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bradshawsbaby · 2 years ago

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Si Vis Amari Ama

III. A Gladiator��s Oath

SERIES MASTERLIST

Pairings: Rooster (Roman Name: Gallus) x Female Reader (Roman Name: Sabina), featuring Hangman (Roman Name: Carnifex) x Phoenix

Summary: A girl whose freedom was stolen to pay her father’s debts. A gladiator enslaved for the entertainment of Rome. A love they never thought possible.

Author’s Note: We finally get to meet the rest of the gladiators! As previously mentioned, all of the TGM characters have been given Latinized names to fit with the time period of the story. Check out A Roman Guide to the Daggers (which is also pinned on the series masterlist) as a cheat sheet if you ever get confused!

Word Count: 8.2k

Warnings: Slavery in the ancient world, mentions of physical abuse, gladiatorial training/combat, discussion of minor injuries, brief language, tension/pining, alternating point of view.

“Gallus, duck!”

The echoes of harsh grunts and heavy breathing filled the air, the unrelenting thwacks of wood on wood reverberating across the open grounds of the training arena as bruised and battered men sparred with their practice swords.

You couldn’t help but glance up at the sound of his name, your eyes drifting past the other dueling gladiators until they landed on the familiar figure at the center of the main ring. He was in the middle of a heated bout with one of Dominus’ other prized champions, the two of them glaring at each other with an intensity that spoke of a rivalry that ran deeper than just friendly competition.

The advice Gallus had been given had evidently been sound, as the other man was swinging at him with his heavy shield, aiming straight for his head. You could feel your heart in your throat for a moment, but Gallus quickly parried with his sword and jumped backwards out of the reach of his opponent.

“He almost had you. You’ve got to be quicker than that,” the dark-haired man shouted, the one who was standing at the head of the training grounds, feet planted firmly on the ground and muscular arms folded tightly across his chest. He was older, probably around the same age as Titus, and from what you had gathered, he was in charge of training and conditioning the gladiators at the ludus.

Gallus only glared in response, his mouth turning down in irritation as he lunged at his fellow gladiator, the two of them engaging in the brutal power struggle once more.

At the sound of Phoenix clearing her throat beside you, you spun back around to the task before you, feeling warmth rise to your cheeks.

“Enjoying the show?” she teased, smirking knowingly as she wrung out the tunic in her hands with a forceful twist. “There are many in Rome who would envy you, you know. Getting to see all this, up close and personal. And for free, too,” she added with a laugh, blowing a loose strand of dark hair out of her eyes.

Your cheeks were positively burning now as you dropped your gaze to the basin in front of you and reached for another piece of dirty laundry to scrub clean. “Oh, no, I was just—well—I’ve never actually seen a gladiator fight before. I was just a little curious,” you admitted sheepishly, carefully running the bar of salt that was burning your palm over the filthy tunic you’d just lifted from the pile of dirty linens that you and Phoenix had collected earlier.

Phoenix’s hands stilled as she sat up straighter and looked at you with wide eyes, clearly shocked. You weren’t sure you had ever seen Phoenix surprised before in all these months you’d known her.

“Aren’t you Roman by birth?” she questioned, arching a dark brow curiously.

“Yes,” you murmured in response, feeling almost embarrassed of your heritage. Your people—if you could even still call them that—were the ones who had stolen your friend from her homeland and sold her into a life of slavery.

“And you’ve never seen a gladiator match before?” she demanded, as if she simply couldn’t believe something so outlandish could be true.

You sighed, brushing a bead of sweat off your forehead with the back of your hand. “Well I was only a child when I—my parents never took me—and neither did any of my masters. I’ve never even stepped foot inside the Colosseum,” you confessed, scrubbing at the laundry until you felt your fingertips would bleed.

“Hm,” Phoenix murmured thoughtfully, shaking her head before getting back to work herself.

“Have you? Ever been to the Colosseum, I mean?” you asked curiously. Though the two of you were around the same age, you felt that Phoenix had a sort of worldliness that you didn’t possess. You trusted her to explain things to you that you’d never experienced yourself, or didn’t understand.

She nodded, sitting back on her heels as she bent over her work. She draped the tunic she’d been wringing out over the edge of her basin as she pressed a fist into her lower back, deftly massaging the ache that throbbed there. “A few times. My last dominus would take his wife and daughters to the games sometimes, so I’d accompany them. And I’ve been there a couple times with Domina,” she added, doing her best to refrain from rolling her eyes at the mention of your mistress. “But we never stay long. She always complains of the heat.”

“I’ve only ever seen it from the outside. Are the games as grand as everyone makes them out to be?” you wondered, sitting back on your heels as well and taking a moment’s respite.

“They can be,” Phoenix nodded, tossing her long braid over her shoulder. “It depends on who’s hosting the games, and how much they’re willing to invest. Those who want to worm their way into Caesar’s good graces usually pay for at least a week’s worth of games, sometimes with exotic animals and chariot races. The crowds go wild. You’ve never seen a place so packed with people in all your life.”

You shuddered slightly, your skin crawling at the mere thought of it. Maybe you wouldn’t like the Colosseum so much after all.

Just as you were about to ask Phoenix to tell you more about the games, however, you heard a familiar voice from behind you.

“Hey, you two, back to work!”

Titus’ jovial face suddenly came into view, the old medicus circling around the two of you until he was planted in front of your wash basins, grinning down at you.

“All we do is work, old man. Our fingers might just fall off soon, and then where would that leave you?” Phoenix joked, lifting yet another wet garment to wring out.

“Hopelessly lost, that’s where,” Titus winked. “They’ve got you on laundry duty, eh? Tough break, my girls. I’ve never met men who stink so badly in my entire life,” he said, wrinkling his nose as he gazed across the training grounds at the pairs upon pairs of fighters.

“We’ve dealt with worse,” Phoenix said nonchalantly, shrugging her shoulders as she glanced over at you.

“Ah, I see,” Titus nodded, eyes twinkling as his focus shifted towards your face. “Is that right, Sabina?”

You looked up and met his kind eyes, those eyes that seemed to look within and know you in a way you didn’t understand. You smiled, though it didn’t quite reach your eyes. “It’s no trouble,” you answered him, picking up the bar of salt once more.

“You didn’t answer my question,” Titus responded, though there was no judgment or condemnation in his tone. He simply continued to look at you for a moment, a curious tilt to his head, before his smile returned in full force. “But I won’t pry, especially considering how kind you’ve been to help me around here.”

In the past couple weeks since you’d assisted Titus in caring for Gallus, you’d been tasked with more duties around the ludus. You had a feeling it had something to do with a private conversation the medicus had had with Dominus. In addition to your chores around the villa, you were now also responsible for tasks such as cleaning the gladiators’ cells while they were out training, delivering meals to the men, and tending to any injuries—and there were many of them. Occasionally, on days like today when the laundry wasn’t being sent out to the fuller, you and Phoenix were responsible for that as well.

Domina had not been happy when your master had first brought up your new assignment.

“I need her here in the house with me. That Greek slut assists Titus enough as it is. Take one of the other girls if he needs someone else. That fat cow from the kitchens. Oh, what’s her name? Flavia! He can have her,” Aurelia had pouted, tossing her dark blonde locks over her shoulder.

“He asked for Sabina, and Sabina is who he shall have,” Dominus countered evenly, taking a long sip of his wine. He didn’t even look up from his cup as he spoke to his wife.

You stood before your masters with your head lowered and your hands clasped in front of you, trembling slightly. You wished more than anything that they would just dismiss you.

“But I told you—”

“Enough, Aurelia!” Atticus suddenly barked, slamming his hand down on the low dining table.

You and your mistress both jumped.

“There are plenty of slaves in this household who can braid your hair and paint your face,” your master snapped, waving away the slave who approached to refill his cup. “But there are very few who Titus trusts with the care of my gladiators, and so if he says this girl is needed, then she is needed. And that is where she shall go.” Atticus stood suddenly and towered over his wife, who lifted her head to look up at him. “Do not forget who is the head of this household,” he ground out through gritted teeth before turning on his heel and stalking out of the room.

Aurelia sat silently on her dining couch for a moment, stunned into a rare state of speechlessness. Dominus rarely spoke to her so harshly, and he rarely refused to give in to her demands, so it was clear she was reeling.

But only for a moment.

When she turned her head to look at you, her dark eyes narrowed sharply. Rising gracefully, as was her way, she adjusted her stola, her bracelets clinking along her slender wrists.

“Look at me,” she demanded coldly, grabbing roughly at your chin until you obeyed and lifted your eyes.

“I don’t know what game you think you’re playing here, but I see right through you. Don’t think I don’t,” she whispered, her voice edged with something dangerous.

“Domina, I’m not—”

Her slap hit you like a clap of thunder, the sound of it bouncing around the room until it rang in your ears. You resisted the urge to step back and cup your face, knowing it would only make her angrier, although you couldn’t stop the tears that sprung to your eyes unbidden.

“I did not ask you to speak!” Aurelia snapped, adjusting her rings as though irritated you had disturbed them. “If my husband commands you to go work in the ludus, then there isn’t much I can do about that. But know this,” she muttered, stepping closer to you and grabbing your wrist so tightly that you almost cried out in pain. “If the day comes when you grow swollen with the bastard of a savage, I will throw you out of this household faster than you can cry for mercy. So I’d keep those legs closed if I were you.”

You did your best to swallow back your tears as you gazed up into the cold eyes of your domina, the pain in your wrist shooting up to your elbow as she twisted cruelly.

She smiled. “Do I make myself clear?”

“Yes, Domina,” you nodded meekly, nearly gasping in relief when she finally released you.

“Get out of my sight,” Aurelia dismissed you with a careless flick of her hand, tossing herself back onto her dining couch and calling out to the other slaves to fetch her something to eat.

“She’s a miserable bitch,” Phoenix muttered later, after you had told her what happened. The two of you were sitting alone at the end of the table in the corner of the kitchen, Phoenix carefully examining your bruised wrist.

“Phoenix,” you whispered frantically, gazing over both shoulders. “You shouldn’t say such a thing.”

Your friend waved her hand in the air, a look of defiance flashing across her face. “Oh, what worse can they do to me? And besides, she is.”

“I don’t understand why she’s so upset,” you sighed, tears pricking your eyes once more as you thought of her violent treatment earlier. “And what she said—I have no intention of—”

“Of course you don’t,” Phoenix said in a soothing voice, resting her hands over yours and squeezing gently. “Ignore her. She’s just projecting her own fears onto you.”

You cocked your head in confusion, looking at your friend. “What do you mean?”

Phoenix looked back at you, startled, and then started laughing. “Oh, my sweet friend,” she murmured, lifting your hand and kissing it in a sisterly fashion. “You truly are too good for this awful world. Are you telling me you’ve been in this household for nearly three months and you really don’t know?”

“Know what?” you blinked, beyond perplexed at this point.

Sighing softly, it was now Phoenix’s turn to glance over her shoulders. Satisfied that no one was around to eavesdrop, she leaned in closer. “Aurelia has quite the taste for those savages she supposedly loathes so much,” she whispered, lifting her eyebrows pointedly.

It took a moment for the pieces to connect in your mind, but then your eyes widened. “You mean Domina is—”

Phoenix nodded, covering your mouth with her hand. “She might consider them barbarians, but she certainly can’t get enough of them in her bed. I can only imagine how terrified she is that one of them is finally going to get her with child.”

