#blood & gore & violence in fic

[the-kr8tor]

Solo Mission

Pairing: Hobie Brown x fem! Reader

Word count: 15k

Summary: What was supposed to be a simple mission goes awry. Your choices have consequences.

Tags: Use of Y/N sparsely, no specific physical description of the reader (except for clothing), CW food mentions, TW death, TW blood and gore, Body horror, CW injury, TW violence. Space exploration AU, Set in the future, Established relationships, space scavenger! Hobie and reader, horror elements.

A/N: Heavily inspired by the alien franchise and oats studio's zygote short film.

Navigation

Octobie 🎸

You float weightlessly in the vastness of space like an untethered satellite. Space, all encompassing, dark and foreboding land of stars and galaxies.

You dance in the windless place, swimming amidst the rocky asteroids, and gaseous gas that parts for you like seafoam on the shores of your old home. The sounds of twinkling wind chimes clink sweetly. Your eyes shine as you continue to fly, Saturn's rings wave by, Pluto's speck whizzes past you. Your fingers rake through the dust of ancient cosmos. A burnt smell of metal and steel enters your lungs, and as you look up to see the source, A blackhole appears, it sings an empty song.

And then suddenly, there's nothing but emptiness where the sun used to be. Your screams are taken from your throat as tendrils of darkness envelope your weightless being, stretching, and tugging and pulling at your body until you're nothing but a part of its ancient mass.

Gone and forgotten.

“Fuck!” You wake up in your cot, head almost hitting the top bunk that has been empty since you've claimed the cabin for your own. Heaving, hand on your chest, you feel arms snake around your middle, and his nose nudging your side. “Sorry, nightmare.”

Hobie inhales, looking up at you through half lidded eyes. “What's it about this time?” His voice is gravelly from sleep, palm softly pressing on your stomach to lay you back down.

“A blackhole this time.” You whisper as you lay down on the soft pillow. The cot barely fits the two of you, but you wouldn't have it any other way. “It swallowed me, I think.”

He hums, chin placed on your shoulder, one eye closed from sleepiness. “It was a metaphor for capitalism.”

Smiling, you wipe at the crust gathering in the corner of his eyes. “You're so good at interpreting dreams.”

“I should have made it a career instead of bein’ a scavenger.” He pulls you towards him so you don't fall over the edge of the cot. His hand is warmer than the summers back on earth.

“Well, if you did go into that industry you wouldn't have met me, captain.” You snuggle closer, “also, I think you wouldn't earn much.” Your hand finds penchants on the back of his neck, fingers kneading softly.

Chuckling, he pecks your cheek before closing his eyes, completely relaxing in your gentle touch. “You never know, we might've met because you wanted me to decipher your dreams.”

“Go back to dreaming, you sap.” you giggle, “We might have a long day today, we need you bright and sharp, cap.”

“Don't have to tell me twice, doc.” He yawns, hugging you tightly. “You feel alright though? I can stay awake if you need someone to talk to, lovie.”

“I'm good, thank you, but holding me like this is already helping me.”

“Maybe I should've become a professional hugger then.” He mumbles as he drifts off to sleep. The soft whirring of the station lulls him to dream of better things, and the big space metal he calls home floats and rotates in place, almost like it's rocking the two of you.

“Yeah, maybe.” You inhale sharply at the familiar scent of the space station. It's metallic in nature, but the gentle smell of home trumps the acrid scent of steel.

Your eyes roam the grey room that you and Hobie have made your own. Various posters and pictures of your travels across the galaxy are taped to the walls, numerous tools, both medical and mechanical, lay about the room. But the thing that hasn't stopped you from staring at it is the large circular window sitting at the far wall just across from the bed. It's an eternal darkness out here, with no way to tell what time it is, or what day it is without a watch. It can make anyone go insane without proper training. It's like living underground, except you get to see the sky and everything above and below it.

Amidst the darkness of space there lies Mars, in all its crimson glory, stares back at you. The red planet drenches your room in its hue as the station floats and rotates, it bathes you in its magnificence. The planet is a large beautiful thing, and it makes you feel small in its primordial presence. It has you thinking that home is only a stone throw away— Earth, even though it's thousands of miles away from you. Thousands of miles away from the salty sea, miles away from the chirping birds, and sweet flowers. You miss home. But with Hobie in your arms, this is the closest to home.

A knock echoes in the room, the comms cackles to life, and a tired raspy voice speaks in a mechanical tone from the old comms. “Either one of you awake?”

You sigh, taking a peek at your sleeping captain. With a double tap in your ear, you turn on the communication on your end, “Someone better be dying, Yuri.” You whisper, making sure that Hobie doesn't stir awake as you rub your knuckles over his arm affectionately.

“This night shift is killing me but that's not why I'm here.” You hear her sneeze on the other side, and then a sniffle. “Sorry, but I think we found something.”

“What kind of something?”

“A big payday kind of something.”

—

The door hisses as you enter the kitchen of the space station. The sudden bright lights make you wince in your fatigued state, one eye open while your hand roams all over the wall next to you to dim the lights. Once you feel the knob of the light switch, you turn down the harshness of the white light.

“I've gone blind.” You blink rapidly, adjusting your sight to the now darker room.

“Will a pot of fresh coffee cure your blindness?” Yuri asks behind you. In her arm is a holopad where hundreds of flashing dots appear. It's gibberish to you, but to the ship's personal navigator, it comes natural to Yuri.

“Maybe? Is it the good stuff from AE-67?”

“What are we, the emperor?” She raises a brow, and you shake your head with a pout. “When we scrap this ship we're tailing, we can drink that shit every single day, babes.”

You walk towards the coffee pot, grabbing two mugs, knowing that Hobie is bound to wake up now that your warmth next to him is gone. “You said that last time. And we almost ended up space scrap ourselves.”

“Oh this one would be different because…” she turns her holo pad to face you, revealing an old government issued ship just floating in space. “I think we might've found the motherload.”

“That looks ancient.” You pinch at the screen, zooming in on the chipping markings. “And very much confidential. This is an army ship, Yuri—”

“At three fucking A.M. Yuri?! Really?” James walks inside the kitchen, fuming and very tired from how his eyebags sag underneath his blue eyes. Ned follows behind him, hair disheveled and still in his pajamas. “Where's the captain?”

“Sleeping, but I bet he's waking up from how loud you were screaming.” You toss a balled up napkin at him, hitting him right on his chest.

“Everyone shut the fuck up,” Ned yawns, hands placed on top of his ears. “I need my coffee stat.” He takes your cup instead of getting his own. Putting three scoops of sugar and four spoonfuls of creamer, which he stirs quickly before chugging it.

“We live with a barbarian.” You roll your eyes, getting a fresh cup. You meet with Yuri's eyes, she gestures towards the dining table, and sits the holodeck on top of it, which immediately activates the projector that shows a bigger, much clearer picture of the ship. “Damn.” Hands protectively over the two cups, you watch as Ned’s eyes widen at the sight.

James whistles lowly, “wait, I know that ship. I remember my dad reporting on it fifteen years ago.”

Yuri snorts, “so back when you were in diapers?”

“No—”

“Is that what I think it is?” Hobie appears in the doorway, bleary eyes blinking at the projection. He walks towards the table, hands swiping at the hologram to turn it around, and zooming in on what's left of the markings. “Fuckin' hell.” He curses under his breath.

You close the distance, sliding his cup next to him as you sip on your own. “What is it? You recognize it?”

“It's the ‘Herodotus.’ It's been missing for years. How the fuck—?” You remember that name, and how infamous it became over the years. It's a myth spread across the galaxy, where treasures could lie.

“I came across it on our radar. A more modern radar isn't designed to detect old ships like this, but ours is old as balls, so our old girl found it.” Yuri answers him, patting the table as if it's sentient. “Then I sent our little droid to take pictures of it. It's in the zeta quadrant in the Remus constellation. Not that far from where we are.” She looks over to a bewildered you. “I knew we had something.”

“Some people say they're carrying tons of credits to be transported to some planet in sector seven.” Ned enters a few codes in the panel on the table, and a second later, the news article about said ship pops up. A picture of the ship looking shiny and new is on top of the page. “Some say it exploded, or looted while en route.”

You read through the article. “There were no survivors.” Your hand instinctively wraps around Hobie's, making him squeeze you. “There were no escape pods recorded to have left the ship.”

“That they know of,” Hobie replies. “No one found the bloody ship, until now.”

“So what's the course of action, captain?” Yuri asks.

Hobie looks over to you. And your mind runs a thousand miles per second. “What if there was a disease that wiped them out instead? It happened before on Romulus five years ago, what if—” you sigh, knowing the crew's minds are made up. “The ship looks pristine, no sign of explosion or pirates looting outside.”

“Or we could find millions inside.” James adds. “If there's no credits on board— it's an army ship, the weapons alone could be worthwhile. Or hell, even the power core and the cryo pods.”

“I can't believe I'm saying this but, James is right.” Yuri sighs and James fist pumps the air victoriously. “This could be the one we're waiting for.”

You purse your lips, and Hobie looks at you through pensive eyes. “If the captain wants to go, I'll go.”

Hobie cups your cheek briefly with a smile before returning his attention towards his small crew. “We'll take precautions in case there's a virus,” Yuri, claps her hands with a grin while Ned and James share a look. “And we take anythin' valuable.”

“Crunching the numbers, I think we're looking at ten mill, each.” Ned smiles, clasping Hobie's shoulder. “So just like any job then?”

“Just like any job.”

“Let's go get rich then.” Yuri hoots and hollers down towards the cockpit to punch in the coordinates.

The crew leaves to prepare, but you can't help but ignore the gnawing worry in your stomach. Hobie notices while drinking his coffee. He turns his attention towards you, calloused hands rubbing along your arms comfortingly.

“You alright?”

“Mm-hmm, just worried. The usual.” You take his hand from your arm to kiss the back of it. “It's nothing.”

“You know I trust your gut, right? Remember that heist we had on earth?” You nod with a faint smile. “You said you had a bad feelin’ and it turns out it was a trap. If not for you tellin’ your concerns we would be talkin’ through our cells in blackwater right now.”

“Okay, I worry that something is wrong with it.” You glance at the projection of the ship. “Just— I have an eerie feeling about it.”

“Tell you what, just say the word and we don't do it.” Hobie cups your jaw, thumbs rubbing along your skin gently. “We go about our way through the bloody cosmos like usual.”

You inhale. “We do need the money though.”

He gives you a smile, lips meeting your forehead. “I know. We'll be set for life if we do this.” You hum, eyes closed. “No more space farin’, no more diggin’ through dead ships for scraps.”

“And we can go home.”

“And we can go back to earth, and buy that place you like.” He whispers the last part.

You chuckle as he kisses the tip of your nose. “With the reading nook, and large bathtub?”

“Big enough for the two of us. All that and more, love.” He smiles, and you feel reassured. Tilting his head, he kisses you properly this time.

—

You sit just behind Yuri in the control room, you're tucked in safely with the seatbelts that's properly secured. Hobie sits at the front, navigating through the asteroid belt expertly. His hand flexes over the controls as the ship goes to a cruising speed once the decommissioned ship appears in sight.

Behind the large circular ship lays a red planet with its storms brewing just above the surface with yellow lightning that sparks and illuminates the dark space for a brief time.

“No wonder no one found this ship.” James mumbles in his seat.

“Until now.” Yuri smirks at him, eyebrow raised in a teasing manner which James scoffs at.

“Is that?” You narrow your eyes at the broken down droid floating aimlessly, it's barely a dot in the radar. The mechanical eyes are dim, wings broken in half next to it, and its tail is sparking from its broken down state.

“Damn it!” Yuri curses, eyes flicking towards Ned, who's groaning in anguish.

“No, Terry 2.0!” Ned thumps his head on the seat headrest. “He was my favourite!”

“I see something behind the ship!” James exclaims as he activates the ship's radar, your screen lights up like a Christmas tree in the shape of another ship.

“Wankers.” Hobie guides the ship carefully, rounding the corner to stare down at the rival emerald coloured ship. With a few clicks on the panel, he calls up whoever is left on the ship.

“I swear those martians are always right on our tail.” Yuri shakes her head with an angry look on her face.

The call rings and rings, yet no one answers. “Fuck it, let's dock on the other side. I bet we'll come across those arseholes.” With an annoyed grunt, Hobie moves the ship on the other side to dock.

Everything happens by the book. Hobie lines up the ship perfectly along the docking clasps while Riri makes sure that the crimson spider is nicely locked on the military ship. And once everything is in place, you make sure that Hobie has his double lined suit on and everyone else that's coming on board the decommissioned ship. It's not needed most of the time, but with your worry of unknown disease that could be on board, it's a necessity.

“Yuri, you stay ‘ere in case things shit the fan.” Hobie instructs Yuri and she slumps down just as she's about to put on her boots.

“Come on, cap! I wanted to give those dicks a piece of my mind!”

“Sorry, James stayed last time.”

James smirks under his helmet, forgetting that it's completely see through.

“Oh fuck off, James.” Yuri kicks his shin, causing the smug blond to hold his leg and jump in place. He winces, the sound echoing through the comms.

“Ow! I just smiled!”

“Alright, enough of that. We have a job to do.” Ned says before you could. You give him a thankful nod. The other two doesn't seem to get the message, their arguing echoes throughout the ship.

Your suit hugs you in its silicon material, helmet fitting snugly and smelling faintly of jasmine. You can bet that Yuri used it before on a routine space walk. Tapping on the controls right on your wrist, you make sure the oxygen and carbon dioxide levels are alright. Sighing, Hobie sidles up to you, hand grabbing onto the med kid on your belt, pulling you closer to him.

“Just say the word, love.”

“I'm starting to think you're the one who's more worried than me.”

“It's my job to worry.” He smiles, “and it's part of the deal in lovin’ you.” He whispers the last sentence, making sure the other three are still arguing right behind you.

“You make it sound like I blackmailed you into loving me.”

“Nah, I walked right into it with open arms.” Hobie winks, sending your heart into a marathon.

You hold onto his wrist, wishing that you could feel his warmth under the suit. Smiling, you draw circles around his wrist. “Now that we're here, I actually feel good about it now.”

He chuckles, “you're a bad liar, love. I have to teach you how to lie better.”

You feign annoyance with a click of your tongue, smile betraying you. “Damn it, you saw right through me—”

“Fine!” Yuri's angry voice pops the bubble of affection around you and Hobie. She gives James the middle finger. “When you come back, your room will be filled with fucking jelly!”

“I hope an alien abducts you while you're alone here!”

“Moron, aliens aren't real!”

“Enough.” One word from Hobie and they both quiet down. (The ghost of his smile betrays him though) But their glares don't subside. “We have to move quickly or the Martians will get the loot before we can.”

“Aye, aye, cap.” Yuri says with a roll of her eyes, clearly annoyed at the situation. “Get me something good, babes.” She says to you as she moves out of the room and back into the cockpit. She opens the airlock, waving goodbye through the glass window.

Alarms blare, a high pitched sound declaring that the air lock has been opened. Red light illuminates the room as the air hisses and squeaks from the pressure change. Hobie holds onto your hand, squeezing three times when the giant door opens and reveals the state of the old ship.

“It's dark.” James says through the comms, voice a bit muffled by the system. “There goes looting the power supply.”

“Maybe the emergency system shut it off after whatever happened to them.” Ned steps inside first, opening his flashlight perched on his shoulder. “Besides, basic shit like doors and gravity would still work without it.”

The unmistakable click of a gun's safety goes off in James’ hand as he takes the rear end of the line right behind you. Your hand reluctantly lets go of Hobie, fingers stopping once you feel the familiar indents of your pistol right on your hip. Hobie's back is in front of you, no doubt holding on to his own gun just like Ned and James.

The doors close right behind you, and the crimson spider’s light is snuffed out, plunging the crew in darkness. Your hand shakes as you click your torch open. The air is stale and stagnant, with dust particles flying about. The ship is a mess inside, full of broken down metal, and scraps of papers strewn about. But still no sign of life.

The visitor's desk that should've greeted you on the way in sits empty. The booth is cracked, and the inside looks like a hurricane ran through it. Your hand unclips the holster, thumb practically glued on the gun. You have a bad feeling about all of this despite what you just told Hobie.

The comms cackle to life in your ears. “Everyone alive in there?” Yuri's voice echoes, and you hear her munching on her breakfast.

“Good on our end.” Ned answers, walking at a reasonable pace. “Are you seriously eating right now—!” He hits something with his foot, and whatever it was, it lights up the hallway, bathing it in blue light. “What the fuck!”

“Calm down.” Hobie clasps his shoulder as Ned moves to the side, giving you the perfect view of a droid on its last life.

“What happened?!” Yuri yells.

“It's just a service droid.” You sigh, answering her question. “We're good, Yuri.”

“You're a fucking scaredy cat, Ned.” James chortles behind you. Ned rolls his eyes, flipping the bird at James.

Hobie crouches down, turning the droid’s head to the side to see its cracked screen. It still smiles as sparks fly from its joints. “Ned, can you splice its memory?”

“Child's play.” He says, still clutching his chest. “It might take some time but I can do it remotely once I've connected to its head.”

“Good, thanks, mate.” Hobie stands up, letting Ned do his work. He looks at you, wordlessly asking if you're alright with just a nod.

You send a wink at him despite your anxiety crawling up your neck.

“And…I'm in. We can go.” Ned groans as he stands up, Hobie gives him a helping hand which the man takes.

“How long?” You ask, looking over Ned’s shoulder.

“Fifteen minutes, give or take.”

“I'll take the lead this time.” Hobie says, gesturing for Ned to move behind him and in front of you. You don't like how Hobie went further down the line, but you sucked it up as it's part of the job you signed up for.

The crew continues to stalk the hallways, guns raised, and with your heart rate quickening with every step. The place has become more disheveled with every move you take, tables turned over, consoles broken into pieces, shards of glass littered across the floor and broken wires sparking on the walls. And there has been no sign of the other crew, or other life forms amidst the destruction.

“Where are they?” You ask, swallowing thickly at the broken down dining area you passed. Good thing you have helmets on or the smell would've been rancid with the leftovers you saw still on the table.

James scoffs behind you. “Fuck them, Y/N, why are you so worried? It's a big ass ship, odds are we don't see them.”

“If they're going where we're going, we're bound to walk into them.” You raise a brow, looking over your shoulder. “Besides, we should've seen a sign from them by now.” Peeking at your small console on your arm with the map of the ship, you surmise your group has already reached the middle of it, which means you should've heard the other group talking or even their footsteps echoing by now. It has been silent ever since you stepped foot inside.

You pat your pistol on your hip, the hair on your nape rises with your anxiety boiling inside you. Maybe it's better if you do see them, it would mean the place is safe from any contaminants or other dangerous obstacles bound to happen when you're exploring a decommissioned ship.

The group walks in silence with each of their heavy footsteps echoing around the winding hallway. On your right sits numerous rooms where the crew would've slept in. On your left are large windows that showcase the vast space just outside of the ship. You're used to the view, but you always loved looking at the dark with its numerous stars and planets dotting the view. You always wonder if someone out there was gazing at the same view as you, and you always have an answer to it, and that's Hobie.

You meet with his eyes just as when he looks away from the window to you. He smiles beneath his helmet, winking casually, reassuring that he's right there with you. You grin at him, pursing your lips and mocking a silent kiss that makes him chuckle before shaking his head and taking his attention back towards the front.

“Heads up.” Yuri's voice cackles on the intercom. “Cryo room inbound.”

Hobie stops when he sees the big letters on his right. The large double doors are tightly sealed with the panels on its left still blinking and softly beeping amidst the darkened room. A number is painted on the doors, and a few symbols indicating the rooms importance and what lies inside.

“Do you want to check it out, Hobie?” Ned asks, lifting his head briefly from his console to look at the doors. “The pods could still be intact, we can sell them if they are.” His console beeps, and he presses a few buttons on it. “We got time anyway, decryption is at seventeen percent.”

“And there could be people inside.” You add, “it is protocol to get inside a pod if all else fails in the ship.”

“Imagine if they were,” James mutters. “they've been sleeping and waiting in there for fifteen or so years. Fucking creepy.”

“Probably,” Hobie says while lining up his torchlight at the dinging control panels. Your heart thumps with trepidation from their words. “Ned, could you?”

“Sure thing.” Ned walks towards the panel to connect his console with it. “Good thing we saw that droid, now I've got access to most of the ship.”

“Everyone say ‘thank you, dead robot.’” James chimes.

“Thank you, dead robot!” Yuri laughs in the coms, “we'll be sure to remember its memory once we get our own mansions.”

“Cryo pods are worth half a mil each in the market nowadays.” You say while you wait for Ned to open the doors. Hobie sidles up next to you, leaning against you casually. “And with how vintage this is, it could fetch us a handsome prize from the right collector.”

He turns his head towards you, bumping his helmet against yours gently. “You're brilliant.”

You show him your console that is showing how much a cryo pod is in the online blackmarket. “I was reading off of it.”

Hobie chuckles, moving away to pat your shoulder. “Should've said so, love.” You giggle at his reaction. “You're still gettin’ reception from ‘ere?”

“It's a bit choppy now, but yeah.”

“It's because of my genius with the net expander—” Ned pats himself on the back, literally. “There, it's open.” With a chiming sound and a hiss of compacted air, the cryo room opens to you.

Hobie and James go inside first with their weapons drawn, their steps calculated, and eyes watchful at the blue lined walls. You follow closely with Ned by your side, he shifts his head around the expansive room. Unlike the hallways, the room is pristine. With its walls and floors clean as if it's the first time someone has stepped foot inside. In the center sits a dozen or so cryo pods. Its cylindrical shape and glass lid sparkles from your flashlights.

Once Hobie and James cleared the room, you peek inside one of the pods, finding it empty. “Ah shit.” You look inside each pod to make sure, only seeing its white padded walls instead of what you expected. “It's all empty.” You sigh, hands placed on your hips.

“Thank fuck.” James takes a peek at one of them with a relieved sigh. “I would be freaked out if there was someone in one of these.”

Ned raises a teasing brow, “weren't you born in one?”

“Fuck off.” James flips him the bird.

Hobie smiles at the interaction while punching in a few buttons at the control panel in the center. You walk closer to him, hand placed on his waist while looking at the display.

“It says that it's in optimal condition.” You say while reading the rest of the information. “Even the cryo fuel has never been used.”

“I can read y’know.” He tilts his head at you, glancing briefly while he presses a few more buttons.

“Ha ha.” You squeeze his side, if not for the suit he would've felt it better. And yet he still yelps, as if it hurt him.

With a chuckle, he calls Yuri. “Ready the ship at dock number three, I'm sending the pods to you.”

“Fuck yeah!” Yuri's happy cheers ring in your coms. James even claps in place but when Ned doesn't show his excitement, he nudges him, and Ned scoffs at him in return before turning his attention back towards his screen, probably monitoring the decryption.

“Right, stand aside, I don't want you lot getting pulled in.” Hobie pulls you back by your belt, you stagger backwards, earning a yelp from you. When you stare daggers at him he just grins playfully. “What? I was jus' lookin' out for you is all.”

“Thank you, Hobie.” You say sarcastically, head bopping to the side while the floor around the cryo pods open with a mechanical hiss.

“You're welcome, love.” He pats your behind, chuckling as the pods descend from the floors downwards to the docking bay. You pat his flat ass in retaliation, which James makes a face at the two of you. “You got it from ‘ere, Yuri?”

“Got it, cap.” You can hear some clicking and whirring on the other side of the call. “Anddd… It's in! We're rich!”

While the others celebrate with high fives and fist pumps, a trilling sound from outside the room takes your attention. You walk towards the door, peeking over the doorway, eyes roaming around the dark with your flashlight following your line of sight.

You turn your head to the right. Nothing, just an open shutter with another dark hallway.

You turn to your left, nothing but dust flitting about.

A hand suddenly grasps your shoulder, and you jump from the shock of it. “Jus’ me, love.” Hobie rubs his gloved thumb over your shoulder blade, amused eyes turning into concern when he notices your anxious self. “You alright?”

“Y–yeah, I thought I heard something.”

He gives you a tight smile, pulling you towards him for a quick hug. “It's an old ship, it creaks and groans.”

You inhale sharply, “yeah, I know. I'm just jumpy.” Placing your hand on his cheek, the helmet stops you from fully feeling his warmth against your skin. “We can go now, right?”

“You kidding?” James appears from behind, grinning from ear to ear. “We gotta get the power source now, doc. Go big or go home, right?”

“I'd rather go home now actually, James.” You frown at him.

“Come on, there could still be valuable shit in here.” He pushes in between you and Hobie, going out of the room to spread his arms to his side. “You never know there could be that treasure we've heard about.”

“That's a load of shit.” You say, annoyed. “We got what we need, let's just go back to our ship instead of chasing some old wives tale.”

“We're not leaving until we see for ourselves that it is just some story.” James doesn't back down, “right, cap?”

You turn towards Hobie, clearly contemplating his choices. “How ‘bout we put it to a vote, like usual.”

“Come on, Hobie—” You start.

“I vote stay!” James cuts you off.

“Sorry, gorgeous, but I also vote yes. I have debts to pay, y’know.” Yuri adds to the conversation, you were hoping that she was on your side in this.

You shift towards Ned, who finds himself in the middle while he stares (or pretends to) at his screen. “What?”

“You need to vote, Ned.” You say, arms crossed atop your chest while leaning on the doorway.

“Vote yes to be a multi millionaire, Ned.” James teases you some more with a smirk playing on his lips.

“I found the ship map from the files I got from the droid.” Ned says, and James groans loudly. “And it says here that there's a hidden chamber deep inside the ship—”

“The treasure!” Both Yuri and James exclaim.

Hobie beckons Ned over, looking at the map on his console to see it for himself. You glance at it, and sure enough, there's a large chamber right in the center of the ship that wasn't in the original map placed around the ship walls.

Hobie turns towards you, and you already know what he's about to say. “Love—”

“Fine, majority wins.” you slink off outside without another word.

Hobie tries to reach for you but you're already walking away.

—

The group stays on course. With Hobie leading and with you in the back of the line, frowning and jaw clenched at the hallway ahead. At least the view outside is pretty. You glance at Hobie, finding that he's focused on what lies ahead.

With a huff, you open your screen to amuse yourself with some good old space invaders but you find that the net has stopped connecting with you being so far from the crimson spider. You could still play to spite the team, but you opt not to be such a child in the face of uncertainty. So you put the console to sleep, a flicker of Hobie's photo appearing before the screen turns to black.

You bite your lip when the group turns a corner towards the ship's cockpit. Again, the hallway is empty save for a few glass shards cracking under your boots. The air is as stale as before, and there hasn't been anyone you've come across through the short walk from the cryo room to the control room.

Hobie tries to open the door on the panel to the side, but it beeps in a high pitched tone, indicating that he can't access it.

“Ned,” he looks over his shoulder, only to find that Ned’s already by his side, console at the ready.

“I should send you all the authorization so you don't need me anymore to do this for you.”

“Aw, but we always need you, Neddy.” Yuri jokes in the coms, and you manage to let out a small chuckle.

Hobie hears you, turning to smile at you, which you slink away from, still annoyed and frustrated by him and his decision. His expression falters as the entire team hears a beeping sound from their screens to find that Ned has given you and the rest the access codes he got from the droid.

“There, in case we get separated, we can all open doors now.” Just as Ned says it, the cockpit doors open with a groan and a hiss. But it stops halfway, only opening enough for one person to pass through one at a time. “Damn it.” He tries to fix it by banging at the panel, but the doors only wheeze as sparks fly. “Note to self: don't do that.”

“It's fine, we can get inside anyway.” Hobie squeezes himself inside, you stop him immediately with your hand on his bicep. “Yeah, love?” He pauses in place right in between the double sliding doors.

You quickly scan the room, finding no one else inside or anything that would put him in danger. “Sorry, just checking.”

He pats your hand with a smile, reassuring you. “Thanks, love, I've got this, don't worry.”

“She always worries.” James utters under his breath. You snap your head at him, eyes narrowed. “What? I didn't say nothing.”

You hum, still staring daggers at him. “Watch your tone, James or I'll give you all those vaccines you keep avoiding, all at once.”

James surrenders while Ned goes inside the control room. “Jeez, sorry.” He gestures for you to squeeze yourself in next.

With a roll of your eyes, you move to shimmy yourself in, but that same trilling sound echoes from down the hallway towards you. It sends goosebumps to your arms, hair standing on the back of your neck.

“Did you hear that?” You ask James, who's standing next to you, waiting for his turn.

“No, it was probably the pipes. Old ship—”

“Yeah, I get it, this place is old.” With a quick push, you get yourself out of the doors.

The command center is as dark as the rest of the ship. The air seems to be more stagnant here than the rest with its lights flickering on and off, bulbs buzzing, threatening to pop. You scan the floors, finding it as disordered with broken glass, and scattered papers. But what gets your attention is the oozing dark matter still dripping from a table down to the floors. You briefly scan it with your device built in with your console, but after a few seconds of it trying to identify the substance, an error code pops up on the screen.

“What is it?” Ned sidles up next to you, eyes narrowed at the slimy material. “Goo?”

“I don't know, my console can't identify it.” You feel a sense of deja vu around it.

“Weird, it's probably on the fritz. I'll check it once we're back.” He nudges your arm. But when you could only stare at it, he shakes you lightly. “Y/N? You alright?”

A bright light seems to appear from inside the ooze, as if something is moving inside it. Something alive, ready to reach towards you with its dark tendrils.

“Hey.” Ned shakes you harder this time, managing to wake you up from your haze. “Do you feel dizzy?”

You inhale, craning your neck to look at him. “I'm fine, Ned. And that's my job.”

He chuckles, “not trying to take your job, doc.” Walking away, he looks over his shoulder, waiting for you to follow. “Come on then, before the captain worries.”

You take one last look at the substance before following Ned. It looks the same as before, maybe it was the trick of the light coming from the planet slowly rotating in the large window up front. It's a gaseous ball with its numerous storms laying waste to the entire planet. Its red lightning flaring, lighting up the cockpit with brief crimson. Hundreds of hurricanes' swirling clouds can be seen from where you are. It's magnificent, a terrifying force of nature. If this ship plummets down, there's no surviving it.

Tamping down your dark thoughts, you make your way towards Hobie, who's connecting his console with the main control panel. He glances at you, nodding briefly before returning his attention towards the blinking panels. His helmet reflects the storm in front, a dance of lightning and clouds circling around the glass of his helmet.

“Good thing the emergency power is keeping this place afloat.” James sighs, arms perched atop his rifle. “I really don't want to go down with this ship.”

“Stop it, James.” Hobie mutters, brows furrowed at his screen. He's still trying to keep your worries away even though he's busy. “It's not giving me any of the captain's logs.”

“You might need a higher clearance.” Ned connects himself to the controls, trying to override the clearance. “Wait— the decryption is done.” He unplugs to check the files, finding hundreds of audio files from a crew member named ‘Harry’.

The team shares a look, and you inhale deeply. As Ned pressed play on the last known recording, the crackling sound of the garbled audio echoes around the dark and silent room.

“Log 277, I've run out of food up here.” His voice is weak, as if he has been running a hundred miles before recording. “Serves me right for not stopping by the mess hall before shit hit the fan.” Something metallic can be heard in the audio, as if a gust of wind is blowing a tin roof away. “I can't— I can't do this anymore.” His sobs fade away for a second before he composes himself. “I've only got three days worth of water left— and I keep seeing that fucking face whenever I close my goddamn eyes!” He sharply inhales. “I–If you're hearing this recording that means I've successfully sent my logs to all the droids in the ship. I could at least warn you. And if you're still on the ship, run.” The recording cackles until it ends.

“What the fuck?” You whisper yell, palm gripping at your chest to ease your quick heartbeat.

Hobie reaches for you, hand placed on your nape, and his eyes swimming with fear. “We should get out of ‘ere.” You grip his hand, lips wobbling as you look at the side of his face.

“But—” James starts, eyes wide but clearly wanting to push through.

“We need to go, James.” You shake your head at him, steely eyes staring at him.

“Yuri—” Hobie calls for her.

“I heard, cap, I'm already docking the ship to the nearest exit.” She replies, tone serious.

“Let's go—” Ned gestures to leave, but a strained cough from somewhere freezes the group in place.

You flick your eyes at everyone, finding each of their faces morph into a terrified expression.

“P–please…” The mysterious voice pleads. “Behind…the controls.”

As terrified as you are right now, you can't help but try to save them, whoever they are.

Sliding away from Hobie's side despite his protests, you go around the panels to find the stranger. You gasp at his slumped state, his helmet is shattered to bits, lungs desperately trying to intake air, and his eyes— they're nothing but bloody sockets in his head.

Hobie follows you, immediately freezing when he sees what you're looking at with your wide eyes. “Fuck.”

Ned and James watch on with similar horror etched on their faces while Yuri’s gasps can be heard while she sees the stranger from your camera connected to the ship.

You slowly kneel down, trembling hands trying to open your med pack from your belt. Hobie's hand tries to keep you in place, protecting you from the man. The velcro from your pack rips as you open it, and the man raises a bruised hand to stop you.

“Not worth trying.” He wheezes. “I'm a dead man.”

Hobie narrows his eyes at the familiar patch on the man's suit, he sports a similar logo as the martians who got on the ship before you. “Are you with the—?”

“Commander Andy Landers at your service.” He salutes weakly, chuckling which was quickly replaced by a pained cough. “Who are you fuckers?” He points at his nonexistent eyes. “I'm not wearing my glasses right now.”

“Hobie Brown…” he kneels beside you, hand never leaving your shoulder. “You’re with my team. What happened ‘ere?”

Andy licks his cracked lips, hands flexing into fists as a wave of pain washes over him. “You need to get out of here.”

You try to patch up his eyes with a cloth of bandage but he stops you by suddenly grabbing your wrists in a bruising grip. “L–let go.”

“Don't look at it, or else it will know where you are.” He squeezes you tighter, his eye sockets dripping with fresh blood like a tear. Hobie comes to your side, trying to pry Andy away from you. “You can't kill it, but you can take your eyes away before it gets you!”

You desperately pull your hands away, Hobie manages to yank you off, and you immediately crawl away from Andy and towards Hobie. Hobie embraces your side, fingers gripping onto your suit, shielding you from the strange and eerie man.

The former commander gasps, as if his breath is being sucked right out of his lungs. His head is held up high, chest heaving and gasping for air. Bloodied tears flow down on his cheeks, leaving trails of crimson on his battered flesh. As fast as it came, he falls back into place, sockets seeming to stare right at you.

“It’s coming for you, doc.”

Your vision turns hazy with a kaleidoscope of light, but before you could blink it away, you're yanked up to your feet with Hobie dragging you out of there.

“We need to help him.” Just as you said the words, alarms blare out in the cockpit. Red lights suddenly illuminate the room, and a blue fog creeps from below the vents to the floor. The ship has activated its waste protocol, which means it has detected a foreign and dangerous object within the room.

“There's no helping him!” Hobie runs, while Ned manages to squeeze himself through the doors before it suddenly shuts closed. Hobie and James hit the steel doors harshly from their speed. And you run into Hobie's back right after. “Fuck!” He punches the doors, it doesn't even dent it. “Ned!”

“Already on it!” Ned's frantic muffled voice can be heard on the other side.

“That's it! I'm coming in!” Yuri screams into the coms as you hear her running footsteps in the background.

“No, Yuri, stay on the bloody ship!”

While Hobie and James try to pry open the door with their bare hands, a sound akin to crawling coming from the vents gets your attention. It seems to get closer amidst the blaring alarms.

