, yearning for more.

He moaned again, his balance faltering momentarily, head dropping next to your face. "I would never think of you that way."

You weren't entirely sure why he was now saying this, while still firmly pressed against you.

"Why not?"

He grazed his fangs along your neck. "You're too annoying."

"Then how do you explain that hard cock?"

"Biology," he groaned, hips jerking slowly.

Somehow, his refusal to accept his lust for you only served to fuel yours for him. His subconscious had dragged him earlier into a wet dream about you, and he wouldn't never be able to square this circle.

"So we should stop," you teased, dragging your soaked suit along his cock.

He stilled you with one hand, teasing your skin with his fangs once more. "Yes."

"Then stop."

"Hmm."

His lips latched on to your pulse point, sucking lightly, as one hand beside your head held his weight above you, and the other snaking in between your bodies.

"Let me just feel it... with nothing in the way," he grumbled after tearing away from your skin, and probably marking you with a hickey.

"Why?" you moaned, feeling your clit throbbing uncontrollably. "I'm too annoying."

He pulled the fabric down at once, visibly impatient. "Too annoying."

And when you felt his cock settle between your soaked folds, you jerked with a gasp. Miguel shuddered and glanced down along the length of your body. You followed his motion and were presented with the most alluring sight ever.

His cock lay neatly settled against your, strings of precum drooling from the tip and onto your skin, letting you know his body craved more.

"We should stop now," he said with a feral grunt rumbling from his throat.

You began to roll your hips to have your clit slide effortlessly along his cock, wet sounds filling the room. "You don't want to."

The way he snapped into you next almost had the tip at your entrance, earning a gasp from you.

"I do."

"Then why don't you?" you pouted, caressing his face and having him lean into your touch.

"Biology."

And as he closed the remaining distance with a searing kiss, his tip slipped past without much obstacle as your wetness mixed with his made it way easier. You felt the air in your lungs being crushed by the sudden stretch and you immediately parted your lips from his to let out a strained groan.

He was too thick.

"Just the tip, then," you panted against his lips.

He remained still inside you. "You can take more than that."

Probably, but all the teasing and unintentional foreplay had dragged you so close to the edge you feared you might combust before he buried himself balls deep.

Miguel proceeded to plant persuasive pecks along your jawline and down to your neck. "You can bite down on my shoulder, if it helps."

Your eyes widened at the proposal, and you nearly jerked into him, the promise of struggling to take all of him being way too alluring.

"Okay... but I'm too close..."

"I know."

He positioned himself and your lips brushed against his shoulder, before sinking your teeth into the flesh, and that was enough to signal him to slide in deeper.

You tried to easy the pressure on his skin, but the stretch was too overwhelming and he next thing you knew, your fingers were clawing at his back.

"Stop clenching...." he moaned and you detected despair in his voice.

You would if you could, but the friction was too good to turn down.

He growled in your ear, one hand gripping your knee to further spread you open for him. “Almost there, cariño..."

And just as you were finally beginning to easy your grip around him to fully accommodate him, the obnoxious sound of an alarm flared across the room, lighting up your travel watches.

Fuck...

The fucking anomaly...

Part 2

Masterlist

[aeonstale]

FATED SOULS REUNITE

summary. despite the oddity that is life, your souls were fated together. tw. maybe ooc dan feng, possibly lore inaccurate dan feng, slightly proof read, 1k words. slight angst if u squint toward the end, art by @mors_gn

Imbibitor Lunae, the Vidyadhara High Elder, successor of the Azure Dragon, Commander of the Clouds and the Rain. 

Dan Feng sported many names. All with great weight to carry. 

But on this star-full night, he was only Dan Feng in your arms. Your warmth breathing down on his horn, his tail wrapped tightly around your waist. The end of the tail swishing back and forth in content. His arms bring you impossibly closer to your body. Wanting nothing but to melt into you. 

Your humming eased his worries, the gentle caresses of  your hands in his hair. On this night, Dan Feng wanted nothing more than to stop time. To throw all responsibilities and duties away, to be nothing but your husband. 