You blanched at that, your jaw falling open in shock once Phoenix released you. “D-does Dominus know?”

“He’s not a stupid man,” Phoenix shrugged. “Everybody else knows, so why wouldn’t he? But he turns a blind eye. You know how he is. He pretty much lets her have whatever she wants,” she muttered. “Except,” she emphasized, “his Pugiones.”

Pugiones, you had come to learn, was the nickname Atticus used for his champion gladiators—of which Gallus was the foremost. You weren’t sure why, but it suddenly made you feel less sick to think that your mistress hadn’t gotten her claws into him.

“So she hasn’t—?”

Phoenix shook her head. “As far as I know, she only sleeps with the newer recruits, the ones Atticus doesn’t care as much about. He puts all his money and attention into his stars. They’re the only ones that are off limits.”

“How many gladiators does he own?” you asked, realizing you didn’t even know.

She thought about that for a minute. “It’s hard to keep track. We lose some, and then we get some more. But I think at last count, we were up to thirty.”

Your eyes widened at that. You hadn’t realized it was so many. Besides Gallus, you’d really only ever seen a couple others, and only from a distance.

“You’ll get to know them when you start helping me and Titus,” Phoenix said, as if she had read your mind. She hesitated a moment, then added, “Just don’t get too attached. There are many who don’t come back.”

It had only been two weeks, and your friend’s warning had already proven to be true. As you began assisting with the medical care of the men, you spent much of your time among the newer recruits, the men Dominus had only recently acquired, who lacked the skills and training necessary to fight without badly injuring themselves. When they left for their bouts in local arenas or the Colosseum, many of them did not return. But Dominus always refilled the ranks with more, determined to build an elite army of gladiators.

You didn’t see much of the Pugiones. As seasoned as they were, they didn’t injure themselves quite as often, and Titus and Phoenix usually managed any issues that they had. There had been a few instances where you’d felt their eyes on you, but you always kept your gaze averted and avoided them at all costs. You didn’t want any problems with Domina.

Today, however, as you watched them all fight, you realized that you didn’t know much about them at all. You didn’t even know most of their names. Phoenix had said it was often better that way, but it seemed that you should at least know the Pugiones. After all, they were the champions. They always returned.

After speaking to you and Phoenix for a few more moments, Titus turned and began walking around the perimeter of the training arena, watching a few of the men in particular with those careful eyes of his.

That’s when you turned to look at Phoenix, dropping the tunic you’d been scrubbing into the basin. “Would you mind telling me a little bit about them?” you asked, nodding your head in the direction of the stars of the ludus. “I feel like I should know something, especially if they’re the most popular gladiators in Rome,” you added, a small smile tugging at the corners of your lips.

Phoenix smirked, standing up slowly and stretching her arms over her head. “Oh, alright. I’ve known those idiots for quite a while, so I suppose I can tell you a little bit about them,” she grinned, taking your hand and pulling you up beside her. “Come, let’s act like we’re going to hang some of these linens up to dry,” she said, handing you an armful of damp clothing.

As the two of you walked, you passed by one gladiator who was practicing sharp thrusts with a long, pointed sword. You’d learned that when it came to simple practice bouts, the men used wooden swords. Perhaps they had become too elite, and Atticus feared arming them in his own home.

“That’s Caius,” Phoenix whispered, glancing briefly in his direction. “He grew up in Egypt. He can’t even remember where he was actually born, but he’s been a slave most of his life. See the long shield he carries? He fights as a Secutor.”

You nodded to show your understanding, trying not to stare too long. He was handsome, now that you could see him up close, with a strong jaw and a focused gaze.

Next up was a tall, lean gladiator with skin like ebony whose size belied the gracefulness of his movements. His shield was similar in shape to Caius’, but slightly smaller.

“Pollux,” Phoenix whispered. “They often call him ‘The African.’ I know you wouldn’t think it to look at him, especially now, but he’s one of the funniest people I know. He’s a Murmillo. Similar to the Secutor, but you can see his shield is a little smaller.” She stopped a moment to adjust the pile of wet tunics in her arms. “Sometimes he gets paired to fight with Felix,” she explained, nodding her head in the direction of the gladiator practicing beside him.

Your eyes landed on the shorter man, with tan skin and a head full of riotous black curls.

“Why doesn’t he fight with a sword like the others?” you asked quietly, noting the trident and net that Felix held in his hands instead of a sword and shield.

“Felix is a Retiarius,” Phoenix told you, keeping her voice low as the two of you continued to walk. “He fights with the trident and net, as you can see, and very little armor. The Retiarius is popular in the arena, but he has to be skilled to survive. Felix is the best there is of his class.”

You and Phoenix stopped short when you came closer to the main ring, where Gallus and his light haired opponent were still battling one another.

“I believe you’re already acquainted with Gallus,” Phoenix murmured with a sideways glance, chuckling under her breath.

Embarrassed, you glanced down at your feet for a moment. Your attention was drawn back upwards, however, at the sound of the men’s loud grunts.

“And who is that?” you questioned quietly, looking intently at the man that Gallus had been pitted against. From what you could see, they were almost evenly matched in skill and ability.

Something flashed briefly in Phoenix’s eyes, but she quickly scoffed and shook her head. “They call him Carnifex. He lives for the attention the crowds shower on him,” she replied, rolling her eyes. “He’s smug and arrogant and hates the fact that the crowds love Gallus just a little bit more than they love him,” she went on. You noticed that she hadn’t taken her eyes off him, even as she complained about him. “He’s a Murmillo, like Pollux. From Gaul originally. They tried to execute him there, but even the hangman could not kill him. That’s how they gave him his name.”

“And their trainer?” You glanced over at the older dark-haired man, the one who was still watching Gallus and Carnifex with the eyes of a hawk.

“Magnus,” Phoenix stated. “He’s a Rudiarius. He used to be a gladiator—one of the best, in fact. So good that he finally earned his freedom. Now Atticus pays him to train his men and make them the best of the best. He does a good job of it, too.”

The two of you stood quietly for a moment, listening to Magnus bark out orders, which Gallus seemed particularly resistant to.

“Magnus fought in the Thracian style,” Phoenix explained, glancing over at you. “It’s the same style Gallus fights in now, so he’s particularly hard on him,” she said, her voice softening slightly as she looked over at her friend.

You glanced between Phoenix and Gallus for a moment, and couldn’t explain the sudden lump that formed in your throat. Unbidden, the memory returned of Gallus demanding to know where Phoenix was when you’d gone with Titus to patch him up.

“You and Gallus—I mean, it’s none of my business, of course, but the two of you seem very close,” you stammered, suddenly feeling a bit foolish. “Are you—?”

“Me and Gallus?” Phoenix asked, throwing her head back with a laugh. “No, no, no. Nothing like that. He’s like a brother to me, nothing more,” she assured you. “He and I have known each other a long time, that’s all. We’re comfortable with each other.” She turned to look at you. “We belonged to the same household before we got sold here, so we look out for each other, you know? The same way I look out for you now,” she smiled, slinging an arm around your shoulders.

You smiled in return, feeling an odd wash of relief.

“He and Carnifex really seem to be going for each other’s throats,” you murmured, your eyes widening as you watched the two of them lunge back and forth, their half naked bodies glistening with sweat in the midmorning sun.

Phoenix sighed, nodding. “Old rivalries don’t really die,” she said under her breath.

You blinked in confusion. “But they’re from the same ludus. Surely they don’t actually fight each other?”

“Not now,” Phoenix agreed, pursing her lips. “But Carnifex didn’t always belong to this ludus. When he and Gallus were first starting out, first making names for themselves, they used to get pitted against each other all the time. I think there’s a part of them that can’t really let that go, even now.”

The both of them seemed to be tiring out now, their breathing growing more labored as their swords and shields clashed. You realized, looking at them and all the many scars that littered their bodies, that these were men who had been pushed long past the point of human endurance. They’d been forced to fight and fight and fight for so long that they didn’t even know how to stop anymore.

Suddenly, however, with a move so swift your eyes nearly missed it, Carnifex knocked the shield from Gallus’ grasp and dropped him to the ground, the larger man grunting as he landed on his scarred shoulder.

“You’re getting slow in your old age, Gallus,” Carnifex smirked, standing above him triumphantly with a smug expression on his admittedly handsome face.

From his spot on the ground, Gallus glared up at him, his dark eyes stormy and filled with barely suppressed rage. Lightning quick, his leg shot out and swiped at Carnifex’s feet, knocking him onto his back.

“And you’re getting complacent in yours,” Gallus shot back coldly, the tip of his wooden sword planted into the sand, mere centimeters from Carnifex’s face, as he pressed his knee into his chest.

“Alright, that’s enough for today, you two,” Magnus called out, lifting his hands up into the air. “That’s enough.”

Gallus and Carnifex both rose from the ground with quiet groans, neither looking at the other as they separated.

Magnus slowly approached Gallus, looking up at the larger man as he began speaking. “Gallus, that was good work out there today, but you need to—”

You watched in surprise as, without even looking at his trainer, Gallus pushed past him with a frown and stomped off to the trough to get some water. Gaze slipping back in Magnus’ direction, expecting him to scold or punish Gallus for his insolence, you were even more surprised to instead see a flash of hurt cross his face before he turned away and began talking to the other gladiators.

“What was that?” you asked Phoenix, your curiosity piqued despite yourself.

“I have no idea,” Phoenix told you, lifting her shoulders as if in surrender. “Something happened there, but no one knows what. They used to get along just fine, and then one day it was as if Gallus couldn’t even stand to be in the same room as Magnus. But he won’t talk about it, and I won’t push.”

You nodded, accepting her response and leaving it at that. If even Phoenix didn’t know what the problem was between Gallus and his trainer, then it certainly wasn’t your business.

“Ladies,” Titus called out to the two of you, approaching quickly. “Finish hanging those things to dry, and then come meet me back here. I need you to tend the Pugiones today while I deal with the other men,” he sighed, rolling his eyes skyward. “Six broken fingers, three broken ribs, a dislocated shoulder, and four teeth knocked out. These new recruits will be the death of me.”

Hurrying off, you and Phoenix made quick work of the laundry and then returned to the training grounds, where all the weapons and shields had already been carefully collected and stored away. Your dominus was nothing if not fastidious in the management of his ludus, and nothing was to be out of place.

The newer recruits, the ones that Titus said he would deal with, were gathered at the far corner of the grounds, some of them lying flat on their backs, while others sat clutching at various injuries. You could hear their moans of pain even from where you stood.

The Pugiones, however, were stoic and silent as they sat upon the low stone wall on the outer edge of the training arena, waiting for you and Phoenix to come tend to their wounds, which were decidedly much less pronounced than those of the younger men.

“None of them got hurt too badly today,” Titus explained, appearing over your shoulder and making you jump slightly. He wasn’t a small man, but he did manage to be stealthy when he needed to be. “Just your usual bumps and bruises. With two of you working, it shouldn’t take long to see to it,” he said, nodding his head once with certainty. He started to walk away, then turned back to look at you. “Oh, Sabina, I would appreciate it if you could check on Gallus’ injury, the one from a couple weeks ago. I removed his stitches just the other day, but he’s being a stubborn mule, as usual.”