“Take me, oh magnificent one!” Andy shouts from his place, and now you see fingers gripping the metal vents from below the floors, then another, then another as if three pairs of hands are trying to open it.

“Hobie.” You stagger back, hands grasping at Hobie's suit.

“‘m tryin', love!”

With the rattling of metal, the vent hatch disappears from beyond, sucked inside. The fingers reach out until a bloodied arm appears, then another, and another until you see dozens of fingers attached to three mangled and melded arms. A grotesque being of unfathomable nature.

“Hobie!” You shake him, and he finally looks back to see the creature rear its ugly head from under the vents— Heads, there's dozens of heads stuck together on its thick bloodied neck that oozes dark tendrils. Faces all morphed together into agonized expressions. Their voices are warbled, screaming in different tones and jumbled up words of suffering. “Ned, we need this opened now!”

You stand and watch as the being crawls out of the dark as sirens ring in your ears and ruby lights flicker in and out of place with the kaleidoscope haze in your vision. Its skin bends into a mass of flesh, a rat king of sorts, limbs tangled together, strewn together by a black substance ebbing out of its pores.

“Water!” The creature gargles out the words from deep within its throat. “Help!”

“Oh god.” You walk backwards into the wall, seeing the creature wobble towards the commander behind the control panels. Panting in place, you see James aim at it. “Don't!” You yell at him, arm outstretched. “You'll get its attention. Andy's giving us time.”

“I'm here!” Yuri's muffled voice from behind the door gives you hope. “Ned, tell me what to do!”

Their conversation falls from your ears as the mangled mess of flesh and muscle gets to the commander. It rises up to its full height, revealing you more of its hands and feet on its belly, all melted into place to create a wall of bloody and beaten flesh. A rainbow light flashes in your vision as it devours the man. Blood gushes out on the floor while it tears into him. He doesn't scream or plead for mercy, he stays in place, accepting his fate.

“Y/N!” Hobie's voice takes your attention away from the gore filled sight. “You go first!” He pushes you towards the crack in the door that Ned and Yuri managed to open. You can see their faces freeze in fear as they see the creature feed.

“What about you?!” You grab his arms, pulling him towards you.

“I'll be right behind you, love, I promise, yeah?” He pushes you further out while Ned and Yuri help pull you outside.

You hit the floor in a grunt, back aching that you push down to help Hobie get out. Standing up, you take out your pistol, aiming behind him while you cover Hobie as he scrambles out.

“Hurry!” Yuri yells, “James, you're next!”

Hobie manages to get out just as the creature's delighted hums of pleasure stop. You pull him closer to you for an embrace, he hugs back, face hidden on the crook of your neck.

“Fuck!” James' rifle buzzes and then goes off, and you immediately move away to help him. He shoots at the alien, bullets getting absorbed by its wall of flesh whenever he hits his mark.

“Forget it and just get out!” Yuri sticks her hand out to pull him out. She manages to grab hold of his belt, pulling him out into the barely opened door.

A spray of bullets rain inside while you join Yuri in pulling James out. “James! You need to go!”

Ned panics on the panel as it beeps an error sound, warning of the doors closing. “Fuck! Hobie—!”

Hobie stops from pulling James to help Ned. “Shit, it needs a fingerprint!” He presses his own thumb on the scanner to no avail. He realizes what happens next. “Pull him out now—!”

The unmistakable click of the empty rifle rings like a death knell. James' body is only a quarter from getting through as the creature grabs him with its multiple hands, pulling him away from your grasp, lifting him up while it opens its bloodied maw. He's face to face with rows upon rows of mismatched teeth, a dozen tongues lolling out and flicking the same dark substance on his helmet.

“Yuri!” James screams while you try to push yourself back into the room to grab his legs but Hobie yanks you away from the doors. Giving time for Yuri to replace you.

“Yuri, no! Get away!” Hobie yells as he holds you in place with his arms around you.

“James!” Yuri continues to push herself inside, prompting Ned to dive for her and pull her away but Yuri fights. “I've got his foot—!” As she says it, James' screams are cut abruptly. His blood dripping down on the floors, raining down on Yuri. “No!” Ned manages to pull her back enough but her arm is still taking hold of his limp leg. “I've got him—!”

Bang!

The doors suddenly shut on Yuri's arm, and her screams of sorrow are replaced with agonizing pain. The sound of muscle and bone being ripped apart from its sockets would haunt your dreams.

“Yuri! Oh god!” You crawl towards her while her shoulder sprays blood on your suit, “I've got you— oh fuck!” Your eyes fill with tears as your hand shakes around the bandage you're desperately trying to wrap around her wound. “Hobie!” With your cry, Hobie jumps to help, eyes wide with shock. “We need to stop the bleeding!”

He takes more bandages from your kit, pushing the cloth inside as she wails in pain. Ned cradles her in place, hand placed over her eyes as he shields her away from the sight.

The cockpit doors bang with every cry she lets out. You glance at it briefly, heart buzzing to the beat of the brute's knocking.

Once you've gotten your entire supply of bandages around her, Hobie inhales deeply. “We need to get back on board.” You and Ned nod while Yuri's sobs quiets down dangerously. “Help me get her up.” He sniffs as he stands up, “love, can you manage to cover us?”

You swallow down your fear. “Y-yeah, I think so.” He hands you the gun while he puts his arm under Yuri. She yelps, sobbing while she continues to bleed out. “She needs a lot of blood, Hobie.” You say while you put the gun strap over your shoulder.

“We'll get her some, don't worry.” The banging gets louder, “we might need to run. Yuri, which dock—”

“James…” She says in between sobs.

“I know, I know.” Ned calms her down with his hand wiping away at her blood soaked helmet. “We'll get him once you're alright, okay? For now, which dock, Yuri?”

“T–thirteen, near medical.” She gasps out before her head lays on Hobie's chest.

The three of you look at your right, opposite of the way you came from. “Alright, no time to lose.” He fixes his hold on Yuri, earning a staggered exhale from her. “Hold on for us, Yuri.”

Ned guides you all throughout the hallway while you can hear the banging echoing from behind. You take the rear, gun at the ready even though you aren't.

“Just a few more minutes, Yuri!” Ned yells from up front, numerous boots clanging against the metal floors.

You keep running despite your lungs heaving out. Checking your weapon's ammo, you glance at the floor to find the rest of commander Andy's team laying on the ground with numerous parts of their bodies missing.

“Fuck! This is fucked!” Ned screams but he keeps running.

The team turns a corner, that's when the lights flicker into the same shade as the bloody floors. The identical alarms ring from the cockpit, filling the entire hallway with blue fog. Your vision fills with a rainbow of light briefly.

It's here.

“Keep running!” You yell as you hear its heavy footfalls behind you. Hobie spares you a worried glance, “I'm fine, Hobie, keep going!”

You can see dock thirteen in the distance.

There's a new set of footsteps running in the halls.

“Who the fuck is that?!” Ned shouts, pointing ahead of him where a couple of strangers are running towards the dock. “Oi, no!”

They get there before you, sporting a similar suit like yours. But they don't wait for you as they open the dock hatch.

“Wait!” You point the gun at them as a warning. “Please!”

They look like they're arguing, but once they see the creature stalking right behind you, they don't stop to wait. With a frantic hand they shut the hatch close without your team making it inside your ship.

“Motherfucker!” Hobie yells, body hitting the glass hatch from his running momentum. Ned tries to open the doors with the panel to the side, but it beeps, error code reflecting on his helmet. “Open the fucking door!”

You look behind you, seeing the mass of flesh running towards you sloppily, body hitting the sides of the hallway as it gasps a gravelly voice.

“Yuri!” It says in James' voice, and you immediately aim, rifle powering up for a second before you shoot at its legs.

It staggers back as you hit its enormous knee caps in a shatter of bone and blood. You keep shooting, its skin tearing off from the bullets.

“I'm sorry!” The people on the other side say as they get into the ship, leaving you all behind. You can hear Hobie's console warning you of your shared ship undocking.

“Fuckers!” Ned punches the glass as it cracks under his fist.

“We need to go!” Hobie shouts above the rain of gunfire. He yells your name, and you immediately feel someone's hand grip the belt of your suit to pull you away.

Twisting around, you follow your team out of the hallway as you hear the deep rumble of the organism’s footsteps. Without looking back, you hear the shatter of glass and your ship's alarm systems kicking in. It got in, but the airlock already went back in place with a hiss, reminding you that the two strangers have left you all to die in this dying piece of scrap metal with an unknown creature.

—

Ned locks the med bay doors behind him while you and Hobie pause for a second to gawp at the mess of skin and muscle on the operating table.

“What the fuck is that?” Hobie waits for you to answer.

The body is barely recognizable as a human being. Its skeletal structure is all over the place with its seven legs curled to its side in a fetal position, with ten arms embracing its legs. The bones are in deep crimson, as if the shade was painted on. The muscles look like it's melting away from its bones, dripping flesh into the metal table.

“I don't fucking know.” You say while Ned closes the shutters to the windows. “Put Yuri down over there, I'll find where they keep the blood.” Pointing at an empty metal table, you set off to find some blood, or at least a transfusion kit. You remember Ned is an O negative, meaning he can give to Yuri.

Shuffling quickly around the room while Hobie sets Yuri down, you fling numerous cabinets open in hopes to find something, anything to help her instead of just bandages.

Hobie calls for you, his tone soft and sullen. “Love,” he cries out for you again. “Love.”

With one last cabinet to open, you finally find bags upon bags of blood stored inside. “I found it!” You smile, grabbing an armful of blood bags. Turning around, your smile falters when you see Ned sobbing while holding Yuri's hand. Hobie shakes his head, eyes filled with tears. A tear falls down your cheeks, you refuse to let it be. “I found the blood, Hobie, help me with—” you step forward, Hobie quickly embraces you, “she needs them!” muffling your cries as he holds you against his chest while bags of blood fall on your feet.

He cradles you in place as your legs give out from under you. “‘m sorry, love.” Leaning on the cabinets, he lets you hide yourself in his neck, letting your cries reverberate through him as he puts his head atop your shoulder, arms around your body and cradling you back and forth.

—

You've said your goodbyes to Yuri and James, but the shock still hasn't worn off from your bodies. The team, or what's left of you, sit on the cold floors, helmets off for now, backs leaning against the cabinets as the three of you stare off into space wordlessly.

“I'm gonna miss their arguing.” Ned cuts off the heavy silence. “I'm already missing Yuri's coffee, and James' parfait.”

“Or you could just be hungry, mate.” Hobie jokes, hand reaching on top of Ned’s head. Wiggling him gently while Ned smiles softly.

“I'll miss James' hugs, and the way Yuri haggles the prices on the black market.” You smile faintly, avoiding looking at her body covered by a fire blanket. “I remember when she managed to get the price of fuel down to only three hundred credits when it was supposed to be six hundred.”

“Remember when we had to pull her away from a bar fight?” Hobie turns to you, head placed on your shoulder with lips briefly kissing you. He wishes that the suit wasn't there. “While we were tryin’ to not get her arrested, James jumped in to join the fight. We ended up stayin’ a night in jail.” He chuckles, and you soon follow after with your gentle laughter.

Ned joins in, laughing that quickly turns into sniffles. “Yeah, I'll m–miss them.”

You slither your hand behind Hobie to pat Ned’s shoulder. “They were the best.”

“The pods.” Hobie suddenly says, perking up from your shoulder.

“Mate, this is no time to worry about the shit we stole.”

“Not that pod. The escape pods, every ship has ‘em. If we get the power goin' we can get out of ‘ere.”

Ned checks his console for the ship's map. “Says here that there are escape pods left in the ship.” He pinches his fingers, zooming in on the map. “And there's also some sort of executive panic room in case of an uprising inside the ship.” He hisses, “but we both need admin clearance and the power back on to open them.”

“Then let's find someone to open it for us. And open the lights back on.” Hobie thumps his head against the cabinet. “Fuckin' easy, eh?”

You chuckle, nuzzling your face on his bicep, “we need a miracle to pull it off.”

He bumps his head atop yours. “That's quitter talk, lovie.” A gentle smile appears on your lips, eyes glinting under the flashlights. “But I know that look, you've got a plan, don't you?”

“A half of a plan.” You pat his cheek affectionately before standing up. “We're surrounded by medical supplies, and that includes anesthesia. Lots of them.” Walking towards a glass cabinet filled with green vials, you open the door quietly, plucking a single vial from its place. “We may not be able to kill it with what we have, but we can paralyze it to give us enough time to chop off one of its hands.”

Ned's eyes widen in realization. “To get admin access.” He stands up, joining your side. “I saw its gigantic hand too, there’s dozens of fingers on there, one is bound to be from someone who has the credentials.”

“That plan is bonkers enough that it might work.” Hobie joins in with a groan, stretching his neck from side to side. “We’ll load up the rifle with your concoction, and one of you chops it off.” He glances at you with a look of admiration. “Good on you, love.” His hand cups your elbow, squeezing once before letting go.

“We just need to turn on the power then we'll head off to— wait, the escape pods or the panic room?” Ned asks the two of you, fingers flying to his console, pulling up the ship's map, flicking away an image of the center of the ship where he previously wanted to go before everything happened. You'll never know what lies there. “According to the map, they're near each other.”

“The panic room could give us enough time to wait it out for a ship to come along and rescue us, and maybe wait until the beast starves and dies. From what I've heard of rooms like this…” Hobie points at the dotted line on the screen where the room lays. “They have enough supplies to last the blood sucking executives two years inside the room.”

“And the pods could grant us a quick escape, but ships as old as this one are wonky at best. There's a chance that the built in autopilot won't even work.” You add.

“But a chance that it could.” Ned sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. “We've got enough time to figure it out later, for now we need to get ready, make sure that we don't fuck up our one chance.” He closes his eyes, breath stuck in his throat. “For them.”

You glance at Yuri's body, Hobie follows your gaze, immediately reaching for your hand, giving you a reassuring squeeze. “For them.”

—

Everything has been set in place, you've mixed at least three magazines worth of ammo with paralyzing agents that could bring down two elephants with one bullet. Or kill an adult human with just a graze from it. Good thing Hobie didn't pinch pennies to buy an old shitty gun but instead he got one that could be loaded with different cartridges. The bright green substance sloshes from side to side as you carefully load it in the remaining rifle and your pistol.

Hobie has armed himself with an ax he took from the fire emergency kit on the wall. He weighs it in his hands, eyes darting towards you and Ned.

“Change of plans, I'll do the cuttin’”

“I thought that was my job?” You ask, chest tightening with worry.

“I don't want either of you gettin' that close to it.” He places it on his belt, securing it with velcro. His suit is now matted with dried blood, you try not to think about it.

You close the distance towards him while Ned wordlessly shakes his head from the corner of your eyes. “At least take this with you, I know that there's no arguing with you, captain.” Handing him your pistol, you don't wait for him to take it, knowing that he will refuse it. Instead you place it on his holster after taking his own pistol to replace the bullets with the paralyzing serum. “This one is for Ned, I'll take the rifle.”

“Love—”

“You can't do everything all at once, Hobie.” You grab his helmet from the counter, placing on his head gently as you turn it until it's secured in place. Tapping the glass, you smile at him sweetly. “Let us help you, okay? We're a team, remember?” You glance at Ned.

“Hey, don't look at me, I'm all in favour of not getting close to it.” He shrugs, chuckling softly.

Hobie grasps your chin carefully with his gloved hand, corner of his lips curling into a tender smile. His eyes hide all his fears, an image of you laying in your pool of blood with Ned's body right next to yours.. “I remember, I just don't want to lose any more of my team.” He should've listened to you and left before everything turned to shit.

“You won't.” You say, palm placed over his heart, wishing the suit wasn't there to feel his heartbeat. “We're not planning on leaving you all alone, Hobie.”

“Hear, hear.” Ned clasps his hands together impatiently. “Can we load up my pistol before you two start snogging right in front of me? We don't have HR remember?”

Hobie chuckles, punching Ned's shoulder lightly. “After this you can send your complains to HR all you want.” He says as he points towards the trash can in the corner.

Your giggles softly echo above their banter while you load Ned's gun. You could only hope everything goes to plan. You don't want to lose either of them. They're what remains of your family and Yuri and James' memory. You want them back but you have to save the ones you still can no matter how much your heart aches for the ones who were lost.

—

The three of you walk silently through the halls, passing by dismembered bodies, coagulated blood sticking to the floors, and the beast's waste laying amongst the dead. You didn't know them, but you no one deserves such a fate.

The hallways are still drenched in darkness, this time it's filled with bodies with limbs all over. You try not to move your flashlight towards the dead in respect for them. Your heart thrums in your ears as Ned leads the way this time towards the power supply room. Hobie walks behind you, ax at the ready, eyes trained to watch out for any sudden movements.

You inhale sharply, trying to even out your staggered breathing which Hobie immediately notices. With a warm hand, he rubs his palm on your back, silently easing you.

Without a word, you reach for his hand atop your shoulder, patting it a few times and placing it over your helmet in a ‘kiss’. Hobie squeezes back before returning his hand to the heavy ax.

You finally make it to the front of the supply room. Its large double steel doors loom over you, the warning signs plastered right next to it take your attention. Highlighting all of your nerves even more.

Ned opens the door, using the same access codes he nicked from the droid just a few hours ago. To think that in a little over three hours your team was still complete, the crimson spider still had its crew and you still had your entire family with you. You should've fought harder to get back on the ship after taking the cryo pods. If you held your ground, told them about your gut instinct telling you to leave. Hell even threw a tantrum just for them to agree with you, the entire team would've been on the ship on your way back home to buy the life you've always wanted. Not stalking the halls of a dead space ship with a killer alien out for your blood.

At least Hobie and Ned are with you. You think you wouldn't have survived this long without them.

With a mechanical hiss, the doors open ever so slowly. The first thing you see under your flashlight is the water inside that sloshes with every creak and groan of the ship.

“What the fuck?” Hobie beats you to it, shining his torch all over the flooded room. The water laps gently at the small staircase further leading down to the room, as far as you can see, the entire place is filled with dark near stagnant water. It rises to the half of the iron coils connected together, good thing the power's off or else it could electrocute you.

Ned raises his light towards the ceiling, seeing a huge hole from it with water leaking down. “Fuck, that's coming from the quarters.”

“That's toilet water.” You grimace, glad that you have your helmet on so you can't smell the nasty water.

Hobie roams his light towards the middle, finding the large console with a lever that was similar to an older ship's power supply that you and Hobie were flying in before you two upgraded to the crimson spider. The bright blue fuel inside the cannisters shimmers in the light, still full as if someone just refueled the ship. The power core looks to be unscathed, James would've been thrilled.

“There.” Hobie sighs, “we need to trudge the water.” He curses under his breath, “I remember this type of supply has the initial surge of power before levelin’ out. We need a rope to tie it around the lever and pull once we're out of the water. Or we'll turn into fish and chips.”

“I fucking hate this, god.” Ned groans but is already coming down the slippery stairs. “Watch your step.”

Hobie lets you go first, ax in hand and takes one last look around before following you. The doors close behind him as the heavy water parts before you. It's cold over your suit, a kind of biting cold that shivers through your spine. Not even the thermal lining in your suit keeps it out.

Hobie sees your uncomfortable posture as you go further into the water until it reaches up to your waist. “Just a few minutes, love, this is nothin' compared to winters back home.”

“Y–yeah,” you shiver. “but this time there's no hot cocoa waiting at the end.”

“We get out of here and I'll drown you in hot cocoa.” Ned tinkers with his console. “Damn it, my screen’s wet.”

“Not a good way to say that you'll drown me while we're wading through waist deep water, Ned—”

The sound of an audio recording suddenly cackles to life, and Harry's voice echoes around the quiet room. “Log 15, I've figured out what attracts it.” He huffs in the recording, and there's some shuffling in the background. But you feel a sudden tugging at your leg, looking down and shining your light on it, you find that one of the metal coils has snagged into your suit. With every pull, it rips into the suit even more. Hobie helps you with his hand pulling at your leg to the opposite side, but with your impatience and nerves, you pull too hard, causing the sharp metal to scratch your skin, leaving a rip on your leg as you bleed into the water.

“Fuck.” You clench your teeth, holding onto Hobie for support from the sudden rush of cold water entering your suit and the ache from the wound.

“We just need to get you out of the water—”

“Blood.” Harry from the recording continues, “fresh ones. I don't know why but it seems to like it. Maybe because it's warm, but I'm no scientist. So if you're bleeding, put a cork in it immediately, if not, run for your life.”

Your breath gets stuck in your throat, meeting your eyes with Hobie's wide ones. “Hobie—!”

The sudden trilling sound filters through the hallway outside, and its guttural shriek sends shivers down your spine. “Fuck! Go!” He gestures for you and Ned to run in the water, there's no going back where you came from since you're already a quarter away from the lever. You just need to push through.

The water makes waves as you move as fast as you can. Ned gets to the lever first, leaving you and Hobie to wade through it.

Ned points at another exit just to the side of the room with another staircase leading up to it. “Go! I'll tie the rope!”

“Ned, we ain't leavin’ you!” Hobie gets to his side, hands shaking at his oldest friend's shoulder.

“Go! The thing is following Y/N, not me!”

“But—!” You start.

“Just fucking go, captain!” His sad eyes flick over to you. “I can manage myself.”

The doors where you came from bursts open, metal shutters flying down into the freezing water with a splash. “Water!” It roars in its many voices.

“Fuck!” Ned pushes you and Hobie towards the other exit, body shimmying behind the console, hiding himself from view while the creature trudges the waters.

Hobie grabs you by the armpits, half carrying you towards the door while the water splashes all around you.

Body drenched, you two make it towards the door, opening it manually with a strong push. You step out onto the dry floor with Hobie right next to you. Once you turn around to face the being, you take your rifle from your back to aim directly at it. Hobie's hands grip the ax tight as he sees it ignore Ned and heading right towards your form with its large gangly form of stolen limbs.

“Now, love!” He yells as you don't waste time by shooting at it. The rifle didn't take a second to power up completely, once the gun beeps, your ammo hits its chest.

The sound of gunfire reverberates around you, muzzle flash painting the whole room in flashing light.

It staggers forwards, groaning and warbling but it still continues to grasp at you desperately. Hobie readies his ax, raising it above his head while you reload another round of the paralyzing serum. Ned sees a long arm snaking towards your foot, and as you see it headed for you, you snap your eyes towards Ned, who's smiling kindly at you. Mouthing words that you can't quite decipher while his hand is placed around the lever before pulling it down.

“No!” The sudden bright sparks burns your eyes, staggering you backwards as it blinds you for a moment. The beast wails, but you can't hear Ned anymore. Then you see it, the same rainbow of light flitting across your vision. It floats into a circle until it speeds up, as fast as it came, it flickers into a steady circle of light. Blinking it away with tears trapped in your eyes, you find Hobie clutching his eyes right next to you, one hand trying to find you. Meeting him halfway, you squeeze his hand and he falls limp. “I'm okay, Hobie. Are you—?”

“Ned!” He cries out, legs tucked underneath him as he slouches on the floor in a fetal position. “Fuck!” Banging on the floor, he inches his hands towards the fallen ax above him.

“Hobie.” You cry for him, hands tugging at his suit as he stands up. You refuse to look at Ned's floating body in the water. “I'll do it, please sit back down.” You're still trying to blink away the light.

He clenches his jaw, eyes brimming with fire. “no, I'll do it.” Walking towards the long arm that was reaching out to you, it has stopped right at the top of the stairs where it's dry. Looking at Ned as he raises the weapon, he chops it off with a furious yell.

Blood gushes out of it like a fountain of gore, splashing Hobie in streaks of rubies. The hand cuts without much resistance. He drags the large hand that is the size of your torso, the skin is burnt and almost charred as welts pop on its skin, he drops it to the side as he falls on his knees, catching him before he gets hurt. You gather him on your lap for a moment, fingers digging to your side but not for a second longer as the creature seizes up, slowly waking up.

Hobie moves away, eyes turned towards the hand. “We need to move.” You stand up first, reaching out for a helping hand. He looks up at you with tears clinging onto his lashes. “Love?” He asks as he takes your hand.

“Y–yeah?” You sniff away the tears.

“We should've left.”

“We can leave now, Hobie.” Lifting him up, you place your helmet upon his own. Closing your eyes for a second before pulling away. “C’mon, let's go home.”

—

You two make your way out wordlessly. The rifle in your hands weighs heavier, the wound on your leg has stopped bleeding, but the ache persists. Hobie walks next to you with the bloody ax swinging on his hip. The large hand he's carrying makes him smaller under the now whirring lights of the ship.

Ned did it, he opened the power back on the entire ship. You can now open the previous restricted doors. Add that with the hand, there's probably at least one finger in there that has the admin clearance to open either the escape pods or the panic room.

“Love.” Hobie's boots squeak as he stops. You follow his line of sight with your tired eyes. “Where to?”

You have found yourself at a crossroads, a fork in the road with two converging hallways leading to different outcomes. Which one will it be? Your choice determines your fate and Hobie's.

The creature roars behind you. Calling you by your name.

The Escape Pods.

The Panic Room.

Support banner by @/cafekitsune

Custom banners by @the-shroom-garden

A/N: please consider reblogging if you liked this! ❤️❤️❤️

[poppy-s-rampage]

Once a Hero.

Chapter 1: Too late!

Warnings: Blood, Gore and violence. You can't sue me now!

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Prologue| Masterpost| Chapter 2!

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The Master of time leaned over the unmoving form of his young protegee, forceps needle and thread in hands. The old ghost deftly redid the stitches on the youngest torso. Slowly but surely closing the jagged ‘Y’ shaped wound shut.

‘How did it come to this?’

All it took was one minute of inattention for the young Halfa's timeline to be put in jeopardy. In a single moment of inattention, Daniel’s timeline tangled with another stray unstable one and merged. By the time Clockwork noticed, the timelines were already fused to the point of no return. Reality wrapped to fit the new Frankenstein series of events. So he did what he could, snip at some parts, and twist at others to make it so his protegee could have a chance of survival and still having a goodish timeline.

The gaping wound now finally shut, the old ghost went to treat the boy’s muzzle cuts and throat. The apparatus, when destroyed by the wail, had split open the right cheek’s flesh from the corner of the Halfas mouth, carving a morbid half smile. The boy’s tongue was bloody but could still be salvaged with diluted ectoplasm. The real problem was the throat; it was impossible to currently heal to a usable level with the concentration of ectoplasm he could safely use on Danny.

He was no Frostbite, but he was more than capable of putting back together the young ghost in a Time out. Daniel was too unstable to stay in the infinite realms, his core still too raw for pure Ecto. It would be like feeding a 10-year comatose patient a buffet after being kept alive via IV, transfer the concept to a fragilized and forcefully balanced core, and you get the idea.  It was also a way to better realize the consequences of his mistake. But not to apologize, nothing would ever be enough to fix what Daniel had endured.

Clockwork stopped believing in apologies an eternity ago.

It all had happened so fast, Phantom had no chance of changing the course of events. Ironically, the current timeline was the best possible outcome after the incident.

While his protegee’s original timeline’s parents would have been accepting of his heritage, the ones of the intruding unstable timeline were not. ‘Monsters’ would have been too kind of a word to describe them. Curiosity plagued individuals who could have given Dan a run for his money. The origin of a world’s collapse, the cause of too many deaths, terrifying geniuses with an unquenchable thirst for knowledge and slaves of their obsessions. Even their children didn’t hold enough value for them to spare.

Thankfully, this world didn’t come to that and was still salvageable. Unfortunately, too many people have already lost their lives and existence to his mistake.

It had been like any tranquil day in young Daniel's life. He woke up groggy after a night of patrolling, went to school, hung out with his friends, patrolled a bit, saved a few weaker ghosts, stopped a few accidents and then went back home. The young Halfa had planned to finally reveal his identity to his parents- with no little insistence and encouragement from his sister and the reassurance of the previous Freakshow happenings. (He, of course, delayed the moment as much as he could.)

Of course, Clockwork had already watched and analyzed all the possible futures caused by this decision. He had assured Danny that no harm would befall him.

And since every possible happening was in Daniel’s favor, the ghost of time left the timeline out of his watch in favor of fixing yet another mess the Speedster’s had caused.

Seriously, what kind of mentally challenged troglodyte would erase an entire timeline to enjoy a cheap burger in loop instead of buying another!

*Crack*

The forceps broke in his hand. The Ancient summoned another one. Moving to stitch the lacerations on his king’s arms and legs.

It had, sadly, taken a while for the Master of Time to fix the Flash themed issues. It then took him an even longer while to salvage the tangled mess of timelines. He was far too late to save Danny’s loved ones. Humans, even Liminals, were fragile.

—-------------------

The reveal had gone well at first, Jack and Maddie had accepted their son’s new nature. But then the timelines merged, the Fenton parents became one with their alternates and the world was set ablaze.

The youngest Fenton was promptly drugged and knocked out, only to wake up on a dissection table. His parents and a few GIW agents circling him, tools in hand. The hours, maybe days, Daniel spent in these creatures’ grasps were a nightmare made real.

His sister and friends tried to free him, only to be captured and fall victim to the same fate. Amity Park’s younger population mutinied against the agency and scientists but quickly got shut down. Brutally. The city was deemed a lost cause and put on lock down. The elder Fentons and the GIW galvanized by their success, went after every single being standing in their way in the name of science and self-defense.

It was too much for the young Halfa. His every waking moment being haunted by monsters wearing the skin of people he used to know and love. To hear the same people who raised and loved him gloating at the harm they caused his fraid. At the harm they caused him, vindictive. Every ounce of strength Danny had went into figuring out a way to save what he had left. But alas, he was too late.

Everything culminated the moment the agents and his parents reentered the room for the how manyth time. Their make believe faces fixed into a cruel smirk, smiles too wide, eyes too bright and too many teeth. Were the ghosts truly the monsters ?

Black opaque bags were dragged into the room next. A dreadful foreboding feeling caressed his spine. It was different. What were they planning?! What did they do?!

Panic seized the Halfa’s heart, hair standing on end. Eyes wide and pupils dilating as he noticed the strong smell of copper permeating from the bags.  His restrained limbs shaking at the realization of the truth he oh so wanted to deny. 

The monsters kept talking, taunting and accusing him of something. Blaming him. But he didn’t ‘hear’ them over his ever rising dread.

They opened the bags and his world came crashing down.

Three lifeless barely recognizable corpses. Chest opened in a bloody imitation of a butterfly. Missing limbs and organs. An innumerable number of lacerations. All indicators of a painful and slow death. But yet their eyes remained closed into acceptance and welcoming the relief of death.

He wailed.

Despite the muzzle, despite his already severed vocal cords. The wail coming from his very core blasted everything in his surroundings. The muzzle shattered, the monsters vaporized into a red mist and the walls became debris.

The building shook. The creatures in human skin panicked trying desperately to flee the premise but they were too late.

The latest experimental portal meant to be mass produced by the GIW resonated with the Wail and destabilized. The explosion that followed erased the facility and its surroundings and triggered the original Fenton portal which in turn wiped the city above off the maps.

Every single being died. The GIW agents, the Fentons, the citizens and some of the weaker ghosts. The stronger Phantom rogues weren’t even in the range or succeeded in escaping. The Fentons and GIW were still ‘thankfully’ useless when it came to capturing them.

And then there was Phantom.

Unfortunately or fortunately for him.

Forever the exception.

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Prologue| Masterpost| Chapter 2!

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Author note:

Hello! Thank you for reading! This time I didn't write this at 3 am!

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I wrote it at 5am! Insomnia says what?

[safely-in-vhagars-belly]

A little wicked (Dark! Aemond x reader/rhaenyras daughter) really dark aemond. 18+ MDNI

Aemond x reader x Aegon

Tags: Showsetting, au MAJOR SEASON 2 SPOILERS

🔷Summary: After your husband dies, his brother claims his throne and also you.

🔷Author's note: Dark. I don't throw that label around lightly. you know the drill, dead dove? do not eat.

🔷Wordcount :4939

🔷Warnings: Smut, p in v, mention of loss of virginty, dubcon loss, death, misgony, misogny- aemond hates rhaerhae. Dark aemond, gore, blood.

You await your husband’s arrival, back from the battlefield. Today is the Battle of Rook’s rest. A battle that would go down in the History books of Westeros, Essos, all realms that ever were or will be. Unaware to you, of course. You are miles away from the battlefield, preparing for the return of your beloved husband, King Aegon II Targaryen.

You have prayed, for the first time in years, actually. Your mother didn’t believe much in prayer, more in action. You think her relationship with Alicent Hightower forever caused a deep religious wound. Religion is something that reminds your mother too much of her lost friend. So therefore, it wasn’t important in your upbringing. 

Soon, you’ll be crowned Queen of the Seven Kingdoms and finally take your rightful place beside Aegon. You have the foolish hope that you, as Rhaenyra's daughter, maybe can mend the wound. Maybe your mother can be swayed to bend the knee, to give up her claim to the throne. If only it was that simple.

You await news. Any news. At first you are positive that Aegon has made it back unaltered. He has to. He is the king, the fierce warrior you know and while he is nowhere as good as Aemond, he has more experience than those Rook Rest soldiers. It has to be enough. He has to be enough.

However, as minutes turn into hours, and the sun and the moon dance and circle one another in the sky, you become immensely worried about the fate of your loved one. You are thankful for when the doors of the throne room are pushed open and Prince Aemond enters, at long last.

Recently, the young Prince switched from dark black leather to green dark leather, to fully show his support for his family. You remind yourself you are a hostage to these people, stolen. The corners of the prince’s lips lift mere inches, as if smiling. Yet he quickly brushes that away, as if he cannot be seen that way.

Cole follows, his face sorrowful and full of pain. The sort of pain you see on a father’s face when he loses a son. You feel your smile die as the world seems to slow down, to fade, and to darken instantly. Cole steps forward. 

Aemond walks to you. Your feet rush, but your legs are frozen, causing you to stumble and to almost fall flat on your face. Aemond pretends to walk to you, but instead walks past you, to the big Iron throne that looms over you as a dark curse. 

You watch in silence as he sits down, confirming your worst fears. You hear yourself gulp, as tears stream down your face. Your Aegon is no longer alive. King Aemond now sits the throne, and he sits it as if it took him too long to begin with. He smiles down at you, mocking and almost patronizing. Cole speaks, as first. ‘’All hail his grace, King Aemond of house Targaryen, first of his name, king of the Andels, and the first men, Lord of the seven kingdoms, and protector of the realm!’’ The words hit you like blows.

Aemond lifts his chin as all soldiers around you and all knights, servants, everyone with working legs falls down to their knees, respecting and vowing loyalty to their new monarch. Everyone but you, that is. Aemond waits quite a while before he tells everyone to raise again. Likely enjoying everyone on their knees for him, and him alone. As a cat toying with a mouse. 

After that the servants are rounded up, to be informed of the King’s fate. ‘’My dear people. It is with great sadness and immense pride, that I announce the death of my brother, King Aegon II. He shall be known to history as King Aegon the Brave, for he slew the traitor Princess Rhaenys. Had it not been for her treasonous acts on battlefield, our king would be alive today.’’ He waits a moment as gasps and relieved words cross the hall. ‘’It is with great pride that I shall now serve you as King, until my younger nephew, Prince Maelor comes of age. You may all now either bend the knee, or remain standing.’’ He gestures to the guards, and on his sign, they all draw their swords.  A clear choice.

You watch as the one after the other servant drops to their knees, swearing loyalty to the newly crowned King. After that is done they are all dismissed. ‘’Y/n. Please stay here.’’ The use of just your name makes your hair stand up. It is intimate, almost familiar.