The thought brought a smile to his face. Right. The picnic you had earlier, the walk through the field of flowers (the bonus flower crown you made and put on him, stating he looked more like a beautiful princess than an intimidating Elder.). All leading to this moment. 

All leading to this question.

With hesitance (and a pinch of nervousness.), Dan Feng separates himself from you. Your sweet melody stops, now sharing a silent moment with his eyes locked into yours. The soft whispers of your name, his hands reaching for yours. You smile in amusement, “Something in your mind, my dear?” 

Dan Feng hums. 

“You can say.” bringing your hands closer, he kisses the ring fingers on both hands. Your right hand’s finger is adorned in a moonstone ring. A promise ring he brought you decades ago. A poorly made one. A ring he made himself. Though he promised to buy you a new one, a better one. You refused. (He still remembers how beautiful you looked while staring at the ring. Soft smiles painted on your lips, fingers cradling the ring as though it was made from glass. You treasured it. Dan Feng swore to give you a more extravagant and prettier ring for when he proposes.) 

Blue eyes glances at your left hand, another hum. 

“This one looks lonely.” your confusion vanishes almost instantly as the meaning settles in. Your mouth opens and closes akin to a fish’s. Splutters leaves you yet not a single coherent sentence was formed, too flustered to even think about what to say. Too flustered to even think how to say it. 

“Dan Feng, you…”

Was the only words you could articulate without sounding like a fool. 

The culprit behind your flustered state slyly smirks. He leans back, letting go of your right hand as his —now free— hand reaches for his pocket. Bringing out a red box. You gasp.

“I promised. Didn’t I? That I would give you something better.” 

He opens the box, showcasing a Blue Sapphire encased in a golden ring. Waves patterns decorated the ring’s sides, with your initials engraved in. 

It was beautiful. 

More than that actually. You didn’t think you could run out of words to describe the beauty of it all. But actions speak louder than words. 

Tears swelled up in your eyes, trying to blink them away as you stared back into your lover's eyes. “Dan Feng…”. You chuckled all while trying to compose yourself. 

Dan Feng joins you. His own tears blurring his sight. He shakily takes the ring from the box, staring at you as he waits for the words he never knew would make him this nervous. 

You nod, scoffing out a laugh. “Yes, Yes!” 

He sighs out a breath he wasn’t aware he was holding. And he slips on the ring on your finger. He admires it. It fit perfectly. You were his just as he was yours. And the thoughts fill him with joy.

“I apologize for making you wait, I had to make sure it was perfect. Who knew the Imbibitor Lunae sucked at craftsmanship?” You both laugh. Unable to contain your happiness, you jump into his arms. 

Said arms instinctively embrace you. 

Your lips meet as you go down.  

“I love you, Dan Feng.” 

“I love you too, Bǎobèi.”

“Dan Heng!” you call out to the dazed man. Blinking away his thoughts, he turns towards you. A pout on your lips, your arms crossed over your chest in harmless irritation. “Yes, Bǎobèi?” 

“I’ve been calling out to you for a good five minutes,” your face quickly fades into worry (It was cute how quickly your expression changed. He may have abused this fact a few times.) “Are you alright? Do you feel a fever?” You reach out, checking his temperature and comparing it to yours, muttering a low ‘doesn’t look like it…’ 

Dan Heng shakes his head. Closing the book he didn’t even know he was holding. He puts it back in its respective place as he reassures you he wasn’t feeling ill. “I’m alright, just lost in thought.” 

His eyes soften at the ring held on by a golden thread around your neck. His own version of the ring safely secured around his wrist. “I love you.”

He watches as you blink, heated cheeks pulled into a bright smile. You jest how out of the blue that was but never failed to return it. 

“I love you too, Dan Heng!”

“I love you, Dan Feng.” 

Though his identities may overlap, causing him great distress. Sometimes nightmares, other times sleepless nights spent blankly staring at the ceiling as the many questions of who he was cloud his mind.

He had you.