The medicus didn’t even give you a chance to reply before he was off again, whistling a jaunty tune as he made his way over to the other gladiators.

“Is he sure he doesn’t need one of us to help him?” you murmured, biting down on your lower lip. You suddenly felt a strange knot developing in the pit of your stomach. “The newer men’s injuries seem so much worse. Surely only one of us needs to tend to the Pugiones.”

“Oh, would you like me to go help Titus and you stay here alone?” Phoenix asked, giggling at the horrified look on your face. “Don’t worry, I’m only teasing,” she smiled, bumping your shoulder with her own. “Titus likes to handle the new recruits on his own as much as possible. He knows how hard it can be when you come to care for someone, and then they don’t come back, so he tries to spare us that as much as possible,” she explained, her smile dimming slightly as she reached for the basket of medical supplies that Titus had left for you. “Come on, let’s go deal with this lot.”

As the two of you approached the men, who somehow seemed even larger and more handsome the closer you came, Carnifex looked up and smirked, releasing a low whistle.

“Well if it isn’t my favorite Grecian goddess, Phoenix,” he called out, a twinkle in his eyes, which you now noticed were a startling shade of green.

Phoenix smirked in return, stopping in front of the Gallic gladiator and dropping her basket at his feet. “Well if it isn’t my least favorite gladiator, Carnifex.”

Pollux, Felix, and Caius snickered at that, which earned Caius, since he was the one sitting beside Carnifex, a sharp elbow to the ribs.

“Ow,” Caius complained, rubbing at his side with a frown. “Come on, you set yourself up for that one.”

“You know Phoenix could probably drop you faster than all the rest of us, right?” Felix jumped in, laughing. You liked his laugh. It was open and easy and quickly made you forget that he was one of the fiercest fighters in the Colosseum.

“And she would, too!” Pollux added, chuckling. He glanced over at you as he said it and smiled. He had a nice smile.

It was funny. You’d been so terrified at the thought of living in a household with these men, but they were so—ordinary. They weren’t monstrous killers. They were just men.

Carnifex grumbled under his breath, his eyes quickly taking in Phoenix’s figure before he looked away.

“Aw, don’t be mad just because Gallus bested you today. He’s bested us all,” Caius grinned, earning him another shove in the ribcage.

Gallus, for his part, just sat quietly on his perch, gazing forward without looking at you or anyone else.

“I’ll have you all know that you’re making an absolutely horrible impression on our new friend here,” Phoenix scolded them, holding up a hand in your direction. “See, Sabina? I told you they were idiots, the whole lot of them.”

“Oh, so this is Sabina,” Pollux smirked knowingly, shooting a glance down the line at where Gallus sat, his spine stiff as he stared straight ahead.

“We’ve heard good things,” Felix nodded. “From Titus, of course,” he added quickly at Pollux’s subtle nudge. “And Phoenix.” He held out his hand towards you. “I’m Felix,” he introduced himself with a grin.

You found yourself smiling as well as you stepped forward and placed your hand in his, shaking it firmly.

“I’ve already told her who all of you are and all the stupid things you do, so don’t think you’ll be impressing her,” Phoenix grinned, reaching into the basket to pull out a vial of acid vinegar and some clean bandages.

“Aw, but you love us, Phoenix. Don’t pretend that you don’t,” Caius pretended to pout, winking playfully in your direction.

Phoenix merely harrumphed in response, ducking her chin to mask her smile.

“Alright, Carnifex, you’re first up,” she said, grabbing his hands and examining the knuckles. “Looks like Gallus really put you through your paces today.”

Carnifex bristled at that, his back straightening. “A cheap trick he pulled at the end. I would have had him otherwise.”

“You would have had him if you weren’t so cocky,” Phoenix shot back evenly, glaring at him.

You couldn’t help but notice the look that passed between them as they stared into each other’s eyes, some subtle challenge, some underlying current of tension.

Maybe it wasn’t Phoenix’s relationship with Gallus you should have been asking about.

“So,” Pollux cleared his throat, cutting through the sudden strain in the air. “Sabina,” he called out to you as you began lifting Caius’ knuckles and examining the damage. “How long have you been a part of the esteemed household of Atticus Cornelius Juventus?” You didn’t fail to detect the note of sarcasm in his voice as he asked the question.

“Nearly three months now,” you replied, dabbing some acid vinegar onto the fresh cuts you saw littering Caius’ hands and forearms. “My last dominus passed away and his property was auctioned off, so I was sold here.”

“Three months? And this is the first we’re seeing of you?” Felix questioned in surprise, his dark eyebrows rising as he looked over at you.

“I work mainly in the villa, for Domina,” you explained. The tension returned to the air at the mention of Aurelia. “I had never been inside the ludus before, not until a couple weeks ago when Titus asked me to help him.” Care for Gallus, you left unsaid, but when you glanced in his direction, you found that his eyes were suddenly on you.

“Well lucky for us then,” Caius grinned down at you as you carefully wrapped his hands in white linen strips. “You really do have gentle hands.” At the sound of Gallus clearing his throat, he hastened to add, “Unlike Phoenix here. She manhandles us worse than Titus.”

“Mhm, and it’s what you deserve,” Phoenix smirked, finishing her work bandaging a cut on Carnifex’s arm. She pointedly avoided his gaze as she moved down the line to Felix.

“There you are,” you told Caius with a smile, glancing up at him when you were finished.

“Thank you, Sabina,” he smiled in return, flexing his hands carefully.

As you stepped back and started to move towards Pollux, Phoenix suddenly stopped you in your tracks. “Oh, I’ve got Pollux. He and Felix don’t have many injuries today. Why don’t you go check Gallus like Titus asked you to?”

You weren’t sure why it suddenly felt like everyone’s eyes were on you, but you had never wanted to run and hide more than you did in that moment. Knowing you couldn’t do that, however, you simply nodded and offered your friend a tight smile. “Okay,” you said softly.

Heart fluttering uncomfortably inside your chest, rather like the birds Dominus and Domina kept for decoration in the garden, you approached Gallus while staring down at your bare feet. Soon enough, however, the intensity of his gaze drew your eyes upward until they were meeting his dark ones. They were a dark brown, you realized, as the sun hit them. They were the most beautiful eyes you had ever seen.

“Hello,” you stuttered, your mind recalling the last time you had truly spoken to him, when he had apologized for his behavior the first time you’d met.

“Hello,” he murmured in response, his voice even deeper than you had remembered it. He sat completely still as you moved closer to him, his eyes never leaving your face even as you ducked your head to gingerly lift his hands and examine his knuckles.

Feeling uncomfortably warm under the heat of his stare, you found yourself entranced by the many scars that traced their way across the backs of his hands. Your thumb lightly brushed against his bruised knuckles, and you couldn’t tell if it was him or you who shivered in the midday heat.

Reaching for the vial with trembling hands, you carefully dabbed at his very minor injuries with the acid vinegar, admiring the way he didn’t even flinch at the sting. You were so focused on wrapping his hands with bandages that you didn’t notice the way he was now staring at your arm.

“What happened?” he asked quietly, reaching out to lightly brush his calloused fingertips against the yellowish bruise that was still marring your wrist.

Startled, you glanced down in embarrassment, your skin feeling hot where he had touched you. “Oh, nothing,” you answered quickly, mortified at the memory of where that mark had come from. “I’m just clumsy, that’s all.”

Gallus wasn’t buying your excuse, not for a second. “That isn’t a mark that comes by accident or chance,” he said, stilling your movements as he raised your wrist up with a surprisingly gentle hand and further examined the bruises—the ones that matched perfectly with the shape of your domina’s fingers. “That’s a mark left by a human hand.” There was something in his voice as he said it, something rough and angry, but you knew it wasn’t an anger directed at you.

“It’s nothing, Gallus,” you murmured sharply, his name slipping off your tongue as you pulled your arm from his grasp. You softened when you saw the way he stiffened. “Please,” you whispered, your voice cracking slightly over that one word. “Just leave it alone. I promise I’ll be more careful.”

“You’re not the one who needs to be careful,” he said in a low voice, his eyes narrowing. There was something dangerous in the way he said it, a veiled threat that wasn’t meant for you, but that made you shiver all the same. His eyes softened a fraction when he realized his words had unsettled you. “Forgive me. I’m a brute, as Titus never fails to remind me.” His fingers closed over yours for a moment as you finished bandaging his hand. “I just—I don’t wish to see you hurt.”

“Nor I, you,” you whispered, swallowing past the lump that had lodged itself in your throat once more. You cleared your throat, mindful of the fact that the others were sitting just a few feet away from you, though they seemed lost in their own conversation. “Speaking of Titus, he wished for me to check how your healing is coming along,” you told him, raising a hand towards his chest.

Gallus was silent for a moment, just looking at you, but then he slowly removed the straps attaching his armor to his body, giving you an unrestricted view of his naked chest.

Titus really was a master medicus, for the mark of his stitches was already fading fast, a clean line across Gallus’ chest that would hardly stick out amongst all the other scars marking his body.

Taking a breath, you stepped in between his legs and ran your fingers over the wound, freezing when you felt the way his body tensed under your touch. “I’m sorry, did I hurt you?” you asked in concern.

“No,” Gallus said stiffly, shaking his head. “It no longer pains me. I’m fine, really. You don’t need to check up on me.”

“Titus said you were being stubborn,” you told him with a small smile, glancing into his eyes as your hands stilled on his chest.

“Titus would know,” Gallus muttered, a tiny smile gracing his own features. “He’s one of the most stubborn men I know.”

You couldn’t help but laugh at that, and it pleased you to see Gallus’ smile grow wider. He had a lovely smile, made all the lovelier by the fact that he didn’t seem to smile often.

“So will you be around here more often then?” Gallus asked after a moment of silence, watching as you stepped back and began to pack up the remainder of the supplies. “With Phoenix and Titus, I mean.”

“Yes, I think I will,” you nodded. You weren’t sure what possessed you to say it, but you suddenly added, “So I suppose you’ll be seeing more of me.”

Gallus didn’t say anything in response to that, just continued to gaze at you with a thoughtful expression on his face.

Before you could embarrass yourself further, Magnus suddenly appeared in the middle of the training grounds, calling out to the men. “I’d like to speak to you all for a few moments,” he announced, noting that Titus seemed to be almost finished tending to the younger men.

The rest of the Pugiones rose, bidding you and Phoenix farewell, but Gallus remained where he was for a moment, his thoughtful expression turning to a frown.

“Gallus, Magnus is calling for all of you,” Phoenix told him, hefting the basket and resting it on her hip.

“He can wait for a minute,” Gallus snapped, in a tone that was evidently harsher than he intended, considering the apologetic glance he threw Phoenix’s way. Sighing, he slowly rose from the wall and glanced between the two of you. “Thank you, Sabina,” he murmured, lightly touching your arm before he turned and made his way over to where the rest of the gladiators were gathering.

“The two of you seemed cozy,” Phoenix whispered after he had walked away, nudging you with a playful wink as she helped you clean up the rest of the supplies.

“We were just talking,” you insisted, feeling heat rise to your cheeks as you avoided her gaze.

“Mhm,” Phoenix grinned, resting a hand on her hip. “But there are very few people who Gallus enjoys talking to,” she emphasized, nudging you again with a laugh.