You freeze.

Aemond finally rises from the throne, a smile on his lips. You wait and remain where you are. He does not beckon you closer, so you remain there. He walks closer to you until he is in front of you. He looks at your gown, taking in the details of the bodice. ‘’My condolences on the loss of your husband.’’ He whispers, gently. 

You blink back tears. ‘’Can I go home now? We must write to my mother that the war is over. She can come collect her throne.’’ You look over to the ugly iron thing. Aemond chuckles, adoring your naivety and your good righteous heart.

He even reaches out to touch your face, gently caressing it and wiping away a few tears with his thumb. He brings his thumb to his mouth, sucking on it, tasting your tears. You watch, speechless. He grins. ‘’My gentle hearted sweet girl.’’ It sounds like a compliment and also an insult. ‘’I have no intention to stop the war. Your mother will sit on that throne when your brother Lucerys finds his head again. You will leave her in a coffin or when I am dead.’’ You scoff, insulted and step away, ready to leave.

He grabs you firmly by your arms, dragging you closer. You are pinned against his front, where you can still see blood on his shirt. His smirk only grows as you lower your head, avoiding his eye. He lifts your chin, forcing you to look up to him as you silently cry. ‘’I haven’t lost, you see. I have the crown, the throne, and you.’’ He does the unspeakable and leans in for a kiss, leaving a soft peck on your lips. He moans softly against your lips. ‘’My darling, my sweet precious thing.’’ He murmurs. 

You give him a weak push against his chest, barely moving him. But it gets the message across. Aegon is not even cold yet. “I’m your brother’s widow!’’ You yell in righteous fury.

He laughs at that, capturing you easily with your hands again, and you hate yourself that you like how warm and fast his hands act. ‘’That means nothing in our family. You are my captive, Lady Strong. Remember? From the moment I first captured you at Storm’s end, until your very last. You are meant to be mine, so you will be.’’ He promises you. He is calm and collected about it as if is stating a fact.

He reminds you of the day when this all started. You don’t want to think back of that day. You tell yourself it is because of Luc, who Aemond fed to his dragon. But it is because of Aegon. You miss Luc, of course, but that wound had time to heal. Aegon’s loss is so sudden and just as painful, but fresh. ‘’I am not yours, you monster!’’ You raise your hand, striking Aemond on his scarred cheek.

He finally acts, grabbing your hands tighter and dragging you close until your noses touch. He is trembling with fury and his one eye is full of hatred, lust, obsession and cold blooded plans. ‘’Striking your king, is a act of treason.’’ He chuckles. ‘’I am allowed to punish you. I could take your hand for this, little lady strong.’’ You huff.

You roll your eyes even. Aemond hates the silent treatment more than any insult you could have hurled at him. Instead of making it clear what he intends, he scoops you up and throws you over his shoulder, marching you back to the empty throne.  You kick and slap his back, trying to break free of his iron grip. He places you in the hands of a nearby guard, who all have been silent on this treatment of their rightful princess. Aemond sits on the iron throne and what he does next shocks you.

He grabs you by your hips, bending you over both his knees, as if you don’t weigh anything. He pets your hair lovingly and even gives your shaking body a kiss. ‘’I do this because I love you. You are in luck. You will always be able to defy me.’’ He whispers. ‘’All men who do so will meet horrible ends that Maesters will write about for centuries, but you, my special girl, you will be able to defy, rebel and upset me.’’ He whispers. ‘’Because I enjoy punishing you. And I bet you enjoy being punished.’’ You feel his hands on your butt, as he starts finding the beginning of your gown. You hear the sound of fabric ripping, and panic, bolting on his lap. He simply holds you down tighter, smirking as you begin to whimper. He calmly hums and with one brutal movement, rips your skirts. You remain on his lap, vulnerable and in your small clothes. Aemond sits up straighter, as if he wants to fully take in this view. Embarrassed, you lower your head in his lap, allowing him to caress your hair once more. ‘’Such a beautiful girl. You were wasted on my brother.’’ He speaks. ‘’You belong with me. You always have.’’ He then turns to his guards. ‘’Leave me and the Princess. She will pledge her loyalty to me in a private event.’’ You whimper as you hear iron footsteps leave the room. 

When he is alone with you, he pulls your small clothes down fully, yanking them until your ankles, exposing you for all you are. It seems to awaken a certain hunger or desire in him, and he rips your corset and sleeves next. He fully admires your naked body, panting as he looks at you. He seems to calm down and finally he does what he promised. He hits you on your ass, spanking it harshly. You hiss in pain, in disbelief that he is subjecting you to this. ‘’Aemond, stop this.’’ You beg.

‘’You have no right.’’

He scoffs. ‘’I have every right. I am the King now. You were naughty, today. I don’t like naughty girls. Well, not as much as I like a good girl.’’ He says, talking to you as if you are a stupid little girl. Fresh tears fall. ‘’I like naughty good girls, who know what they want. But you aren’t there yet. You aren’t broken enough yet.’’ He says, joyfully as he spanks you. You give soft whimpers.

The spankings only become harsh when you remain silent, so you fake moans and whimpers to please Aemond’s dark desires. He sometimes groans too, as he sees how much damage your body is taking thanks to him, and how you take it.

“Aegon told me something before he died. He told me he never consummated the marriage. Is that true?” You wonder why Aegon told him that. 

But it is the truth. You nod. “He knew when we first were forced to lay together I didn't want it.” 

Aemond only chuckles to that comment, dealing another hurtful smack, almost as if to punish you for still loving his brother. “He raped plenty of women. I suppose you weren't special enough to make the effort.”

“Aegon loved me.” You argue, and you regret it the moment you’ve said it. Because Aemond slaps so hard that your flesh burns.

He groans now not of arousal but of pure hatred. “He didn't.”

“There's one man for you in this entire world.” You huff at his words. 

You are grabbed by the throat, lifted from his lap and forced to stand as he chokes you. You are choked, tears stinging your eyes as he looks at you with the crown slightly slipping from his hairs and his one eye bigger than usual, focused on you, the object of his obsession. You fight for control but lose the fight. “It is me.” He reveals.

“No,’ You croak out weakly. “I can't. You killed my brother-”

He sighs, almost enjoying the view. His cold fingers finger one of your nipples, enjoying the reaction your body gives by hardening for him. He chuckles.  “Such a beauty. Now. Defy me again.” You shake your head. He sighs, putting you over his knee again. You whimper against the cruel treatment, feeling the spot he struck. Aemond smirks, challenging you to speak out again. “I ought to keep you around like this. Just as the gods intended you to be. Pure, naked, unspoiled…” He feels the skin he struck. And you feel yourself clench your cunt, ignoring the waterfall he caused down there with all cost. It is true, Aemond is a handsome man. But this is wrong, isn’t it?

“May I please dress?” You ask, wiggling on his lap, enjoying when his thigh briefly rubs your cunt. That hits the spot.

The King laughs. “Such an obedient girl for asking me first.”

“The answer is no, however. You struck me, remember? That is treason.” You are embarrassed to speak. He laughs at that, rubbing your legs, drawing circles and kissing your skin. You ignore the butterflies. You can’t.

‘’Stand.’’ He barks suddenly. You obey, standing on your shaking legs, exposing yourself now fully to him. He leans back in the throne, grinning brightly as he takes in your body, toe to head. ‘’You can defy me as many times as you like. I will gladly put you on my lap and spank you.’’ He whispers. ‘’But if you say something regarding the whore that mothered you, I’m afraid we must do a different type of punishment. Am I clear?’’ You nod, hating how frightened you are.

He softens his face. He beckons you closer. You come closer until you stand in front of throne, your cunt barely touching the iron. ‘’I wish to feel your wares. I must see myself, If you and Aegon kept your word.’’ Without a warning, his fingers sink inside your wetness, inspecting you as you stand on your legs, almost falling over.

‘’Please, make me sit.’’ You beg.

He grins, forcing his finger to go deeper, penetrating you at the right speed. “No, you'll stand, tall and proud. I bet this is just what a dirty bastard like yourself likes. ‘’ It takes a while but sadly, he discovers what is happening. ‘’Oh, just as I suspected. A wet, warm and wonderful little place for my seed to crawl inside of.” You wail at those words, aroused as he fucks slowly, taunting you with his fingers.

“Stop talking as if we are going to -”  Your talking is interrupted by a smack on your cunt by his free haunt, causing you to cry out in pain and anticipation.

He glares at you, shaking you as if you aren’t awake yet.

“As if? You think I'd kept you as a pretty cup bearer or something? I plan to make good use of you. Every hole is stuffed, until you can't even crawl forward.” He promises. 

“What if I will have a child?” you whisper. ‘’That would complicate your status.’’ 

He sees that differently, mad with lust and obsession.

“That is part of the fantasy. Breeding you makes me happy. Seeing your belly swell makes me happy. You know why?” He asks, softly patting your belly. You shake your head.

“No.”

He leans in, gesturing vaguely down to his legs.

“It proves my seed is strong, powerful and well. It proves I have the power to make you, a stunning powerful princess to a good for nothing whore, carrying a bastard inside of her womb.” You sniffle, hurt and insulted.  “Judging your wet and warm cunt, you have been thinking about me too. Why don't you admit that you want this?”

“Because I loved him. I loved Aegon. That means something to me.” 

Aemond growls. “Shame he didn't love you. You know it deep down. He didn't mention you at all when he died-” You push him off you, taking off to the doors, not caring he ripped your gown or your poking breasts begging for touch.

“Where do you think you'll be going?”  He demands, his voice booming.

You raise your head as much as a princess and dignity as you can. “To my quarters until you decide to trade me for peace.”

“Peace?” He laughs. Then that laugh dies. “Peace!’ It scares you how quickly it became an almost command. “You have exactly 3 seconds to get over here and to kneel at my feet and to beg me for forgiveness-” You don’t let him finish and take off running. But he is faster. 

He simply drags you back by your hair, giving your behind hurtful smacks as he drags you to the throne. ‘’Ungrateful bastard. I can make you my queen.’’ He growls. ‘’Why won’t you accept that you want this? Look how wet you are for me.’’ He thinks as you remain at his feet, sitting there as a dog. ‘’I know something. We must train you, to ensure you are a proper pet.’’ He grins. One of the servants is allowed in, to bring Aemond a piece of rope.

You are worried he is going to tie your hands. But his plans are far worse. He ties the end around your neck, and holds it, as a leash. “Such a stubborn girl.” He chuckles. ‘’Now if you try to run, you’ll feel it.’’

“Please untie my neck.” You whisper, softly.

“Why? You can't behave, clearly. I must make the rules clear somehow.”

He has gone insane.

“Untie my neck, I'm worried I'll choke.” 

“You know, when the right person is doing it, choking, taking control of another person's breath, nay, life, can feel…amazing.”

In response you spit at him.

“Spitting at me, you are a vile dirty minded thing, are you not? I bet you just ache for someone to pin you down against the floor and to have his wicked way with you. Don't you, bastard?” He growls, handling you.

“I want Aegon…” You whisper, half a beg and half a prayer.

He almost slams your head against the throne in pure rage. You can tell he is close to losing it. “Why? Why do you want that disgusting raper. You have me. You have all you will ever need.” He says. Then he sniffs your breasts, his long nose and hair disappearing between your breasts.  “Fuck, you smell so good. So inviting. I can smell that needy cunny of yours.”

He stands up, keeping the leash in his dominate hand. ‘’I bet if I took my cock out you’d be fucking it before I could even ask you to.’’ He grins. ‘’You are your mother’s daughter after all.’’ To prove his point he lowers his trousers, revealing his manhood to you.

You are caught off guard. You never saw one before and it looks so strange yet familiar. “Look down.” He pushes your head down so you can properly. 

It is red and swollen and evil in all ways. You try to glance at Aemond but your eyes are almost glued to his manhood. He snickers amused at your virginal response. “You'd like to feel this down your legs, little bastard?” He asks, and you are shocked when his fingers find your entrance once more, and now your soaked little cunt can’t even handle this. You moan, crying of shame and desire.

Aemond grins, taking it as a sign of encouragement. 

“Get on your knees.” you obey, eying his cock. You wonder if it’ll hurt. But part of you wants to just feel good and happy for a moment.  “On all fours.” He adds, groaning in frustration.

“What is expected of me?” You whisper soft as you kneel for him in the throne room. Aemond finally leaves his throne, so he may join you.

Silence. “I can't…I'm a princess. My virtue is everything to me-”

He laughs. “I can't wait to fuck you, so you for once and for all will shut up about your prestige and your privileges. You will learn, my sweet that I decide what your worth is now. Now, I am going to ask.”

You shake as his fingers brutally Bury themselves in your untouched tight cunt. “Do you want me to be the bad man today, little Maella? Do you wish to get your cunny raided by me, here, in the throne room, on your knees, as a little dirty harlot?’ You fall to your knees, crying out as the penetrating reaches a hight, as does your pleasure. You touched yourself but never like this. Not like he does. And his dirty naughty talk..

“Do you want to feel my cock take root and to feel me penetrate away at your innocent soft rings as they wrap and tighten around my cock as I take you on the stones, your knees bloody and your vision blurry as I bring you close?’

“Do you want that?”

You begin to doubt and he knows it. So he softens his voice, for show. “It can feel so good, Maella. You know I've won. You know it. You are already naked. You are already kneeling. All I need to do is put my cock……” He parts your legs. He rubs your needy cunt causing friction as you frustrated cry out. “here…’’

You nod pleasure winning. ‘Yes.’’ You say, consenting at last. He does not need long. He drags his finger nails in your hips, bringing you closer to his front. He sits on both his knees, as he slams inside of you, fucking you with a brutal war cry. You gasp as the cock pierces through your maidenhood, ruining you for any other man. Aemond groans in delight at your gasps, fucking you harder for every bit of sound you make.

“Oh, you're deep…” you mutter, a bit foolish.

He chuckles. “You'll handle me just fine. Any woman is a bit as a frightened stag, wishing to bolt off when a man climbs her. It is his task to smooth her back into submission so the ride may be…pleasant.” You wonder if he enjoys it the way you do. But when you hear his grunts and moans you know he does.

“Just as much of a slut as your mother.” He whispers and quickly gives you a kiss to avoid your anger. “Taking it all so well. You're a natural love.”

The fucking reaches a height your innocent body cannot handle, as Aemond comes closer to, and the fucking becomes violent, with him choking you as well now. “Meant and made to be on your knees, cock deep inside of your cunt and getting fucked until you can't crawl out of your bed tomorrow.” You gasp, your cries and soft moans filling the throne room, high on pleasure. “Agree.” He hisses, suddenly. For someone who claims not the care about others, he sure seeks a lot of approval.

You know you must obey. You know it deep down. So you swallow your pride. “Y-yes Aemond.” You say, obediently.

He spits at that idea. “You will call me King Aemond or your Grace.’’ He smacks your ass, sinking a finger deep there too. You buck your hips to him, eager for more.

You need to feel good, more than anything, you need to feel alive. ‘’Aemond, your grace, please..”

That pleases him greatly. “So fast, little girl? This is just the tip of the mountain, dear. There is so much more for you left.” He promises, planting dark desires in your head.

“There is?”

He nods. “Hmm,” He smacks your butt in a playful manner.  “This is fun, but this is not the way a baby is made. I must stuff you properly for that. And there's your face…” You turn to face him, cock slightly sliding out of you in the process.

“What of it?” You ask, worried there is something stuck between your teeth.

You aren’t prepared for the answer. “It looks so clean. A nice, white and shimmering substance would look amazing on it. Something like my cum?”

“O, I don't know…” you stutter, foolishly.

You do know. But you won’t tell him that. “That is the beauty of your new life. You no longer need to know. I do. I'd love to see your cunt, breasts, belly, cheeks, chin, butt and hole covered in my cum.” He confesses. It is taking so long.

So you buck your hips to his front, hoping he mounts you soon once more. Aemond merely watches, grinning. “Taking me now, aren't we?”

“I do what you want. Just…give me…” You are at the breaking point. You are close. 

Aemond slams inside of you, fucking you up and down the tiles as you scream it out in pleasure and he hisses, likely near too. “This?”

You roar in approval as pleasure explodes and you cry out in a soft voice. Aemond can be heard chuckling. “That's it, beauty. You keep being good, and I'll give you that and more.”

“Please, my King…” you whimper. “I can't…I can't handle it anymore. I need to ..I need it now.”

The King laughs, enjoying your suffering and your pleasure.

“Such a demanding little brat, demanding to come before your king.” The Spanking you get now is not punishment. It brings you pleasure and therefor shame. You nearly whimpered at it, but at the same time you enjoyed the smack on your naked ass.  

And he bows your head down, and gives you the one after the other hard rough trust that only raises your pleasure. As the fucking increases, your needs reach a height unfamiliar to you and you stop, waiting for it to fade as you usual do when you touch yourself. Aemond sees this as the moment to strike, fully claiming you with a rough war cry and a trust. You fall down from your pleasure and come, all over his red swollen cock as he rides his own orgasm out on your spent body. The King is not happy yet, and fucks your body two more times after you are done with it. 

When he is done, he finally removes the rope. You sit up, watching the tiles you fucked upon, sweaty and stained with your blood. Aemond cheekily grins, dressing himself again quickly. You look around for anything to cover yourself with. He throws his leather bloodied coat your way. ‘’Here. Cover. I don’t wish you to catch a cold.’’ He says. You think back of Aegon. And guilt washes over you.

The door is opened and a soldier rushes inside the room. You attempt to cover yourself but it is too late. ‘’My king.’’ He begins but Aemond does not allow him to finish. 

‘’You saw my lady naked.’’ He says, instead of listening to his trusted soldier. The soldier blinks.

‘’I,I didn’t!”’ He quickly blurts out. Aemond does not even bother to explain his motivates, you can only watch as he takes his sword and chops of the head of the soldier. Blood and flesh come free as treat and paint painting the Throne room. You are horrified that Aemond murdered a man for looking at you.

You scream in horror. Aemond walks to you next, sword still dripping with blood. He levels the sword at his lips and takes a lick, before kissing your forehead. ‘’He had to die. Only one eye may look at your body. Mine.’’ He says, kissing you again as if it calms you down. It only makes you panic.

He sighs, taking you back to the throne. He makes you sit but this time there’s no spanking. Only sweet kisses and heartbroken mutters. ‘’What can I ever do to compare to Aegon? I want your love, my love. I want you to weep over my dead corpse.’’ He whispers. ‘’I want you when we marry, to become so madly in love with me, that when they find my corpse on the battlefield, you become mad and consumed with grief and you carve off one of my fingers to keep it close to you and you never think of a marrying another. I want you to die from a broken heart.’’ He whispers. ‘’I offer you the world, my love. It is ours. From Westeros to Essos and from the Dothraki grass sea to the useless kingdom of Dorne. It will fall at our feet, crumbled into dust. Thousands will die at our command, and their bones will become your crown and throne. Their blood will be your gown and their flesh will feed our love. Whoever offends you, shall die first. Let me be your King, and you will never need anyone else again.’’ You know you don’t have a choice. Once you cared about innocents. But you don’t have the luxury to care about them anymore. You must survive.

You play along for now.

Be Aemond’s Queen.

His second in command, the mother of his children, his lover and his bedmate.

To him you will be bow…

At least for now.

One of the days soon coming…

You’re going to take that boy’s crown.

//Not even therapy can fix this im afraid.

[theavianlady]

...tw? Tw.

TW: Gore, Blood, Injury, uh...Pain and Sadness-

@psychologicalwarclaire

Ha ha! Tis I! I was the anon!

(Cue dramatic exclamations of disbelief)

Ahem. Tis the anniversary of Spider's Web with Strings Attached, and I wanted to make something! Go and read the fic if you haven't already; it's incredible.

Lots of ramblings and other versions under the cut (if anyone wants to see any other parts with or without different lighting and stuff that I didn't include, just let me know; I'm happy to share).

===============================================================

This is the first (almost) completely original thing I've drawn digitally! Poses are really hard for me, so I'm super proud of this. No tracing, only references!

...so. Many. References.

Except for the bricks, which I'm not counting, because bricks are scary. And the chains. I used a brush. Chains are scary too.

I started July 28th, and then spent almost 40 hours across various canvases planning, experimenting, and actually working on this. Not including research. It took me absolutely forever, but I regret nothing.

Except for the fact that I spent over 6 hours just shading bricks. I didn't even draw them! I took a pattern for the grooves from google and filled it with black, (rotated and edited for some variance in their cells), and then did the red lighting and some shadows you can't even really see. For 6 hours.

I tried to draw their spider brooches many times, but I could not get them to look right (especially from a side angle), so I gave up. Let's all just pretend they're there until I come back later. Eventually. Maybe. Oh, and Leo's chains. At the time of posting, I really just want to get this up and posted, so they're not shaded, but again, I might do it later.

I wanted to have this set when they're both in their separate cells, right after Viper was, uh...in the cell with Leo. So, Donnie is all stitched up and healing, while Leo is...not doing great (not certain about the timeline, because I'm paranoid about everything, so it's probably fine). But, I wanted to convey what happened to Donnie, so I drew that weird glowing spine thing to indicate some kind of mystic healing something. I don't even know.

It didn't turn out as well as I wanted it too, but I'm probably biased. Because there was so much gore on Leo's side, Donnie's looked boring. I couldn't figure out how to do the lighting. The values could be better. It could do with more time spent on the shadows. Etc, etc. I'm a perfectionist.

===============================================================

Uh, in order of posting, behold!

1. Big version.

2. Big version without lighting (except on the bricks) or Japanese characters.

3. Close up of magic spine representation thing because I'm proud of it.

4. Close up of gore-covered-Leo because I'm also proud of that. I have never drawn such...messy gore before.

Fun fact, the group of layers all of that was on is called "Bad Stuff".

5. Close up of Donnie's shell stitches without the spine thing, because I worked hard on those. It was also pretty tricky, because I couldn't find any references for large stitched wounds. Only open ones. If anyone knows any good places for references like that, t'would be greatly appreciated.

Also, they don't usually stitch puncture wounds, because it could trap infection, but I feel like with something so large and deep as dragon teeth it would be necessary? So I tried to include those.

But also, would they just stitch the skin in such deep wounds? Is there still a gaping hole under the skin? Do they also stitch muscles with the dissolvable sutures or something? I'm like, going to go to med-school just so I can draw more accurate wounds and stitches and stuff.

6. Close up of Leo without the gore because he's pretty and I'm really proud of the plastron. And the right forearm armour piece. I couldn't get the other ones to look as nice, much to my dismay.

The Japanese characters write out to Omae wa hitoribocchi da, which translates to You are alone. I think. Google Translate says it's You are all alone, but translation services that I trust slightly more, like Reverso.net and ChatGPT (the most reliable of sources, I know) just say You are alone.

Omae is the equivalent of anata, for those familiar with Anata wa hitori janai. They both mean you, but omae is more...condescending, from what I can tell. Informal and rough, often used to express disdain or superiority.

Wa indicates that anata or omae are the subject of the sentence.

Hitori is present in both, meaning alone, though from what I can see, hitoribocchi is more...desolate and painful. It's a more emotional term for being alone.

Janai kind of means is not, or are not, while da is just like...closing the sentence. A firm, declarative ending particle.

I tried to paste the actual Japanese characters from different translation services (I am not fighting with using a keyboard from another language), but Tumblr wouldn't let me. Boo. So, you can all suffer with my English-Japanese. Also, don't trust anything I say. I'm learning Japanese on Duolingo, but I've only just started and it gets way more complicated. So, pretty much anything I just said could be wrong. I just did a lot of research.

If anyone does speak Japanese, and knows a better way to convey this, please tell me. I crave knowledge and accuracy.

I should get like, a personal human translator. No AI or program can truly understand a language like its people. Especially comparing Japanese and English. From what I've learned, there are a lot of words that could be translated many ways, depending on exact feel. It's complicated, and I'm scared to get farther into Duolingo's course.

===============================================================

I also just discovered yesterday that today is also the anniversary of the Rise Movie, so yay! Happy Anniversary to the movie that literally changed my life. And Curly, you're awesome. It's authors like you keeping this fandom alive, so thank you!

[aressapereaude]

Happy birthday to Vere~!

MINORS DNI

AGELESS/FACELESS BLOGS WILL BE BLOCKED

Source: Touchstarved

Pairing: Vere x Reader

Contains: Explicit language, alcohol, strong violence, it's Vere what are we expecting, gore, sex??, monsterfucking???, murder, dead dove do not eat, cannibalism, decapitation, nobody is coming, Leander needs a mop.

It is the fourteenth of November.

The air is cold, the ground is not yet frozen over but you find your steps slipping more than they usually do. It tends to happen around this time of year. Everything slows down, and the days are all over so quickly that you're not really sure if they ever happened at all.

He's hungry, you knew that. He has always been hungry.

The hunger has been eating at him for a long time.

You met him through a friend. Well, they weren't a friend at the time... A brief but uneasy encounter outside the Wet Wick, in which you had fallen for a sly pickpocketing trick, and he had dangled it in front of you like an anglerfish, slowly luring you into the light. You did get your key back, in the end. With some interference of course.

Over time, you realised you had a lot in common. He hated the Senobium with a burning passion, and so did you; They had been lauded far and wide as the best of the best, and once upon a time you had hoped they could cure you, but not anymore. Those gates were too strongly locked and far too secretive to let the likes of you inside. After a while you had simply stopped trying, and you found that the more you grew to dislike them, the more you found yourself spending time around the fox with the hungry eyes.

And at first it was nothing, really, just hanging out with mutual acquaintances and bumping into each other around the Wet Wick, but gradually you began to take notice of the way his pupils thinned to pin pricks when he looked at you, the way his fur bristled ever so slightly when you almost came too close. You noticed how his ears tracked you with a strange alertness despite the cool composure he maintained, and how whenever he gave you that sly smirk, the corners of his lips would sort of... flicker.

The closer you got, the more these instances occurred, and it began to dawn on you, the feelings that you had for him. Every now and then, he'd slip you an extra drink and make a smooth remark about taking you home.

When he did, his tail would twitch ever so slightly, and his knee would grow restless, bouncing under the counter. His jaw would clench, and though he did his best to hide it, his breathing would pick up and heave subtly at his chest. But every time, you declined, wanting to wait for a "special moment" and in an instant it was as though it had never happened. He'd go back to the small talk, the teasing, the joking or arguing and there'd be no traces left of that hungry fox who looked at you with a desperate, secret, hidden need.

His eyes look particularly dilated tonight.

It is the fourteenth of November, and you have bought yourself an extra drink tonight. You've bought Vere one, too. He tries not to look hopeful, but you see in your peripheral the way he eyes you up and down when you're facing away from him. He's being less secretive about it tonight, even taking the time to wait until Leander has left the two of you alone.

(Alone, apart from the horned demon sitting at the end of the bar, keeping keen red eyes on you both, and the Senobium cleric outside the bar. You assume she's waiting for him to leave and take up whatever business he has with the nearest brothel. You have a feeling he won't, not tonight.)

"Happy Birthday, Vere. Let's get out of this place for a while," You murmur, leaning in. His keen ears pick up every word, but you don't want the cleric to catch wind of what you're up to.

A thin smile slits across his face, and he offers you his hand, assisting you to your feet. His expression is dark with want, and the dancing candlelight only paints him in a more monstrous light. You don't seem to mind, though, as your footsteps begin to stumble towards the door.

His sharp claws pull you back, knocking you into him, your back flat against his chest. "I was thinking we could use your room tonight."

Your breath hitches in your throat.

"Leander has the key. He won't be back until-"

"Until I'm done," Vere finishes, flashing the keys in front of you the same way he did back then. And you smile.

Ais red eyes linger on your backs until the very last moment you leave his view. As the two of you sneak off together, you shoot a quick look back to make sure you're alone.

He doesn't move from his seat.

Vere locks the door behind you and tosses the key before he pounces, a mess of hair and claws. There's a calm desperation in the way he rips your clothes off you, and the way you fiddle with the straps around him. The low growl caught in his throat spills forward as he pushes you backwards, teeth clacking against yours and splitting your lip, and the pleasure and relief shudders through him when he plunges into you.

Blood splatters across the hardwood floor.

For a moment you stand there, stunned at the explosion of colour, and then it hits you all at once. The pinprick eyes. The attentive ears. The charm, and the twitches, and the ever so slight flash of fangs each time he asked you to come with him. There is blood on the floor, and it dawns on you with a sickening crunch that this is your blood, your viscera that is now congealing between the floorboards, and it is so dark in this room.

He's panting, moving with a disturbing nonchalance for someone with such a feral look on their face. The arm that had split your belly open twists with another sick crunching noise and you feel it now, the agony as he takes a handful of intestines and squeezes.

You start to throw up, but nothing comes out.

This isn't how tonight was supposed to go. This isn't how you wanted him inside you- but then, he is inside you, isn't he? Making a mess of your organs and lapping up the fluid that leaks from your clenching abdomen, burying his face in your soft thighs...

Only to take an enormous chunk of muscle between his teeth and rip it clean off the bone. The look in his eyes is euphoric, instinctive. How could you be so stupid? Any other time you'd have loved to see him make a face like this. But now, as he shivers with satisfaction, you wish you could have died when his lips touched your lips.

You don't know when your head hits the floor but it does, and you don't feel it. Vere stands above you, violating every inch of your body in his bloodied arms, bits of your meat and sinew plastered across his cheeks and hair, dribbling down his neck and you can't tell if he's fucking you or eating you and you don't think there's a difference anymore because you're being devoured either way.

Your final thought, to your confusion, is Leander. This is his spare room, after all. What's he going to say when he gets back? Will he be angry at you for making such a mess of the floor and walls?

Clinging to life, you fade away to the sound of Vere's sharp teeth snapping through your bones.

[spinchip]

BEEN THERE ONCE BEFORE AND I WISH THAT I NEVER DIED

Pairings: none Word count: 6500 Warning: Graphic depictions of violence and death. Gore, murder, Ear trauma and limb loss tw

Summary: Zane would do anything to keep the ninja safe.

*

There is a pot of tea between you, sitting in Master Wu's private garden right outside the door to his room, and it’s some sort of oolong blend with a sweet smelling screen hanging over it. Osmanthus flowers float in your cup and you trace their pattern, watching them shift idly in what little breeze this summer day has brought you. The tea is too bitter despite the honey you’d added, over-steeped and thick on your tongue.

There is a sword on his lap, a sleek red sheath and neatly wrapped handles. There are no adornments on this blade, it is plain and unassuming, a tool for its master and whatever that may entail. Master Wu had asked you out here, months after the desperate fight for Ninjago at the corridor of elders (even longer after you had been torn apart by a power that was never yours to hold,) and the rattlesnake smile he’d offered as he’d led you out vanished the moment you were hidden from prying eyes. He makes your tea silently, and he burns it.

He looks at you in a way that makes you bristle, with eyes that no longer see you as human. Your silver skin itches, your tea tastes like ash.

“Do you know what a ninja is, historically?” He asks you finally, his voice quiet but clear over the space between you.

You do not, but you could look it up in an instant. You don’t do that either. He does not expect you to answer.

“They were said to be assassins. Hired blades sent to the house of the lands lord to slaughter them- the last recorded deaths by these assassins was years and years ago, but that was not the end of the era of the ninja. They snuck between the shadows, they pulled their hidden weapons, and they eliminated their targets cleanly and efficiently.” He waits, gauging your reaction. You can feel his eyes sit heavy on where your hands are deceptively calm around your tea cup, assessing, searching for something like he had that day he’d first laid eyes upon you in the frozen pond.

A phantom of a red flashes across your HUD that screams DANGER- and despite how there is no real warning clawing its way across your eyes, you know you should be afraid anyway. Tread carefully, you are in dangerous territory. Do not react. Control.

“Is this a history lesson?”

“Perhaps.” Master Wu murmurs, finding something in your expression with those dark eyes.

“The best way to defeat my enemy is to make him my friend.” You can’t help but say, a parrot of his own words, your eyes calculating.

“And if your kindness is rejected?” He does not skip a beat.

You hesitate, the clink of your cup as you set it down on the table too loud on your ears.

“You are no longer a child, Zane. Your innocence died with the Overlord. The others still have that innocence.” You jerk, the reminder of your death bruising on your soul, but he doesn't handle you with kid gloves, “You’ve killed once, to protect them.” Sensei Wu does not touch his tea, and there is a rising sickness in your stomach, “Can you do it again?”

He draws the blade and it’s blood red, holding it out to you, handle first.

To protect them?

His eyes are dark and there’s a danger there, but he has always been kind to you. Like a father when yours had vanished, warm smiles and encouraging words flashing across your eyes. Visions of fire and blood and death color your head along with it, superimposed on top of your friends and family. You’d do anything to protect the people you love, wouldn’t you?

The sword is a healthy weight in your palm.

---

Police tape surrounds a dilapidated old building, great yellow swathes of it wrapped down the sidewalk into the street and officers at each corner standing vigil over the body slumped half in the gutter and covered by a sheet. News vans line the street waiting for the opportunity to film once the coroner has packed away the gore and it’s mostly family-friendly for the afternoon broadcast. Flood lights and lamps are set up around the premise, little yellow evidence markers salting the earth down the doors of the warehouse and up to the body. Apparently deceptively unassuming, the Mechanics home base is filled to the brim with his lackeys and stolen tech- or, it was.

“I guess the Mechanic got tangled up with the wrong guy.” Kai says breathlessly, spooked as the camera pans over the overflowing body bags being loaded into the coroner's van.

The Commissioner taps the remote to his VCR on his leg anxiously, “You heard on the news already, i’m sure, but we suspect the unsub used a long blade of some kind,” He’s visibly shaken, “A sword, perhaps- the evidence was very…” he makes a slashing motion from his throat, miming blood striping the wall behind him.

A blood spattered window, the killing so brutal a heavy streak of gore laced up the glass, is still visible to the probing crime scene photographer.

The graying man slides a manila folder thick with printed pictures across the table and Jay pointedly pushes it away from himself, looking queasy. You reach out and pick it up with hands that seem to float endlessly away from your body, but you’ve felt like this since stumbling home two nights ago when the moon was full and no one else was awake. You don’t hesitate to open it, staring down at the first photo with mild surprise.

Cole jerks away before steeling himself and glancing back over. The picture shouldn’t surprise you, but it does anyway. It looks so messy. The body in the street can barely be recognized in the photo, too mutilated- the only identifying feature being the mechanical hand resistant to the blades of a sword. The mechanic had been reduced to mince meat, blood seeping up through shredded flesh and broken bones. Blood flows in a river down the stairs of the warehouse, down onto the sidewalk, flowing into the gutters.

“This seems… motivated.” Lloyd grimaces at the image but doesn’t look away.

“That’s certainly one word for it,” The commissioner huffs, “We’ve been calling it ‘unhinged.’”

You flip to the next image. Bodies piled on top of each other, strewn across the room, throats slit and bellies gutted and in one particularly horrific scene brain matter and skull fragments rendering a man unrecognizable.

Your memories of that night are fuzzy and nebulous.

Nya takes one of the photos, “Who would do something like this?”

“We were hoping you knew,” A beat- the man sighs, “The mechanic, he’s hard to keep tabs on. We didn’t really know who his enemies were other than those present, and you all had the most contact with him, but it’s too much to hope you have a lead for us, huh?”

He blows out an explosive breath, “Tell me, does the attack itself look familiar in any way? Anyone who comes to mind who has the capability to do something like that?”