You who are awoken by his cries, you who comfort him as he mutters apologies. You who join him in his sleepless night, staying up all night recounting all the adventure you two went on. You accepted and loved him. Throughout all his lives.

You who were there. 

You.

Dan Heng leans to plant a kiss on your forehead, heading down to your cheeks, and finally on your lips. A soft peck, he pulls back. Enjoying how flustered you looked right now. 

He was thankful he had you. This time, he promises, this time he won’t let you go. 

He won’t be helpless as you bleed out in his arms, his name as your last words. Smile to the face looking as beautiful as the night he proposed. 

This time, you’ll have your happy ending. 

He only hopes he’s by your side.

©—jingyuqn. do not repost, translate or copy my work. 2024.

[rottenpumpkin13]

Someone pissed off Genesis so badly that he dropped the act and reverted to Banora country twang. What happened?

*Angeal and Sephiroth spot Zack and Kunsel crouched behind an office plant, poorly stifling their laughter. It's the kind of laughter that means they've done something stupid*

Angeal: What did you do?

Zack: Okay, okay, so you know how Genesis made us run extra drills yesterday, full speed up the plate's maintenance stairs because "true warriors conquer their own limits"? We figured we'd get back at him.

Sephiroth: What did you do?

Kunsel: We let a muddy hog loose in his office. That pig is in there right now, tearing things up. Good luck to Genesis trying to maintain his delicate, prim and proper aesthetic now!

*A loud crash echoes down the hallway, followed by the angry squeals of a pig fighting for its life*

*Genesis walks by, covered in mud, hair wild, his entire coat ruined, with the hog in his arms, perfectly calm and limp*

Genesis: Whoever thought they could unnerve me with a bit of livestock clearly failed to account for the fact that Iwas raised on an apple orchard. You think a 'lil mud bothers me? I spent my childhood shoveling compost 'fore breakfast. I been kicked square in the ribs by an angry chocobo and walked it off. I fell from a twenty-foot ladder tryin' to pick the perfect apple. The pigs we raised were the size of motorcycles and could smell fear. When it rained a little too hard we lost power and made do with lanterns. I done wrestled geese that carried generational hatred for mankind. You think a 'lil piglet's gonna offend me? This is the most fun I've had all week.

*He hoists the pig higher—it snorts happily, like it has found its true home—and walks off*

Zack:

Kunsel:

Sephiroth: Can I have a pig?

Angeal: NO.

[happy74827]

The Perfect Gift of Appreciation

[Rudy Cooper (technically) x Female!Reader]

Synopsis: Being severely injured with zero money to back up your bills, you decide to take an emergency visit to the only doctor you personally know.

WC: 2897

Category: Hurt/Comfort, Slight Fluff,

A lot of you actually liked my Brian fic (love y’all), so I wanted to make another for you guys. I’m sad that there’s still none 😔😔

『••✎••』

He was absolutely pissed. Granted, he didn’t actually tell you, but the way his face fell into utter disappointment when he finally answered his door was all the information you needed. You couldn’t help but frown, your hand moving to cover your poorly bandaged arm as you watched him.

It made sense; the man had just come home from his shift, and his outfit was still intact with his suit and lab coat, with exhaustion weighing on his eyes. The man looked downright miserable, and with you looking like a wet rat from the rain and the blood seeping from your wound, he couldn't imagine a less welcome sight.

You both just stood there staring at one another, the rain pounding against the umbrella over your head. The wind was picking up, and you knew it was going to storm harder. You really couldn’t stand the look he was giving you.

"Hey, Rudy," You managed out, swallowing hard as the pain began to seep into your voice. You endured quite a lot to get here, and you weren’t about to let your pride show now.

The man before you let out a tired sigh, leaning against the doorframe as he closed his eyes.

"You do realize what time it is, don't you?" He questioned the usual cheerfulness of his voice, which was replaced with annoyance. It hurt a bit to hear, but you didn't blame him. It’s quite rude to show up unannounced, and it was even worse considering you showed up after 2 am.

Your eyes averted downwards, feeling ashamed for even showing up here. The last thing you wanted was to bother him, especially at a time like this.