You were saved from further interrogation by the unexpected arrival of Hrodebert, one of Atticus’ chief stewards in the household. You didn’t deal much with the stewards, but you’d come to know him quite well over the past few months because of his close friendship with Phoenix. A quiet and studious man who had been kidnapped from his homeland in Germania when he was a child, Hrodebert had developed an affinity for numbers and figures, which was why he was one of the most trusted members of Dominus’ household, so trusted, in fact, that Atticus had placed him in charge of the accounts related to the ludus.

He squinted in the sun as he approached you and Phoenix, and you felt a stab of sympathy for him. Over the years, Hrodebert had been expected to stay up all night, burning the midnight oil while poring over accounts and ledgers, and it had significantly impacted his eyesight. There were times, you knew, when Phoenix stayed up at night to help him in secret because of how badly his eyes ached.

“Hello, Hrodebert,” Phoenix greeted him, momentarily forgetting about your interaction with Gallus as she approached her old friend. “What brings you over to the ludus?”

“You and Sabina,” Hrodebert replied, his mouth twisting into an apologetic frown as he looked from Phoenix over to you. “Domina is demanding—ahem, asking—for your presence in the villa. According to her, you’ve spent enough time over here with—and I quote— these filthy savages.” He let out a long-suffering sigh. “And you’re to clean yourselves up before you enter her presence.” Grimacing, he added, “I’m sorry. Don’t shoot the messenger.”

“It’s not your fault, Hrodebert,” you told him kindly, resting a reassuring hand on his arm. “Thank you for coming to get us.”

Hrodebert smiled, nodding. “Of course. I figured it was better me than someone else.”

“You’re right,” Phoenix nodded as the three of you began walking back towards the villa. “Because another messenger I might just shoot.”

You and Hrodebert couldn’t help but laugh at Phoenix’s indignant tone.

As your two friends began walking ahead of you, chatting about some account that Hrodebert was trying to organize, you couldn’t help but glance back over your shoulder at where the gladiators were currently in the midst of some sort of debriefing with Magnus. And though you knew you shouldn’t be seeking him out, your eyes somehow landed immediately on the tall, broad-shouldered Briton who had quickly become the most challenging puzzle you’d ever encountered.

Your heart skipped several beats when you realized that his gaze was fixed on you as well. Nearly stumbling over your own two feet, you turned hastily and followed after the others.

He couldn’t explain the ache in his chest as he watched you walk away, being swallowed up by the impenetrable walls of the villa of Atticus Cornelius Juventus, but it persisted all the same.

You had consumed his thoughts these past few weeks, ever since that day when he’d opened his eyes to find you standing above him, your hands as gentle as a dove when you touched him.

It would only grow worse, this ache, now that you were working around the ludus more frequently. He didn’t know if he could stand it.

But he also couldn’t stand the thought of you staying away.

Watching you disappear inside the villa, he felt an unsettling fear snake its way up his spine and squeeze his heart—or what was left of his heart, anyway. Those bruises on your wrist. He couldn’t get the sight of them out of his mind’s eye. And he knew exactly who had put them there, even if you wouldn’t say. That miserable bitch. She took anything that was beautiful and good and crushed it for her own sick amusement.

The thought of her hurting you made him want to burn that villa to the ground.

He had to talk to Phoenix and Hrodebert, had to make sure that they protected you where he couldn’t.

Where he couldn’t? Had he deemed himself your protector now? How could he protect you when he couldn’t even protect himself?

But he would protect you. Of that, he was certain. He didn’t understand the feelings that you had awakened inside him—he didn’t want to understand them—but he knew that he would do what he had to do to keep you safe.

As he and the others began trudging their way back to their cells, exhausted after a long morning of training exercises, he was pulled out of his silent reverie by the conversation happening around him.

“She was sweet,” Felix was saying, running an exhausted hand through his dark curls. “And Phoenix likes her a lot, so clearly we can trust her.”

“Titus likes her, too, so that’s two strikes in her favor. If she can win over that grumpy old man, then there must be something special about her,” Pollux nodded in agreement, rolling his aching shoulders back.

Gallus realized they were talking about you.

“Pretty, too,” Caius added, waggling his eyebrows with a grin. “You think she has a thing for gladiators?”

“Stay away from her,” Gallus said sharply, causing all of their heads to turn in his direction.

Pollux and Felix exchanged a look, while Caius and Carnifex raised curious brows.

“Do you have a thing for the pretty new slave girl, Gallus?” Carnifex asked, a smirk playing at the corners of his mouth. “And here we thought you were celibate, considering how you never seem to—”

“Just stay away from her,” Gallus said darkly, taking a tense step in Carnifex’s direction. “She’s here to help us, not to warm your beds.”

Carnifex smirked challengingly at Gallus, but the rest of them threw their hands up in surrender.

“We’re not going to bother her, Gallus. You have our word,” Felix promised, looking at him seriously.

Pollux and Caius quickly echoed his sentiments, and even Carnifex finally relented and nodded in agreement.

There were very few people on this earth that Gallus liked, and even fewer that he trusted, but his fellow Pugiones were among them. Even Carnifex, as much as he may have disliked him most of the time. If they gave their word that they wouldn’t bother you, then he knew it was as good as a blood oath.

“We need to look out for her, the same way we look out for Phoenix,” he told them, glancing over his shoulder in the direction of the villa. “Don’t let anyone else bother her either, otherwise they’ll answer to me.”

The rest of them nodded, exchanging silent glances once more. They’d never seen Gallus, usually so aloof and cold, like this before.

“Alright, men, let’s get some rest before Magnus drags us out for some new form of torture,” Carnifex announced, stretching his arms over his head.

Letting out tired groans, they nodded and headed off to their own cells. As the champions of the ludus, they were each afforded their own space, which was more than could be said for the newer recruits.

As Gallus trudged into his cell, he pulled off his sandals and dropped down onto his bed, ignoring the fresh pitcher of wine that had been left on his table. His body ached and his joints popped as he rolled over, staring at the wall and trying to get the image of your face out of his mind.

It was no use. As he drifted off into a restless sleep, he could see nothing but the beauty of your smile, hear nothing but the melody of your laughter, feel nothing but the gentleness of your touch.

In all his years risking his life in the arena, fighting for the entertainment of those who had enslaved him, he had never felt as helpless as he did when he thought of how he could do so little to keep you safe.

You held him captive, and for the first time in his life, he found that he didn’t mind.

#bradley rooster bradshaw #rooster x reader #x reader #x female reader #top gun #top gun: maverick #miles teller #hannix #hangman x phoenix #Ancient Rome AU #si vis amari ama ⚔️

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benslittlestarkiller · 9 months ago

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Vladimir Makarov Headcannon Imagines Part 2

A continuation of part 1 but you don't have to read the last one to understand what's going on. Thanks for reading!

💋

The mansion is a sprawling Gothic estate nestled in the wooded hills of St. Petersburg. Each room filled with elegant furnitures and beautiful artwork. The mansion has the feel of a grand Russian palace, complete with rich tapestries and a grand staircase.

Vladimir has many homes throughout Easter Europe. For example the Penthouse of Moscow Lakhta Center where he had a penthouse. And now he took you in a plane private jet to St Peterberb where he had a nice palace.

">I want you Vladddy," You say as you enter his office where he does business (you don't know what it is tho).

"I'm busy right now, moya malenkaya smetana (my little sour cream)" Vdaddy said in reply. He was liok at his papers on his desk, look of concern tration on him.

You glance at floor in dissappoint.

Your eye fluttes with sad. As tear fall from eyevd. You ran away from Vladimirs office where you collided with a firm chest of your body guard Pavel, a young birivle attractvie byff and manly man. "Oh, Pavel," you said. "I'm so sorry excuse me..."

"It's alright Miss..." Pavel beeathed in your scent and his cheek turn pink as he feel your soft form against chest. Pink like sunset over Russian mountains. Or over Black Sea. Also pink like when you mix the yogurt into the borscht (a Ukraininan dish).

Salthouggh your hearts on ly beat for your Vladdy ou can't help but buosh as you see the blush like the sunset of the black sea on the rosy cheeks of Pavel. He was your age too, not an old man like Vladimir (unless you are picturingthe 2023 Reboot Vladimir in which case Pavel and he are about same age).

OASSION Rhere is looked of uncertain yet uundeniable PASSION that bubbled up like a pot of cooking foods in kitchen of palace, of Vladimirs gome, but you never went there it was the servants place not yours as Vladimirs TSARINE.

HE hands come up to toxuch waste. He hand warm bur not as large and rough as Vladmir Pavela hands were thin and bony like the bones left over after taking all the meat off the chicken but your maid did it for you so you didn't know anyrhing bout cocking clean or maid things. That was for poor people

You breathed out a moan of desire as Pavel touché you. "Pavel, we can't......" Ypu suad.

"He does n have to j kow,"pabel sai

"But.... he in there" you gestured to the offive door wide open

"So?" Pavel push you against Wale

I moan loud like whale in sea but probably not black sea (I'm not sure, pls marine bilogy timblr tell me if whales in black sea)

As moan loud vlsDIMOR put down paper in office. He grab glock from under desk, as his browns ferrowed/creased deeply in annoyance “Vhat is zat?” he askred a

s he made he way too the door two find the two of you psvrl and you pressed against the whale. bodies pressed together in a passionate and steamy embrace.

Panel had strated eto kiss along your neck and his lips were touching your pulse pount. VLADimgr saw RED.

I BREAK KNEEE!!!!

“ he screanmed

loud as thunde3r

Pavel immediately pissed his pants

the room’s hallway filled with the scent of urine. which made Vladimire even more mad. “That carpet cost million rubels@!”

Vladmir tke gun and point at Pastvel knee. The knee cap burt in expllosion of red viscera and Pabel creamde

Vladmir stood over Pavel and look at him with green eye, “ while the blue eye look at AyOu

You shiuvered under his penetrating gaze

It touched you deeply in your core and made your tsarina parts (as vladdy called it)

WET like a bottle of vodka

taken out of freezer and left to chill on counter, drips of condensation drippign down the side

You looked back at Vladmir “No, don’t hurt Pavel, he didnt do anything”

“HE TOUCHED YOU??? You bELGONG to ME! Not HE!!!”

“Tjat why I BREAKING KNEE!!” He say calmly, in a voice that chilled you to the bone like Lake BAikal in midst of cold Russia winter

Tear fall from your eye balls as you say “It meant nothing to me. I love you Vladdy. I sweat.”

Pavel screaming in pain still as he bleeds out on the carpet. Vladimir steps over him, bringing hand to your kneck.

He grips softly, but not hardly.

“Promise me,” He seeth. “Promise me youre MINE.”

‘I yours!”

He smile at you and his grop on your hip tightens, dgging into soft flesh like dough of unbaked bread in the morning at the bakery down thre street that your servants picked up for you.,

Vladmir push you up aga8nst the opposite wail, against a gilt framed painting of a woman

Actually it was the famous russian pwainting “The Last Day. OF Pompeii” buy artist Karl Bruylokovs

(sporry for spelling mistake keyboard still hard to tip with) 💔

)

Psinting wobble on wall as Vlamir push you up against in it, you man in pain but also pleasure as you feel his body press into yours.