You shake your head, blue boring holes into the eyes of a henchman who died trying to hold his intestines inside his gut, “No,” Your voice doesn't waver, “I’ve never seen anything like this.”

---

Wu touches your shoulder firm and bruising but your skin cant purple under his nails anymore, “It gets easier.”

---

You stand in the threshold of the jail cell, the body in the room covered by a sheet. You had wondered if that really happened, bodies covered up by the police like in television dramas- this is the second time you’ve seen it. It won’t be the last. It’s interesting to know how fiction gets it right, sometimes. Kai distinctly can’t look, turned away, but you haven't been squeamish in a long time. You crouch low, reaching for the edge of the blanket to see, and Nya makes a disgusted noise in the back of her throat when you lift the sheet to look.

This death is far more refined than the massacre you’d investigated this month- A clean cut across his throat, blood coating his sleep shirt and dried to the corners of his mouth. Droplets of red sprinkle his face where he’d tried to breathe through the ruined hole of his throat, coughing a plume of blood into the air that rained down on him as he died. His skin is waxy and his eyes glazed and clouded, he’s been dead for hours- but you knew that already.

Nya coughs, “Can you cover him up, please?”

You oblige, “I was trying to see what Information I could gather.” the sheet falls back over his face, hiding him away. There’s no reason to cover him up, the other inmates are locked in their cells until the investigation finishes and the body is removed. Privacy is a moot point, but maybe it’s about respect.

Lloyd turns away from where he’s shifting through the inmates belongings, “Well, anything?”

“He was killed hours ago. He’s been dead for a long while.” How much to say? “The murder weapon was a blade.”

“Same as the Mechanic.” Jay says from where he’s outside the cell and out of line of sight, the dead body and blood making him sick, ���Did Fugi-Dove and him have any connections?”

“Not that we know of.” Nya frowns, crossing her arms over her chest and trying to convince everyone she’s unaffected by this, “Only us. It just seems so weird- He’s a small fry compared to the mechanic, why kill him? He’s harmless!”

“He broke Jay's elbow last week,” You remind her, “He was not harmless. Perhaps he had more secrets than we thought.”

“Who found him?” Cole murmurs, carefully keeping away from touching the crime scene.

“Eight AM guard round,” You answer him, standing up, “The four AM patrol missed him. Both officers were interrogated, but nothing came of it. It doesn’t appear to have been an inside job.”

“The culprit snuck into kryptarium prison, killed a man, and snuck out with none the wiser?” Nya snorts, “This place has gone to the dogs.”

Jay taps his foot impatiently and it echoes down the hallway, “Well, it’s not like Warden Noble runs a very tight ship around here, despite what he wants you to think. How many escaped convicts do we deal with on a weekly basis?”

“So what do we do about this?” Kai asks, frowning at the lump on the ground.

Fugi-dove was half slumped off his bed, his back flush to the ground and his legs still thrown over his bed and tangled up in his bedsheets. He’d been awake when he was attacked, his cheeks bitten to hell as if he’d attempted to scream through a hand sealed over his mouth that only let go once his vocal cords had been slashed through, and in his desperate attempt to stop from bleeding out or drowning in his own blood he’d thrashed himself right to the floor.

“We’ll look at the tapes and see what we can find.” Lloyd answers casually. Darkleys prepared him for death and gore, it didn’t bother him like it should.

“I thought officer Pey told us we were in a blind spot,” Cole points out, stepping out of the cell followed by Lloyd.

“Warden Noble used to be the principle of Darkleys,” the green ninja waits for you to join them on the other side of the cell. You feel cold all over, “And if there’s one thing I'm certain of, the man has eyes everywhere.”

“Does he?” You ask, fingers going numb.

Lloyd nods and locks the cell door behind you, “There will be tapes. He should be here any minute now, Officer Pey says he comes in at 10:00 on Saturdays.”

As if on cue, the Warden appears in a frenzy, tearing into the hallway and bee lining for the cell. He grimaces at the covered up body, “I leave Pey in charge for one night…” He sighs, pushing his glasses up to rub at his eyes, “Great.”

“Good morning, Warden.” Jay greets cheerfully.

“Says who?” The man replies darkly, “The media is gonna tear me a new one. This is going to lower our reputation even more.”

“Let us help you put the culprit behind these bars,” Lloyd offers, stepping forward with green ninja grace.

“I don’t think that’d do any good, he already got out once.” Kai mutters.

The warden graciously ignored Kai’s comment, “I haven't even had coffee yet.” He complains, running a rough hand over his mouth as he glares at the body.

“You had hidden cameras?” Lloyd pushes and the Warden nods, motioning to an inconspicuous looking fire alarm.

“It’s fake,” He tells him.

You walk towards it. A strange sense of doom washes over you, numbness following it. A camera. Evidence. How clearly would they be able to see the killer's face?

“Let me be of assistance,” You offer, casually making it to the alarm first. The moment you manage to open the glorified nanny cam and your fingers close around the USB, you focus a concentrated pulse of electromagnetic energy and wipe it clean. Anything saved to the storage space will have been obliterated, gone, corrupted and unsalvageable. You can feel your hands again.

“How could this have happened?” The warden asks, clicking through the empty USB over and over looking for footage that no longer exists.

Lloyd glances at you, but there’s no suspicion, “Was there anything weird about the camera? Had it been tampered with?”

You touch your chin and try not to let your hands shake, “No, but it was not a very complex mechanism. It could easily have been opened by someone familiar with this type of surveillance.”

“Someone from Darkleys?” Nya suggests.

Lloyd hums in thought, “I don’t know. It’s worth looking into.”

“When did we become detectives?” Jay complains, “Can’t you guys just call us when you need us to spinjitzu this guy?”

“Don’t be a baby.”

Jay pulls a face at that, “I’m a ninja! I shouldn’t have to put up with all this- this blood!”

“Do you know what a ninja is, historically?” you murmur.

No one hears you.

---

There are four more deaths the following month, both somewhat well-known villains with a penchant for collateral damage. The same slashing wounds as the last. Lloyd is the only person in the group who doesn’t look affected by the barrage of gore he’s being subjected to- other than you, of course. He’s reading over the newest police report that’d come their way with a hum, “He’s getting bolder.” He concludes, flipping through the crime scene pictures at the end.

“Bolder?” Cole questions, “It seems to me like he’s winding down. His first kill was the Mechanic and everyone working under him- 16 deaths on that one alone. Now he’s down to one.”

“The Mechanic was messy,” he examines the pictures, noting just how clean the newest death was. Not a drop of blood out of place other than the pool growing under the body, “He was surprised by all the people- he never intended to kill anyone other than their leader, that’s why that kill was so disorganized. It’s why the mechanic was nearly able to escape, before he caught him in the street. The bank barely needed to mop the floor for this one. He’s refined his skill.”

“He left Reflectras sidekick unharmed.” Kai pointed out, “What’s different between then and now?”

Lloyd flipped a picture his way- it’s a still from a grainy security camera. Reflectra is already dead in the photo, her blood turned black on the monochromatic footage. The teen girl she’d been toting around with her was cowering under the teller counter, and standing just outside the blood was a figure dressed in all black. From the girl's testimony, the gray toned lion's mask he wore was red and gold in person, lips drawn back in a snarl that showed off fangs, a thick head of coarse blonde hair coming out of the mask to hide any other possible identifying features.

“He is wearing a mask.” You say, peering down at the picture.

“He’s hiding his face.” Lloyd clarifies before banging out a few words into the computer's search engine, pulling up a street festival that happened two weeks ago and swiveling the computer screen around so everyone could see it, “And it's a new purchase.”

Staring back at them was a picture of downtown Ninjago filled with people, food stalls and other vendors lining the sidewalks as people milled about. Half the people walking the street were wearing the same exact lion mask as their killer, now in vivid technicolor. You could see the stalls selling them- masks lined wall to wall. It seemed everyone was buying them. It wouldn't have looked out of place at all for the murderer to buy it for himself and squirrel it away for his late night acts.

“He killed the Mechanics goons because they saw his face. He doesn’t want witnesses.” Nya connects, “Aimi was only spared because he has a way to kill anonymously.”

“And with a virtually untraceable origin. That mask is everywhere, now.” Jay continued with a frown.

“It’s not a total dead end. We can still talk to the stall owners, maybe see if they noticed anyone strange buying from them.” He navigates to the festival's website, opening up the vendor list.

There are twelve souvenir stalls in total, and five of them are solely dedicated to masks.

You make a surprised noise in the back of your throat, “Saori Sato. I recognize that name. I believe I taught her son when we were working at the school.” You comment, “I have a rapport with her, I should be able to get her to speak with me easily.”

Lloyd accepts your lie with a nod, “The rest of us will work on the others, then. Hopefully we’ll have some luck.”

You don’t go to see Saori Sato. You sit on the rooftop of her apartment complex and meditate. You try to meditate. There’s a peace that’s absent in you, now, that doesn’t let your mind slip into calm like it used to be able to. There’s always a buzzing under your skin, in your wires.

You brought your sword, the one with the red blade.

You sharpen it until your mind stops racing. It’s like a razor blade now, and you imagine the sting it would cause as you run your metal fingers up the sharp side. You can perfectly imagine how blood would drip down it, now. You go home.

Everyone comes up empty, of course, because Saori Sato sold that mask, and you didn’t speak to her.

---

“You seem unphased with the murders.” You say to Lloyd, after the others have gone to bed and it’s just the two of you up, pouring over the case files. When Lloyd goes to bed, so will you.

He shrugs and sips at his coffee- filled to the brim with cream and sugar, “Darkleys wasn’t just about ruling the world in the big picture. They taught us the small stuff too, including desensitizing us to death.”

There’s nothing to say to that, so you don’t respond. You go back to looking over the papers again, pretending to search for an angle they hadn’t considered yet.

“You want to know something funny?” He says with a little laugh, staring down at the Mechanics' torn up body.

“What is it?” You ask.

A darkness settles over the room, thick and viscous. It seems to flood your mouth and fill your chest. Lloyd looks at you with bright eyes that pin you in place, “I checked your roster. I went through all the kids you taught at the school- and I didn’t find any Satos in the class.” he says with a lopsided smile, eyes burning your skin, assessing, searching for something, “Isn’t that weird?”

Your coolant has turned to ice in your limbs and your body feels numb, “Not at all,” You say cooly, “Sato is her maiden name. Her son has his fathers last name, Maeda.”

He finds something in your expression and- his shoulder slump, “Oh,” He says, blinking. “FSM, i’m sorry- I just-”

“It is alright, Lloyd.” You say graciously, “This has been stressful for us all, and you haven't been sleeping. Perhaps you should get some rest.” rising from your chair, you go to his side and help him to his feet. He allows you to walk him back to his room.

“Let’s start fresh tomorrow.”

“That sounds good.” Lloyd allows with an exhausted yawn. He disappears into his room.

---

Everything hurts.

Your eyes are blurred and blocked by another pop up- WARNING! WARNING! DAMAGE- you dismiss the banner as quickly as it arrives, but that doesn’t stop you from miscounting a step and slamming into the stone staircase, all your weight cracking down on the pointed edges. You scramble to hold onto the steps with your working arm before you can go tumbling back down to the bottom, taking a few breaths that you don’t need to take to help center yourself.

Clambering back to your feet, you check you haven't splattered coolant or oil on the stairwell before you continue up. Clean.

Reaching the monastery, you avoid the main gate. Instead, you shimmy up the courtyard wall and slink silently across the roof until you’re standing above your room. It’s easier with two hands, but you manage to swing yourself off the roof by the tiles and onto the window ledge, barely finessing your way inside without causing a commotion or accidentally falling off the cliff face. You don’t collapse no matter how badly you want to.

First things first- you pry up the loose floorboard under your nightstand and stuff the sword and mask inside, sliding the stand on top of the hiding place. You strip the bloody clothes off and grit your teeth as you peel it away from the mess of your left arm, refusing to scream. Not even allowing a whimper. You’ve had worse- this- this is nothing. Loose pants, loose shirt- long sleeve, of course, just in case anyone was up late getting a glass of water.

It’s late enough that even Jay should be asleep, and the empty garage confirms it.

It takes you two hours to knit the delicate machinery in your arm back together, and another hour fitting a new plate cover so nothing would seem amiss. You take the ravaged pieces of your arm up stairs and pack it under your nightstand too, so there’s no chance of evidence possibly being found.

You collapse now, face first on the bed, and not three hours after that you’re shaken awake.

Nya looks grim, “There’s been another murder.”

In your exhausted, near delirious state, you barely manage to catch yourself before you say I Know.

---

It’s cold this time of year, and it shows. The others are bundled up against the incoming chill of the season, coats and scarves worn on top of their ninja suits. You’re wearing a sweater too, but there’s a cold in you that will never be warm. You’re all behind Laughys Karaoke bar deep in the alley while the police guard the mouth of it, refusing to let reporters or curious civilians get a look.

There’s a detective with you, hanging back and allowing you all to examine the scene.

“Who is this guy?” Cole eventually asks, resisting the urge to nudge his face into view.

The detective steps forward, “His name is Killow. Ninjago PD have had their eye on him for a while- he’s been arrested for petty crimes in the past, but from the intel they’d begun to gather he’d joined an up and coming gang and had climbed pretty high in the ranks. They called him the Big Man.”

‘Big” was an understatement. The man was a brick house, every muscle worked until it bulged. It seems his gym habits had helped a little, even if the end result was still the same.

Lloyd examines his throat, “The first cut didn’t go deep enough.” He comments. There's blood splattered all over the alley, obvious signs of a struggle. Trash was everywhere, torn open bags and the big blue dumpster was dented from Killow slamming the assailant into the metal, more chipped bricks and dented cans revealed just how close Killow had come to walking away from this attempt on his life.

That same dumpster with the largest dent was where Killow had dug his fingers into the murderer's arm and torn through it, spraying metal and wiring across the ground with barely a flick of his wrist. No one knew that but you, and you didn’t share it. The area had been scrupulously cleaned.

“He got him.” Kai commented, “He hurt him pretty bad.”

“How do you know that?” Nya questioned.

Kai gestures to his hands, “Look at his nails. He scratched him, and no one is walking away from that unscathed.” Killows nails were broken and bleeding, torn and snapped off nearly at the cuticle with how hard he’d fought.

“It didn’t help him enough,” Lloyd sighs, standing up, “The second cut was vertical, sliced right through the artery from cheek to chest. He bled out."

“Poor guy.” Jay commented, slowly getting used to the sight of death as he frowned down at the man.

They didn’t know who he was, or what gang he was in- if they did, they’d understand why he had to be put down. The Sons of Garmadon was new and already it was strong, the ranks thick with people who didn’t care about harming others if it furthered their own goals. They were excellent at keeping a low profile while they gained power. It doesn’t escape your notice that the detective avoided naming the gang he was part of. Killow was a bigger cog in that machine, but he wasn’t the only leader the gang members looked to. Your research and surveillance had revealed three of the four ringleaders to you- Killow, Ultraviolet, and, a man you had never seen but had heard referenced several times, Mr. E. They reported to the highest ranking member of the gang, the Quiet One. All you knew about her was that she was a woman.

You stare down at his body and feel no sympathy.

---

“Is there a reason you don’t want me in your head?” Pixal asks bluntly one day, once you’ve gone to visit her at Borg Tower.

Once you’d gotten back to Ninjago City proper, you’d dropped her off with her father with every intention of picking her up later. She’d offered to stick around in your mind for a while, and you’d been happy at the idea- but then Master Wu gave you that sword, and things got more complicated. She hadn’t brought it up for the past few months, but each time you left her without a hint of bringing her along, she had certainly noticed. Now it was her breaking point. She stopped you in the doorway with her words, on your way out.

Your heart had turned numb the moment you took the sword from Wu. In another life, you could have loved her like she deserved.

“My feelings for you…” You turn back to the room, to the screen she's projected her image to so she can look you in the eyes, “…Have changed.” you finish hollowly.

She blinks. She’s perfectly still, “I see.”

“Thank you.” You say softly, “For everything.”

There’s a pause as she studies you, “Is this the end? Will you no longer come to see me?”

The part of you that wants her in your life twinges in pain, the first emotion you’d felt in days, “I believe that is for the best.”

You won’t take her down this path with you.

“Goodbye, Pixal.”

“I will respect your wishes,” She folds her hands in front of her, the perfect picture of poise, “Goodbye, Zane.”

---

Humans are so fragile. Ultraviolet liked to pretend she was tough, like she could take hits others couldn’t- but when it came down to it, her throat sliced just as easily as any others. Her hands were coated in her own blood from where she’s grabbed at her throat, but it was too late, and the slice was too technically perfect. Her knees had hit the ground first and she’d tried to twist, searching for something, eyes wild and mouth gurgling with words that couldn’t form around the blood in her mouth. She fell sideways, skin turning even paler than it already was, and then everything had stopped. The sprinkling rain washed the blood off her lips and diluted the river flowing from her neck. She almost looked like she was sleeping.

You stand over her motionlessly.

“Hey!” A voice cracks across the cool night air, and you turn to the side. You’re on the sidewalk in front of a motorcycle store that Ultraviolet had been intending on robbing, in plain sight. Across the street, up the road, is Nya. She’s not dressed in her ninja suit and her hair is down loose, the wet jeans and soaked hair hindering her sprint as she tears down the road to get to you.

You’re moving before you can think, clambering up the front of the store and up to the roof in record time, purposefully doing something that would be nearly impossible in skinny jeans to deter her. You don’t hesitate to race across the roof and leap to the next, jumping down the fire escape to the next alley and slipping through a thin corridor between two buildings. The sounds of the chase fade to nothing as you outpace her, weaving through back alleys and neighborhoods you’d become intimately familiar with that she didn’t know. After ten more minutes of running, you spin around and head straight for the monastery.

Nya wasn’t expecting to see you, or be witness to the next murder- it was raining- she wouldn't have her phone. That’s your only salvation. She didn’t have her phone.

You take all the shortcuts you know, running until your screen flashes with warnings. You recover from any stumbles in a millisecond. You get home in record time, basically throwing yourself into your room and ripping the mask off. Flinging your mask and sword into your closet and stripping off your wet turtleneck, you close the closet door and dive into bed. The blankets get yanked up to your shoulder and you close your eyes, feigning sleep, and wait.

Android stamina will always outpace humans. You beat Nya home.

She shouts for you all the moment she's through the door, throwing open your doors in her haste to get you up and mobilize after the murderer. She opens your door to you sitting up in bed, clearly woken up from sleep and giving her an openly bewildered expression.

You jump out of bed and throw on your ninja suit, joining the others on the porch as you all gear up.

---

You don’t find the murderer. No one else does either.

Kai looks at you, once you’re all home and exhausted after the all night search. Everyone is soaked and ready to go to bed, dispersing with low spirits and tired eyes. Kai stands in the entryway, dripping wet, and he really looks at you.

You give him a questioning eyebrow raise.

“You know you can tell me anything, right?” He says finally, “I won’t judge you.”

“…I know.”

He stares at you, eyes smoldering. He’s in pain. “There’s blood on your collar.” He says finally.

You look down at it- it’s barely noticeable. There must have been a few droplets on your chin that ran down with the water. If you’d been wearing black, he wouldn’t have been able to tell. Your ninja suit is white.

“It’s oil.” You say softly, the patch is just old and watered down enough that you could pass it off for brown.

“Okay.” Kai says. He looks like he’s going to cry.

He looks like he’s afraid of you.

---

Mr.E vanishes after Ultraviolets assassination. You look for him during SoG meetings and you keep an ear out, but he’s nowhere to be seen or heard. The gang is falling apart, half the newer members jumping ship- chances are Mr.E saw the writing on the wall and got out before his neck was next. You could respect that. You might even thank him for it, because if he hadn’t abandoned his post there’s a chance you would have never found out who the quiet one was.

There’s three totally unqualified people at this meeting so far, the members that had ranked directly below the previous three. Their skills were lacking, but their loyalty was rock solid. That was the Quiet Ones main priority after Mr.E’s Irish goodbye. The three were clearly nervous even though they were trying to appear tough- the taller girl even attempting to do tricks with her butterfly knife to appear cool and intimidating. It might have worked if she didn’t drop the blade every other trick.

A door opens and shuts in the silence, the black night outside offering no clue to the newcomers identity. She doesn’t leave them in suspense, though, striding into the light with a stormy expression. She starts talking immediately, taking their names and offering her own.

“You may call me the Quiet One.” She instructs them.

“You’re really the quiet one?” The man says, eyebrows raised in surprise.

“Yes. Is there an issue?”

“None at all, ma’am.” He responds gruffly, dipping his head.

That’s all the confirmation you need. You slide to the edge of the exposed beam you’re sitting on, swinging down by your arms before you drop straight into the middle of the group. Your feet slam onto the table and the things tilts- you hadn’t anticipated it, so you end up going left instead of right. Instead of the single clean kill you came here for, you’re thrown into butterfly knife girl and the scene becomes a lot more grisly. Your stumble gave them time to process your intentions- you relied on surprise. Now this would get messy.

Knife girl stabs you in the chest. Her knife gets stuck. While she’s trying to rip it out of your skin, you sever her hands at the wrist. She screams and doesn’t stop.

The bigger male lunges for your throat and you hold your sword up so it plunges straight through his chest, his own momentum forcing it through muscle and the delicate capillaries in his lungs. That doesn’t stop him and his hands are on your throat- it doesn't do anything, of course, because you don't need to breathe. He keeps squeezing, and your neck strains. He could pop your head off if he tried. Your sword is buried in his chest and you can’t back up enough to get the space to pull it out.

You reach up and fumble for the butterfly knife, ripping it out of your chest and whipping it around to slam it directly into his ear. He howls in pain, releasing your neck to scrabble at his head before you use the knife to slice him from ear to collarbone. He collapses and the sword slides out of his body.

Knife girl has gone silent, bleeding to death from the ruined arteries in her wrists.

The other woman throws something the moment her shot is clear and on reflex you catch it. It’s a throwing knife and dangling from the handle-

You dart it back at her before you can finish understanding the word bomb. She’s not expecting such fast reflexes, so she’s not prepared for the knife to bury itself in her chest.

Then it explodes.

You spin around, preparing for the Quiet One to attack you next-

The door is open, and she’s gone.

The worst part about all of this is that you didn’t recognize her. Running her face through your facial recognition software came up empty too- so did cross checking any and every news outlet, hoping to see her face maybe in the back of a crowd. Nothing.

That could have been your only chance.

---

“I have been in your shoes before, I know this is hard. You must be prepared to do everything to protect them.” Master Wu had said after you had vomited up your dinner the night of the Mechanics murder, “This path will cost you everything.”

“Everything?” You questioned, staring down at the toilet bowl.

“But they will be safe.” He reassures you, gripping your shoulder tightly.

---

You don’t let the two parts of your life overlap. You don’t. The nights you go out, you are a serial killer. The next morning you are Zane, elemental master of ice, the titanium ninja. Zane is not tainted by all the blood and death and gore. Zane is not a murderer. You don’t ever use your sword as Zane, and you never use your shurikens as the serial killer. Everything would fall apart if you couldn’t keep them separate.

As you stand in the palace and the emperor introduces his daughter, your hands twitch for your sword the moment she opens her mouth. The face paint. You weren't able to discover her identity because of the face paint. Caked on so thick that her bare face looked like a completely different woman-

The emperor's daughter Harumi, and the Quiet One. Two parts of her life that aren't supposed to overlap.

“-Zane: The cold and calculating android.” She names you sweetly, voice honey thick. There’s a manic, wild edge to her eyes that the face paint can’t hide.

It makes sense. Her three most trusted advisors were murdered or abandoned her, and their replacements were slaughtered immediately after. The Sons of Garmadon had begun to collapse, fractioning off into smaller gangs with their own leaders. The main faction still had a substantial number of die-hard loyalists who were growing more and more extreme by the day. Robbery, assault, murder- they were wreaking havoc on Ninjago. They even managed to steal the Oni Mask of Vengeance. Now, her eyes slid over to Lloyd and locked onto him. She slipped a new mask on, one that was shy and flirtatious. The Quiet One wanted Lloyd wrapped around her finger.

But Harumi and the Quiet One weren’t supposed to exist at the same time.

Neither were Zane and the serial killer.

Inevitably, though, two worlds will always collide. Maybe the two parts of her and you were never supposed to live separate forever. Maybe you shouldn’t have taken that sword from Wu. Maybe you should have brought it with you so that Zane didn’t have to use his shuriken.

“Thank you for this opportunity,” You say clearly into the cold, cold room. Or maybe you’re the cold one, “I will not let it pass me by.”

There’s blood on your shuriken.

You collect your mask and your sword from underneath the floorboards in your bedroom and run.

They’re safe. They’ll always be safe.

[the-bar-sinister]

Whumpee seems to be watching their own body in a distant haze as the claws dig into their belly and rip the flesh of it open.

There is pain– oh god there is pain, whumpee watches their own body shudder and spasm as it happens– but that pain is distant and divorced, like a memory, or a rumor they once heard.

The blood and viscera spill out across the floor, like a dark pool spreading around a tangle of squirming snakes, and they watch as the jolting movement of their body slows, and the light in their own terrified, wide eyes starts to dim.

Suddenly they are somewhere else– they are in their body again, and there is no pain. But there is panic. With shaking hands whumpee puts their fingers gingerly down to touch their belly, expecting to find wet blood and pulsing organs.

There is nothing but tender, undamaged flesh, and the memory of being torn apart. Disoriented and afraid, whumpee's whole body trembles as they try to heave themselves up to their feet to keep going a little longer.

[jo-harrington]

As Above, So Below - Chapter 9: Deus in Absentia

Previous Chapter: Chapter 8 - Miserere Mei

Summary: What are you to do when God has abandoned you?

Word Count: 15.6k

Pairing: Eddie Munson/Fem!Original Character (Written in 2nd Person POV - You/Your - No Use of Names of Physical Descriptors)

Warnings/Themes: Van Helsing Inspired, Kas!Eddie, Religious Themes, Criticism of Religion/Catholicism, Fate vs. Free Will, Death and Injury, Graphic Depictions of Violence, Discussion of the Upside Down, Resurrection, Supernatural Encounters, Grief, Major Character Death, Gore, Body Horror, Angst, Disturbing Imagery, Heavy Religious Imagery and Implications, Biblical and Other Literary/Media References. Dead Dove: Do Not Eat

Note: Thank you to @pastel-pillows and @dr-aculaaa for the quick beta reads of the few snippets (you know the ones). This one is...I'm not even sure what it is but it's heavy and confusing and I'm so fucking proud of it. We've got 3 more chapters left until the end, it still feels like there's so much more to go, but we've really taken a turn for the worst...and now maybe we're heading for the better with this one.

Please note that after this chapter, I will be taking a brief hiatus from AASB (maybe til mid-november/december?) to wrap up some WIPs. (CCFest Halloween, the next installment of Gospel According to MV, the next chapter of Stranger Than (Fan)Fiction, etc. I need to clear it out. But we're not on so much of a cliffhanger this time.

This series will not be for the faint of heart, nor is it something that was written with a general audience in mind. Please check the above warnings and ask yourself if you are in the correct headspace to proceed. I am happy to answer any questions via PM or Ask.

You can find my masterlist here.

Please do not interact if you are not 18+.

“Because I lie and sign myself to lies! Because I am not worth the dust on the feet of them that hang! […] I have given you my soul; leave me my name!” - Arthur Miller, The Crucible

October 30, 1987

The world passed by in a blur and you avoided looking at everyone and everything.

Except for Steve.

It was almost impossible to look anywhere other than directly upon him.

His head.

His body.

Both.

Either.

It didn't really matter anymore. They were both Steve, and at the same time, neither of them were.

They were pieces of him shorn apart in vile rage and wrath, one that something inside you--that the last lingering part of Eddie that resided deep in the pit where your soul should have been--said was unconscionable. But you somehow couldn't bring yourself to agree.

Probably because you, yourself, didn't have a conscience anymore either.

You tried to feel, tried to scrape together some piece of humanity from the leftover parts of your own jagged soul that clung to the corners of your being.

It was a futile task; from the moment that Mary Victoria's screaming stopped, you felt emptier than you ever had.

You couldn't move, couldn't bring yourself to do anything.

Billy regained some control of his body; he dropped Steve's head and ran but Steve's friends didn't give chase.

Mary Victoria scrambled to Steve's side in some futile attempt to reattach his head; she spoke broken words that sounded underwater to you. Whispers, then another scream, then whispers again. She turned to you and shouted something, and then broke down in tears.

Nancy and Dustin hauled him to the car, their own grief temporarily set aside, and debated where to put him. Where could they put him? Had they even figured it out? How many other friends had they done this to? How many slaughtered family members did they have to steel their hearts towards? Did it even matter?

Dustin even wrangled you at some point, shuffled you into the car. Where had you sat? In the front or the back? Who knew? All of a sudden you were back at the Harrington's leaning against the mailbox for support as a few people carried Steve's remains into the garage.

So you just stared.

You never broke eye contact; you barely even blinked.

Time passed.

Your body got weaker and wearier.

The sun rose, an ominous glowing red dawn, on a new day.

Everyone left the garage and disappeared inside.

But someone left the garage door open for you to come in when you were ready, and when you finally were, you trudged towards it.

Towards him.

You would've thought that the ground would have tried to grab you and hold you back, that your body would've broken and failed, that God Himself would smite you for even thinking of approaching Steve like you did.

But it was surprisingly easy to close the distance between the driveway and the folding table that had been erected to hold the body of a dear friend.

The body of a leader. The body of a hero.

Your eyes raked along his form and you punished yourself committing every inch of him to memory.

His clothes, his skin, the stains of blood on both, the way his eyes were not quite shut, the distinct lack of tension in his jaw, the remnants of a scar that circled his throat, and the jagged wound that had severed his head.

The wound seemed to follow along that scar like a guide; maybe it had been one, a weak point Eddie knew would be there to enact some ultimate retribution.

Your footing faltered and you grasped the edge of the table to keep yourself upright, but that only made you lean over the body.

Suddenly all of the feelings that eluded you from the moment Steve's body hit the ground--maybe even from the moment you had returned to Hawkins, as terrible and detached and inhuman as you were--barreled into you.

Steve Harrington wasn't the first dead person you'd seen, or the first that had died alongside you, fighting some monster. Shit, he wasn't even the first one that died because of your stupidity.

He was only the first...what?

What was Steve Harrington?

Who was Steve Harrington to you?

You gritted your teeth and thought about it, wracked your brain for some answer.

He wasn't a friend or family, he wasn't a neighbor or a coworker. He was a comrade in arms by sheer luck, and if it hadn't have been for that night in the tunnels, you doubted the two of you would have ever crossed paths.

He was a friend of a friend of Eddie's. Some coincidental flirtatious fling of Mary Victoria's. Mary Victoria who, you realized, was just as much of a stranger as Steve was. You didn't know her. She wasn't a friend, no matter how much you could hope or think that she was.

You didn't know any of these people. Didn't care about these people. They were just friendly neighbors who unfortunately became collateral damage. They were nothing.

Steve Harrington was nothing.

But that was the reason that whatever was left of your humanity was torn up as he lay dead before you.

An innocent life. Lost. Because of you.

So many lives lost, so many families broken, because you chose to act like some selfish and well-intentioned God, protecting the light when you yourself destroyed the light with everything you did and everything you touched.

They all tried to stop you--even fate; even God Himself--but you refused to listen.

No wonder your prayers went unanswered.

You felt a presence beside you, surrounding you; Eddie's phantom hand slid into your own and squeezed, offering some sort of comfort, but you simply clenched your hand into a tight fist in refusal. Then his hands were on your shoulders and his ghostly lips caressing your ear.

"You could heal him."

No, you couldn't.

"Bring him back."

It was impossible, actually impossible; maybe if you were whole, you could do it, but you knew if you tried, you'd only be confronted with how far you had fallen and how miserably you'd fail.

"But you'd heal him if you could," Eddie whispered. "You'd fix all of this if you could. That's what makes you good; you haven't failed yet, sweetheart."

You wanted to believe him, you really wanted to, but then you thought of Eddie, the other Eddie, the rest of Eddie...and the other you, the rest of you...and all of you together and separate and broken and whole and...and...

Your legs wobbled, your knees gave out, and you finally crashed to the floor. Eddie had the good sense to vanish.

And there, on the ground, you finally broke down in tears.

Because you could get no lower than this, short of burying yourself deep in the dirt where you probably should have stayed all those years ago when the collapsing tunnels had swallowed you. You should have died to spare Hawkins--all of Hawkins, Eddie and Wayne included--of this misery that your existence brought.

You could get no lower, short of diving straight into the pits of Hell itself.

Where you belonged.

November 6, 1983

You did your best to try and keep things calm after Eddie vanished.

You could still feel him and you were still a part of him, but he simply refused to let you follow; however, with no body to speak of, and the Upside Down seeming to rejoice that the chaos it desired won over peace, you had to pick your battles.

So you picked Wayne.

You sat by his side and provided all of the comfort and support that you could; you healed him as much as you possibly could, even though his wounds kept weeping and his body kept rejecting your efforts. You wondered, for a moment, if the serene acceptance you'd felt earlier was the cause of his prolonged demise; if he had accepted death on his own, you couldn't force him to continue living.

But then you felt the waves of fear emanating from him, as he lay there, and stared up into those eyes in the sky that watched you both, and you knew that whatever was causing him to perish was beyond what you could control.

So you soothed his worries, just like you'd soothed Eddie's when Vecna preyed on him.

"It's ok," you whispered the lie to him. "It'll all be ok."

It was also the lie you told yourself.

You tried to distract him from his anguish and fear by telling him a story; the nonsensical memories of your first time meeting him kept him calm, let him focus on his breathing, on keeping his heart going.

You weren't even sure that he heard you.

What he did hear, though, was Eddie's anguished roar as he reappeared on the barren plane of Lover's Lake.

At first you though it was the rage that had overtaken him before, when he'd pulled you from Billy's consciousness; you weren't expecting him to be crying bloody tears, raking his talons into his hair, and muttering repeatedly,

"What have I done? What have I done?"

"What happened?" He ignored your question, so you asked again. "Eddie, what happened?"

He shook his head and kept pacing; as you watched him, you felt like it was a very you thing to do, so you decided that the only way to get through to him might be the only way you'd get through to yourself.

You were by his side immediately, latching yourself onto him like the parasite you'd been to him for as long as he'd been under Vecna's control. The edges of your being melted with his as you ran your soothing hands over his face, his cheeks, his eyelids. You thought of the countless times that he'd done this to you to show you his affection and calm you down.

Finally, when he stopped torturing himself, you whispered into his ear, "tell me."

His shoulders heaved with labored breath, and then he finally nodded, eyes shut as he basked in the feeling of you.

You rejoiced in the feeling of being wanted by him.

"I killed him," he said with a broken voice, sending a shock down your spine. "I killed him."

"Killed who?" you asked, and his lip trembled.

"I didn't mean to," he whimpered. "I got carried away."

"Eddie," you said his name sternly.

"I'm not a monster," he continued. "I'm not, I'm not."

"Eddie, who did you kill?"

"Tell me that it'll be ok," he demanded suddenly, eyes shooting open. He stared...not quite at you, but through you. You wondered if he saw the concern in your gaze, the fear for him, or if he only felt it. "Tell me, please; I need to know."

"I'll tell you," you began slowly. "If you tell me what you did."

He took a breath, building some sense of courage, and then swallowed.

And what followed was one crushing blow after another.

Because as soon as the name "Steve" fell from Eddie's lips, a horrible sound came from Wayne.

A death rattle.