Yet, you couldn’t go anywhere else. Money wasn’t quite flowing well in your area, and it was bad enough to where you had no insurance. You were a simple college student, working odd jobs here and there while balancing school and the like.

The job you had recently obtained was a janitor position for a nearby grocery store, and things seemed pretty good for a bit. It was not enough to pay those outrageous health bills, but it was getting you by.

"I need a favor... I know it's not exactly the best time to be asking, but please, just listen—" You began, the words spilling out of your mouth just as you’ve rehearsed them a million times.

Before you could continue, Rudy opened his eyes and looked down at you with a small frown. He already noticed the way you held your arm and the way you kept glancing at it. He knew what this was about; he knew the moment he opened the door and saw the desperation in your eyes.

Your name fell from his lips, drained and tired as he rubbed his forehead. He was silent for a bit, just as you were, and when he finally looked back up, his frown grew deeper.

"You seriously can’t afford to get simple treatment? How do you even know if I have the right supplies to fix something like this up, huh?"

You didn’t reply, merely biting down on your lip as you looked away. It was true, you weren't sure. Yet, Rudy had always been so kind to you, always willing to offer his help and support when you needed it.

The man sighed, closing his eyes as he ran his fingers through his hair. He couldn’t believe he was doing this; he had to wake up in a few hours, and now he had to deal with this.

The only thing keeping him from saying no was the look you gave him.

You weren’t one to beg or ask for help. You usually dealt with things on your own, and when you couldn’t, you were willing to work it off. He admired that about you, how you weren't the type to depend on others.

The fact that you were even here, soaked to the bone and asking for his help, proved to him just how serious the situation was.

You had no other choice, and he knew that.

So, without a word, Rudy stepped aside and gestured for you to enter. The relief was immediate, and before he could blink, you were inside, the sound of the rain slowly fading behind you.

The warmth of his home was a great contrast from the outside, and you couldn’t help but sigh contently as he threw his coat off and led you down the hall.

His duffel was still beside the couch, a sign that he had just returned moments before. Somehow, it made you feel worse, knowing that you interrupted his much-needed rest.

You followed Rudy through the living room, landing in the kitchen where the door to his basement was. You were about to follow him downwards, side-stepping past him, but a hand slammed against the doorframe just before you could.

Startled, you looked up at Rudy, a brow raised at the sudden stop. He was staring at you, his expression unreadable, and it made you grow uncomfortable.

"Stay here. I’ll be up in a minute, okay?" His voice changed slightly, sounding far more awake than before.

"Can’t you just do it down there? I mean, that’s where all your stuff is, right?"

Why go through all the trouble of bringing everything upstairs?

He shook his head, his lips pulling into a tight line. It looked like he was thinking something over, and when he finally spoke, he seemed hesitant.

"Just trust me, okay? Just wait here. I promise I won't be long."

You frowned, wanting to question him, but Rudy was already moving down the stairs. The door shut behind him, and the next thing you knew, you were left alone in the kitchen.

Confused, you couldn't help but stare at the door.

Why didn’t he want you down there? That was pretty odd behavior for someone who loved to brag about his work. You couldn’t recall a time when Rudy wasn’t so open about what he did.

So why the sudden change?

You didn’t want to question it, and instead, you hummed and sat down in the chair. You could hear his footsteps echo downstairs, and you waited patiently for him to return.

The sound of the basement door opening was almost instant, and when Rudy entered, you noticed the big medical box in his arms. You couldn’t help but watch the man walk around his kitchen, his movements slow and calculated as he made his way over to you.

Rudy placed the box onto the table, popped it open, and began to pull out the gloves, rubbing alcohol, and gauze. The man grabbed a chair and pulled it across from you, and as he did, he glanced up at you and smiled.

Your mind, however, was still elsewhere.

"Hiding a body down there, or something? You were taking forever, know..." You mumbled, your gaze shifting from the box to Rudy.

He chortled at the comment, glancing up momentarily to give you a small smile before resuming his task of pulling out the medical supplies.