Your reach back behind to grab holds of painting,m ripping open the canvas with your acrylics

The rip is loud and vladmir smile smat you. “Naughty girl.: “

HGe smirks

“Noo im’ a good girl, vladdy,”

“Oh really, my little sour cream?” He

“Yes”

“Then why were you with that bastardous trator PAvel? Huh? You’ve been bad, you’ve been a naiughtly little WHORE”

“Your walls clench at his words, you feel yourself getting wetter as your secretions flow from you like vodka pouring into a glass.:”

“What”

Vladimir pressed his aching ock agaisnt your pussy where it was covered with your expensive armani dress

HE RIP DRESS]

in his hasty desperation to have access yo tour tsarina part

His throbbing cok was a large as AK 47 and ready to be shot. He aligns hinself in your entrace and thrust inside like a train arriving at the Moscow metro station, and your cunty was just as deep but tight like the tunnels of train

you moan in unbridle pleasure and lusty as he fill you deeplu , he trust into you so hard the painting frsme shook and broke

But neither of your cared too much abot this piece of Culture being destoryed, even Vladdy who loved Russia did nt care cuz your pussy felt so good, the grip of your tsarina aparts eased the anger inside home turning it into firey passion of love. You make him eel things he thought he never feel.

He want make baby inside you, make son, cute and small like Cheburashka. Vladimir’s favorite cartoon when he wass a childe (both OG and reboot)

His trusts grew harder and farter as he filled you deeper

Farter and fatter he thrusts

You were lost to bliss as he pounded your cunty

You wailed like you had just seen baba yaga in the forest but these were wais of pleasire not fear

Your wills grippped him as you started to lose control of your senses, your body shake violently like a bartender shaking up a malibu barbie pink cocktial with vodka, raspberry lemonade, grenadine and edible glitter well shaken and poured over ice with a pink heart shaped straw that the two of you enjoyed whn you went to see the Barbie movie together) and as you grip the paitning behind you, ripping it to shreds as you come on his cookie, Vladimnir throw his head back and growl out like a wolf in woods holwing to the moone.

He come deep inside womb, filling you wit thick heft and creamy condensed mlik like spurts like a Matryoshka doll as you put the dolls inside one another.

You two stay entwines and he rubs your belly with his large man hand, hariy on knuckles, “Mone.” he say, voice filled with devoation for yOU

SHorytly after your love makeing was completed, Vladimir whisked you away to bedroom. Maid came along and swept up destroyed artwork and cleaned blood and urine from carpet. Pavel’s family never saw his son nor his body for the funarl. closed casket. Presumed Missing. but in reality dumped into Neva river. His young wife and three children cry. Little do they know that Pavel was in love with You, so he was unfaitfu….

9 months later

Mikhail and Vladimir Jr sat in front of television watching the cartoon Masha and the Bear, Baby Mikhail was newborn and still had baby soft spot on head and needed to be supported with a baby chair, Vladimir Sr smiled wistfully, remembering his own childhood when he lived with his familyu in Khrushchevka in the city of Ivanono where he live with his mother and father and luttle brother and when in 1980 when he watched the 1980 Moscow Olympics and the bear was named misha which is what he and You decide to name your son after the bear.

Vlsdmir and yiou watch family as maid cook and clean.

The wen d

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hayffiebird · 4 months ago

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Taste of Strawberries, chap. 46

Hayffie Post-Mockingjay Multi-chapter, Rated M

SUMMARY: Four years have passed since the end of the war when Effie returns in to Haymitch’s life once again. An old friendship is renewed. Will it lead to something more?

Meanwhile Panem has entered a new era. The rebellion’s over, the borders are open but in the shadows, anger and mistrust are smoldering. Something that will affect Haymitch and Effie’s life in a way they never saw coming.

Chapter 46, Running on empty

Finally, something more than thick blankets of gray. As mid-morning crept into noon, glimmers of sunlight glittered in the last of the puddles. The blue sky dotted with haystack clouds reflected in people’s windows. Enough to lift anyone’s spirit.

Unless, of course, your name was Haymitch Abernathy.

Sae saw him from afar. Back facing her, he stood just outside her house. Hair damp and ruffled by nightmares in sweaty pillowcases. The fresh shirt he put on, already clung to him with sweat. Same as for everyone around these parts.

He dipped an old washcloth into a bucket of water and suds. Bubbles ran down his wrist as he wiped the cloth across one of the windows.

The quiet rattle of the tin can she carried by the bail turned his eyes. Bleary and red. Face puffy. Clearly hungover.

But not too hungover, apparently. Not the idle kind.

“I couldn’t sleep”, he muttered, almost like an apology. His gaze dropped to the duffel bag in her other hand.

“Peeta found it”, Sae answered the unspoken question. “On his way to work. You probably oughta give it too a wash, or at least hang it up to dry. They send their love, by the way. Both of them.”

“Yeah”, Haymitch snorted. He accepted the bag. Dropped it at his feet. “That sounds likely.”

He examined the window critically. The washcloth in his limp hand drip-dropped down his leg. The sight made her smile.

“Come boy.” She set the tin can on the front step. Herself next to it. The kitchen towel package she’d carried under one arm found a home on her lap. “Come sit with me.”

Haymitch heaved a great sigh. But he dropped the cloth with a splatter. Left the bucket, and the windows, to their own devices while he joined her on the porch.

“Since I take it you didn’t bother with lunch.” She settled the tin can on his lap. Made him take it, lest it tumbled over on the ground. “Or breakfast, for that matter. You eat that up now. Before it gets cold. It's butter bean and tomato stew. With garlic. Or”, she added, when he didn’t move, “do you want to disappoint your ma by turning down food?”

“She’s dead, Sae”, Haymitch muttered. But he removed the lid. Had himself the smallest spoonful.

While he ate, Sae unfolded the kitchen towel. Specks of fresh flour danced in the air as she revealed the thick slices of cornbread.

Fragrant. Still warm.

If Katniss loved cheese buns, these were among Haymitch’s favorites.

Shoulder to shoulder on the front step, neither felt the need to fill the air with pointless chatter. Not until Haymitch had nibbled his way through one whole slice of bread and was scraping the bottom of the can, did Sae finally speak.

“Haymitch … as much as I appreciate having a live-in maid who cleans out my cabinets, sweeps the house from attic to basement and … washes my windows,” she nodded their way, “don’t you think it’s time you headed back home? You’ve hardly set foot outside the property all week.”

Haymitch tipped the can up, like a mug. Swallowed the last drops before he spoke.

“I’ll be out of your hair soon enough.”

The words were an honest statement. Not a threat. Nothing passive-aggressive about it.

He scratched his beard.

“Been thinkin’”, he said. “’bout that lil’ cabin out in the woods. You know: down by the lake. I reckoned, since no one’s using it … If I packed a bag or two and the girl lets me borrow a fishing rod, I can stay there a couple of days, couple of weeks.”

“You could”, Sae said. “If you want to give the poor girl a heart attack.”

“Katniss? Didn’t know I meant that much to her.”

Sae threw him a pointed look.

“Don’t play ignorant. You know what will happen. Effie will worry herself sick, once she finds out. All she’ll do is paint pictures in her mind of all the different ways you’ll get yourself killed out there. Snakes. Tracker jackers. A misdirected arrow. Or, if you actually do make it to the lake unharmed: a drunken swim at midnight. No one around but deer and wild ducks and mosquitoes to hear your calls for help.”

Haymitch rolled his eyes.

“So over-dramatic”, he said. “Since when do I know how to swim?”

“Exactly.”

He tsked and set the can down.

“You know I’m right”, Sae said.

“She doesn’t have to know”, he replied.

“I’m not lying to the girl, boy.”

Haymitch heaved another sigh. Arms slumped over his knees; head dropped low. Like giving up.

Sae gave his shoulder a soft squeeze.

“This is not me chasing you off with a stick. All I’m saying …”

“I can’t go back there”, Haymitch muttered, still speaking to his feet. “I can't, Sae! The house, the yard, the goose pen. Hell, even the oh-so concerned looks of Katniss and Peeta when they think I’m too drunk to notice. It’s all just one big reminder that they aren’t there. Fuck me, they’re not even dead yet and still the whole goddamn place is infested with their ghosts. Even my tablespoons are fucking haunted. Can’t look at one without remembering something.”

He rubbed a hand over his ruddy face. Straightened up. Just enough to reach for his breast pocket. The bottle of clear liquid inside.

“What?” he said, out of breath, after a couple of sturdy mouthfuls. “Not gonna say anything? ‘You have to stop drinking, boy’”, he mimicked her tone. Might have made for a fun impression too if his voice wasn’t so brimming with pain. ‘Just sober up for your family and they will come home. They’ll come home and you don’t have to miss …’” His voice cracked. Rolling the bottle across his palms, he stared at the treacherous reflections of light in the glass. “’… your children’s growing up’”, he mumbled.

“What would be the point?” Sae asked, not unkindly. “It doesn’t matter what I say. Or Effie or Hazelle or the kids. You’ve got to want to. Want it for yourself or else … it’ll never work.”

Haymitch scoffed, like it was the dumbest thing he’d ever heard in his life.

“Myself? Shit …”

The hard liquor sloshed as he drank. Drank whatever was left. He rubbed a hand over his chapped lips. Stared far ahead, as if his red-rimmed eyes might look beyond the trees, the hills, the meadows – all the way to the Capitol.

And the house with the little wishing pond out front.

“I wonder what they're doing today …”

#hayffie #haymitch x effie #the hunger games renaissance #greasy sae #district 12 #my fanfiction #post-mockingjay

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analoceits · 1 year ago

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mushroom rings & faery things chapter 1: loyalty

A03 link

note:

thanks to ChaosIsMyName on A03 for reading this over!! theyre the fucking best and yall should read their shit.

also uhh. felt fair to warn that i do NOT pull any punches on my body horror. its brief and skippable but i do get pretty intense when i do go with it soo, yeah. as well this is probably one of the darkest and messiest chapters in this whole fic, and the full promise of older brother remus wont come in till later [like chapter 3] so yeah 3 it will happen eventually but right now everyones too messy to be sweet. you can see the seeds of it start to grow tho!!

tags:

Disabled Anxiety | Virgil Sanders, Anxiety | Virgil Sanders-centric, Sympathetic Dark Creativity | Remus "The Duke" Sanders, Alternate Universe - Human, Alternate Universe - Fae, Body Horror, (for like 1 or 2 paragraphs but yknow), Fae Dark Creativity | Remus "The Duke" Sanders, Light Sides As Family (Sanders Sides), Found Family, Things look Worse Than They are, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, implied/referenced suicidal ideation, Creativity | Roman "Princey" Sanders Angst, Anxiety | Virgil Sanders has a Cane, Remus Typical Gore Discussion, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Discussions of Death/Grief, no one dies tho,

I’m so sorry,

I know you don’t want me to do this, but I know I need too. I can’t go another day not sure if Roman will live or die, and I doubt you guys can either. No matter what you say, I’m indebted to you. It’s time I pay that back. Go to the edge of the woods, my gift will wait there.

With endless loyalty, Virgil.

Virgil pocketed the note in silence. It was the last of many ugly, emotional, gut-wrenching drafts and the only one he could imagine having them read. The only one he had managed to write without crying. With it completed, he had nothing left to do here.

He took one last look at his room from the bed. It didn’t look familiar; he had cleaned up most of his things so they wouldn’t have too while grieving. Still, there were some marks of himself that he couldn’t hide under the bed.