He choked and shook, more than he had since the time his body broke upon impact with the ground.

The rage and sorrow that you might've felt at the revelation that Eddie had killed Steve suddenly transformed into worry and fear for Wayne. As his body convulsed weakly and he struggled to find air.

You and Eddie both abandoned your anguish to go to his side; you hovered over him, hands locked together as you tried to guide him back towards life, but the fight was over, it seemed.

Wayne used the last bit of his strength to place his hand over Eddie's, his mangled, blood-stained fingers locking with Eddie's inhuman clawed ones.

Then with one last look towards you, he was gone.

October 30, 1987

The door to the house opened some hours later.

You had stayed on the ground and cried the whole time, the minutes ticking away--literally thanks to the watch adorned on Steve's cold wrist that punctuated every second that passed, like the telltale heart--between heaving sobs and silent tears that stained your cheeks and soaked the collar of your shirt. Your eyes felt swollen and painful, throbbing inside of your skull.

You knew you should take a minute, recompose yourself, and give your body a break from the constant barrage of thoughts and emotions, but you supposed this was a punishment of sorts.

Still, it wasn't punishment enough.

"Come inside," a gentle voice said from the threshold after a beat. "There's food. Or if you'd like to wash up. I don't know if you've slept out here either, but you could come and sleep in a real bed too."

"No," came your gravelly reply.

There was a sigh and footsteps, then Nancy dropped to the ground beside you. She folded herself as small as she could get, tucking her knees against her chest to rest her chin upon them, and stared up at Steve's body.

You weren't really sure what this was. You couldn't say that you were surprised that Nancy was out here with you at all. Out of everyone who resided in that house, who was left to tolerate your presence? What surprised you was how soft she was. Her voice, her posture, her presence. You supposed she was mourning Steve too, just like everyone else; you could see her own red-rimmed, puffy eyes in your peripheral vision.

But if she was here, you expected some sort of tongue lashing, heavy with accusations and blame.

Maybe she knew that she didn't need to do any of that. You blamed yourself plenty.

"So what do we do now?" she asked, voice devoid of emotion. "What's next?"

"What do you mean?" you questioned in return. "Steve's dead; you bury him or burn him...whatever you do with the rest of your dead."

"No," Nancy shook her head. "What's the next move to closing the gates and sealing the Upside Down for good? Wasn't that the grand plan?"

You hummed in response, a non-committal noise that seemed to irritate Nancy enough to turn and look at you.

"Weren't you here to save Hawkins? Save us."

"And I'm doing a great job of it," you gestured to the table, "aren't I, Steve?"

She scoffed, a very judgmental sound, and then turned away again.

There was a long stretch of silence, padded with muffled noises from inside the house and that ever-present ticking of Steve's watch. You could hear sharp and sudden intakes of breath from Nancy every now and again, and you expected some kind of jab to be sent your way, but none ever came.

Eventually she said, "I know how it feels to want to give up."

"Yeah?" you croaked in reply.

"I think that's all I've wanted since this all started," she continued. "For it to be over."

"Well, people like us...we don't ever get what we want." You didn't quite like the way the bitterness of your words tasted on your tongue but you supposed it was a flavor you needed to get used to.

"People like us..." Nancy trailed off and then nodded. "People like us can't give up, though, no matter how much we want it. I certainly can't do that, not with Holly relying on me. Actually, a lot of people in that house rely on me, so I have to keep going for them."

"That's nice."

"They rely on you too," she said matter-of-factly, and if you didn't know better that Nancy Wheeler hated your guts, you would've thought that there was even some laughter in her voice. "You made them believe in you, with your big words and your speeches and promises. They don't particularly like you. But they believe in you."

"Get to the point Nancy," you finally tilted your head to meet her gaze.

"Do I have a point?"

"It sounds like you're trying to get me to do something and I'm not sure what that something is."

"I'm trying to get you not to just give up," she held her hands out in some sort of offer to you. "I'm trying to get you to get back on your feet and fix this. Because you're the only one who can."

"Sure," you snorted.

"It's true!"

"I don't know if you noticed but I'm not doing so hot. A few days away from ending up like our good friend Steve here, I'm sure," you gestured to your body. "I had time to think and...I guess that's what happens when a vampire starts to suck out your soul? People probably never noticed since the blood loss kills them first."

"Then go back to the Upside Down and tell Eddie to fix this before you die," she snapped. "Let the gate shut behind you, I don't care."

"Never thought that you'd endorse me making a deal with the devil," you snarked.

"Is that what you think of him now?" she asked. "That he's the devil."

"What else is he?"

"He's your boyfriend, the love of your life," she threw her hands up in the air and shouted. "That's what you've been saying all this time right? 'I came back for Eddie, I love Eddie.' That's why Dustin made us keep it a secret. But even when you found out that he was alive and that he was a monster, that didn't change anything. But suddenly he does what? He kills Steve right in front of you and he's suddenly evil. You didn't care when he killed people before."

You couldn't help the laughter that suddenly bubbled out of you.

Where it came from, you couldn't really know for sure. Whether it stemmed from some sort of guilt or discomfort or realization that everything was futile and idiotic since you were dying anyway.

"No," you giggled. "I guess I didn't."

Or maybe that Nancy was actually right and you didn't care at all; it was that dark pit inside of you that swallowed her accusations and spit out the laughter instead.

Maybe Eddie wasn't the evil one, maybe it was you all along.

It was in your nature, after all; hadn't Jinette told you that time and time again.

But then Nancy, with her big words and fiery eyes and ferocious gentleness that laid just beneath the surface, started laughing too.

You were sure, if someone was looking down on the two of you right now, it would be a sight to see: you and Nancy, with your previous adversity towards one another, laughing hysterically and falling against each other.

Little by little though, that laughter produced tears, and then more tears fell, until the two of you were huddled together, crying once again. You were right, all that time ago, thinking that you and Nancy Wheeler were a mirror of one another. The strength, the loss, the perseverance, and the sorrow that lingered just below the surface.

"Eddie killed my boyfriend Jonathan," Nancy whispered. "And I hated him for it. I still do. It hasn't even been two months and it feels like there's this gaping wound in my chest, like my heart's torn out without him, and it's been like that for a lifetime."

"I'm sorry," you muttered back. "I'm so sorry Nancy."

"And then he started helping us," she ignored your apology. "He killed so many people but then...for some reason...he decided to help us and I almost killed him right then. Itchy trigger finger. But Steve...and Dustin...and my brother Mike...they all said to give him a chance. The Eddie who killed Jon, that wasn't the Eddie who was helping us, and I had to believe them, even though the hate was still there.

"Then came the battle. The end, or so we thought. The last stand against the Upside Down. Vecna...he killed so many people. He killed my family. My parents and Mike...and I was so close too, I could've died alongside them, and in those last moments I thought...I might even see Jonathan again. But somehow I was spared; Vecna even took that from me."

Nancy gritted her teeth and choked on a sob and her voice got progressively louder, until those last words, then she was quiet again.

She took a calming breath and kept going through her tears.

"Mom used to make us go to church, but I'd gotten too old for stuff," she shook her head. "Seen too much of this nightmare to believe in a god anymore, especially since the pain just got worse as more and more of the people I loved just kept dying. That wound got bigger, my hate got bigger.

"But then there was Holly...so I must've been spared by some god so that she wouldn't be alone, right?"

She paused and looked at you now, like you'd give her some sort of reassurance. But you couldn't bring yourself to do it. Was there a god? If there was, he wasn't in Hawkins.

Nancy just sighed at your silence and wiped the tears away with the back of her hand.

"There are more people, of course, more people who survived. Mike's friends and Joyce and Steve...and Robin. Steve and Robin lost everything too--their parents and Robin had this friend Vickie that must've been like...it doesn't matter--but they had each other. And yeah, Robin's been there for me, probably more than anyone else in this mess. She's put up with me and helped me and kept me sane when I thought I couldn't handle it anymore. There's nothing I could ever do to thank her. Now she's lost another person and I can't even repay her kindness. But...and I feel bad for thinking of Holly this way...but everyone else had each other, and all I had now was this pain and this hate and this burden.

"Then Eddie Munson betrayed us for the Upside Down again."

You closed your eyes at her words, felt the pang in your chest at the hate in her voice.

"And then you came along," she sneered. "And you killed Barb. That was my friend too, you know; Barb was my best friend. The first time I saw her after Eddie...after Eddie did that to her...I had hope for the first time in a long time. But not for Barb. For Jon. That he could come back too, but Eddie couldn't even do that for me."

"Stop talking about Eddie," you pleaded, trying to stop the tears from starting again, but it was too late.

"But I have to," Nancy insisted. "Don't you get it? I have to talk about Eddie Munson. Because...because you love him. Just like I love Jonathan Byers. I hate Eddie and I thought I hated you too, but you love Eddie Munson. Eddie is a monster and you love him...and he loves you. Loves you enough to kill his friends for you. And you love him even though you're dying because of him and I keep having to remind myself that...that I would do the same thing if I was in your shoes and Jon was a monster too."

She was fully sobbing now too.

"I would do anything, anything, to have Jonathan back," she exclaimed. "I would let the world burn for him, I would die for him. But before I died, I would ask him to fix this mess, for everyone else I loved, because I know how much he loved me too."

There was a knock on the garage door that startled the two of you, and then a muffled "Nance, you ok in there" through the thick wood.

"Yeah," Nancy choked out in response and cleared her throat. "I'll be back inside in a second."

"Kay."

There were footsteps and then you were alone in silence again.

"Sorry," she shook her head after a moment. "I'm sorry. I don't...know what came over me."

"It's ok," you tried to reassure her.

"Are we good?" she asked.

"Are we?" you parroted.

She paused and inhaled shakily, then nodded.

"If we have to get out there and fight again," she started. "I'll have your back."

Without another glance at you, she got to her feet and placed a trembling hand on Steve's chest.

Then, with a clear and steely voice filled with a sense of finality, she repeated her earlier statement, "but you need to fix this. You're the only one who can."

November 6, 1983

Eddie stayed there for hours. Days. He stayed hunched over Wayne's body, further soaking his uncle's clothes with those bloody tears until there were no more left.

And there was nowhere else you would be, even if you could leave, than by his side.

The anguished roar of grief that escaped Eddie's body after Wayne took his last breath had shaken the very earth beneath you, and in your heart, only rivaled the scream he made when Vecna had finally broken him and he'd given up his soul.

You'd never seen him like this.

Never.

Broken and beside himself; he could barely function, could barely respond to your words or touch.

All of the other creatures in the Upside Down knew to leave him to this; you saw neither hide nor hair of them. There were no footsteps, no flaps of wings.

You felt awful at the triumphant feeling that bloomed in your chest to know that he wanted you there, that he accepted the comfort of your presence, however little of it that he allowed.

When he was tired, he clutched Wayne to his chest, and nestled into your embrace. When he was hungry, he closed his eyes and found your wrist, then drank deeply from veins that would only sustain his heart, and not his stomach. And when he felt anger again, he used you; you let him use you like he had during the eternity that he was trapped as a soulless puppet under Vecna's control, unwillingly faced with his humanity.

He slashed at you with his claws, he roared and yelled and lashed out, he fucked your phantom body to find some cathartic release. It was never enough, not like it would be if she had been there, and you had to come to the acceptance that although the two of you were two parts of one whole, you were not home to him the way that she was.

Instead you could only hold him, run your hand through his hair, brighten the void deep within him that got darker with his despair, and soothe the pain.

"Why do they leave me?" he whispered into you in the aftermath of one of those instances. "Why am I destined to lose everything?"

"I don't know Eddie," you replied gently.

"Why did he have to die?"

"We all die."

"No," he growled, unwilling to accept it.

"You've died before," you reminded him, and then you contemplated your next words. "And so have I "

"No," he repeated, snarling this time. He clutched you to him. "No, you'll never die. Not if I have anything to say about it."

"She's dying," you spoke of your other self now. "She's out there and dying."

"Please," he wept. "No."

"Death," you began. "It's not the end, it's just the beginning. You'll always have each other, even if you can't be together like this."

You were talking out your ass, you knew; an empty promise. Half of a lie. Even if he didn't have her, he would have you.

"Just like you'll have Wayne," you continued, "and he'll always have you."

You stared past Eddie now, at Wayne's body just yards away, resting in the pit that Eddie had dug and clawed in his rage. Neither of you particularly wanted his body to remain here, but what else could you do? Wayne needed to go back to Hawkins, and neither of you could take him there.

"Fate is cruel," you whispered to Eddie again. "Wayne knew how much you loved him."

"I know."

"Do you remember the story I told you once?" you asked suddenly. "About the oneiroi?"

It had been a long and hard day for him, still mourning your other self's departure from Hawkins. Dark thoughts had filtered through Eddie's head more than once after she left, and you had no choice but to intervene. To soothe him and heal him, to love him, just like you always would. And to do that, you told him a story about meeting the loved ones you missed the most in your dreams.

You cracked a smile when you felt Eddie nod against you now.

"You'll meet Wayne again one day," you whispered. "Maybe in your dreams. Maybe...maybe in heaven."

Another lie.

The remnants of his soul had long-since vanished though, and you'd said a prayer for it to find its way to heaven, where he belonged. But you knew better, and it was a bitter feeling to sense it...lurking in some unknown distance until it was time for him to make himself known to you.

"Maybe even here," you finished.

Just like Eddie's soul had.

At first, you thought it was a trick of the eye. But you weren't easily tricked; in fact, you had no eyes, no really. Then you wondered, and you couldn't know for sure, if you wished it or willed it into being.

You could see it, even from a distance. The twitch of Wayne's body inside the pit Eddie had dug. It wasn't a deep pit; a divot in the ground, more than a true grave. You could see the convulsions, and then the shifting.

Then you realized with some horror, that those things you'd tried to rationalize--the wishes and the tricks--none of those things had caused Wayne's body to move again. Or breath again, as you saw the soft rise of his flannel-covered chest.

This wasn't your realm; it wasn't yours to control. But you'd been here long enough to know better than to think you had any control. Maybe if you were real, maybe if you were her, you could change things. Maybe you could've stopped it. But you were you, and you'd witnessed time and again what happened to the dead that found themselves in the Upside Down.

They either perished, their bodies consumed along with their souls, or they were revived. By Vecna's hand. Or by Eddie's.

So how was Wayne moving now if the attempts to revive him had failed?

You watched in horror as his hands flinched and twitched, and then reached for the edge of the pit. You froze as he hauled himself upright, and then turned his head towards you in a stiff and unnatural way.

He stared right at you and you stared back at him, unable to look away.

Eddie hadn't ever truly been able to witness your form and Wayne had only been able to see you because he was dying. But for Wayne to be able to be alive again and look at you, see you, when you weren't really there? There had only been one set of eyes that had really looked upon you during your time here in the Upside Down.

And they were no longer in the sky.

You clutched Eddie to you, as if to smother him in your presence, in your being, so that he wouldn't see Wayne standing there. Healed. Alive. Whole. Other.

But it was too late.

The gasp that came from Eddie was the first nail in the coffin.

The tears that dripped from his eyes as he got to his feet were the next.

Each of the words that spilled from his mouth as he rejoiced in the resurrection of his uncle were like the strike of a hammer against the coffin lid to ensure it was secure.

And the embrace that he pulled "Wayne" into, a death bell.

The ground trembled beneath you, starting from the place where "Wayne" stood and radiating outwards; you could sense from all distances, the creatures of the Upside Down rejoiced the his presence. At their release.

You were frozen in terror at all of it.

Vecna, when it came down to it, was only human--even with all of his power--and, in a way, so were you. So was Eddie. For all that time, you'd done your best; you'd used your love, your tricks, to counteract the poison of his curse. You could fight against a human to spare Eddie from pain and death and his ultimate demise.

But this?

You were only human. And so was Eddie.

You didn't know how to protect Eddie from this.

October 31, 1987

You woke to the sounds of trick-or-treaters outside of the Harrington's garage.

It was an unexpected thing to hear and it startled you, their little voices shouting in tandem, followed by laughter. It seemed strange and out of place, especially considering the grimness that lingered in the garage with Steve's decaying body just a few feet away on that table.

The fact that it even was Halloween surprised you, but you hadn't really been keeping track of the date, especially not after your time in the Upside Down.

You forced yourself to your feet, body aching, and lifted the garage door to step outside.

The late afternoon sun greeted you, as did the crisp fall air; the neighborhood wasn't flooded with children trick-or-treating, but there were a few groups going around. All followed by parents with their weapons to protect from any horrors that lurked in the shadows; the Upside Down still posed the greatest threat, even if it was a holiday.

But there was just something so human, so normal, seeing them. Even in the face of danger and death, here they were, looking for a little bit of joy.

Your heart ached at the thought, and you wondered if that was Eddie reacting to their participation in his favorite holiday.

You watched as two little princesses, their taffeta dresses donned over matching turtlenecks to protect them from the chill, walked up the driveway hand in hand, scurrying between the parked cars, to approach the group hanging about on the Harrington's porch.

"I hope you guys like cookies," Dustin told them after their greeting, and he held out a bowl with plastic-wrapped treats. "Mom baked them fresh this morning."

Once they were gone, Dustin--who must've noticed you as soon as you stepped outside--waved you over.

"You remember Max and Will," he gestured to his friends who were situated in lawn chairs. "And maybe you remember Lucas too?"

"From the tunnels," you greeted. "Hi."

"Hey," Lucas shot you a tentative little wave, and then tried to get up to offer his seat to you. You motioned for him to stay seated, and then leaned against the side of the house.

"And Lucas's sister, Erica," he gestured to the girl sitting beside Max, who was the only one dressed for the occasion. A witchy purple dress and glitter makeup expertly applied on her face; it was cute and spooky and fitting for a young teenager like her.

"No trick or treating for you guys?" you asked, mustering up a small smile.

"We were going to," Max piped up, and then gestured down to the object in her lap. "Brought my trusty Michael Meyers mask and everything."

"I was actually going to go and spend the night at my friend Shelly's house," Erica interjected. "We all planned to dress as witches and do a seance."

"Oh yeah?" you asked, the part of your brain that always collected little tidbits about spiritualism and the supernatural activated. "Well, be careful. It's Samhain...spirits can travel between worlds easier. You don't want a ghost to follow you home."

"It's Halloween, it's make believe," Erica narrowed her eyes at you. "Besides I can't go."

"Why not?"

"Our moms asked us to stay close," Will explained.

"We're, uh," Dustin shuffled in his seat. "We're..."

"We're having a memorial for Steve later tonight," Lucas finished for him.

All of the kids looked a little somber at those words, shifting in their chairs uncomfortably.

"Oh," you replied softly, unable to really say anything else.

Dustin, of course, had to make light of the heavy moment. He held out the bowl of cookies to you.

"It's a potluck dinner," he explained and then gestured to the cookies. "Mom was already baking, so she figured she might as well make some extras."

"I'm ok," you tried to refuse the cookies.

"You didn't eat dinner last night," he insisted and you guiltily shifted your gaze away from his. "Or breakfast this morning."

He shook the bowl, and you sighed and took a cookie anyway, not willing to explain that you had no appetite. And even if you did, you knew it would turn to sawdust on your tongue anyway.

You stood there and basked in their conversation and in the trick-or-treaters that came. The boys all ooh'd and ahh'd at the visitors costumes; Erica continued to pout about not being able to go to her friends house until her friends actually showed up for treats, then she stood on the lawn and chattered with them until it was time for them to go; and Max...Max just sat there stiffly until the conversation started back up again, her unseeing eyes somehow always locked on you.

Like she was acutely aware of your loathsome presence.

You wondered for a second if she knew something was wrong with you, sensed it through any sort of lingering connection that you left behind when you'd made the journey into her mind. Had you left a bit of yourself in there too? Or maybe you were just reading into it too much?

"When was the last time you celebrated Halloween?" she asked suddenly, startling you from your thoughts. All of the kids turned to you with curious expressions.

"Uh," you frowned and thought about it.

When was the last time?

"Last October I was..."

You knew where you were in November; Nonna had passed away. That anniversary was coming up, wasn't it?

"...I was in upstate New York, trying to stop this old man...Goodrich...from sacrificing virgins in exchange for endless riches."

"Woah," all the kids sat up a little straighter in their seats.

"You know, all the crap we've seen, it would've been nice to have some variety," Will joked. "What else? The year before that?"

Ok...what was that...you remembered wishing you could be back in Hawkins.

"I was in Italy actually," you recalled. "Someone stole the shroud of Turin to invoke the Anti-Christ. It didn't work; that's not what relics are for."

"Ok that's still cool."

"Relics? Like in DnD?" Lucas questioned.

"Yeah," Dustin laughed. "She's a paladin."

"I am not a paladin," you rolled your eyes.

"Yeah you are," he insisted.

The boys all started tripping over themselves asking questions and bickering--even Erica getting into the mix, spouting off facts and stats about DnD gameplay--but Max had to interrupt them with a laugh.

"Halloween! Hello!" she clapped her hands. "You nerds can argue later; I haven't heard an answer to my question yet."

You smiled at them, feeling something akin to relief that they got to behave like silly teenagers amidst all of the bullshit that was brought into their lives.

You didn't want to leave Max hanging though, so you thought back again, and said very casually, "1984...I was in Hawkins that year."

But then you all got quiet.

Because you all remembered what happened, to each of you respectively, in 1984.

You, especially, felt your stomach churn. Not about the tunnels or Eddie or Gabriel or anything else. You remembered where you were on Halloween. Not that far from here, actually. At a party where you came across a drunk Billy Hargrove, Max's brother.

A party where you were dressed like Judith...with the decapitated head of Holofernes.

Your mind raced at all the parallels, at all of the strings that tied everything together. A severed head and Billy Hargrove, these kids in the tunnels, the looming threat of the Upside Down. That even the knife that you'd worn on your belt that night had been the one you'd told Mary Victoria to take from your glove compartment just a few weeks prior.

What was next? Was Gabriel going to show up and lead you on some other fated path? Or was this the end of said path all along?

Speaking of fate...fate was cruel.

Because just like it had three years ago, as the night fell on Hawkins, the horrible creatures of the Upside Down came out to play.

It was almost uncanny how quickly they attacked when the sun finally dipped below the horizon, like they were waiting for the brief reprieve that Eddie had afforded the town to expire so they could go on their hunt.

And you'd just mentioned Samhain, and spirits--monsters--ability to travel between worlds easier; you should have kept your big mouth shut.

You heard the wash of screams first, echoing down the street; initially, it just sounded like the screams of the children, excited for their tricks and treats, but then they grew in volume, and mixed with snarls and death cries.

All of the kids got to their feet, Dustin and Lucas with their weapons of choice in hand, as thundering footsteps seemingly shook the ground below you, and a sea of creatures spilled down the street, all tripping over one another to race to get to their prey first.

You all watched in horror as teeth ripped into flesh and one parent sacrificed themselves so that the other could flee with their children. As a group of younger teens used their treat-filled pillowcases to swipe at the monsters before they succumbed to the overwhelming attack.

Then the bats began to swarm, darting over the tops of houses and swooping to claw and whip and bite from the sky.

"Get inside!" Lucas finally shouted, arm already around Max to lead her towards the door. "Go! Now!"

But his screaming alerted the creatures to your presence, and several of them shifted their momentum to run towards the Harrington's house.

Dustin grabbed your arm and pulled you behind him, as you all scrambled to get into the house. The door slammed shut just as the heft of several demogorgons rammed into the side of the house; they roared from being denied their hunt.

There were shouts from further inside the house as everyone began reacting to the barrage of bodies ramming against windows and walls, and the screams from outside. Joyce had pushed her way past the others to get to her kids, her arms enveloping them in the biggest hug she could. As if she could protect them from the horrors of the world.

In fact, everyone crowded together, holding their loved ones, shushing each other with each and every scream that came from beyond the safety of the house. They chattered over one another, coming up with plans to keep the house secure, barricading doors and possibly boarding up windows. Nancy was at the back of the group, crouched down, trying to comfort Holly who was crying softly and saying something inaudible into Nancy's shoulder.

And then Mary Victoria, who wasn't even part of the group; she just stood back, wringing her hands together nervously.

Mare looked...

She looked fine, but the devil was in the details. Eyes puffy from crying, obviously anxious as you had already observed, she wore the same bloodstained clothes from the other night when you'd brought Steve back.

Guilt ate at you again, another little nibble to your insides where it had taken great big bites before; you hadn't even thought to check on her once you'd gotten back. Instead you'd sat in your self-imposed punishment in the garage, surrounded by guilt and self-pity and death while you waited for the decay of your own existence to consume you.

You were a bad friend...if you were even her friend; you'd doubted that friendship once in the past 48 hours and now here you were, doing it again. Because here the two of you stood, amongst this crowd of family, friends, and neighbors all facing their own demise, staring at each other across a great and unfamiliar void. Each of you alone, but Mary Victoria even moreso.

Because you'd brought her here, you'd left her to her own devices, you'd encouraged her to make friends...and now she'd been abandoned by all of them. By choice or circumstance.

You glanced between Mare and Nancy again, and you were about to open your mouth to address the group, to calm them and come up with a plan when a vicious and unforgiving BANG came from behind you.

The room went silent, and you turned on your heel to stare at the door. Another BANG and then another. The whole group startled as a series of roars also sounded from the other side of the door, and there were even a few frightened sobs.

You, however, stayed rooted in your spot; in fact, you even took a step forward, closer to the door. If something managed to come through, it would deal with you first. Powers or no powers.

At the very least, if it was Eddie controlling the creature, he might even decide to spare you.

Surprisingly, the roaring and the banging stopped, and instead there was scratching at the wood of the door. A single scratch, and then a fast, repetitive barrage of scratches. Then back again to several, single scratches. It was not like a demogorgon. Or a bat.

Something else.

You took another step towards the door and everyone shouted for you to stop.

"What are you doing?" Mary Victoria pushed her way through to the front of the group and grabbed you by the meat of your upper arm, her fingers digging and pinching painfully to hold you back. "Do you have a death wish? There's something on the other side of that door that wants to kill us."

"It would've given up by now," you tried to pull away from her. "Let me go, I think we're fine. This is different."

Mare pulled you closer and you turned to face her to try and get her to let up, but she was quicker.

"You're gonna get us all killed," she hissed at you. "All of these people. Because you have this inherent need to be right, to do whatever the fuck you want. Because you have this savior complex and victim complex and inferiority complex, somehow all at the same time. So can you just. Give. Up."

Each word was said with such bitterness and hatred, and it was justified; if anyone could tell you those things and you'd just stand there and take them, it was her.

That didn't mean you'd listen to her though.

"Maybe I do need to give up," you agreed. "Maybe I am this...awful blight upon the earth."

She faltered, her eyes and voice losing their hardness, and tripped over herself to say, "Well, I didn't mean--"

"You didn't," you interjected. "But I do. You don't need to think all of those things or any of those things about me Mare, I think those things myself. So yes, I am actually all of those things, and probably a million more. But you got one thing wrong. I don't just need to be right.

"I am right," you said with a tone of finality and freed yourself from her grasp.

God, wouldn't this be the moment to prove yourself wrong; here goes nothing...

You reached out and grasped the doorknob, and twisted it.

What was on the other side of the door was unexpected.

A shock, but a good one.

A single demodog, its flesh mottled with cuts at various stages of healing. Its cone shaped head opened and it roared--well,squawked--at you, and then it pushed its body against yours, rubbing against your legs.

"Cerberus," you muttered in surprise.

The group behind you all chattered together and Mary Victoria even said a snide "I didn't know you could domesticate one of those" but you ignored them to pay attention to your little friend.

He was alive; he made it. A little worse for wear, but he made it. The same joyous, light little creature that huffed and batted his head against your hands until you gave him the pets he desired. The same little monster that you felt some kind of affection for because of how much he felt like Eddie, how much he felt like home.

You had so many questions, ones that you knew Cerberus couldn't answer.

Why were the creatures attacking Hawkins again? What did that mean?

Was Eddie enacting some kind of plan to get you back? Had he sent Cerberus because he was the only creature he trusted to find you?

Or worse, was this in response to some kind of devastating loss? Had Wayne finally passed? Was it too late?

As if sensing your flurry of thoughts, Cerberus opened his petal-like mouth and gently clamped down on your wrist, shifting his body back towards the door to pull you forward.

Maybe it was all of the above? Or maybe it was a trap.

"Ok," you nodded and tried to free yourself from his grasp; even though he was a friend and his teeth weren't piercing your skin, you would rather not risk it. "I'll come."

That, of course, wasn't the right response according to the whole group behind you.

"Are you crazy?"

"That thing's a monster; kill it!"

"It was nice knowing you."

Cerberus stomped impatiently when you stopped and turned back to them. Your eyes roamed over each of their faces; you absorbed it all, the hate, the anger, the fear, the uncertainty. No one was going to follow you now, not that many had in the first place. But you had lost any hope of people being in your corner, especially now that you were seemingly making an idiotic choice.

Your gaze finally landed on Nancy, though, who stood protectively in front of Holly, and she hesitated for a moment, then nodded in some sort of pseudo approval.

Her words echoed in your mind: You need to fix this. You're the only one who can.

"I'm doing what you all wanted," you announced to them. "I'm going out into the darkness and either getting myself killed or fixing this absolute mess that I've only made worse since I got here. So either way, you come out ahead."

"We don't want you to die too," Dustin exclaimed with tears in his eyes.

"Dusty," Claudia shushed but you shot, what you were sure was, a tired smile at him.

"They can't really kill me," you explained. "Not if I'm dying anyways."

Dead was dead; you were ending up in the same place, regardless.

"What if," Mary Victoria began then. "What if we just...went into the Upside Down and torched the whole thing?"

"What does that solve?" you asked.

"Nothing, I think it would make me feel better though."

You snorted and laid a hand on her shoulder.

"How about," you raised your eyebrows and tilted your head conspiratorially, "if I do actually die, you get to use all the fire you want to avenge me?"

She contemplated it for a minute then nodded.

"I think I could accept that offer."

Your hand moved from her shoulder to clasp her own for a moment.

"Thank you for coming on this journey with me; see you around, Mary Victoria," you bid her farewell, and then followed Cerberus out into the night.

You were really getting tired of all this walking across town.

If Eddie wanted to chat, there was a perfectly usable gate right around the bend, but no, you needed to go over hill and dale, across the tracks, and now you were in the middle of nowhere.

Shit, if you were smart you would've just driven; gotten in the car and went. Cerberus could've had his head out the window.

Would that be as fun for a demodog as it was for a real dog?

"Maybe if reincarnation is real, in another lifetime, you would be a real dog and Eddie and I would have taken you out for walks. Instead of whatever the fuck this is," you told him when you'd stopped for a rest.

He just stood there and panted at you cutely...or as cutely as he could, considering he was a monster.

"You'd like that huh, Cerbie?" you reached out and gave his little head a pat and he basked in the attention.

Cerberus was doing his best to keep you safe, though; any flapping of wings overhead or snap of a twig and he would turn, hackles raised, and growl to fend off any potentially ill-meaning predators. However, there was one rustle from the trees that didn't sound like anything else, and it had startled you more than any of the other sounds had, but Cerberus seemed to ignore it.

Or maybe tolerate it?

His comrades were out here--the other creatures of the Upside Down--even if he rejected them to stay by your side. The brides could very well be flying overhead, looking for a quick kill and Cerberus knew he couldn't fight them. And Billy was also out there, as far as you knew.

Maybe even back under Eddie's control.

You tried to stay calm, tried to stay brave, and in order to do so, you convinced yourself that Lucy was out there in the darkness. Yes, that must be it; she was following along in her towering Splinter Cat form, as some sort of unseen protection, and Cerberus could sense she was a friend.

You knew better than to call out to her though, to be sure; it would be stupid to invite something to you on a dark and dangerous night.

So you continued your blind belief that it was Lucy.

It was a nice thing to think.

Eventually, you reached...well, you weren't quite sure about it until you got there, but when you got there, you were sore and tired and probably more than a little bruised. Climbing a hill in the dark with a weak body and only a dog-thing for assistance wasn't exactly an easy task. You grumbled and yelped and cursed.

But when you got to the peak of Weathertop, and saw the sprawling landscape of Hawkins below you, you felt some kind of...peace.

Well, as much peace as you could feel, as smoke and glowing fire and the ominous, ever-present red of the active gates illuminated the town.

Aside from the distant silhouettes of bats flitting by, the sky was serene.

That inky black that wasn't really black, but blues and violets and who knew how many other colors that were unseen to the human eye. Stars freckled that infinite and endless expanse of space, twinkling and winking down at the world. Watching, waiting, begging for someone to just look up at them.

The closest someone would ever come to witnessing Heaven before they died. The star-filled sky was a promise.

Living so close to the city all your life, you hadn't ever witnessed the true majesty of the stars and the sky until you ran away from home, and you really never got the opportunity to enjoy it until you came to Hawkins and met Eddie.

In hindsight, it was more special when it was with him.

The closest you might ever come to Heaven had been your time with him too.

"Where is Eddie, anyway?" you tilted your head away from the sky, away from the heartache, and looked back down at Cerberus, only to find that your little friend had vanished.

You called his name once, then again, squinting into the darkness to see if you could make out some shadow of his body running around the grassy hill. You even tried calling for Lucy, on the off chance she was around, but you received no response.

"Just great," you huffed and wrapped your arms around yourself. "When someone finds a demogorgon using my femur to floss its teeth tomorrow, at least Mare will know she was probably right about this being a trap."

You sighed and looked around.

"Or maybe he just got distracted by a squirrel," you rationalized, unsure of the last time your friend got to have a decent meal.

Still, you were alone.

And being alone in the night and the dark had never truly bothered you before; it was knowing that you weren't actually alone that was frightening. Knowing that something was out there, itching to kill you, was the scary part.

At least before, you had your power to protect you.

"What do I have now?" you huffed a sarcastic laugh. "God?"

You looked up to the sky again; hadn't you just thought that the sky was the closest thing to heaven that a human would witness in life? Was he up there watching? Protecting?

"Gloating?" you asked. "Maybe this wasn't Eddie leading me here, maybe this was you leading me on another path so you could gloat. Well here I am! I'm waiting for the 'told-you-so.'"

You held your arms out and tilted your head back and waited.

But nothing came. No voices, no lightning...nothing.

"You could've at least sent Gabe to stare at me with those dead eyes," you finally continued, and folded your arms against your chest once again. "But I know that's not your M.O. No I have to learn lessons myself, I need to earn forgiveness myself.

"Actually," you looked back up at the sky with raised brows, "actually, I have received forgiveness. Eddie gave it to me in the church. So hah. I think I win this battle. I'll be up in heaven soon to lodge my complaints to you in person. And I have a long list."

You laughed at the joke and then really thought about that night in the mirrored version of the church with Eddie. How beautiful and perfect those moments had been. After that, you'd really started to believe that you were worth salvation...and instead, you began your descent into decay.

"Is that what you actually wanted though?" you continued, asking a God that was probably not listening and would never answer. "To be done with this? Just like I am? Done with this curse and this family and this damnation? Done with me?

"I know I haven't been the best, but I think I've done my best, haven't I? Saved so many people, stopped the darkness time and again. How many years have been devoted to your service, to goodness, to the light? Not just by me, by all of the Knights. My nonna? What had she ever done to deserve what she got? We've all done the right thing, done what you've wanted, even if it hasn't been the right way for some of us.

"There had to be a reason for you to have chosen us? Why did you choose them, us, me? When it could've been any old so-and-so off the street. Why did you choose me when you expected me to fail?"

You shouted the last words and then heaved several deep, shuddering breaths, heartbeat pounding in your ears.