He didn’t say anything other than the comments about your wound. How’d you get it? If it hurt, how long ago did it happen…

You know, the typical doctor questions.

Rudy took your arm in his, his hold gentle as he carefully removed the cloth that was once your makeshift bandage. You winced, hissing as the material peeled away some of the dried blood, and it caused Rudy to glance up at you apologetically.

As the cloth finally came off, Rudy didn’t make any type of comment. He didn't react to the deep cut on your arm other than the occasional flicker of his eyes. To you, it was absolutely jarring. It looked so much worse than you expected, and you couldn’t help but glance away as the man poured the alcohol onto the gauze.

He must’ve been used to this kind of thing, considering he didn’t so much as bat an eye.

The alcohol felt cold against your skin, and you bit your tongue to prevent the pain from escaping. Rudy didn't say a word as he cleaned up the wound, and you took the time to glance at the man.

Rudy was focused, his eyes narrowed as he concentrated on your wound. He was careful but quick, and his actions were precise and methodical. The way he moved was almost fascinating, and before you knew it, he was done with that part.

Rudy tossed the now bloodied gauze into the trash can that was temporarily beside the table and then reached for the next item.

The numbing shot.

The man paused, his gaze lifting from the supplies and up to your face. Rudy, the sweet and caring guy, had a very different face whenever he worked. He had his usual soft and comforting smile, but the way he constantly looked at your arm was so… cold.

He almost looked bored.

You blinked, and suddenly, he was staring at you, his brows raised.

You stared, unable to find the words, but the moment he spoke, the spell was broken.

Rudy gave you a sheepish smile, gesturing the shot in his hands. He warned you about the small prickle, gesturing to the shot in his hands, the prickle that’s never just a prick of the skin. It’s always quite painful.

The needle was tiny, but the feeling of the sensation entering your body was enough to make you grit your teeth. You felt your face grow warm, the embarrassment washing over you as the pain became a dull ache.

It didn't last long, and soon Rudy was shaking it around, supposedly making the numbing effect act faster.

Then, the waiting game. He told you around five to ten minutes, depending on your tolerance, and that's how you both ended up sitting across from one another in silence.

Rudy was tapping his fingers against the table, the only sound filling the air. You couldn’t help but notice the dark circles under his eyes, the way his shoulders sagged, and the occasional yawn that escaped him.

"I’m sorry," You said, finally breaking the silence. His facial expression didn’t help you feel better, the frown on his lips growing deeper as he shook his head.

"Don’t be sorry." He mumbled, his eyes closing briefly as he inhaled sharply. "Truth be told, I actually despise apologies. And it's not like you did this to yourself on purpose, anyways…"

That was true, you supposed. Still, the guilt wouldn't leave you alone.

When the man didn’t receive a reply, Rudy looked at you with a tired smile. His hands moved over the medical box, and with a slight push, it was out of the way and no longer between you.

Rudy then leaned forward, placing his elbows against the table, and folded his hands beneath his chin.

"You know, I miss this."

You blinked, tilting your head at him as a soft smile formed on your lips. "Me being clumsy and annoying?"

He chuckled, a sound that brought warmth to your heart, and the exhaustion was temporarily forgotten.

Rudy shook his head, and as he did, his smile faded and was replaced with something a little more sad. "Skin. The human body. Blood. The life force. I just miss it, I guess... I love what I do, don't get me wrong, but it can be a little boring at times.. It gets repetitive. The smiles are nice, the gratitude of those I treat, but sometimes I can't help but think about other things. More exciting things, y'know?"

"Suturing my arm is exciting to you? That's pretty weird, Rudy, and that's coming from me…"

You were only half-joking, and Rudy was aware. The man was silent for a moment, his gaze averted as his smile slowly returned.

A soft chuckle left him, and he leaned back against the chair, crossing his arms against his chest.

His eyes closed, and the smile on his face grew.

It wasn’t a sad smile, nor was it happy. It was a smile that said many things but nothing at all.