A scuff in the tile from his boots, old purple sheets torn where he pulled on them too hard, a single blind tied to the rest with green string where he broke it. Family carved into a bed post. Despite his best efforts, there was proof he had lived.

With that bittersweet thought, he pulled himself up off the bed and steadied himself with his cane. He smiled just barely, slowly making his way down the stairs and around the hall. As soon as he was off the stairs, his eyes locked on the front door, but he silently shook his head.

There was one stop before he had to leave.

It took care to ease the bedroom door open silently, but as soon as he did he was at Roman’s bedside. He couldn’t help the way his stomach twisted with guilt at the sight - white bandages wrapping around his stomach where a red sash should be. The only red left was that pouring out of his guts, now.

Between bouts of crying and frantically checking his bandages, Logan had called it a godly miracle he survived. That was, of course, right before Patton physically dragged him to bed for his own sake, but it still held some weight. Their luck couldn’t last them forever, though.

His eyes darted down to his cane when the thought hit him. The cane was a gift from Roman, one he had carved for hours on hours with painstaking care after Virgil started to complain of his pain. The one with from your family carved under the handle in gentle letters. Virgil had to hold back tears of joy when he first used it.

It was the last gift Roman was able to give him, a gift to make sure he wasn’t in pain. Even with the cane, he couldn't help Patton forage, or Logan shop, or Roman hunt. The thought sent a strange spiraling guilt through Virgil, but it didn’t matter.

It didn’t, because he knew he could fix it anyway. No matter how high the price may be.

He slipped the note out of his pocket. It was so small in his hand, but it must’ve weighed ten thousand pounds with how hard it was to hold. He tucked it in between Roman’s fingers with painstaking care. It was the only spot he could think to leave it.

Sparing one last glance to Roman’s limp form, he turned his back on the bed. The satchel felt practically weightless when he pulled it over his shoulder - if you could even call it that. It was tiny, only enough to fill a small cup of milk and a tiny jar of honey. That was all he needed.

Right as he went to stand up, a sharp whimper sounded from behind him. He glanced back to Roman, twisting and turning fitfully in his bed between little cries. Right, nightmares. They had only gotten worse since his accident, Logan had mentioned.

He hesitated before turning around, but he knew he didn’t have the guts to leave him like that. He was loyal to him. His hands were practically shaking as he nervously brushed the hair out of Roman’s face and shushed him, “shh, it’s ok.. there you go, there you go bud. You ain’t got anything to fear, Ro.”

Slowly, Roman stopped his twisting and turning, quieting down. Still, there was the slightest furrow to his brow and Virgil couldn’t help the fond way he sighed. He leaned down over him, brushing a finger over his brow as he kissed his forehead.

As soon as he drew back up, there was a hand softly grasping at his wrist, and it took all his willpower to pull out of the grip. “I know,” he said as he fit the sheets back over Roman, “I don’t want me to leave either.”

It wasn’t hard to open the house door silently and it wasn’t hard to pace down the stone path without his boots or cane making a noise. No, that wasn’t hard, he had practiced. It was hard to not look back. It was so hard, to swallow his guilt and grief and not look at those unlit windows.

He kept walking anyway.

Their house was near the edge of the woods, so he knew it wasn’t going to be a very long walk. Still, his entire body ached and he stumbled down the path as it turned from stone to gravel, then to dirt, then to overgrown grass. Brambles thickened on either side of the trail.

Finally, he reached the edge of the woods, and it was just as great and imposing as he remembered. Dark, thick leaves hung overhead and any trace of moonlight would be gone as soon as he passed under those trees. He knew he wouldn’t need the light, the path painstakingly memorized but the darkness felt endless nonetheless.

With one deep breath he pushed between the leaves and made his way onto a deer path carved in the grass. There was just the barest shine from moonlight that managed to worm its way between leaves, and he thanked the heavens for that.

Every passing step through, though, had the moon’s light fading until pure black clawed at the edges of his vision and he could barely see his own boots. The old growth of the forest thickened around him as he went on.

He kicked through undergrowth and slapped at brambles with the edge of his cane. Thick brambles and thorns caught on the edges of his pants, as if the forest itself was pleading with him to head back, but he simply kicked through and continued. No matter what anyone said, he had a duty.

The walk was an hour at most, but it felt like ages. Every step he took he wanted nothing more to turn around and bolt home, but he was not a coward. He was loyal to a default; he would not give up when he was needed. Even if he couldn’t think to call himself a good person, he payed his debts.

Even with the misery, he had a slight bit of company. The sounds of nature churred around him; a breaking stick and then the delighted chirp of grasshoppers, a shrill whistle cry of a bird and then a distant splash from a pond out of his view. The closer he got to his destination, the louder and more frequent the noises became; an accompanying orchestra. He didn’t know if it was a hopeful heroic swell or a tragic one.

Finally, the woods started to clear around him; giving up on fighting him. Slowly, at first, brambles let up and the barest glint of moonlight shone through the trees, and then all at once as the last bit of undergrowth caught on his boots and he stumbled into the clearing.

It was uncomfortably beautiful. The full moon was bright, shining and hearty (he was sure it had been a half-moon when he had entered, but he didn’t think that mattered where he was.) The stars glittered above head along with it and it felt like they were winking down at him for some inside joke he was now in on.

The main thing that caught his eye, however, was the ring of mushrooms. They were stark, bright red and it briefly reminded his of Roman’s garish sash - then it reminded him of his blood, and his heart sank. It was fine, he told himself, he was making it up now.

He took a few paces ahead and then dropped to his knees right in front of the faery ring, carefully and slowly removing the pack from his shoulder and unloading the contents. Milk, honey, and a bowl. Perfect.

A strange sense of calm came over him as he placed the bowl in the farthest point of the ring. It was a painful, aching calm; like he was planning his own funeral. A singular mourner holding vigil for his own life, a living corpse. It was grim, but more than fitting.

The milk and honey smelled disgustingly sweet as he poured them both into the bowl, even if his hands were shaking. The moon and the stars glowed overhead like lanterns - no, eyes, eyes burning into the back of his skull. They waited to see what he would do next; lions waiting to pounce on him.

As soon as the contents were poured out, he lifted himself up with cane and took a step into the circle. His body rocked with invisible force until he dropped and was kneeling, hands desperately wrapped around the still up-right cane like in prayer. It wasn’t really that funny to him, but he didn’t try to move.

Instead, he bowed his head, terror suddenly pounding through his ribs and lungs like a horribly off tune song. Grief ran through jaw and throat, wrapping around it like a snake and making it hard to breath. Grief for himself and grief for growing old with them. Even if he knew he needed to do this, he missed home.

Still, through the aching pain, a deep, indescribable burning set ablaze in his finger tips and deep in his chest, and every spot where Roman’s nimble fingers would cart through his hair when he needed it. He thought that warmth might be called loyalty.

“I have an offering,” his voice was more hoarse than he had expected, but it was good enough. For a brief, but completely nauseating moment, nothing happened. The stars continued to blink above and moonlight danced in his vision.

Then blood welled through the grass, and the earth became an open wound. Dirt pushed itself apart and away, grass seeming to sway to avoid what was crawling out of the earth. Blood and sap, wood and flesh arose all at once in a spiraling tower of something, something that should not exist. Skin knit over pulsating, ugly flesh and a pair of eyes stared at him for something that was supposed to be a face.

Finally, something human like was formed. Human-like, because those few seconds taught Virgil that whatever fae were, they were not human. It stared down at him, a strange blank curiosity on its features.

As he stared back at it, something suddenly clicked in his brain and he was sure he was going to be sick. He wanted to be wrong, but the only question left was a simple one. Why the hell was Roman here?

No; it wasn’t exactly Roman, but at the same time.. it could only be him. It was a strange, gross sight. The same dorky smile that showed just one too many teeth, but the teeth were as sharp as blades. The same striking green eyes, but an odd cold rested behind them.

The figure - person - fae, fae, had scars littering up and down his skin and ungodly green eyes and a wide smile. Passion and adventure and want burned behind his eyes but it was wrong, scarily feral, scarily.. animal.

At a closer look, he was far too old as well. A decade older than Roman, at least. Age weighed on his face in the form of crows feet and a thick mustache, the same color as his hair. It was as dark as Romans, to be sure, but colder - without the red tinting it warm.

Was this.. some fucked up joke? Was this a near death hallucination? Or maybe, maybe this was the first form of torture planned for him, a reminder of why he was here. Either way, the sight made it hard to breath.

The fae spoke first, “I’m Remus, your local fae prince.” With the word Remus sickness and the cold scent of pinewood rushed through Virgil so hard he leered. The prince of the fae, the actual fucking fae, just gave him his name. Freely, just as that.

Virgil realized what it was a second later - a show of power. A quiet, but impactful way to remind Virgil that no matter what information he had, no matter how hard he fought, he was powerless here. It made his heart sink.

“Thank you,” Virgil whispered and in the same breath he cringed from his own words. Right, no thanking them. How had he forgotten? “I’m here to offer myself to you, on one condition.” It felt incomprehensibly stupid to speak of conditions when he was on his knees.

“I love conditions!” The too-shrill voice practically squawked out, leaning one elbow on Virgil’s cane nonchalantly. “What do you want, little stormcloud?” He grinned down at Virgil, clearly awaiting his response with delight.

“.. I have a friend,” Virgil carefully avoided his name, “he is gravely injured and, though stable, will not survive winter like this. I have another friend - he is trying to make a remedy. Theres one last ingredient he needs, a flower - oleander.”

Remus gave him a look, a single eyebrow raised at him. “Stormy - can I call you stormy? - Cool, thanks. Oleanders a poison, at least to you little.. flesh beasts. I don’t think your thinking of the right flower. It’d be cool to poison him and all, but y'know - doublechecking.”

Virgil thought over the words for a second, because he knew it couldn’t be a lie - even though that was exactly what his knee-jerk reaction wanted to say. After a second, he forced, “no offense, but I trust his medical knowledge more than yours.”

“Well, if you insist,” Remus shrugged then grinned, “still, that’s all you ask for your life!? Most ask for more than that. Money, power, fame, love - and lust~, of course,” the creature wiggled his eyebrows and Virgil bit back the urge to gag. “You can ask for more, you know. A lifes worth more than a flower.”

Virgil looked up, mildly stunned by what he heard. Was Remus.. trying to help him? The thought sent a feeling of vertigo through him, but he hesitantly spoke, hand picking each word that slipped out of his mouth, “there won’t be any extra.. stipulations because of this, will there?”

“Nah! I’m just bored, you see, and I love doing those little tasks for you mortals. They always go through the same cycles. First their filled with delight and shock at their new gifts, then grief and disgust as they ask why their daughter, or lover, or brother has went.” Remus turned his head back and practically cackled through out.

“.. Alright,” Virgil knew the fae couldn’t lie, and he couldn’t find much of a loophole in the words, no matter how.. depressing. “Some money to be comfortable for the following years, good fertile land to plant on, and a hunters blessing. For my family, please.” Virgil stared down for a reason he himself didn’t quiet understand.

Remus looked down at him with a strange expression. It took Virgil a moment to process it as curiosity, but before he could comprehend that, the fae spoke. “Man, you’re weirdly humble. Don’t even want any good shit! Or just, well, shit. Do you know how many farmers have asked for good manure?” He turned his head back and laughed, before looking back down, “well, they don’t usually offer their life for it.”