Your body was a battleground of sensations and emotions as you tried to recompose yourself: pain and tiredness and sadness and anticipation and love and hate and hate and hate and fear.

And for what?

"Why did you let me taste the light," you muttered desperately, "when the plan all along was for me to die in the dark?"

"We could wait til the morning," came an oil-slick, smarmy voice from behind you. "If that would make you happy."

You whirled on your heel and came face to face with the instrument of your demise.

"Are you fucking kidding me?" You shouted up at the sky, rage engulfing you once again. "You're gonna let Fred kill me?"

You weren't even surprised that you'd die this way. Caught with your metaphorical pants down, yelling at an invisible god, crying pathetically. But if a demogorgon ate you, at least you'd have some kind of dignity; this was just cruel.

"For what it's worth, I'm not the only one who volunteered," Fred sneered.

"That's so comforting," your head snapped back towards him. "And you won? I'm sure you're elated."

"The others got to taste you," he hissed. "It was my turn."

You did your best to stop from gagging; there was no way that Eddie would let him get his hands on you.

"I need to talk to your boss," you demanded. "Put him on the line."

"Eddie's not the boss anymore," Fred spat.

What?

"He won't be taking any calls."

"Then I need to complain to someone in charge," you snarled, trying to keep your sudden panic under control.

Eddie wasn't in charge? What did that mean? The Brides and the other vampires were engaged in some sort of fuckery that you'd witnessed in the Upside Down; you thought that was just to get rid of you, to remove Eddie's distraction, to get some kind of freedom. But to depose him completely?

You expected for Fred to either laugh in your face or cut you down, but instead he did what all of your adversaries tended to do with you: tell you their plan.

How many times had it happened? You must've just had one of those faces...

"When we died," Fred slunk towards you, one slow step at a time, wings dragging on the ground behind him. "Vecna needed us. We became a part of him, a part of the Upside Down, and in return, he regained enough power to cross back into Hawkins and enact his revenge. Our family and friends were killed...and we couldn't do anything to stop it. Until Eddie saved us."

His words were both reverent and wicked, that he saw Eddie as a leader, as a hero.

"He was ours," he said it with such devotion and desperation. "He saved us, gave us our lives back, tried to give us our souls back. And we all belonged in the Upside Down. It kept us whole, alive, together."

You took a step back at that; it kept them whole? The Upside Down? Hadn't you thought that you felt something shift in the realm itself, that it was laughing at you and mocking you? Was it alive?

"It's home," he said, as though he was answering you, and he smiled his terrifying, fang-filled smile. "It takes care of us, it keeps us alive, and in return, we keep it safe. We keep it fed. It just wants to live...and be left alone. Eleven...she opened those doors, and then Vecna kept them open for his own selfish needs...and now Eddie is doing the same.

"Because of you!" Fred lashed out with a claw and you shifted back to dodge it, only to trip on your own two feet and tumble to the ground. "You and his little friends. He clings onto his old life when we've given him everything! He betrays us for all of you! Why does he need them when we're his family now?"

"He deserves to come home," you argued weakly. "He wants to come home; I need him to come home."

"You were just about to give up," Fred taunted. "You were just about to die."

You closed your eyes for a moment, guilt filling you; he was right, you were about to give up.

"What is waiting here for him? What's waiting here for any of us? People who never bothered to mourn us? Who didn't care for us before Vecna? Who see us as monsters now?"

Then there was a shift, a change; something changed, something drastic. The slimy, smarmy, hateful voice of Fred changed--even his posture--and in its place was something different. Something old. The life behind his eyes was gone, and in its place something ancient and eternal and dark.

Not God Himself--not your God--but a God in a way. It was all true, or none of it was; that was your belief. This was the proof of the former. And now the Upside Down would use Fred to cast its final judgement of you.

"They're home," it said, stiffly and forcefully, like the words were difficult to say through this unfamiliar mouthpiece. "Let the doors shut once and for all. They belong with me. They were alone and I kept them safe within me."

It spouted off their names, both ones you recognized and ones you didn't.

Patrick, Barbara, William, Christine

On and on it went.

Frederick, Heather, Wayne, Edward

"Wayne is mine," you snapped at it, then you roared at it. "Eddie is mine."

"Then come and take him," it hissed.

"Or die trying," Fred regained control again and lifted a clawed hand to deliver one final, devastating blow. "Oh no! Too late."

Involuntarily, you closed your eyes to steel yourself from the pain...to prepare yourself for death...and you thought of Eddie. Both as he was before--imperfect, innocent, human--and now--vicious, monstrous, but still so him. You'd done that before, thought of him in the tunnels when you willed yourself to fight for him. Heaven or hell be damned; he would always be your salvation, it seemed, no matter what.

And now?

Now it was too late, and you'd die for him.

At least he'd be the last thing you saw, in your mind’s eye, before you died.

"I'm sorry," you whispered to him, tasting the saltiness of your tears on your tongue.

And you waited.

And waited.

For some sort of pain or blood. Maybe this was how death was, endless nothingness.

But there wasn't just nothing. There was a rustle of grass and leaves of the nearby trees and distant sounds of roaring and screaming from the town as the creatures attacked.

How long were you supposed to wait?

You cracked an eye open, and then blinked them both, and you stared awestruck at the sight before you.

No Fred. No nothing.

Well, not nothing.

A man, unassuming, hands folded behind his back. Dust floated on the air around him, and he stared at it rather than you, no expression on his face other than indifference. Boredom.

Gabriel.

"You fucker," you spat at him.

His brow lifted in amusement, and he spoke softly, "if I recall correctly, we’ve discussed your foul language before."

"I ignored your advice."

"An odd choice. But nothing that I shouldn't expect from you."

You sat up and looked down at yourself; no gaping wounds and nothing untoward, save for the cuts and bruises and scars you previously had.

"Am I dead?" you asked.

"Why do you think you're dead?" he questioned in return.

"Because I was about to be slaughtered by a vampire!" you shrieked.

"Don't you call me your guardian angel?" he shrugged, as if his response was the most obvious thing in the world. "I guarded you. Vanquished the demon."

You struggled to find the words to respond to that, as shocked and confused as you were.

"You...killed Fred?" It was the only thing you could think to ask, and Gabriel seemed irked by the question. "Where the hell have you been--"

"Hell," he repeated distastefully.

"--all the other times I was about to die and I needed you."

"Did you die?"

"What?"

"Have you ever died before?" he clarified.

"I needed you!"

"You thought you needed me," he explained. "You were always capable to solve it yourself. I would like to believe that tonight was a...lapse of judgment."

You let out a dry laugh and pushed yourself back to your feed; Gabriel just watched, no helping hand or anything, fucker.

"Well, thanks," you smiled. "I guess you're gonna leave me high and dry to handle it from here, so I'll be seeing you."

You turned on your heel and started walking down the hill when you blinked and Gabriel appeared before you again.

"It's a coincidence I was already on my way to you," he said, "when your Fred attacked."

"Oh lovely," you snorted. "You heard my little pity speech."

"He did."

It was a record scratch moment, and you balked.

He. He?

"David Lee Roth?" you whispered, trying to seek some comfort in humor even though you knew that this was...you didn't even know how to put to words what this was.

He. The man. The Big Boss. The almighty. God.

"He believes that you are ready," Gabriel nodded, ignoring your joke.

Your throat got tight and your eyes went wide.

"Ready...for the curse to be broken?" you asked.

The corners of Gabriel’s mouth quirked the slightest bit.

"Curse," he repeated, amused this time. "What curse?"

"The...Gabriel, so help me, if you're about to tell me that there hasn't been a curse this whole time..."

"Have you ever wondered," he interrupted you, "what your existence was for?"

"To save the world from the darkness," you replied matter-of-factly. "To end the curse on my family so they could go to heaven."

"Not yours. Humanity."

There was a beat, but then you couldn't help the laugh that escaped your mouth.

Actually, you started laughing uncontrollably, because only you, only you and only on this hill, and only with this angel would you have this kind of a conversation as monsters attacked innocents just a few miles away. After you almost died at the hand of one of those said monsters.

Do you know what the existence of humanity is for, asks the archangel to the lowly human. Good one, Gabe.

But Gabriel just stood there staring at you, earnestly expecting a response.

You sobered up enough and asked your own question, "why?"

Something that you'd come to learn about Gabriel over years of dealing with him was that he didn't like to draw things out. In fact, it seemed like he didn't liked to be here on Earth at all. Which wasn't your business as a human to know why, but was your business as his charge and the only person who could see him. He might have been a confusing bastard, but when information was important to convey, he cut to the chase.

Which was why it was odd when he said, "I'll put this in terms you'll understand: would you like a job?"

"A...job," you parroted. "What do you mean, a job? What job? I already have a job."

"You," he inhaled an unnecessary breath. "You are in training for a job. The job. His job."

And you started laughing again, maybe so you wouldn't start sobbing. But the tears came eventually, as you lost your balance and fell to your knees.

Gabriel was quick to catch you this time though, your body falling against his, arms tight around you. It was such a strange sensation, buzzing, and you weren't quite sure that you'd ever felt his touch before. This holy and pure and burning thing. Maybe when you were a small child and he was a companion instead of a constant reminder of the burden of your existence.

He was quiet as he let you cry in his arms like you had when you were a child, though. He gave you the time and patience that your confusion demanded.

The job. His job. You were ready; He believed that you were ready. The curse. The Knights. The power of heaven that coursed through their beings.

"Gabriel," you finally croaked. "I need you to tell me right now...that the Knights aren't the precursors to becoming God."

"Thou shalt not bear false witness," he recited.

"Are you kidding me?"

"I am not."

"But why me?"

"Why wouldn't it be you?"

"Because God...and the Knights...they're good," you fumbled over your words.

"And you are a Knight."

"But I'm...dark," you choked. "I'm dark and covetous and mean and evil. I'm empty."

"In the beginning," Gabriel raised a brow and looked at you intently with his fiery gaze. "There was darkness."

"And the knights protect people from that darkness," you nodded.

"But if there was only darkness in the beginning," he continued, "doesn't that mean He also came from the Dark? Like you, like everything else. From the Dark, there comes everything. From the Dark, here comes the Light."

You felt like you were losing your mind with how much it made sense; all of the things you knew, all of the things you'd learned and seen. The unjustness and hypocrisies of the church and of humans and monsters alike, all of your beliefs and the beliefs of others. It was all true, all of it.

This...this was the truth.

"But look at me," you grabbed at him desperately. "I'm..."

"You are kind and good," Gabriel began and you couldn't help but let the tears fall at his words, at the negation of every doubt you'd had in yourself over the years. "You protect those who need protection, and you inspire good in others. You see things that are wrong and unjust and you seek to fix them, and when you can't, you don't force them to be fixed. You honor the will of others."

Like every story you've heard.

"But I'm--"

"Made in His image." He nodded. "And ready to take the next step."

"Why this, why now?" you demanded.

"You often say how tired you are. He is tired. It shouldn't have taken this long. He has waited."

"Can I say no?" you whispered.

"No."

You scoffed and shooed him away from you so you could stand on your own and pace.

You tried to come up with every question, every excuse, every...everything that came hand in hand with becoming a God, and you simply couldn't say them fast enough as the answers poured into your head of their own volition. As some sort of...Godliness was anointed upon you, even though you hadn't verbally accepted.

It was all beyond understanding, yet somehow so easy to understand. Knowledge that you were never meant to know, but suddenly knew, and still couldn't reach in its entirety unless you wanted to reach it. Both tangible and intangible. Beyond a fragile mortal mind, and still made to exist in it, as though it was always meant to be there.

Made in His image, indeed.

"What about the Upside Down?" you finally said aloud, and gestured to the town behind you. "What about Hawkins?"

"There are more things in heaven and earth than can be dreamt in your philosophies,” Gabriel recited, surprising you.

“I thought you only knew how to quote religious texts,” you snarked.

“Some doors were never made to be opened," he ignored you. "And it's best if they stay shut forever. I'm sure you'll find your friends will be spared their suffering if you hasten the process of shutting that door again."

Just like Fred had said, just like the Upside Down wanted.

"What about me? My powers? I'm dying."

"In time," he explained. "your soul will heal. If you can recover the rest of it, the process will be easier. You won't die unless you're careless. I will not be able to save you again."

The rest of your soul, the other you, the piece of you that was in Eddie.

"Your power," he continued. "It's been there all along. You always had the capability, it was your lack of faith that led to your weakened state."

You frowned at him in disbelief, but as his words sunk into your mind, you felt the surge inside of you. Heavenly light spread through your body and although you still felt weak, it wasn't a superficial weakness from your wounds anymore. It stemmed from that gaping void at the center of you where your soul was shorn.

There was still that twinkle though, that warm piece of Eddie's soul that seemed to smile and basked in your strength.

Eddie.

"But what about Eddie and Wayne?" you finally asked, desperately.

Their souls, the souls of countless others, all trapped in the Upside Down thanks to Vecna and now the Upside Down itself. You couldn't just leave them there...

You couldn't leave Eddie there.

Gabriel's gaze got stormy then.

"It seems you've made up your mind, Little Knight."

And then, without another word--without so much as a good luck--Gabriel vanished.

November 6, 1983

Eddie spoke a mile a minute in relief at "Wayne's" resurrection; you could barely keep up.

Not that you were really trying to.

You were trying to hold yourself back, not to scream and cry. Not to pull Eddie away from this thing that had stolen his uncle's body.

He wouldn't understand. He wished for things to be better, he lamented being left alone, left behind. And now Wayne was back and everything was alright again.

How could you take that away from him?

He was happy, he was boyish and lively, and the antithesis of everything that his grief had allowed him to become. Not just in the days since Wayne had died, not in the days since she had left, maybe not since he himself had succumbed to Vecna's blight.

It hurt to watch him have hope, when you knew it wouldn't last forever.

And you prayed, to whatever god might be listening--you saw the corner of "Wayne's" mouth quirk--that Eddie would simply sense your apprehension and use some caution at his uncle's so-called resurrection.

But it was pointless.

"How are you alive?" Eddie asked through his relieved tears. "I couldn't heal you; I couldn't help you."

"A miracle," Wayne answered stiffly. "Maybe it was a delayed reaction; you saved me, son."

His words felt wrong; they felt like Wayne's words coming from Wayne's mouth, but there was an underlying lie to every syllable.

He was a predator, and Eddie was the prey.

Prey that walked right into his embrace, willingly.

"We'll get you home," Eddie continued. "Get you back to Rick's and set you up in that armchair with a beer and the tv remote and all of your bonanza tapes. I don't care how many ho-ho's you get at Bradley's for me, you're never coming back here again."

"No!" Wayne snapped at him, startling Eddie.

"W-what?"

"No," Wayne replied in a gentler tone this time. "No, I would rather stay here with you. How could I leave you when I just got back? Why would I ever want to leave you again?"

You felt sick at the manipulation. "Wayne" had been listening the whole time; the Upside Down always listening, ever-knowing, and always aware. Planning and biding its time until...this.

But to what end? Why was he trying to get Eddie to trust him; it wasn't like he could leave?

Oh.

But Eddie wanted to leave. He wanted to go back home, to his friends and to Wayne and to her. He wanted his old life back; he craved it. That home that he'd made, out in the wildness of the dimension past the edges of the mirrored Hawkins; it was a memory and a wish.

But wasn't that exactly what this place was? A memory and a wish and a trap to get you to stay?

And a place that everyone seemed to want to leave.

Vecna had been banished here, and the Upside Down had made a home for him while he'd recovered. Found the mechanisms of his revenge.

Countless souls trapped here--trapped--but instead of letting them wither without a vessel, the Upside Down kept them safe. But souls sought heaven, not whatever restless waste this was.

Eddie had been broken by Vecna, and then rebuilt; just like Vecna, his body couldn't sustain itself in the real world. He was more to the Upside Down than any of the others had been before; he was one of them, a part of the hive mind, part of a greater whole...and still he wished to go home.

Because of you.

You'd been getting him to hold onto his humanity this whole time; you were the only part of his soul he couldn't give up. It wasn't his to give.

Because of her.

She had been helping him. Helping you. She wanted to get him home, and whether she realized it or not she'd been pouring her soul into Eddie bit by bit, mouthful of blood by mouthful of blood; you recognized that as you got stronger and she got weaker. If it wasn't for you, he wouldn't have regained his humanity and she would've just perished.

You realized, horrified, that Eddie, who was torn in two between this world and the real world, now had a choice to m--

Eddie and "Wayne" both doubled over in pain, Eddie clutching his uncle's body in worry, even as anguish ripped through him. Roars echoed from the distance, great monstrous calls of loss. Even you felt the jagged sensations encroaching on the light within the void.

Eddie screeched a sorrowful screech, even more than he had with Wayne's death, and then fell to his knees.

"Wayne" dropped to his knees and pulled Eddie into his embrace; you could feel the dark tendrils of the Upside Down slither across your light as it penetrated Eddie's being once again looking to influence him. You dug your metaphorical feet in and stood as strong as you could against it.

"What's wrong son?" he asked. "What was that? What happened?"

"Fred," Eddie choked. "Something happened to Fred."

He rambled on, as if he couldn't put to words what it was that he felt.

"One minute he was there," he shook his head. "And then the next...I've felt them die before but this...it's like he doesn't even exist anymore.

"Where was he?" Eddie's eyes lost focus as he cast himself into the hive mind, as he tried to reach the other brides. "Hawkins? Why? They all went? Come back!"

He roared into the sky and "Wayne" tightened his grip on Eddie's shoulders.

"They need blood. You need blood. When was the last time you fed?"

"I'm fine," Eddie dismissed.

"Please," Wayne lifted his wrist to Eddie. "You need your strength."

"Eddie, no!" you snapped, interfering for the first time. Both Eddie and "Wayne's" heads snapped towards you, and Wayne even bared his teeth at you, seemingly on instinct. "No."

"No," Eddie shook his head, whether at you or "Wayne" you couldn't tell. Still, he refused his offer, and hauled himself to his feet. "Fred is gone, the others need to come home. We regroup and we figure out what happened; I can't...I can't lose anyone else."

He took a step away from "Wayne" and his wings flapped as he readied himself to take to the skies, but "Wayne" stopped him.

"What if," he began. "What if you could guarantee everyone stays safe? What if we all stayed here?"

"I don't," Eddie's brow furrowed and he paused and you closed the distance and latched yourself onto him again, staring right at Wayne as you willed the light to shine brighter.

"Why would you stay here?" you asked him. "Why should your uncle want to stay here? Think about everything waiting in Hawkins for the both of you. TV and beer and friends and music and..."

"Close the gates and protect yourself," Wayne pleaded. "Protect the friends that you have left. If your friend Fred is gone, you need to protect the others, they're the only things you have left."

It was a battle of wills as "Wayne" spoke to Eddie in one ear, and you spoke to him in the other. It was a battle that you knew you would never win; not against some eldritch being, some sentient deity of another dimension, while you weren't even whole.

"They aren't. Eddie you have them, you have them all. Your friends. Your friends. You hurt them and still they trusted you, still they believed in you. To fight against Vecna."

"They left you, they don't care about you. They always leave you. They've never understood you. Never wanted you. You're an outcast. A freak."

"I'm a freak," Eddie frowned, tears glistening in his eyes once again. "They never wanted me."

The thing about that was that you were human, and so was Eddie. That was some advantage that this thing believed it had over you, to use Eddie's humanity against you.

But then, you realized...that was the only advantage you had.

"Home, Eddie," you whispered desperately now and let the seed of the idea be planted deep within him. Not just for him, but for you too. "You want to go home. She's there, she needs you. She's waiting for you Eddie. You can cross the gate and go to her; I know you can."

"I want," he shook his head and looked at Wayne, his own internal battle going. "I want..."

You could feel it, it was on the tip of his tongue; he wanted to go home.

Get there, Eddie, say it.

But he couldn't.

So the battle raged on between an angel and devil on either of his shoulders.

October 31, 1987

The walk back to the Harrington’s was another solitary one.

Thankfully, you had the strength to do it this time.

It was also strange having your powers back.

Back, as though they'd gone anywhere according to Gabriel.

At first, you thought that was a bullshit response—you lost your power because you believed you lost your power; you felt the Upside Down or Eddie or whatever drain you, so you willed you’re own demise—but you knew that beliefs were important. You'd once told Eddie, on the anniversary of his mother's death, that Heaven was anything that she wished it to be. Anything that he wished for her, too.

And in some way, in your newly-acquired God-knowledge, you felt some sort of reassurance that Eddie's mother had received exactly what she believed Heaven to be. It was a warm feeling and it bloomed inside of the void as your Eddie rejoiced in it too.

You giggled at the feeling; it almost tickled.

"Gonna have to get used to that," you rubbed the space over your heart.

You tried to conjure other thoughts, other truths--what Heaven was for your Nonna, your entire family line now that you knew the curse dead broken, for all intents and purposes. You questioned what taking this job really meant...did that mean endless power and immortality? What were your responsibilities? What could you control? Did that mean that you were Gabriel's boss now too? Would he come if you called? Prayed?

That just brought the question of prayers themselves/ You couldn't hear any, from anyone; did that mean they never made it to God in the first place?

However, your thoughts were cut short when you sensed something dreadful happening ahead. It was innate; someone was in danger, in pain, and you knew.

With your restored strength, you took off running, each footstep taken with surety. Until you came across a pack of demogorgons tearing into the flesh of a still-screaming woman.

It didn't take much to kill them.

You reached out and conjured the fires from the depth of the earth to melt their flesh into the ground. You were shocked to find that the fact that their bodies and spirits and minds were not of this earth affected you. It was like a static shock, surging up your fingers. You winced when the last of them let a death cry out into the night, and rubbed your fingers together to ease the sting.

Killing monsters hadn't ever done that before; was that the Upside Down reacting to an adversary attacking it? Or perhaps it had something to do with your soul still being fragmented?

Now that you were aware of the complexities of your existence, fragmented wasn't even the right word in the first place; missing was the more accurate description. The part of you that Eddie had, the other you, was more you than you were right now. Exponentially so. You already knew something was missing, that you had scraps, but...you didn't even have scraps.

You had threads.

What did that mean? Did that mean if you let your soul heal that there would suddenly be another you out there? Would she eventually fade away? Did she just belong to Eddie now, like the Eddie in you belonged to you? How could you even heal it, when there was so little of you left? Your God-knowledge reassured you, but there was still so much confusion.

"Help," the choking voice of the woman broke you from your wondering, and you closed the distance and lowered yourself to her side.

It was a horrific sight; she was bleeding, dying, disemboweled, and missing chunks of flesh. And in the dark, you could see the wisps of her soul begin to depart from her body, ready to make the ascent. It was a sight to behold, one that you only really sensed before and never saw.

"My...daughter," she gasped. "I...can't..."

"It's ok," you shushed her, and cast out a calming energy. "It'll be ok."

With the shackle of your curse and of the church finally broken, you did what you'd always known was right; you reached out and set your hand on her torn shoulder and you cast your healing light into her, poured life right back in as it escaped from her body. Her skin knit back together, her midsection and her other wounds healed in the blink of an eye, until she simply lay there, whole, in the puddle of her blood and demogorgon guts.

It felt good, it felt right, like this was what you were meant to do all along. Your nonna’s words echoed in the back of your mind: you were made for miracles.

You held the woman as she cried, shushed her and reassured her, and then you realized that there was someone else that needed you more than she did right now.

You left her with a soft touch to the top of her head, and then set forth again, running as fast as your body could bear. It still wasn't easy, you hated running--

What good was being a God if you still sucked at running?

--but you finally made it to the Harringtons.

In fact, you bypassed the house entirely and threw open the garage door to reveal Steve's body still on that table.

There was a horrible pang in your heart as you laid eyes on him.

The wisps of his soul had almost fully departed his body; they were thin and faded, and he was almost gone. Gone to heaven, you knew instinctively, whatever that looked like for him.

Could you heal him? Revive him?

Should you?

He'd fought this fight against the Upside Down for a long time; would it be better to let him go? Maybe if you'd have realized that you were the one holding yourself back right after Eddie had done this to him, you wouldn't have had such hesitation and you would've resurrected him immediately.

But now?

Was this what being a God was like? Making decisions. Or, more appropriately, not making them? Making the wrong ones?

You continued to contemplate for a moment, then you reached out to try and touch one of the wisps of Steve's soul. They were intangible, but they intrinsically felt like a finely woven cloth, so many aspects of Steve intermingled with his friends and his family and neighbors.

You even felt a little bit of Eddie in there, the tiniest bit; echoes of the two of them walking amidst a cropping of trees in the Upside Down...talking.

Steve was one man...but his friendship and his protection touched and affected so many. Nancy had said how long he'd fought and how much he'd lost; you knew that feeling, and if you were to die...you'd probably wish to stay dead instead of continuing fighting for longer.

"That's a lie and you know it, sweetheart," Eddie whispered inside of you.

For a second, you were distracted by the smug realization that he wouldn't be able to call you Angel anymore.

"You'll always be my Angel."

And he'd always be the pain in your ass.

"So what are you gonna do?"

"What would you do?" you asked aloud.

He had the good sense to remain silent, though.

You sighed and hung your head, then moved your hand down to place on Steve's forehead.

"I'm sorry I caused this," you whispered to him. "I'm sorry I got the ball rolling on this chain of events; if only I knew what I was doing, things could've been different. I could've saved more people instead of being so selfish; I could've found a way to help and I could've gotten myself here some other way."

Could you have, though? Or had this always been the path?

"But there's no use in dwelling in the past," you continued. "I need you to know now...if I bring you back, it's not going to be easy. I need to fix this, I need to end this. And I'm going to need your help to do it. Save Eddie, save Wayne, save as many of our friends as we can, save Hawkins. You might die again. Shit, Gabriel said I might even die if I'm not careful."

You sensed a bit of apprehension in the lingering soul of Steve Harrington; he wanted to live, but he also didn't want to die again.

"This time, though, if you die...you die protecting your friends, instead of getting your head torn off because of me," you offered him. "So what do you say Steve? You up for one last hurrah? For Hawkins?"

And you couldn't help but laugh as the shape of Steve's soul shifted and almost looked like someone standing with their hands on their hips.

You pressed one hand to Steve's forehead and the other to his chest and you closed your eyes; you thought back to that night in the rain, the way that Billy...Eddie had torn into him, the sound of him choking, the breaking of his spine.

You let the images repeat themselves over and over again as you stayed there on the ground, helpless.

Eventually though, as the scene began again, you picked yourself up, and you walked over to Billy and Steve. You reached out and you stopped Steve's body from falling, and you stepped into him. You didn't need to pour yourself, you didn't need to imagine the threads of his being knit back together; no, you pushed the very essence of life and survival and love and friendship and everything that Steve was back into him.

You let your nimble, phantom fingers stitch his severed head back on with the threads of his soul that had escaped. You willed the blood to flow through his veins instead of spilling onto his clothes. You breathed life back into his lungs; you took every breath for him and with him, until you felt his chest rise and fall under your touch once again without your guidance.

You opened your eyes and stepped back; with baited breath, you watched as Steve's limbs twitched. He groaned and pushed himself upwards with those limbs until he was seated upright. He held his head with his hands, and then shifted them downwards to touch the now-thicker scar encircling his neck.

You cast one more wave of yourself, of your knowledge and plans, into him. You gave him one last chance to turn back and deny another chance at life.

Why did you ever think he would deny it?

Finally, he opened his eyes and locked them right onto yours.

"So," he said with a gravelly voice. "Are we gonna save the world, or what?"

"You are the light in a dark place. You are the water to my drought. You are everything I never knew existed and everything I wanted all at the same time." — Shelly Crane, Catalyst

Next Chapter: Atonement COMING SOON

[the-peak-tmnt]

As promised, a small preview for Reciprocity Ch. 18 “The Parade: Part III”

Still more work to do this chapter, but I’m feeling pretty inspired right now! Trying to wrap this sucker up this week.

Content warning for blood, distress, and graphic depictions of a gunshot wound under the cut.

--

Raph’s cheek was wet. The gaping wound in his chest was still bleeding, the blood pooling around him where he lay on the street. Raph knew was just yards away from the open manhole where Leo had disappeared. He wanted to raise his head to look for it, but even the tiniest of movements sent white hot bolts of pain through him. He gasped, inhaling some of the blood that had gathered around his face. Raph sputtered and coughed, sparking another wave of blinding pain. The terrible cycle continued for a few agonizing moments before his brain caught up enough to tilt his head to the side and away from the blood.

Raph had been shot. It was almost too much to process, but with each excruciating breath, the reality of it was impossible to ignore. They’d had more than a few close calls when tracking down the gangs that worked for Superfly, but none as close as when Raph had almost been shot in their first fight at the chop shop. If Donnie hadn’t thrown a wrench at the thug with the shotgun, Raph would’ve had a hole in his shell much sooner than this. 

Holy shit. There was a hole in his shell. There was a fucking hole in his shell. Raph’s breathing kicked up a notch. This was bad. This was really, really fucking bad. Raph gaged with the realization that little yellow things still stuck to the tips of his fingers were bits of his own plastron. Even without being able to look at the entirety of the damage, Raph knew that this was so much worse than when Superfly had cracked their shells.

Over the sound of his own labored breath, Raph could hear the whir of a drone above him. Shit shit shit! It was still here! It had to have been what shot him, and it was still here. Was it going to shoot him again? It came to hover in front of his face, barely an inch above the ground. It was so close he could see the tiny lens of the drone’s camera. He tied to scramble away, but the pain was enough to make his strained breathing stop altogether. He choked on the metallic taste still on his tongue, his vision whiting out, the sound of the drone drowned out by the pounding of his own heart.

He couldn’t move. He couldn’t move. It was going to finish him off. He was going to die here. He’d failed to get to Leo, and now his brothers were going to watch him die. He was stuck. He couldn’t move. He was going to die—

“Your leader gave you an order, and you disobeyed,” The voice was back and thundering loudly above Raph. “You have dishonored your brother and his sacrifice.”

“Won’t…let you…kill him!” Raph managed to get out against the blinding pain. He was met with another round of insane laughter.

“Your brother will die, insolent child,” the voice sneered. “But take comfort in the knowledge that his death will be far more honorable than yours. Unexpected as it was, he has earned my respect. He is on his way to me now so I may personally provide him a warrior’s death.”

“No!” Raph growled, louder and stronger this time. He had to get up. He had to. In one last herculean effort, Raph managed to get his left elbow underneath himself. He had raised himself off the ground a few inches before his arm gave out, sending him crashing back to the ground. The pain of the impact was so intense that it was all Raph could do to stay conscious. He sucked a desperate lungful of air and screamed into the pavement. It was impossible to tell which was worse; the pain of his wound, or the pain of his absolute failure.

[ikemenomegas]

Bloody Monday, Blue Diamond

new underrated polycule, Villain!nanami, you, and getou.

Nanami succumbs to the utterly understandable despair of late-stage capitalism and decides he's tired of working with the people who create it by scamming those on the cusp of retirement to create their own wealth. He snaps etc etc, blood, guts, pollock spatters all around.

He's fully expecting to get caught and initially thinks he doesn't have the arrogance to avoid capture. He did it. He'll have the courtesy to look his old classmates in the eye (...maybe not Ijichi) when whomever comes for him.

Except Suguru gets there first.

The flashbang of Nanami's energy didn't originally read like teenaged Saturday night rave Nanami and plenty of techniques involve novel ways to cleave things, so Suguru thought this was some newly realized sorcerer, thought maybe he could provide some guidance.

At first, Nanami isn't sure whether to simply stay seated on his old boss's favorite leather chair, sprawled perhaps a bit more than was polite, or bare his teeth. He's sure it would make a horrifying visage, covered in gore as he was. Or perhaps he should simply curse Getou out, for old-time's sake.

But Suguru smiles, welcoming and nearly ecstatic. Immediately, Nanami pings that something is more wrong with Suguru than expected, but, well... he looks around at the three bodies separated at the shoulders or shins.

The clarity is beginning to die away with the adrenaline high by the time you peak around the door, clearly looking for Suguru, but brightening almost comically when you catch sight of Nanami, different than he was as your kohai more than five years ago.

"Hells, this place made you old," you scoff, a very open mixture of disgust and pity and curiosity and a totally unfamiliar hunger aimed right at him.

Suguru raised an eyebrow. "That's not very polite."

You gave him an utterly irreverent look back. "Yes, I know."

Nanami found himself torn, whether to laugh. Or perhaps to scream. Both jockeyed as equally viable options given this was increasingly becoming some kind of fever dream.

Suguru held his hand out to help you step, nose wrinkled, over a pool of blood that revealed the lazy lean of the room. Nanami found himself glaring distastefully at one of the managers piled across the cheap carpeting. It seemed representative of the current situation that the people who were supposed to call in repairs now didn't need to worry about being four years late.

He'd half tuned out what you and Suguru were saying to one another, but he was practiced at half-ignoring conversations that did not interest him while still tracking their tragectory.

"I've no interest in coming with you," he said blandly, looking around for something to clean his blade on. It had been with him for a very long time, and he would like it at least to be taken care of.

"Oh please, we're not kidnappers," you replied archly. To which Nanami simply glanced at you in the kind of way that implied he hadn't been considering you bodily dragging him out of this horror show, but now he knew it had been one of the first options you had.

Suguru laughed in a helpless, familiar sort of way that also made Nanami think this was some sort of joke.

"We can't force you-"

That was clearly a lie.

"- but it would be in your best interest not to be here in about... ten more minutes."

Without much of apparent interest at the scene of Nanami's deciding crime, Suguru was clearly attempting to wrap this up.

"I'll stay," Nanami said evenly, his conviction as sturdy and inevitable as when he had first stepped into the office with a weapon in his hands. This was not an event meant to be ignored. Over thirty people slaughtered at a fairly reputable finance firm wasn't something that was going to go over well with the press, Nanami thought grimly. Satisfied.

He felt briefly remorseful for the people he knew in passing who would find themselves tainted in a way by knowing him.

It took him a few moments to realize how far silence had extended around him, between you and he, and how there was a crawling feeling going over his skin. He glanced out the window, but it was as bright and sunny a day as when he had come inside. There was no evidence of the kind of monsoon thunderheads that might pile on the horizon.

There were a quartet of over-large, prickly centipedes and the same of stringy earthworms wrapped around his arms and legs. Even with far worse around him, he found himself slightly put off by the conflicting textures.

"Sorry, Nanami," you were saying, tiptoeing over dotted mirrors of drying black blood to get right in front of him with a determined set to your mouth that still communicated the hell you are, and that you were a bit grossed out as you leaned in to touch him.

"What-" was all he got out before light, sound, and then consciousness cut completely out.

He awoke quite gently laid out on a refuse pile. Or...

Yes, there was something soft in the bag on his left. Opening it despite his better judgement revealed some plain clothes, a bit broader in the shoulder and waist than his own size, but serviceable. And it appeared his exposed skin had largely been cleansed of the rusty freckling he'd worn in the office.

He could still see it, the towering building, 35th floor. He didn't much care to count but high-rises stacked much like the tiny boxes of a spreadsheet, so he felt he made a fairly accurate guess.

The third grade curse had been hiding behind the bag, revealed as he lifted himself from the literal garbage pile and began divesting himself of his sullied suit, as comfortable as if he were in the apartment he'd likely never be able to go back to.

Briefly, he mourned the loss of his books and his plants and his other, nicer, better fitting clothing, all while keeping an eye on the curse.

Which looked rather sullen, if a curse could look sullen, as it watched him too.