When his eyes finally opened, they were different. The smile was gone, and so was the warmth in his expression.

The smile he wore now was a familiar one, and the glint in his eyes was one you knew too well.

The box was moved back in front of him, and with a swift movement, the scissors and tweezers were in his hands.

Then, the conversation was over, and so was the waiting period. He did check to see if it was numb, but the moment you confirmed that it was, he went right back to work.

It was silent for the most part; you felt no pain, and Rudy was careful as he did his job. It was going by rather quickly, and with the silence that fell between the two of you, you couldn’t help but look down at your arm.

He was already halfway done. The numbing was working like a charm, and with how quickly Rudy was going, it was almost like a superpower. For a man not in his element, he seemed like he was pretty damn well in his element.

Maybe he did have a body hidden downstairs. Give him some practice.

Rudy stopped for a moment, the sudden pause causing you to lift your gaze and look at him. He was holding a new needle in his hand, a black string-like material in the other.

He was staring at your arm, the concentration on his face strong as he held the items up. It was a rather odd sight, and you couldn't help but lean closer to get a better look.

Rudy blinked, his focus snapping up at you, and he gave you a lopsided grin.

You watched him for a moment, the man simply staring back at you with the same grin, and after a moment of silence, he put the tools down.

"And, presto." He said, his grin widening, and before you knew it, he was packing up the box.

Damn, that was fast.

He wrapped the wound in an actual bandage, moving at the speed of light, and before you could even comprehend what was happening, Rudy was already finished.

The man got up, stretching out his back as he did, and he glanced down at you with a soft smile.

"I don’t keep any antibiotics around here, but a simple store trip can fix that. You don’t need anything fancy, just a simple infection control, and you should be good to go. It doesn't seem to be too bad, and if it gets any worse, then we can look into that later... at the ER."

"Right." You mumbled, not having the energy to protest. The sarcasm, the jokes, the humor... everything was gone. You were drained, and now that the whole ordeal was over, you felt yourself slouching against the chair.

You looked up at Rudy, and before you could speak, he was already talking.

"Don’t worry about it. I’ll drop you home tomorrow morning before I go in. I’m seconds away from passing out, and you look like you're about to fall over."

You nodded, a silent thank you falling from your lips. Rudy gave you a nod in response and then gestured towards the hallway.

It wasn’t too long after that you found yourself walking down the hallway with a spare pillow and blanket. The guest bedroom was empty, and when you entered, the lights were off.

You didn’t question it, and instead, you set the pillow and blanket on the bed and made yourself comfortable. He said he used this room a lot, but somehow, it looked so untouched. It wasn’t dusty, but the way the room was set up proved that it wasn't often used.

Still, you were far too exhausted to give it a second thought.

Rudy walked past the doorway, a pair of keys in his hands as he waved them around. You heard him mention something about locking up and going to sleep, and after he left, the hall was silent.

And then, after a few minutes, the house was silent.

As you lay there, a wave of exhaustion washed over you. Your arm was still numb, and you felt nothing as you gently placed your hand against the bandage.

There was no pain, no nothing. It was just ugly, and yet you were grateful.

You didn’t even know Rudy for that long. A mutual friend introduced you to one another, and ever since then, it has been a whirlwind of events.

Especially due to your overbearing clumsiness.

But tonight? What a true blessing.

You couldn’t thank him enough. Maybe you could make him breakfast in the morning. That sounded like a decent enough gift.

Unless you happened to break his kitchen or yourself, you’d have to see how things played out.

And with that, you rolled over, your eyes slowly drifting shut.

You were out within a minute. And fortunately for Rudy, so were his neighbors.

It was a rather quiet night, after all, and with his soundproof walls, no one could hear a thing.

Even with the preparation for the next present for his precious Ken, the perfect gift of appreciation, no one could hear the sounds of his true work.

Well, no one except you.

[@ghostheartbeat, @numetalnerd2007] Here’s your tag, besties! Go wild! ☺️☺️

I hope you guys liked the "realistic" approach I took here lmao. I felt really devious about this plot 😈