Virgil turned his gaze to the side. The words weirdly burnt at his chest. It was the reminder, he realized. He wanted to go home so fucking bad. The rough dirt made his knees ache and his hands blistered against the wood he held so tight and he wanted nothing more than to step out of the mushrooms, come home, and hug his family so close he didn’t have words for it.

“Will you stop mocking me?” Virgil hissed through his teeth, fear burning in his heart at every word that slipped out of his mouth without his permission, “I just want to get sacrificied in fucking peace before I spend the rest of eternity dancing as my skin burns off and muscles rot away, and- and-” suddenly, it was hard to breath. His lungs felt tiny and air was too large to choke down.

The fae thing gave him a strange look from where he hovered over Virgil, watching him have a panic attack like he was a mildly interesting rock. After a weird long moment of that, he spoke with delight, “wow are you killing yourself by self-suffocation!? That’s so cool!”

That startled a laugh out of Virgil’s chest, then a few awkward coughs as his body readjusted to breathing again. He stared up at Remus awkwardly. “Nobody’s had a panic attack while sacrificing themselves to you before me?” He choked out.

Remus propped his hands up on his hips. “Not until you, stormy! You’re the first,” he said without a single sense of the weight of the words. For a fae, creature known for their odd but strict manners, he was wildly impolite.

Virgil couldn’t help but cringe with it, then awkwardly bark out a few laughs. “I can’t even kill myself right, can I?” He didn’t realize what he was saying until the words came out of his mouth, and then he closed said mouth tight.

The fae was giving him another one of those peculiar looks again before continuing to speak. “Man, is this meant to be your suicide? You’re like, really bad at that then because I have no plans to kill you!” The grin was strangely warm, now.

“Look, I- I’m gonna be basically dead by the end of this anyway. No old life to get back to,” he sighed quietly, before asking, like a slight plea, “can we get this over with, now? I don’t wanna spend longer here.”

The smile dripped off Remus’s face and Virgil felt oddly guilty. “Well, if you’re so impatient, then lets get this over with, stormcloud. You know what to do to stop it. Just give me your name.” The weight of the phrase was more than ever.

Suddenly, hearing the words - Virgil realized how badly he didn’t want to get it over with. Like a desperate idiot avoiding the death he handed himself, he stalled. “What, you don’t want this to end? You having fun chit-chatting here?” He said easy as you please, tilting his head to the side. The false confidence was familiar.

That startled a laugh out of Remus, who cackled so loud and shrill that Virgil could hear the birds flee. “Wow, seems like our little stormy has himself a sharp tongue. Wonder how long that will last you.”

“Long as it takes for you to get tired of me and cut it off,” Virgil hissed through his teeth, a sly grin on his face. It felt as natural as breathing, and just as fulfilling as it. Something that he knew from memory.

He realized the memory was of Roman.

Remus didn’t notice his realization of course and continued without a single hitch, “I wonder if it will be like a lizard tail, still wriggling and writhing after I cut it out of your wordy little mouth! I mean, I’m sure I can make that happen.”

Virgil faked a gag and turned his gaze up to Remus again, “you’re real disgusting y’know, for being a fae, a creature of manners and politeness, you’re real gross. How do you even get away with your wordy little mouth?” Virgil asked, half teasing and half genuine.

“Well, manners are oh so subjective,” Remus grinned, seemingly preening with delight at this fact, “and so, with just a little bit of squirming around through loopholes and the like - you really can get away with most things.” His satisfied grin seemed to light up the clearing.

Or maybe that was the sunrise, peaking over the horizon like an unwelcome guest. Remus turned his head back to stare at it. “Oops! Looks like your time is up, my dearest storm. No more stalling~.” He turned back to Virgil. “May I have your name?”

The words carried the weight of ten thousand stones.

Virgil knew what to do though, and he spoke his name, tearing it out of his throat and soul as the sun rose along with bile in his throat and as the moon fell along with his bloody heart. He whispered the first two words that would be in his obituary, “Virgilius Sentinel.”

A coldness wrapped around him, tight and binding. It was like a promise; a cruel, sickening promise, the type that edged on threat. His body shook, lungs wheezing through breaths that couldn’t make it all the way into him.

Even though he could still see Remus above him, staring down at him with that cruel grin and hands on his hips, he could feel his hands on his face, holding him still. They were as cold as he imagined, but not as painful.

Despite the terror, breaths slowly became easier as his body became more used to the feeling, the control, the vulnerability of it all. He adjusted to it, the world spinning around him as he learned to breath with smaller lungs. Maybe, this wouldn’t be as painful as he worried.

Right as he adjusted, though, there was a sudden burning in his chest and around his lungs. It was the kindest fire and the sweetest pain, and his lungs were aching as if he had managed to breath too much. It felt familiar; it felt like being held by warm and gentle hands. The fire chased off the cold.

As suddenly as the flame overtook him, it drew back. The feeling of being held turned to the feeling of being dropped, and the cold leapt back in as soon as the warmth left him. He shook just a little with the nauseating feelings. No matter the attempt at a fight, it was too weak.

Still, it left a small thought: something else had its own claim on him, separate from Remus’s. He silently reeled from that, but before he could think too hard he heard that barking shrilling laugh again and the world fell from under his feet.

#sanders sides #tss #ts sides #sasi #virgil sanders #roman sanders #remus sanders #logan sanders #patton sanders #ts virgil #ts roman #ts remus #ts logan #ts patton #tss fanfic #analoceits writing

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werecat1234 · 5 days ago

Text

Merging Timelines Chapter Seven

Sans was in Snowdin, some blood splattered on the wood of the sentry station, and a hot dog was to his right. He was rhythmically drumming the fingers of his left hand on the wood, his fingertips sharp, like claws. He was holding his head up with his bloodied right hand, and he looked up at footsteps approaching, his grin getting wider and a demented, quiet laugh escaped him, like a gasp for air but filled with anticipation. He saw a human child, a scar by her neck like a choker, and she was wearing a tattered pink dress, her hair matted and uneven, and her eyes were sunken in. She trembled as she approached him, arms hugging her waist as she shivered from the cold and from fear.

"hey buddy, what's up?" Sans asked, sounding casual, his voice gruff, and she looked down, shivering, "heh, nah, i already know. you're starving. like any minute i'll find ya..." Sans was snickering as he readied himself for the pun, laughing a bit more after he said it, "pasta-way."

His laugh was the definition of unhinged, quiet and coming out in high pitched, short breaths. Sans looked down at the... hotdog... on the desk of the sentry station, "how 'bout a nicey spicy hot dog to fill ya up?"

The human shook her head no, refusing his offer.... and his trap. Sans looked at her, a few breathy laughs escaping him as he stared her down. Looks like he'd need to try convincing her otherwise... His brother needed to eat, after all...

"heh, seriously? that's kinda funny... 'cause judging from that expression... not eatin' anything is just killing you!" Sans said, and she grabbed at her abdomen in pain. Sans knew he was right. He knew how much hunger hurt, even without a stomach, he could still feel his magic craving for any bit of food... but he knew he couldn't eat. He needed to save it for his brother.... He needed to resist.

Sans started drumming the fingers of his left hand on the table again, and he spoke, "c'mon kid, it takes effort to make a perfectly good dog free of charge... i put a lot of blood and sweat into this thing..."

Sans's grin somehow widened even more as he saw her reaching for it. As her hand grew closer, he grabbed it in the blink of an eye, sharp fingertips digging into her wrist as she struggled, trying to get away. He felt blood come out of her wrist as his fingertips pierced through flesh. Her face was filled with horror as he grinned at her, eyelight shrinking; shaking as he looked at her with demented anticipation. Her eyes closed as he yanked her onto the table, her head on the desk as he grabbed the axe he'd had hidden out of view, and he started laughing again.

"one head dog coming up." Sans said as he brought the axe down as she screamed, cutting her head clean off, blood splattering everywhere with a wet squelch.

Dust woke up with a gasp, feeling sick. He could see a blurry yellow and white shape next to him, but all he knew was that there was raw magic building in him, needing to burst. He leaned over the side of the bed he was laying on, and he threw up some of his magic into a convenient trashcan. Dust was panting, shaking with revulsion; extremely disturbed and nauseous. He couldn't remember the last time he'd felt anything like this... this sheer level of disgust with what he'd just seen. He threw up a bit more, seeing the bright purple liquid glistening up at him like violet magma. He shook a bit as the remaining shock and horror left him. Killer was half under the bed the next time he blinked, arms folded behind his skull as he looked up at him from next to the trashcan.

'you alright?' Killer asked, not looking unnerved himself.

'what.... what was...?' Dust trailed off, shaking.

'probably another soon to be roommate. if he asks to redecorate anything, tell him nothing red, be it paint or.... you know...' Killer trailed off.

'how are you still making jokes?!' Dust snapped in shock.

'it was unnerving, sure, but i'm not gonna throw up over it. besides, lucky's catatonic and he always uses humor. i'm trying to draw him out so you can see the look on his face.' Killer replied.

'or you're covering up your own fear of the situation. don't try acting like you're different than us on this.' Dust said, and Killer narrowed his eye sockets at him, grin disappearing.

'you wish.' Killer said, vanishing.

"Sans? Are you ok?..." Alphys asked, having let him catch his breath for a moment. Dust nodded a bit, wiping something from under his eye sockets. He swore if Killer had taken control- oh. Dust stared down at the glowing purple droplet of magic, a tear. The nightmare had made him cry?... Alphys seemed extremely worried about him, and while she seemed nervous upon seeing him, Dust figured it was because he should be dead right now.

"yeah... yeah, i'm ok... how's paps?" Dust asked.

"He's... He's ok. He's really worried about you, though, and uh... Undyne gave him a long talking to.." Alphys said.

"she didn't have to, he just..." Dust trailed off.

'just almost got you killed because you kept him from getting killed. he believed in someone and it almost got him killed again. if it weren't for the resets, his naivety and idiocy would've gotten him killed so quickly in the real world.' Killer said bitterly, appearing leaning against a wall behind Alphys as she fidgeted, looking for the right thing to say.

Dust, naturally, immediately got upset, but he made sure it didn't show on his expression.

'watch your mouth, killer.' Dust snapped mentally, furious.

'stop protecting his innocence if you want to keep him safe, dust.' Killer said in return, vanishing when Undyne walked past him.

"It was necessary, punk. He almost got you killed. He needed to understand that. As much as I wanna protect his innocence too, there's a point where it becomes dangerous for him to think the best in everyone." Undyne said. She looked at him strangely before shrugging whatever she was thinking about off.

"i.. i know..." Dust sighed.

"Speaking of, are you ok? That was a pretty bad slash on your chest." Undyne asked, concerned.

Dust looked down at his chest, seeing his shirt and jacket sewn up, through a red slash was stained onto his clothes, and he could feel bandages wrapped around his ribs. He pulled his hood back up, and looked back at Undyne, seeing her still concerned expression.

Dust was still adjusting to the emotion and others aiming it at him; it was weird, to say the least. "i'll live."

"I know that, but.. how? Your HP was 1 last I knew. You just.... How did you live through that?..." Undyne asked.

"magic." Dust replied.

"Now's not the time for jokes!" Undyne snapped, slamming her fists down on a nearby metal table, putting two dents in it, "HOW THE HELL ARE YOU ALIVE RIGHT NOW?!"