When he was dressed, still in his dress shoes as the ones in the bag were a touch too large, the curse gave a dull, breathy sigh and drifted to one end of the alley.

He was clearly meant to follow.

So, he did. It directed him to a boring but tidy hotel where the curse concealed him from the front desk with some minor technique, spiriting him away to the 14th floor before giving a relieved sigh, or perhaps a mournful one as it was rid of him, and drifting through a wall of the room he'd been led to.

There was a black burner phone on the table beneath the television and another, smaller, bag on the chair. He stared at both and then went to kick off his dress shoes, strip off his socks, and fall back against the mattress, as comfortable as most hotel mattresses usually were.

A quick sniff at the collar of his borrowed t-shirt revealed an unfamiliar detergent, and it clicked into place that these must be Suguru's clothes somehow, although he hadn't thought you knocked him out for that long.

He turned his head this way and that and thought he should probably shower. It was a bit gross, his hair sticky with gel and sweat. At least there were two beds in the room. He could lie on the other later too.

He smiled briefly. Hysterical. What luxury.

What horrible, awful people you'd both remained.

He thought that after his shower, he should probably call you, for surely that number was in the new phone on the table under the television. He could give Suguru his shoes back.

And, it came to him with a grim sort of irritation, it wasn't as though he'd planned anywhere else to go.

[safely-in-vhagars-belly]

SNOW FALLS: DARK! AEMOND X OC/READER CHAPTER 31: The Hopes of Winter 18+ MDNI

🔷Summary: (for this chapter only) Aemond became your husband and now you are having his child. Helaena returns from her revenge at the North, and you expierence and learn to know the man you married all too well.

🔷Author's note: DARK dead DOVE DO NOT EAT OK

Wordcount :6092 

WARNINGS: Aemond is dark, Aegon and Aemond are woman-hating shits (calling rhae-rhae awful things) Birth, childbirth, blood, gore, children dying (not oc's second child!) and fucking, rawdogging and aemond being a asshole for 6000 words straight! FINAL ONE: This is my second darkest fic. BE WARRY!

You have endured a lot of pain. Both mental and physical. You have been tattood against your will feeling every bit, you lost your first born baby, you were stabbed, tortured, raped, defiled, enslaved and abused. Yet it all seems nothing to the pain that is childbirth. You are laying in your husband’s bed, your legs wide as you try to push out your child. Aemond is nearby still, but you can tell he is not with you. He keeps eying the skies for the return of his brother or his sister. It's been a while since Helaena left the castle on Dreamfyre, and according to spies she has headed North to burn the ancestral seat of House Stark and to avenge her child. She should be heading to Dragonstone, you think. Cregan is not innocent and deserves to suffer for what he did, but the real villain is at Dragonstone. You know so.  ‘’Any sign of your sister?’’ You ask between grunts and groans.

Aemond folds his hands on his back as he stiffly turns around, looking at you as you try to give birth to your child. He needs a split moment to think before he walks away from the window, and instead joins your side, grasping your hands so firmly. ‘’Don’t you dare think of that right now. You focus on our babe.’’ He tells you instead of answering your question. You give a nod.

The wetnurses and midwives do their best as you try to give birth but truth be told it's much more complicated than you imagined. And much more painful. You don't understand how anyone could ever endure such torture. You are close to giving up, and you only just started. ‘’My lady, you must push. This child needs to get out of your body.’’ The midwife known as Jayne speaks as she tries to help you. Aemond turns his head away respectfully to the window and you can’t help but feel this is all your fault somehow.

Helaena was furious with her own loss, but you talked with her which inspired her to get her dragon and to do something about it. You know from history books how well those stories end.

You hear your midwife scream in your ear and you can’t help but flinch. “Push, my lady, Push!” The midwife helps. You think back of your first child that also died. Of your family that endured the same fate. Of your mother who lied. Even of the pain Aemond caused you. And the pain you caused yourself.

You need to push.

In more than one way.

You need to stop being this weak girl. You need to grow up. You need to start living your life. You brace yourself and give a final big Push with an ungodly cry that could rival any warrior. You focus on a painting on the wall, the painting of the castle of Harrenhall as you finally hear the most precious, breakable, and wonderful sound you ever heard.

A baby crying followed by relieved sighs of the women in the room. The baby is plucked from your body and wrapped in silk green with gold blankets. You notice tiny dragons embroidered on the fabric. You reach out with your arms, eager to hold your bundle of joy. The midwives walk away with your baby instead, and they only have eye for Aemond from that moment on. Your smile dies, and you quickly cover your belly with your arms, hiding that you ever wanted to hold what is rightfully yours.

Aemond is standing as a guard nearby, his face unreadable and stoic until they put the baby in his arms. At first, he seems lost and confused with the crying creature in his arms. He even tries to put the child back in the arms of the lady who gave him the baby. But she simply steps out of reach and bows. “Congratulations, your royal highness. You have a healthy baby girl.” Aemond’s good eye blinks at the crying creature still swaddled in blankets.

A girl.

You think back of what Aemond once told you. How a girl would and should never inherit. How a girl is only good for alliances. How a girl's only value is to bring her husband children.

You expect him to scream in rage and to throw a tantrum and a vase or two or perhaps to kill the midwives for their failure.

You aren't quite prepared for what happens however. Aemond's lips begin to fall in a gentle smile as he softly and gently unravels the baby a bit so he may reach her head. He gives her a gentle kiss on her forehead. He speaks in high Valyrian and although you can't understand a word of what he says, you understand that he is praising her. He is happy with her despite her gender. You even dare say that you see his good eye become watery as he looks at the precious gift that the gods bestowed upon you both. You see a man that looked for his place in the world and that finally has found what he always wanted: A family. A true family that loves him no matter what.

‘’Is she healthy?’’ You ask, your voice still strained from the screaming you did. Jayne nods, and your worst fears vanish.

‘’As healthy as can be.’’ You cry of relief, of the pain and the stress of the situation. You did it. The baby is healthy.

Aemond walks to you, offering you the baby as he takes place next to you on the bed.  “I was just saying; I said she is as beautiful as her mother.” He kisses your sweaty forehead. You would have advised against that but its too late now. You take the baby from him, finally holding your child. Your baby.

And it's the most precious thing in the world to you. You understand why you suffered now. You understand it so well. To feel her heartbeat in your arms and to see her tiny hands and fingers. It's all so precious. So unlike this cold-blooded world. It feels as if you were drowning for years in sea, looking for your own wooden plank to hold, to survive. And now you have reached the shore.

“How are they both doing?” Aemond asks, to be certain. He knows they can't lie to him.

Jayne checks your bleedings one final time to make sure all is well before she informs Aemond. “Her Lady is doing well and so is the little Princess. I have never seen such a fierce baby, my prince.” She tells him with a chuckle.

You assume Aemond would hate her comment, as women aren’t supposed to be fierce. Women are submissive, women are mothers, not warriors. But instead he softly touches the cheeks of the baby with his finger, gently not to hurt her.  “She'll be a dragonrider for sure.” Aemond hums. “A fierce warrior.” He says, pride taking over. “She'll be like her father, and her ancestor. She'll be the terror of the skies and her enemies will weep blood.” Blood.

You remain with your child in bed as worry grows. Your mother told you she would soon be there. But what does that mean? A physical visit? You doubt Aemond would even let her set foot in the capital. Your husband notices your change of behavior. ‘’Everyone out.’’ He says, clapping his hands. ‘’I wish to be alone with my wife.’’ He adds, his voice taking a sinister tone when they don’t obey his command at first.

The crowd slowly walks to the doors and soon you and Aemond are alone with your baby. You place your head against his chest and let him hold you as you softly begin to exhale. ‘’I am worried.’’ You begin.

Aemond sighs, but admits that he feels the same. ‘’I am too. But that witch will have to wait. We first need to see how and what Helaena did.’’ You look at your baby, feeling guilty as Jaeheyres had just been found dead. Murdered at the hands of the senseless, cruel and unholy Black fraction of the Targaryens. Things you cannot think of right now, but things that haunt you all the same.

‘’What do you think of the name Sansa?’’ You ask, smiling. You were in love with that name long before you had met Aemond. The name is Northern and classic, beautiful and elegant. It is perfect for the young Princess.

But to think that Aemond would even like such a simple name, that was too much to ask. Aemond frowns as if you suggested something disgusting.  ‘’A Northern name? She’s a Targaryen.’’ He chuckles as if he finds your idea silly. ‘’She needs a powerful name, one that will introduce her before people meet her.’’ You wonder long about the answer.

He chuckles, plucking the child from your arms as you let out a confused whimper. He carries her to her crib, where a dragon egg awaits her. ‘’You don’t need to think of it alone, luckily. I will be here and my opinion counts too. Now, shall we go? I am sure we can give her to a wetnurse for now.’’ He is impatient to get rid of her. You can tell. But why?

You expected more time with the baby but you didn't protest. This is how ladies do it. How a princess consort does this apparently. You need to fight every impulse to cling to your child. To stay with her. To defend her from the evils in this world. Because you know better than most what the world does to kind and innocent creatures. It burns them until there is nothing left to burn. It eats out the soul of their bodies until no soul remains and it smashes dreams and kills hope. It's a cruel cruel world and for a moment you regret birthing your precious child because you know she will be just another challenge.

Not to you, obviously. 

But to your enemies.

And to Aemond's especially.

You dress in a green with golden dress and make your way downstairs to the throne room with your husband. He walks in front of you and you have trouble keeping up, as his legs are longer and he walks quicker. As you pass by servants and nobles they all nod to you and bow for Aemond.

When you enter the throne room, there is a chill of change in the air. King Aegon no longer inappropriately hangs on the iron throne, as you saw him many times before. He sits now, his crown properly on his head, no more tilted. And his expression haunts you. Jealousy and anger is written across his face, and nothing can erase that. He smiles at you, but you feel threatened regardless. 

Aemond greets Aegon formally and you do the same, barely looking into Aegon’s eyes, still mad that he wanted you, a pregnant woman, punished. Aegon’s neck snaps and you watch as he sits up, taking in your new gown. ‘’Finally dressing as if you are one of us, little Fox.’’ He uses Aemond’s nickname for you, but you aren’t happy with that. You aren't happy with something else either.

“As IF you are one of us.”

So that implies you aren't one of them at all. That you'll be nothing but a guest and a consort here. You read Aegon's attention in his eyes as he challenges you to speak to him, the King and your brother in law. You bow your head.

“Do we have news about Helaena?” You listen in subtly when Aemond begins this conversation. “Surely she is spotted somewhere. We have eyes and ears in all the Kingdoms. I can take Vhagar, we can look for her.’’ Vhagar, the dragon. It’s been years since you married him and you still pray for him everytime he climbs on that beast.

Aegon does not respond at first, toying with his rings and a small council ball made of a yellow stone. He keeps staring at you, at the ball but never says a word. ‘’Your Grace?’’ Aemond asks, trying to get his attention. But that does not do anything.

‘’I want them all dead.’’ His voice is barely a whisper, his eyes in a haunting state as he gazes at the ball in his hand. ‘’I need them all dead.’’ He continues, whispering still. Some nobles present share a look and you even see Lady Ereya chuckle at the display. You glare at her, finding it highly inappropriate not to mention dangerous.

Aegon rises from the throne suddenly, pulling the sword Blackfyre as he screams in pure rage and heartbreak, the way only a parent can. ‘’I want them all dead!’’ He screams, surprising you with his rage. Aemond subtly pushes you behind him, to protect you.

Aemond approaches the throne as Aegon covers his face with both his hands, dropping the council ball for just a brief moment. Aemond kneels to pick up the ball and hands it to his king. Aegon tries to take the ball back, his eyes wet with tears and his breath shaking. But Aemond does not let go of him just yet. Their eyes meet and you see the reflection of Aegon’s rage in Aemond’s eyes. ‘’We will feed that whore, the slut of dragonstone, and all her sniveling unworthy bastards to the dragons. We will make her name an insult, her legacy a mockery, and no one, no one will stand in our way. We will rain fire and blood down upon her, her bastards and that coward that she married. And that husband of hers, I want his head cut off and used as a drinking cup.’’ Aemond promises his king. Aegon nods, and you can tell he puts comfort out of those words, as he lets go of the council ball and holds onto Aemond instead. A touching display. You would almost forget that Aemond threatened to kill Aegon so few moons ago. 

Aemond’s words are morbid and full of hatred. He looks at you as if he promises you the same vow, to see the Queen and King of Dragonstone die for your unborn child. Aegon lets go first, adjusting himself back to the role at hand. The role of the King. ‘’To answer your question: I don’t know where she is. She is in the North. But the North, as your wife can confirm, is massive. Even a dragon cannot be spotted that easily. Never mind it’s enemy territory.’’ 

You can see the worry on Aemond’s face increase. ‘’If Rhaenyra sent someone down there, she could be in danger. What if Jace is there?’’ You remember meeting with Prince Jacaerys and Lord Stark in the tavern. And so does Aemond.

Aegon does not fear Jace or pretends to not fear him. He doubles over laughing despite his tears. ‘’Then I will celebrate two of my siblings becoming Kinslayers.’’ He says. “Helaena is like a chameleon. She can adjust and hide and cloak herself very well. I have been searching since the morning and it's evening now. I don't suspect we will find her until she wants to be found.”

The doors of the throne room are thrown open as a smaller lady approaches, her riding gown blackened with dried blood and ash. As she approaches the throne, men quickly bow, women curtsy and all lower their eyes as their Queen, their rightful queen walks past them. Aemond is the last one to bow to her, taking his distance so Aegon may greet his Queen. 

Helaena does not speak. Her face is blackened with ash of fire. Her once beautiful hair is now an ungodly mess, with streaks of blood in it. She united her hair messily with a bun, eager to get on her dragon to bring destruction and justice. 

There is nothing left of the Sweet princess, of the mother that she was. All of that is burned to ashes. She no longer cares about appearances. Not anymore.

Her eyes used to be full of life and sparkling, in a way. Now you see an emptiness no word could describe and no riches could fill. A void left by the loss of a child that has marked her forever. Helaena takes off her riding gloves and gives them to a nearby servant, ignoring the crowd watching her, judging her in silence. You feel as if you must say something, anything. 

Helaena’s enemies were untouchable, so she went after yours. She killed innocent Northerners because of you. She did so, for you. She has brought a bag with her, that she proudly empties in front of both her brothers. You watch as an unfamiliar head comes rolling out of the bag, staining the red keep tiles with blood, gore and shock. ‘’There was something waiting for me when I arrived in the North.’’ She reveals, her voice soft and still the same. ‘’But I took care of it. I thought it’d make a wonderful token for the Bitch Queen at Dragonstone.’’ You are looking at the serving head of a mere child, if you can even call him that. A child that had its whole life ahead of him. Barely six years old, if you had to guess. 

Aemond and Aegon do know who this is, and judging by the bloodied white streaks of hair that the child's head has, you assume that he must be related to them somehow. Aegon is at first disgusted, then overjoyed as he begins to chuckle. ‘’My wife! My lovely wife!’’ He grabs Helaena by her bloodied hands and gives her a kiss on her forehead. It is more the kind of kiss a brother would give his sister, not the way a husband would kiss a wife. Aemond has another reaction. 

‘’Where’s the rest of his body?’’ He asks, and you judge him and his siblings silently for these actions. ‘’We must be careful with what we do with the body, but I have a few ideas. We can send his limbs to Rhaenyra’s bannermen. Let her collect her son piece by piece.’’ 

That feels as if he slaps you across your face.

‘’Like what you did to my own family members?”’ You whisper, hurt by his description and eagerness. You feel your tears sting behind your lashes. Aemond tilts his head at you and waits for the tears to fall. You thought he had changed. You were wrong.

Helaena ignores your whispers as does Aemond. ‘’In the bag. I took it all with me. As all his toys he had at Winterfell. I left Rhaenyra a note as well.’’ She brags, grinning as the rest of the court watches in stunned silence.

You feel like you are going to throw up. Can’t they see this just as wrong as killing your own child, as killing Jaeheyres? No. They can’t. ‘’Who is this?’’ You ask, your voice soft.

Aemond gives the head of the child a soft kick, so you may see the massive cut on his neck. You are forced to watch it, as Aemond remains by your side, holding you. ‘’Aegon Targaryen, son of Rhaenyra and Daemon, who killed your son, and my heir. Who killed the Crown prince-’’

‘’He was innocent!” You shout, breaking free from his grasp. ‘’He was a child! What crimes did he commit? Not his parents, but him?’’

Aemond does at first not meet your eye and sighs. ‘’I thought you understood the cost of war, Willa. I must say you disappoint me.’’ He says, as if this is somehow your fault. You huff, preparing yourself to leave this room at once. But he blocks your path right away, reminding you are in this now whether you like it or not.

‘’A son for a son they said.’’ Helaena pauses to glance at the head. ‘’Well I agree. A son for a son, indeed.’’ She empties the sack and toys, stuffed plushies covered in blood come out. Toys like dragons made of wood, and fabric, as well as seahorses, and eventually a small ring worth a fortune. Rhaenyra’s ring, you assume.

‘’How did you capture him?’’ You manage to ask, sickened by the sight of the decomposing stinking body. Worms crawl over his head, into his eye socket, and out of it with the same pace.

Helaena does not acknowledge you at first. She stares into the distance. ‘’I had to pretend I was his mother. I snuck into his bedchamber, prepared to behead him the same way they beheaded my son. The boy woke up, however.’’ You wonder if her own son did the same thing.

‘’And he looked into my eyes and said ‘’Mommy.’’ I never knew I could miss hearing that word from the mouth of a boy.’’ She shivers, her eyes watering. ‘’He thought I was Rhaenyra. He thought so, until I cut him open and silenced his screams with a pillow.’’ A horrible description for a horrible world.  What of the Northerns? Surely they noticed their guest missing?

‘’They put Viserys somewhere else, sadly.’’ She continues. You can tell she is relieved at that, however. She could not take another life. ‘’I took the bag, disguised myself as a servant and left Winterfell.’’ That does not explain why she is covered in blood and ash. 

She stops her eyes telling enough and too much. ‘’I left for King’s Landing after that. I burned seven villages when leaving. I burned seven-’’ She takes a shaky breath. ‘’I burned seven villages and none of it will bring back my son!’’ She covers her ears with her hands, her bloodstained hands as she takes the one after the other heartbreaking deep breath, almost a whimper. 

Helaena calms herself in a moment, understanding she must act now or mourn for the rest of her life. ‘’We must attack Dragonstone. Daemon has set out for Harrenhal." Aemond perks up by those words and you don’t like where this conversation is going. ‘’Vhagar, Sunfyre and Dreamfyre. Together we can do it.’’ She says.

They plan to kill the Queen.

You harbor no love for Rhaenyra, none at all.

But this feels like a mistake.

A deadly one.

Aemond is not that enthusiastic either. He knows better than most what that would be mean. He thought of this plan often too, you can tell. ‘’That is a risk. Not with Moondancer, Syrax, whatever reptile Jace flies and Rhaenys being there. We must wait for them to split so we can take them out, one by one.’’ A clever strategy.

Aegon is also doubting this new plan. “A dangerous plan. We must discuss this with the council first-” Helaena laughs in his face, getting closer to her husband and brother, lecturing him as if he is a little boy.

She snarls. “The same council that allowed my son to get murdered? I would rather jump out of a window!” You feel a sharp pain in your stomach and briefly double over. 

‘’May I be excused?’’ You asked, as the pain only increases and builds.

Aegon shakes his head. ‘’So you can write to your friends? No. You’ll stay.’’ You don’t want to write to anyone. You want to see your daughter and go to bed. ‘’How will-’’ Your cries interrupt the King’s words as you scream out in pain, clutching your stomach as blood comes pouring out of your gown again. You don’t understand. You had your baby.

Disgusted, the King backs away. Aemond forgets about his revenge for a brief moment and grabs your hands, worried. ‘’Someone get a maester! Now!’’ He yells at the servants and crowd. One of the noble ladies rushes to your side, her black locks dancing in your face as she kneels by your side.

‘’Take deep breaths, my Lady.’’ She whispers. ‘’You are having your afterbirth.’’ After what now? You look at Aemond as the lady begins to caress your belly with her mere fingers. It instantly feels…better somehow.

You back away, as you feel a familiar tingle in the air. The same tingle whenever your mother touched you or hugged you, held you or comforted you. This woman is a witch.

‘’Come, I think you want to go back to the bedroom.’’ Aemond lifts you and carries you with him as a sack of potatoes. You and him leave behind the smirking woman, who tilts her head at you and simply waves. Even though she does not say it.

You just know…

You will see her again.

—-

You are in bed again, holding your daughter and feeling much better. You are still mad at Aemond, however. “I am sorry.” He says. You nod, you hoped he would be. 

He continues, watching you nurse your baby and letting her feed at your breasts. “It's my fault, in truth. The wetnurses tell me that this is not an uncommon thing. They knew this was coming and wanted you here in this room so you could have it…properly and with dignity and I took that from you.” You sigh. You had hoped he would apologize for something else. But you know him too well to hope that.

So you ask a totally unrelated question. “Why does she scare you?” You tilt your baby’s head so she may see her father who keeps his distance from her.

Aemond chuckles, scoffing and denying it. ‘’I am not scared of a mere baby.’’ You lift your brows. He sighs, allowing himself to admit it.  “She makes me feel things. Things I don't understand. Things I can't understand.”

“Can't or want?” You ask sharply, done with his deflections and lies.

He sighs, sitting by your side at least.  “She makes me feel..vulnerable. She is another weakness. Another soul for me to protect. Another light to be snuffed out by enemies.” You hear him. You do. You are facing familiar fears. He is afraid he will lose her. You give him the baby.

And slowly his smile returns, as he holds her. ‘’Aemond, I know our relationship is far from perfect. And I know war is brewing all around us. But know this: I will do whatever is best for my child. You can deny us and forsake us and doom us but your responsibility for this child, to me, won’t vanish because of it. You will only look as a coward for it.’’

‘’Aren’t you scared?’’ He asks, genuinely.

You nod. You are. ‘’I am granted a gift, Aemond. I rather know her and lose her than not know her and lose her in another way entirely.’’

You see he needs another push. No, you feel he needs another push. “We will do this together.” You whisper caressing his locks. “You will be a great father. I know it.” You whisper. 

Aemond nods, and allows himself to sit back with the baby in his arms. He takes the baby blanket from her, showing it to you with a proud smile. “I had the servants work on it. The dragons are on just one side, if I may..”

He turns the blanket inside out so you may see the other side. Foxes. Little foxes in orange and white. You tear up. Your house colors and your sigil. “Our child should know her mother's house.” He whispers as he caresses your face. 

You nod speechless. One house, at least. Your father’s house. Your husband puts the blanket back around your baby and he seems more at ease. Still clumsy and nervous but more at ease. ‘’How about…Darya?’’ He asks. You at first are confused. Who is Darya? Until you see him nod at the baby.

‘’Darya?’’ You repeat, after him, testing the name as you look at the little one who is now peacefully napping in her father’s arms. ‘’I don’t know, Aemond.’’ Isn’t it too early to name this child?

‘’It means Queen in Valyrian.’’ He says. ‘’A well chosen name. And we can, if we must-’’ He takes a deep dramatic breath. ‘’Even spell it with a Y instead of the classic I if we must.’’ He looks at you expectedly, knowing he offers you a great gift.

You look at your baby. You know how well the Valyrians act to outsiders. You were a Northern, once perhaps. But that was before you married a Southern prince. ‘’No.’’ You say, surprising both him and yourself. ‘’I want her to have a proper Valyrian name. Daria is fine.’’ You kiss his cheek, confirming your choice and you aren’t sure who you are lying to. Him or yourself.

Aemond begins kissing you back, his kisses mirroring the hunger he feels inside. ‘’I wish to lay with you, and give you thousands of my children.’’ He whispers. ‘’But the maester said we had to be careful, my fox. So until we are certain, we must be contempt with kisses alone.’’ You wouldn’t lay with him anyway. He hurt you today. More than he seems to know.

—-

The next morning you are feeding Daria when there's a knock on your door. You didn’t bother to dress or to do your hair. ‘’In.’’ You say.

Dowager Queen Alicent finally enters your room, her eyes glued to the child in your arms. ‘’Look, it is your grandmother.’’ You say to Daria. ‘’You must say hello.’’ You hold out your child for Alicent to touch but she does not allow herself to come even near your child.

She is not here for good news. You are worried.

‘’Aemond told me you named her Daria.’’ You did.

‘’We did.’’ You say, correcting her. ‘’We named her together.’’ You smile recalling how happy you were last night.

Alicent is here for something else. She finally speaks, informing you of facts. ‘’Aemond is out today. Your daughter’s name day has been postponed.’’ You feel stress take over.

‘’Why?’’ You ask, paranoid. ‘’What has happened? Where is Aemond?’’

Alicent sighs. ‘’I don’t know how to tell you this, Willa.’’

‘’Tell me what?’’

‘’There has been a fire. At Wylde Crest.’’

Your heart sinks. Your home. ‘’The flames swallowed the gods' woods. And the people in the keep. Something locked the doors. They either burned to death or suffocated.’’ You cover your mouth to stop the sobs.

‘’My people…’’ You whisper to yourself.

Alicent joins you on the bed, rubbing your back. ‘’I know you feel a great responsibility to them. But you must think of yourself and your child now. Aemond is already investigating.’’ That is exactly what worries you.

—-

You later are walking past the small council chamber. You hear the voices of Aegon, Helaena, Alicent and Aemond. ‘’What did you tell her?’’ Aemond’s voice rings out. You know he speaks of you. You halt.

Alicent’s voice response is in anger. ‘’A lie.’’

‘’A lie? She must know the truth.’’ Aemond says. ‘’She must know what kind of people she offered refugee and housing.’’ He sounds so hateful. ‘’If you plan on exposing my crimes, at least add the proper motivation!’’

‘’People you killed, no?’’ Your blink confused at her words. He? Aemond?

Aemond’s voice becomes an annoyed growl. ‘’Yes, because they were traitors. I had the entire castle killed when we left for King’s Landing. But Willa does not know that. If she knows they were traitors, she understands.’’ How long ago did you leave? Moons ago. You sink to the floor, covering your mouth so they cannot hear you. You whimper as tears burst from your eyes. Aemond slaughtered your household, your friends and servants.

‘’And if she does not?’’ Alicent remarks. ‘’How long do you plan to keep it from her? Now that a survivor of your crimes has begun telling the horrors of what happened there-’’

She is interrupted by council members speaking. You focus on only Aemond’s voice. ‘’We have a child now. Willa must let go of her pity childhood feelings and now become a woman. She cannot afford to care about some stones with a roof anymore. She is a Princess. It is time she acts like one.’’ Your heart does not break because it can’t break any further. Yet you weep and stand up. ‘’And if she does not, I have no choice but to put her in her place, as any husband must do for his wife.’’

—

When Aemond returns it is storming.

‘’Why did you kill them exactly?’’ You ask the moment he has entered. You can see he knows what you are talking about. He sighs, expecting this conversation.

‘’They were a threat to the realm.’’ He says. You don’t believe that.

‘’Why did you kill them?’’ You ask again, less patient.

He growls, losing his temper. ‘’Because I wanted you here with me. Not there. You had to be separated from your home. One way or another.’’ There it is. He was worried you would leave him one day. That is why he destroyed your home. So you have no home to return to.

‘’You killed my friends.’’ You whisper, your eyes filled with hatred.

To that he laughs. ‘’What friends, Willa? They hated you the moment you became my wife. They helped those assassins get in and get away too. You never have been their lady.’’

You break, believing every word. For it the truth. What did they even do for you? You've never been a Northern girl. Not truly. And now you never will be. Aemond wraps his arms around you, hushing you. ‘’It is alright, Little Fox. I will never leave you. I will never not act in your best interests, no matter if you can’t see it yourself.’’ You don’t even try to break free anymore from his grip.

You allow him to kiss you, and kiss him back. You first take off his eyepatch. Then, you bend on the bed.   You don’t see it as punishment or hate. You need to feel things. Good things. Happy things, anything but the suffering. Aemond’s mouth sinks to your entrance as he begins sucking, pleasuring you orally as he pins your hands above your head. ‘’Going to fuck you, to show you how much I love you, little Fox.’’ He rasps. ‘’You’re going to be heard all the way in the North.’’ He adds, firing himself up. You are glad your daughter is with her nurse at the moment.

You consent by kissing his lips and taste yourself on his lips. You allow Aemond to bend you on your knees and to hold your hips as he slams his cock inside of you with a war cry, fucking you. ‘’Just as good as I remember.’’ He whispers, kissing your shoulders. Your moans become cries and your cries becomes screams as you finish with your husband fucking out his frustration on your body. 

You force him to take you harder, throwing back your hips as you reach the one after the other pleasure point and your breath quickens as you feel Aemond’s perfectly erected cock slam inside of you, pushing you to the limits. You claw at his hands that hold your hips as he fucks you savagely, certain you are pregnant again. ‘’Harder.’’ You hiss, wishing to be taken away from the misery.

Aemond happily obeys, fucking you so rough that you are sure there is blood on his member. He slides in faster and harder, and you can barely take it. It is too rough and too much but you want to feel better. ‘’Going to come, little fox.’’ He whispers in his strained voice and he grabs your back, pulling your body near him as if he is steering a pig in a stable. He slams inside of you again, groaning and grunting as he finishes with a satisfied little groan, filling you with warm seed.

You are now pinned under him and pleasured again, fucked and fingered as you try your best to come for him too. Your husband tries but your anger and disappointment is big. But eventually, by closing your eyes and pretending today was just a bad dream, you too come.

You feel better.

Aemond wraps his arms around your body, pulling you closer. ‘’If it counts, I am sorry. I am sorry you don’t have that sweet innocent man you always wanted. But you would be bored.’’ He kisses your forehead and then he goes to sleep. You allow yourself to fall with your heads in the pillows and stare at the ceiling. Hating yourself and him a bit more than you did before.

---------

A/N

Not them having hate sex-

I can't with these two.

Therapy is not strong enough we need something else xD

Special thanks to friend for the name Daria and the idea to Kill off little Aegon instead of Jace:)

[inhuman-obey-me]

Congratulations on +4000 followers. You deserve all the support <3 May I request 🗡️ with Lucifer? Tbh I have LOTS of requests, these prompts have my head running wild. But I'll settle for one for now ^^' have a good day/night :)

Hahaha, thank you, and we're glad you like the prompts!! We're quite excited about them too! (๑>ᴗ<๑)

"Let the knife leave its mark." - Lucifer

content warning: violence, torture, gore/blood

Lucifer has never much minded being called a sadist. He's been accused of it since long before he became a demon. If anything, some might even think he's gone soft since the fall, or so Simeon teases.

His present victim, however, would disagree. Unlike the former seraph, he never actually knew Lucifer as an angel. But what the Avatar of Pride is doing to him now cannot possibly be called soft -- can it?

Lucifer takes his time, carefully examining the way the blood snakes its way down the blade with the judgmental eye of a professor examining his student's work. But although he has been known to teach the occasional course at RAD, and the lesser demon before him is indeed a student at the academy, this is most certainly not standard coursework.

With a tut, Lucifer stands and plucks a similar tiny knife out from the stomach of the puppet in Dresop's hands. The lesser demon winces hard, trying his best to resist automatically squeezing on the doll as the knife that was in his own belly removes itself and disappears. He'd made that mistake earlier, and had earned himself some extra bruises in the process.

"The angle is 0.2 degrees off. Again," the Avatar of Pride instructs, closing up the other's wound with a wave as he hands Dresop the miniature blade again for the umpteenth time.

How long has he been at this, now?

It's an effective punishment, to be sure; over the last several hours, he certainly has come to regret his actions quite deeply. The lesser demon had attacked and injured one of the RAD fangol team members in hopes of opening up a spot for himself to join before the yearly tournament. When he'd been captured, the student council vice president had offered him a choice: Dresop could either inflict the same wounds upon himself once, using this puppet, or Lucifer would do it to him fifty thousand times over himself.

Dresop had chosen what he'd thought was the obvious choice. He hadn't understood what it had actually meant.

He understands now, too late. The Avatar of Pride is unrelentingly strict, and he will not accept anything short of perfection. It'll only extend his punishment further if he's careless about where he strikes.

His eyes are bleary with pain, but he tries to blink away the fuzziness from his vision so he can focus again on the photo of the fangol player's injuries. With a deep breath, he attempts to stop his fingers from trembling as well, trying again to line up the tip of the knife on the puppet to match how the injury looks in the picture.

Another knife materializes in his stomach again as he pushes the blade in, and Dresop has to choke down the bloody bile rising in his throat before his hand shakes from the convulsions, earning a wry smirk from Lucifer.

The Avatar of Pride leans down to examine Dresop's handiwork once again, then slowly straightens back up so he can look down upon the shaking fiend hunched before him.

"Well, after sixty-three thousand, two-hundred forty-seven attempts, it appears you've finally managed to produce a single satisfactory result," he remarks, a vicious smile spreading across his lips. "We can finally let the knife leave its mark."

He hands the demon another one.

"Only twelve more to go, then. And I expect you ought to be quicker about it this time."

[himbo-in-limbo]

“At Your Service”…

Tw Kidnapping, gore,violence,intimidation,blood!

Yautja!Raian x Y/N the servant (gender neutral reader) //Chapter 2//

Limbo rant's: I often look at this AU and think of how silly it is, would badbloods even waste their time with ooman servants I wonder 💀...

The room became eeriely silent all of a sudden...

First of all you just heard that your going to be someone's butler for the rest of your life

And secondly apparently this new "Master" of yours is like the "devil incarnate" if he's scaring the other humans this much!!...

Naturally you begin to ask what was the problem with this "new master of yours" but before you knew it, everyone's collars had begun to glow

*gasp* "SHIT, EVERYONE LOOK BUSY"

All of the other humans quickly begun to scramble like headless chickens and proceeded to clean something or look preoccupied in some manner..

You looked like a lost kid trying to think of what to do since you also didn't want to get in trouble...

So you grabbed a random rag and proceeded to clean.....the floor??? You were panicking no one could blame you...

Being on the floor however you were able to feel footsteps approaching...very HEAVY footsteps...

The closer they got the more the room started to shake just a bit...

Suddenly a door opened.

Two of the creatures you saw before appeared in front of you!

Though they weren't the same ones as before...they weren't nearly as big as that pale one...nor as bloody...

But still big enough to crumple you like a piece of paper so you instinctively backed up a bit and lowered your head...

You did something right with that because the aliens just continued to walk past you and proceeded to intimidate the other humans...

They began ordering the others and telling them which areas they would be tending to today and one by one they started leaving the room

Eventually you were the last one left...

The tension in the air was so thick, you felt like you could choke on it...

"Now all's that's left is the unlucky one....*hr hr hr*"

Huh? Did they just speak?! And what sounded like a laugh too...

"What happened to the last one he had?"

They did!! And you were able to understand them?!? *You touched your new earrings* these things must have a translator imbedded into them!!

*makes the motion of something breaking* "the ooman broke one of his trophies so he did the same to them"...*the other alien shook their head* "That black sheep of our clan is a real handful"

At this point you were sweating bullets...you know you heard them right....your new "master" killed his last servant....

You were so lost in thought you didn't hear that they were talking directly to you now...

"Are you listening ooman?." "You better learn his habits quickly if you want to survive longer than the last one did"....*they shoved you out the room*

"first you'll be making an offering to him to introduce yourself..." *One of the aliens walked ahead of you*

They lead you to another room that resemble a sort of...kitchen? It had to have been

The whole place reeked of meat of some kind...

There were things hanging about that resembled vegetables? You weren't quite sure...but you saw a few other humans preparing something! It looks like a soup?....

"The other oomans will teach you how to make this drink. But for now grab a container." *They slapped your back to move you forward*

You shakingly grabbed a pot-like container

*snaps fingers* "DON'T JUST STAND THEIR OOMAN HELP THEM FILL IT UP"

The alien ordered the other human to assist you and they yelped a bit in fear..

The two of you proceeded to fill up the pot with the strange broth.

"This delicious drink is C'ntlip" you best memorize how to make it ooman."

"Now carry it and follow."

This pot was pretty heavy to begin with but now filled to the brim with this "C'ntlip" you worry your arms will give out soon...

Ough...the smell in the air changed drastically…

The hallway was flooded with the sent of bitter oil combined with a men's gym locker...

*distant roaring could be heard* …..”damn brat is at it again”….

It sounded like people were fighting…and soon enough

That seemed to be the case…

You must have seen 3 other aliens get thrown like rag dolls in a matter of seconds…

“He always takes it too far that idiot.”….*the last alien that was thrown landed near your feet*

You were shaking so much the pot could be heard rattling a bit…

It wasn’t necessarily the brutal fighting that was making you nervous…it was because you recognized HIM.

The alien you saw before you were kidnapped…the thing who killed every crew member on your old ship…

He was brutally sparring against his kin to assert dominance…

And just like how you saw him before….he was covered in blood…this time of his own kind.

“YAUTJA!RAIAN THAT’S ENOUGH FOOLING AROUND ”…one of the aliens spoke

“Hah?. And why should I listen to you weaklings?” He said in a dark growl.

*one of the aliens started growling but was stopped by the other* “the Patriarch will not be pleased in hearing of you going on another rampage again.”

“If you wish to participate in the next battle I suggest you save your blood lust for another day”…yautja!Raian appeared to roll his eyes like some delinquent and let out an annoyed huff…

“Feh, no one was giving me a challenge here anyways…” and with that he started to stomp away

But before that happened the other alien spoke, “You were assigned a new servant brat..” *you felt a hand shove you forward*

“The patriarch ALSO demanded that you keep this one alive for AT LEAST A CYCLE..”

“These oomans are hard to come by you know!”…if the pot shaking wasn’t heard before it was now…

The amount of pressure this thing was emitting was just…..terrifying..

*he started inspecting you while clicking his mandibles* “you look….”

Oh god he might remember you

“You look weak.” “Why do I always get the meek looking ones?!”…..

……….lord knows what possessed you to say this..

let alone even speak up but…this asshole…

You shouted

“IM NOT WEAK!” And everyone was so taken aback…

You immediately felt all the color leave your body as you quickly realized how stupid that was…

The aliens were in so much shock that you talked back that they didn’t even know how to respond…”their dead”…is probably what they thought…

“Hr hr hr…HR HR HAHAHAHAHAHAH!!!”

He was laughing…

“Not weak huh?! I don’t believe that but I’ll tell you what! Your the bravest ooman I’ve ever met so far!! I like you!

You have no idea how that turned in your favor but….you sure as hell weren’t gonna test that twice…

“Is that C’ntlp? Perfect timing..bring that and yourself to my room ooman!” And with that he turned around and started walking away

To which you realized you needed to be following him and quickly scurried along…

“……how long do you think they’ll last?….”

“…*clicks*….I’d give it a week?”…”wanna make a bet?”…the two aliens chuckled and soon left.

Oh what horrors will this new ship life bring….

The image of him in a blood bath will forever be ingrained in your mind…

[asocial-lobster]

The Island

Warriors watched as Legend batted another branch away from his face with an irritable grunt. The forest was denser than it had looked to be in the distance, and they only made slow progress. A fact which was starting to annoy the vet, if one were to judge by the way he cursed under his breath.

But then again, it had been an awful day already, and it was still early in the afternoon, so there was time for lots of things to go wrong yet. Maybe Legend deserved some slack after having been tossed overboard and washed ashore on an unknown beach, all their equipment left behind with the others on the boat.

Warriors himself was feeling … oddly calm despite their current predicament. He had seen Legend topple over the railing and into the angry ocean, he’d caught a glimpse of Legend’s terrified expression just before he disappeared into the roaring water.

Warriors’ own face had surely been a mirror of the veteran’s, fear for his brother’s life driving the captain to jump in after him. The waves of panic in Warriors’ mind had been just as gruesome as the literal ones which threatened to pull him and Legend apart and drag them to an early grave.

But they had survived. Somehow, they’d gotten incredibly lucky and washed ashore before they drowned. Warriors wondered if Hylia had intervened on their behalf to make sure they survived. Maybe she was out there somewhere, keeping watch to make sure they didn’t die before completing their adventure.

Oddly enough, that idea was equally comforting and terrifying to Warriors.

But whatever the reason, they had survived. Legend and Warriors were alive and as well as could reasonably be expected given the circumstances. It felt like Warriors’ mind had decided that since they were alive, there was nothing more to worry about. Like it had already used its quota of anxiety for today. The forest felt almost safe despite their current lack of both weapons, healing supplies, and travel companions.

Warriors wondered if that was a trauma response he wasn’t yet familiar with. Maybe his mind was just gearing up to royally fuck him over later.

Legend grumbled as a vine swung back into his face from where he’d pushed it away. Clearly, he wasn’t sharing the captain’s calm state of mind.

“You okay, Vet?” he tried carefully.

“Just peachy,” Legend snapped. “I love almost drowning and getting lost on a stupid, tropical island in an era I don’t know.”

Warriors didn’t really have anything to say to that.

“…Sorry,” came Legend’s voice a few minutes later.

“Apology accepted,” the captain replied. He didn’t say anything more than that. He’d learnt long ago that there was a fine line to how far one could go when asking Legend personal questions. If his brother wanted to talk about what was bothering him, he’d follow up on it himself now that Warriors had initiated the conversation. If Legend wasn’t interested in talking, it would only serve to aggravate him further if anyone started pestering him.

“Look,” Legend said, and pointed to something. His annoyed expression had been replaced with the more business-like one which occasionally appeared on his face when things got bad. It was his “hero-face”, Warriors supposed, the one the vet wore when he was completely serious. It was an expression the captain had learnt to respect. If the vet thought a situation warranted absolute seriousness, he was usually right.

Legend was pointing to a building. Giant columns of marble rose to both sides of an opening in the wall. The roof was sparklingly white in the afternoon sun. A dirt-trodden path led into the darkness between the columns. It looked as though the rooms inside the building might stretch into the cliff behind it.

“Is that…?”

“A dungeon,” Legend confirmed. “Possibly even the one we were looking for when we ran into the storm.”

Warriors frowned. “I don’t like this. We have no supplies. Our priority should be to find the others.”

“I agree,” Legend said. “It would be suicide to go in there without weapons. We should change course. Maybe follow the shore and hope we can find a village that way.”

“Sounds like a plan.”

They turned to leave, but froze as a roar rose from somewhere near the dungeon. They looked at each other.

“Oh, that’s not good.”

“Moblins?”

“Moblins,” Legend confirmed.

“Well, shit.”

“Quick and to the point as always, Cap.”

“Shut up.”

Another roar sounded, this one closer by.

“We should get out of here,” Warriors said.

“Agreed.”

They bolted through the forest, vines and thorns snagging at their clothes. Warriors’ mind decided it had some fear to spare despite his earlier calm, and the boost of adrenaline sent him flying through the undergrowth.

He sprang through another bush and screeched to a halt. Legend, still going full speed behind him, smacked directly into him. Luckily, the vet was even smaller than he was, and he managed to keep on his feet.

“What’s going – oh.”

Legend cut himself off as he peered around Warriors.

“This day officially sucks.”

The captain couldn’t agree more.

In front of them sat three very startled bokoblins, apparently in the middle of an early dinner. A small fire flickered between them, the remains of an animal still attached to a stick which hung over the flames.

The bokoblins scrambled to pick up their weapons.

Warriors lunged, hoping he could get his hands on a weapon if only he was quick enough. Between the moblins on their heels and the three bokoblins, they were already outnumbered. Their chances of making it out alive would go from slim to none if they’d also have to fight unarmed.

When he was a meter away from the pile of weapons, Warriors realized he wouldn’t be fast enough. Changing tactics at the very last second, he caught one of the bokoblins around the middle and effectively knocked them both away from the pile. Warriors registered out of the corner of his eye that Legend used the opening to pick up a club, which he didn’t hesitate to ram into another bokoblin’s face. Warriors didn’t have time to see anything more than that, because his own bokoblin snarled beneath him and tried to rip out his throat with its fangs. He managed to avoid the sharp teeth but had to roll away in the process. He got to his feet a few meters away from the monster, eyeing it warily.

Warriors spared Legend another glance. The vet was expertly weaving around the two other bokoblins. He moved like a swordsman despite the club in his hands, relying more on precise jabs and slashes than brute force. Still, it was obvious he was generally skilled in combat, and the bokoblins had yet to land a single hit on him while the monsters themselves were already covered in bruises.

Both of the other bokoblins carried clubs, too. If Warriors could get his hands on one of those clubs ... well, it wasn’t a sword, but it would be better than fighting emptyhanded.

When the unarmed bokoblin charged toward him again, Warriors dodged to the side. It stumbled forward, letting out a startled shriek when it almost lost balance. The captain swung his leg around in a circle, the top of his foot connecting with the back of the monster���s head. It fell over and stayed down. Warriors wasn’t counting on it remaining like that for long, but he didn’t stay to deal with it. Instead, he turned his attention back to the three other fighters.

Legend’s eyes caught his momentarily, and something passed between them. The next moment, the veteran pressed his attack so that the bokoblins were forced back. Warriors swiped the feet from under the closest of them, and it fell with a surprised grunt. He was over it before it had a chance to get up, and he managed to wrangle the club out of its hands. He struck forcefully down with the club on the bokoblin’s skull, and a sickening crunch told him he wouldn’t need to worry about this opponent anymore.

Meanwhile, Legend had clobbered his own foe to death, able to move more freely now that Warriors was dealing with the other monster. The third bokoblin finally got to its feet again, rubbing the back of its head. Legend struck it down before it had the chance to realize the tide of the battle had turned against it.

Warriors weighed the unusual weapon in his hand.

“Not my first choice of weapon,” he said. “But it did the job. Let’s get out of here before those moblins show up.”

As if on cue, the bush rattled and two moblins jumped out of it.

“Of course,” Warriors mumbled.

“I’ll take the right one,” said Legend. The captain nodded. And with that little detail clarified, they sprang into battle.

Warriors’ moblin carried a club – a club almost as big as the captain himself – while Legend’s opponent carried an actual sword. Warriors dodged when his foe attacked, a little unsure of how to handle the situation. He was lacking both his usual sword and shield, and thus really had no way of parrying; he was pretty sure he wouldn’t be able to deflect the moblin’s club with his own. Both because of how unwieldy his weapon was, but also because of the moblin’s greater strength.

Well, the moblin had a longer range than he did, so there was no point in trying to move away from it. He would have to get closer if he wanted to land a hit.

When the moblin attacked again, Warriors darted under its arm. He twisted himself mid-air and rammed the club into the moblin’s side with all the strength he could muster. The beast staggered to the side, but soon regained its footing.

Cursing under his breath, Warriors threw himself down to avoid the monster’s next hit. Luckily, it was still slightly off-balance, and it didn’t come anywhere near striking true.

The captain rolled away from its feet before he was crushed. He jumped up and charged towards the monster. It struck out, but he feinted left at the very last second. Mirroring a spin attack he’d once seen Time perform, he bashed the club into the monster. This time, it roared in pain and fell, something beneath its skin audibly cracking. Warriors spared no time in bringing his weapon down on its head and ending the monster’s life.

He turned to help his brother just in time to see him go down.

Legend had been holding his own against the much larger opponent fairly well, especially considering that the moblin had a clear advantage with the sword. Unfortunately, the thud from the other moblin’s body had forced him to take his eyes off the blade and look behind him. He dodged the moblin’s next attack a moment too late and took a hit to the arm.

Warriors didn’t have time to look at Legend’s wound. He could only hope it wasn’t too serious as he stepped between his brother and the enemy, weapon raised. Cold fear mixed with hot anger in Warriors’ veins and turned him reckless. With one hand, he grabbed the moblin’s arm when it jabbed, and with the other he swung his club. The bones in the moblin’s arm snapped, and the monster howled in pain. Instead of letting go of the broken arm, Warriors yanked it toward himself, drawing another scream from the moblin’s throat. He bashed its head in with the club and put it out of its misery.

He quickly scanned the area, and when he didn’t see any other enemies, he hurried to Legend’s side. The veteran had clamped his hand over the wound in an attempt to hinder the bleeding, but the red liquid flowed steadily from between his fingers, nonetheless.

Warriors gripped the edge of his already ruined tunic and ripped it into something which could be considered bandages if you squinted.

“You need a tourniquet,” he decided. He picked a branch from the ground, then wrapped one of the strips around Legend’s upper arm. He tied the knot around both branch and arm, using the branch to tighten the tourniquet. The blood flow from Legend’s arm slowed significantly.

“Let me see it,” Warriors requested and gestured to the wound. Legend nodded once, teeth gritted together in pain, and removed his hand.

The cut was deep, and it was no surprise it had been bleeding as much as it did. Actually, Warriors thought to himself, though he opted not to share the thought with Legend, it was extremely lucky the moblin hadn’t cut the arm clean off. He cleaned Legend’s wound and wrapped it tightly with the rest of the “bandages”.  He couldn’t do much more without a potion or Hyrule’s healing magic.

“How’re you feeling, Vet?”

“Like I’ve been half-drowned and stabbed.”

“Yeah, that sounds about right.”

Warriors flopped down to lie on his back with a weary sigh.

“We should probably keep looking for the others, but I’m really tired,” he said. “Today sucked. I know our lives are fucked up, but surely this day makes it into the top three worst days of our lives.”

Legend laughed, pressing his uninjured arm to his stomach in an attempt to control himself. The captain smiled a little. Getting the veteran to truly laugh always felt like a win.

“Not even close,” the vet wheezed between laughs, “you?”

“Me too,” Warriors admitted. “Oh goddesses, we almost died so many times and it’s not even close.”

A slightly maniacal giggle forced its way out of his throat, and the two spent several minutes laughing hysterically. A small corner of Warriors’ mind recognized the absurdity of the situation and was just slightly worried about both his and Legend’s mental condition, but he couldn’t stop. It felt like all the stress and fear he’d been feeling today was finally leaving his body completely, and something about this whole mess was funny in a very fucked up way.

“I can’t believe we survived that,” Warriors finally said when they were both done laughing.

“Me neither, honestly,” Legend said. “It’s been a while since I had to fight without my equipment. I hadn't realized I’d grown so dependent on it.”

The veteran turned quiet, and Warriors raised himself onto an elbow to look at him.

“You ready to talk about what’s been bothering you all day?”

“You mean aside from the obvious?”

“Something was bothering you even before the storm,” Warriors said.

Legend sighed.

“Yeah, you’re right.” He sat up and hugged his knees. The captain followed suit and sat at his side.

“The truth is, I hate boats,” the vet admitted, pointedly looking away from his brother’s face. “One of my adventures started with a storm and a shipwreck. So, it’s not exactly been a fun day.”

Warriors made a little sound of understanding. There were so many things he still didn’t know about Legend’s adventures. The vet only spoke of his trauma rarely – with Warriors, at least – but they’d been growing closer during the last few months and were also getting to know each other better. The captain’s adventure had been very different from what he knew of Legend’s, but as two of Hylia’s chosen heroes, there could only be so many differences. They had both faced impossible odds to save a kingdom they loved. Warriors had discovered during his adventure with the Chain that that kind of shared experience inevitably resulted in a friendship.

“I washed ashore on a beach, just like we did today,” Legend continued. “In the beginning, it wasn’t so bad. The people on the island were nice.”

“But something went wrong,” Warriors said gently.

“But something went wrong,” Legend agreed. “Monsters started showing up everywhere.”

Legend’s face was covered by an emotion Warriors couldn’t quite interpret. Grief? Guilt? It was rare that the veteran dropped his façade completely and let others know how he felt. The captain felt … honored that his brother was choosing to share this with him. The story carried with it both something private and vulnerable. And Legend had decided he could trust Warriors with it.

“I defeated the monsters,” Legend said, cutting right to the heart of the matter, “but the island disappeared. Along with all the people on it.”

Legend looked at him for the first time since he’d begun his tale. His violet eyes were filled with an intense sadness.

“It wasn’t a real island, you see. When I shipwrecked, I was trapped in the dream of a deity called the Windfish. The island and everything on it was part of its dream. And when I defeated the monsters, I woke the Windfish, and the dream faded away.”

“I … I don’t know what to say.”

“Yeah, well, there isn’t much to say,” Legend said. “It sucked back then, and it still sucks now.”

“I’m sorry that happened to you,” Warriors said.

Legend laughed bitterly, a sharp contrast to his earlier glee. “Wasn’t your fault.”

“I’m still sorry it happened.”

Legend curled tighter around his knees and hissed in pain when he accidentally jostled the wound.

“The worst part was that it felt real. It’s been difficult for me to … trust my senses ever since.”

Warriors frowned, feeling more than a little alarmed at the sound of that.

“How so?”

“It isn’t as bad as it used to be anymore,” Legend said, “but sometimes I doubt if what I’m seeing is real. It’s been bad today, since the whole shipwreck-thing was exactly how it started last time.”

“Has it happened while we’ve been travelling together?” Warriors asked. “And how do you deal with it?”

Legend shrugged. “Happens every once in a while. Usually, I just find my ocarina and play The Ballad of The Windfish. And if nothing happens, then I know I’m not dreaming.”

“You know you can always come get me if you need company when it happens, right?”

Legend gave a small smile. “Yeah, I know, Cap. Thanks.”

Legend leaned back against his uninjured arm and looked at the sky. It was growing darker, the awful day finally over. High above them, a few stars were coming into view.

“‘And verily, it be the nature of dreams to end.’ That’s what the fucker told me right after the island disappeared,” he said. “The Windfish, I mean.  And after everything I’ve seen on my adventures, I’m inclined to agree with it.”

Warriors put a careful hand on Legend’s shoulder. When the vet didn’t draw away, he put his arm around him. After a moment’s hesitation, Legend let his head rest on his brother’s shoulder. The physical contact was slightly awkward, since neither of them were that comfortable with touch, but Warriors found it was nice to sit like this. He should cherish all the moments he had with his brothers. Who knew how long they had left together, how long before the dream faded away?

So, Legend and Warriors stayed by the small campfire for the rest of the night. He removed Legend’s tourniquet and tended to the wound as best as he could without more supplies. The blood flow had mostly stopped, and it looked like the only permanent mark from the injury would be a wicked scar. After a day of disasters, it felt like a miracle to Warriors that at least one thing was going well. They spent the evening quietly trading stories from their adventures, both good and bad.

After Legend had fallen asleep, Warriors sat by the fire, watching the night around him. He had gotten first watch, and with only two people, it would be many hours before he needed to wake Legend for second. It was while he sat, watching his brother sleep peacefully, that he realized how close he’d truly grown to the other man. There were very few people in his life he felt comfortable sharing his trauma with, but somehow Legend had become one of them. It felt good to tell the vet about the war.

Warriors smiled. It was impossible to know what the new day would bring; they had almost no supplies and weapons, and they were still trapped on an unknown island. They would have to search for the Chain again tomorrow. But right now, they were okay. They had gotten through it. And if Warriors trusted anyone to have his back through all of this, it was his brother.

[aftgficrec]

ah I'm so excited you're open!!! thank you for the ridiculous amount of work you all do 🙏ok, this might be too specific but any fics with an alternate take on Andrew and Neil's post-trk reunion? Andrew gets out of easthaven early, Neil leaves the Nest later, AU's, etc.? i think it's a really interesting point in their dynamic, and I'm a sucker for sober Andrew realizing someone was watching his back for once

Feeling a bit like a Bernie Sanders’ meme – ‘I am once again asking myself why I spent so much time on an ask,’ 😅 but it's because this is such an iconic and beloved scene for our fandom. For a super fun ‘live’ first-time reader reaction to this high drama, check out ‘The King’s Men, Chapter 1 – Hello Foxhole, My Old Friend’ by @nickireadstfc here. -A

also see

Andrew's POV of throwing keys off roof here

‘Come and Save Me From It’ here (completed)

‘Learning To Feel (When You've Forgotten How)’ and the fandom meta posts here

‘pipedream’ here

‘reaching for the heights’ here

‘Lost boy’ and ‘[Un]broken’ here

‘I Know You From A Nightmare,’ ‘The Marks We Make,’ and ‘Draw Me Out, Mark Me In’ here

‘Marked’ and ‘Soulmates who can feel each other’s pain’ here

‘Of Stars and Stories’ here

‘What’s normal now?’ here

long previous recs with reunion mention

‘No More Fucks To Give’ here (updated)

‘The Sphynx and the Hare’ here (completed)

‘corvus, vulpes, lupus’ here

‘never fallen (from quite this high)’ here

‘Not a Pipe Dream’ here

‘everything and nothing begins with you’ here

Andrew gets sober, Neil stays at Evermore

‘Oh Raven,’ ‘Jailbird,’ and ‘Take to the Wing’ here

‘Scared to Live (But I'm Scared to Die)’ here 

 ‘Comeback’ here

you may also like

Christmas at Evermore here plus song rec ‘Far From Home (The Raven)’ here

Proust here plus ‘if you really love nothing’ here

Neil’s a hallucination here

Andreil meet in Easthaven here

‘just a slow body’ here

‘Will you be there when I come back?’ here

‘Here With You’ here (complete)

‘i'm here right now (just be here right now with me)’ here 

‘We're All Stories In The End’ here

‘Spirits In My Head’ here 

‘Fold me in your palms’ here

‘The Raven Prince’ here

‘Thanks, Matty’ here

‘Lullaby’ here

Random Rec - Andrew Minyard playlists round up here

Just a Pipe Dream by loveroulettes [Rated T, 2781 Words, Complete, AFTG Exchange Summer 2021, Locked]

Andrew thought coming off drugs will get rid of all side-effects, so why is Neil still here? AKA the scene where Neil picks up the cigarette from the ground and smokes it, but from Andrew’s POV

tw: implied/referenced abuse

reckless/i like it by Willow_bird [Rated M, 27259 Words, Complete, AFTG Mixtape Exchange 2022]

One thing didn’t seem to have changed since getting off the drugs. One thing almost seemed to have gotten worse. ”The next time someone comes for you, stand down and let me deal with it. Do you understand?” “If it means losing you, then no.” --- 5 times Andrew realized this something he had for Neil was, well, treacherous + 1 time he admitted (at least to himself) that he liked it

tw: violence, tw: implied/referenced rape/noncon, tw: implied/referenced csa, tw: kidnapping, tw: choking, tw: implied/referenced torture

In the rain by Lyndis [Rated G, 1147 Words, Complete, 2021]

Part 2 of Quick and Dirty, parts 3 and 15 here

Andrew is off his drugs for the first time in years. No one knows he is back from Easthaven and he just wants to see Neil.

Time Machine by Marquee [Rated G, 137 Words, Complete, 2023]

Part 4 of Aftg Poetry

Andrew wanting to kiss Neil on the roof, but he isn’t sure he should. But like a poem?? Yeah.

Tumblr Prompts by lipsstainedbloodred [Not Rated, Collection, 2018] 

Chapter 13: Page 12: What if Neil didn’t go with the monsters to pick up Andrew from Easthaven (Andreil) [T, 2434 Words] 

tw: implied/referenced torture, tw: implied/referenced sexual assault

his solace by orphan_account [Rated M, 2292 Words, Complete, 2016]

Andrew’s first thought of Neil Josten was ‘fake’. He was a boy who was clearly lying, clearly pretending to be something he wasn’t; or at least, something he didn’t want to be. Andrew’s next thought of Neil Josten was ‘dangerous’. He was too attractive for Andrew to ignore, whilst single-handedly being the biggest flight risk he’d ever met. Neil looked for exits everywhere he went, and Andrew hated him for it.

tw: implied/referenced rape/noncon, tw: implied/referenced csa, tw: implied/referenced torture, tw: violence

Silent Words by Jeni182 [Rated M, Collection, Complete, 2018]

Chapter 2: Colors [T] Andrew hates color. It’s part of the reason why he’s always in black. It’s just easier. The color doesn’t make his eyes hurt. He doesn’t have to think about shit matching. It deters people, a lot of times.

When You Were Young by SpookyMiscreant [Rated T, 1831 Words, Complete, 2017]

It starts when the monsters pick up Andrew from Easthaven. Andrew sits on the roof of Fox Tower and contemplates Neil Josten now that he's sober. Set to the background music of When You Were Young by The Killers.

tw: implied/referenced torture, tw: implied/referenced rape/noncon, tw: implied referenced child abuse and neglect

this hole you put in me (wasn't deep enough) by gaygoyle [Rated T, 3368 Words, Complete, 2023]

Neil blames himself for not doing more for Andrew while he's at Easthaven. So, Neil returns the one thing he knows even with his ban- Exy.

tw: implied/referenced torture, tw: implied/referenced rape/noncon

Shades of Sunset by darkbluebox [Rated T, 1885 Words, Complete, 2020]

Andrew is five years old, and he thinks orange is the most beautiful colour in the world. Twenty years in the life of Andrew Minyard.

tw: implied/referenced child abuse, tw: implied/referenced csa

Tell Me How You Hate Me by Killingmeslowly_24 [Rated T, 30532 Words, Incomplete, Updated June 2023]

Next to Kevin sat a man who was roughly Neil-shaped, but that was where the similarities ended. Because Neil was brown hair, wide eyes, and a skittish demeanor. Neil was hidden smiles and questions and questions, so many goddamn questions, and- No. This wasn’t Neil. This man was a collage of bandages and bruises, hair bathed in flame. This man was a slack jaw and blue eyes, blue like ice, like an ocean, like drowning, too much like freedom for Andrew’s comfort. ... Or, The King's Men from Andrew's POV

tw: implied/referenced rape/noncon, tw: implied/referenced csa, tw: implied/referenced self harm, tw: implied/referenced abuse, tw: violence, tw: dissociation, tw: suicidal thoughts, tw: depression, tw: blood, tw: panic attacks

Bury it deep down, keep it under your skin by All_for_the_andreil [Rated T, 2123 Words, Complete, 2023]

He only wants to jump off the roof half the time. He supposes that’s progress too. The other half he’s only thinking about it in theory. How many bones would he break? Would he die on impact, like his mother did, or would it take some time? Would he feel the pain, or would it be just pure shock? Would he laugh as he fell? -or- Andrew's life told in snippets

tw: implied/referenced rape/noncon, tw: suicidal thoughts, tw: canonical character death

Promptober 2023 by djinthehouse [Rated T, Collection, Updated Oct 2023]

Chapter 2: Falling into his reverse based on the song, The drug in me is you, by Falling in reverse

tw: referenced drug overdose, tw: canonical character death, tw: implied/referenced drug addiction, tw: violence, tw: implied/referenced rape/noncon, tw: psychological abuse, tw: gun violence, tw: murder

Chapter 4: Weak for the Boy This is based of the song, Weak by AJR it is kind of the opposite of Falling into his Reverse. 

tw: referenced nonconsensual drug use, tw: violence, tw: implied/referenced rape/noncon, tw: blood, tw: psychological abuse

drop the game by Joana789 [Rated T, 1647 Words, Complete, 2017]

Then, the pills are gone. The buzzing in his veins is gone. The too-bright colors of the world are gone, everything back to its overwhelming dullness again. Neil Josten is, startlingly, still there.

tw: implied/referenced torture

but i’ll know, i’ll know by neilpipedreamjosten10 [Rated T, 2709 Words, Incomplete, Updated Nov 2023]

After Andrew comes back from Easthaven, Neil is missing, and Andrew is the only one who remembers who he is. But Neil never left Edgar Allen. *** This takes place during TKM, a what-if? fic where Andrew returns and finds that Neil was like a figment of his imagination, but now he has to save the runaway.

tw: graphic depictions of violence, tw: referenced overdose, tw: referenced suicide, tw: nonconsensual drug use, tw: implied/referenced rape/noncon, tw: torture

Lost (I Don’t Want To Be) by Demiwitchwoodwalker [Rated T, 4564 Words, Complete, 2022]

Part 2 of Someone(s) To Stay 

Kevin didn't respond, couldn't, and he suspected Riko knew that as his next words oozed with some sort of satisfaction. "I thought I'd give you a bit of a heads up, as a… let's say Christmas present. Your precious Nathaniel's getting inked. It's a shame Jean already got three, it would've suited the little Wesninski."

tw: violence, tw: implied/referenced abuse, tw: panic attacks

NB: kandrew/developing kandreil

meta

*tw: may include references to Andrew’s canon trauma and suicidal thoughts

Andrew's time at Easthaven meta by series author @korakos [Tumblr, 2015]

Neil didn’t make Andrew want to live. He gave Andrew a reason to give into that want. meta by @haletostilinski [Tumblr, 2016]

The Extraordinary Strength of Andrew Minyard meta by @imaginedmelody [Tumblr, 2016]

the drugs went away and neil was still the same meta by @miniyrds [Tumblr 2016]

after they pick Andrew up at Easthaven meta by @evil-diabolical-oops [Tumblr, 2016]

andrew hates neil meta by @kickfoxing [Tumblr, 2017]

can you imagine Andrew coming back from reliving weeks of abuse… meta by @boris-pavlikcvsky [Tumblr 2017]

Midnight Thoughts about Andreil meta by @saltierthanbottomofapretzelbag [Tumblr, 2018]

Was "If it means losing you, then no" the final nail in the coffin? meta by @blogaboutyafavbirdboys [Tumblr, 2019]

meta about andrew and caring and wanting things by @sinistercacophony [Tumblr, 2020]

thoughts/feelings/deeper meaning of the (rooftop keys/cigarette) scene? meta by @bloody-wonder [Tumblr, 2020]

andrew thinking that neil was just a side-effect of the drugs meta by @twirlingflurry, @buriedinbaltimore [Tumblr 2021]

how utterly, heartbreakingly sad it is that Andrew calls Neil a pipe dream meta by @fortheloveofexy [Tumblr, 2022]

“You were supposed to be a side-effect of the drugs” meta by @sepulchralblues [Tumblr, 2023]

he cannot be real, he has to be a hallucination meta by @neveranniething [Tumblr, 2023]

neil just gives andrew his bands and knives meta by @grooviestguru [Tumblr, 2023]

you may also like

in the dream I don't tell anyone (you put your head in my lap) by Fortheloveofexy [Rated T, 1850 Words, Complete, 2022, Locked]

The real Neil would never allow this, would not let himself be this vulnerable. The real Neil can barely stand to be around him. Andrew knows this. But Dream Neil? Dream Neil is a different story.

Will you be there when I come back? by Shamman [Not Rated, 299 Words, Complete, 2017]

Andrew is trapped in Easthaven with an eidetic memory and tries to focus his thoughts on the confusing image of Neil Josten's face. -Because however terrible it may look, Andrew's current circumstances are much less pleasant. Furthermore Bee has been making him sing and play the guitar in a very therapeutic attempt to make him express some sort of actual emotion over the past year.

tw: violent imagery

You Gave Me A Key And Called It Home by glintchi [Rated T, Collection, Complete, 2019]

Chapter 19: Yes, I Admit It, You Were Right [460 Words] Renee was waiting for him in the basement, fingers already taped, hair pulled back into a tuft of a rainbow ponytail.

Foxhole Tidbits by SpangleBangle [Collection Rated T/M, Updated  2018] 

Chapter 14: My Friend, O My Friend [M, 953 Words]  Prompt for Renee's reaction after Drake/Easthaven and Andrew's return.

tw: implied/referenced rape/noncon, tw: implied/referenced csa, tw: canonical character death

Did You Miss Me? by Deathandcommas [Rated G, 555 Words, Complete, 2023, Locked]

Aaron and Andrew have a late night chat after Andrew gets back from Easthaven.

tfw spoons by StrawBerryRains [Rated G, 216 Words, Complete, 2021]

Nicky offers Andrew ice cream when they arrive home from Easthaven.

A Taste of Your Own Medicine by caffeine_withdrawl [Rated M, 66454 Words, Incomplete, Updated March 2023]

Set after the infamous Thanksgiving, but then diverges from canon. Andrew and Bee decide it’s time for Andrew to come off the drugs, but works some magic so that he is allowed to do it in Columbia. Neil is tasked with helping him through it. They decide to do it the same way Andrew helped Aaron sober up, by locking him in a bathroom. Andrew doesn't react well, and switches between rage and panic. Andrew wonders if Neil is real or if he made him up because of the drugs.

tw: graphic depictions of violence, tw: body horror, tw: implied/referenced rape/noncon, tw: implied/referenced csa, tw: flashbacks, tw: implied/referenced abuse, tw: drug addiction, tw: withdrawal, tw: vomit, tw: implied/referenced self harm, tw: ptsd, tw: emotional abuse, tw: hallucinations

making it harder to breathe by Azure_Allumiia [Rated T, 1643 Words, Complete, 2021]

Christmas Break with the Foxes, featuring Andrew at Easthaven and Neil in Evermore. Foxes celebrate New Years in NYC with the ball drop.

tw: graphic depictions of violence, tw: rape/noncon, tw: medical abuse, tw: torture, tw: blood

Dead Birds by Noah98 [Rated G, 1601 Words, Complete, 2021, Locked]

Neil just got back from Evermore and Andrew has returned from Easthaven. Riko calls. He wants a rematch and oh boy does he get it.

tw: violence, tw: blood/gore

Art

NB: just a sampling of art for this scene

“Feel Again” original song by @whatbutandreil [Tumblr, 2020]

Picking up Andrew from Easthaven part 1, part 2 comic by @coldcigarettes

andreil keys off the roof scene: animation by @hahanken | comic by @rainbowd00dles | comic by @lunapiq | art by @esklinray

I hate you comic by @thematicallycoherent

I’m not a hallucination art by @clumsyartish

Stick around long enough to figure it out for yourself. edit by @m1nyards

You are a pipe dream art by @viennemort

“you spend all this time watching our backs” edit by @matthcwboyd

not a hallucination a pipe dream art by @kryptidfox

“you were supposed to be a side effect of the drugs.” art by @planetmontressor

"Go inside and leave me alone." art by @dimsunstuff

“No, you’re a pipe dream.” art by @starkingdraws

[ao3sbatfamily]

Fic recs of where batfam discovers tims kill count?

I picked this one 'cause I love the idea of Jason and Tim murder bonding back when he feels the most invisible.

'Fallen' by HeroesCoCoPop_04

Author: @cocopop-04

“Find something?” he asked, as if it was obvious what he had meant.

“Yeah,” Tim said dryly. “That 'something' slammed my head into a wall and threatened to kill me.” Tim delighted in the way Jason froze with shock – served him right for interrupting him so much. “And so, in return I shoved a blade through his throat.”

Jason whistled. “Damn. And that was it?” he asked.

Tim looked at him, incredulous. “No. A couple months later - ”

“Wait, wait, wait. You've killed more than once? How many people?” Jason interrupted him to ask. Tim seriously thought he’d known there was more than one – someone who had killed once as a ten-year-old wouldn’t act so nonchalantly about killing again, more than five years later. You had to be a repeat offender to be as blasé as Tim was.

“Four - well, five now,” Tim amended.

Jason looked him in the eye. “Well shit, kid. Do tell.”