Dust looked down, sighing. He didn't want to explain any of this...

"U-Undyne, maybe we sh-should l-let him r-rest?" Alphys suggested.

"NOT UNTIL HE TELLS ME HOW THE HELL HE SURVIVED THAT!" Undyne snapped, and Alphys backed up a bit, and Undyne looked guilty, regretting her outburst, "Sorry, just... it doesn't make sense..."

'you took 832 damage when you blocked that attack. you still have 18 HP left.' Killer said, walking out from behind Undyne, 'get pissed off all you want, but i'm right, and undyne's right. he needs to learn not everyone is a friend, especially humans. hate me all you want because i said it, but deep down, you know i'm right, dust. we both know he'll stare down the barrel of a gun and offer someone a hug when their finger's on the trigger.' Dust knew Killer was right, but he didn't have to be such a jerk about it. Papyrus didn't deserve to know how cruel the world was yet. 'what's crueler? preparing him for a cruel world, or keeping him in the dark so he finds out for himself and isn't prepared?'

'.... don't call him an idiot.' Dust told him.

'don't shelter him.' Killer retorted.

"Hello?! Sans! Earth to Sans!" Undyne yelled, waving her hand in his face, and he looked up at her. "You gonna answer my question or not?!"

"after all this is over." Dust replied, and Killer snickered, vanishing again.

"No. Right here, right now." Undyne said, firm.

"Undyne, let him be." Asgore said, walking over.

Undyne's head shot up to look at him, backing away.

"K-King Asgore, sir!!" Undyne said.

Asgore looked over at Dust, and asked, "I heard you were injured?"

"Was just a scratch.." Dust said.

"You were bleeding all over the floor! That wasn't a scratch! I didn't even know you could bleed!!" Undyne spoke up.

"that was ketchup." Dust said.

"We had to take off your jacket and shirt to heal you, dummy! It was coming directly out of your bones!" Undyne said.

"my magic is made of ketchup." Dust said.

"RAAAAGH! NO IT'S NOT!" Undyne yelled.

"Y-You threw u-up your ma-magic before, an-and it w-was purple.." Alphys quietly stuck up for Undyne.

"Purple?" Asgore asked in bewilderment. "Your magic was always cyan and yellow."

Dust shrugged a bit. Killer walked up behind Asgore, poking his head around from the cape, 'looks like the jig's about to be up for this reset, dusty~ quit fighting so hard to keep them from finding out, they'll just forget again anyways. besides, nothing we do matters anyways.'

Dust sighed, muttering, "and i thought i was pessimistic.."

"Did you say something?" Asgore asked.

"nah. look, it's a long story." Dust said.

"We have a while. From what I've heard from everyone, you saw the child walking, evacuated everyone you could after activating the alert, brought everyone here, took a nap, and before Alphys even told you what was going on, you already teleported out, and you took the blow before your brother could be injured. You knew exactly where he'd be." Asgore said, "What I don't know is how you knew."

"i... had a hunch." Dust said. He knew the others experienced deja vu on occasion, so it was a probable excuse.

Asgore hummed in thought. "I've had hunches too, and they've proven to be right on occasion. However, that doesn't explain how you're still alive..."

Dust looked down, messing with the cuff of his jacket sleeve.

"Sans, please. How are you still alive right now? You have 1 HP, and while you're powerful, otherwise you wouldn't have your job, that doesn't mean you're powerful enough to survive a lethal wound."

"What job?" Undyne asked, confused.

"A very important one." Asgore replied, before looking back at Dust for an explanation.

"i..." Dust started, only for the ground to split in front of them, Flowey appearing. Dust sighed, "not this again..."

"Flowey." Undyne said, eye narrowing as Alphys trembled a bit, and Asgore was confused.

"what do you want, weed?" Dust asked.

"Well, I saw you get hit by an attack and you didn't die from it, because if you had, their LV would've gone up, but for some strange reason, you're not dead, and they're pretty pissed about it. I also heard them muttering about, and I quote 'This must be the new one' among other things that'll raise a large number of questions from everyone else here that I have a feeling you don't want to explain. I want answers, right now." Flowey replied, crossing his leaves like they were arms.

Dust narrowed his eye sockets, pulled himself out of the bed, wincing a bit and everyone was protesting, trying to tell him to take it easy. "you, me, snowdin town square. now."

"Good choice." Flowey grinned, going into the ground as Dust teleported to the Snowdin town square. Dust used bone attacks to break all the cameras Alphys had set up, and Flowey appeared a moment later, leaves crossed again. "Talk, or I can see how much HP you have left, and you won't survive it."

Dust sighed, and Killer walked out from behind the Gryftmas tree. 'you're not seriously telling that weed about this, are you? he'll exploit it for his entertainment, dust! remember what we just saw? imagine if he starts killing the kid over and over again just to get the timeline to keep reloading so it gets worse!'

Dust tensed up completely at what Killer said. Flowey looked behind him, trying to see what Dust was seeing. "What are you looking at?"

"if i explain this, you cannot do anything about the situation. no trying to make it worse, just keep the knowledge to yourself, and don't do anything to effect it or i can and will kill you." Dust said.

"Fine, whatever! Just tell me what the hell's going on!" Flowey snapped, impatient.

"you know how when the timeline is reset, it loops back over itself?" Dust asked.

'i can't believe you're actually doing this...' Killer muttered.

'if the weed starts doing what you said, we'll just teleport there and kill him. you know the spots?' Dust asked.

''course i do.' Killer replied.

"Yeah, I know about that, I've done so multiple times! What's that got to do with anything?!" Flowey replied.

"there's alternate timelines, and if a reset happens at the same time here as somewhere else..." Dust trailed off.

"The timelines intersect." Flowey realized, "I didn't think that was possible."

"i didn't either. however, when that happens, certain bits of the timelines can cross over, and there's something about me, be it natural determination or what, but i'm... i'm synced up to it, and it starts out small. nightmares, then there's a presence in your mind, you can hear yourself but different. then you start hallucinating, and then.... body takeover. i've been in control since this timeline started for the most part." Dust said.

"Wait.... You're not Sans." Flowey realized, and Dust shook his head.

"not the one you know. last timeline, with that fight with mettaton, the kid kept dying, and the timeline had a few too many rewinds with mine, and sped up the process." Dust said, "it's how i'm still alive. my hp is higher than the sans you're familiar with."

"How?" Flowey asked, curious.

"i'm not getting into that. i don't need you to be excited or scared of me. actually, i could live with you being scared, but i can't risk you liking it." Dust said.

Flowey huffed, pouting. "What about the other one? What was that black stuff last timeline?"

'hey dustbunny, can i tell him? i can ensure he's scared!' Killer offered.

"no you can't. we both know you'd take it too far, and isn't sans still dealing with that last nightmare? i doubt he'd want you in control without him around; he doesn't trust you." Dust answered.

"You talking to the other one?" Flowey asked, and Dust nodded, "I wanna meet him. He seemed fun!"

'c'mon, dusty! if i start doing something, you can just push me out of the driver's seat, out into the road to get run over by traffic!' Killer said.

"you're insufferable." Dust rolled his eyelights, "i'm still pissed at you for what you said about paps."

'oh no. i feel so guilty.' Killer said flatly.

"listen here you sociopathic little-!" Dust was cut off by Killer snickering. Dust groaned. "if i let you do this, no more badmouthing paps."

"Wait, this guy insulted Papyrus?!" Flowey asked in shock, and Dust nodded a bit. Flowey's jaw dropped.

'deal.' Killer said, walking over, and Dust sighed. Killer did a trust fall into him, and Dust was forced out of control over the body.

Flowey seemed to notice the change in consciousnesses, or just the lack of eyelights, and he tilted his head, "You the one that insulted Papyrus?"

"technically it wasn't an insult, i just said everyone needed to stop sheltering him because his innocence was equivalent to stupidity and if he just trusted everyone he'd get himself killed. he would've been dead a long time ago if it weren't for resets." Killer said, and Flowey's jaw dropped a bit again. "dust is pretty pissed at me for that."

"You're uh.. definitely different, and Dust?" Flowey asked.

"that's the new guy; the one you were just talking to. i was the first one, and lucky, or as you know him, sans, well, he's currently catatonic because he saw himself cut a different human's head off." Killer replied.

"Huh, I was wondering if you had different names. How many of you are there?" Flowey asked.

"two, going on three." Killer replied.

"Huh. You got a name?" Flowey asked.

"yeah. i'm killer." Killer replied, and Flowey tensed up.

"Killer?" Flowey verified.

"i need to say it twice?" Killer asked.

"No, I uh... why... why are you called that?" Flowey asked.

"why do you think? genocide loop does a number on someone. you guys got it good here. dusty's not as lucky either, but i wound up worse off." Killer said.

"How so?..." Flowey asked, growing nervous.

"my determination broke." Killer said.

"B-Broke?!" Flowey asked, "W-What does that mean?!"

"well, i did some... questionable things, some stuff happened, my soul's messed up, my determination is corrupted, and it leaks from my eye sockets every now and then. that's what you saw with mettaton." Killer explained.

"How was it 'corrupted'? What do you mean your soul changed?" Flowey asked.

"blame your deceased sibling." Killer said.

"C-Chara?.." Flowey asked, eyes widening.

"you got another one i don't know about?" Killer asked.

"No.... so.. Chara was the human in your timeline?" Flowey asked.

"bullseye."

"...What about your soul?" Flowey asked.

Killer summoned the glowing red target, and Flowey was horrified.

"I..... How is that possible?....." Flowey asked in horror.

"my timeline's messed up, and i'm not going into details." Killer replied.

"I've never seen anything like it..." Flowey said, and Killer put it back in his chest, "Why... Why are you answering my questions?"

"well, me and dust don't feel like dealing with everyone else's reactions, and i know if you try making this worse, i can just kill you. besides, i'm pretty apathetic. dust is too, but not like me. i'm unique!" Killer was quite proud of that.

"So uh.... you and Dust don't get along?" Flowey asked.

"we have our differences." Killer replied.

His coat pocket vibrated, and he saw Papyrus was calling, and he answered, "'sup, paps?" before turning the volume down a considerable amount.

"ARE YOU ALRIGHT?! I HEARD YOU AND FLOWEY WENT SOMEWHERE TO TALK! YOU'RE STILL INJURED, BROTHER, AND WHILE FLOWEY IS NICE, I DON'T BELIEVE YOU SHOULD BE MOVING AROUND MUCH, AS HE PROBABLY DOESN'T KNOW HOW TO HELP SOMEONE MEDICALLY!"

Killer sighed silently, and he'd be rolling his eyelights if he currently had them. Flowey could probably see it on his face though.

"i'm fine, don't worry. we're just having a bit of a chat. i'll be back in a few minutes, ok?" Killer asked.

"... OK. EVERYONE IS REALLY WORRIED, SO PLEASE HURRY!" Papyrus asked.

"i will. see you in a few." Killer said, and he hung up. He looked back at Flowey, and said, "well, looks like that's the end of our little conversation."

"Wait! One more question! How... How many Resets have you seen? For Determination to break, you... your will has to be completely shattered. How many Genocide Runs did you see?"

Killer sighed a bit. "thousands. i saw thousands."

'you what?!' Dust asked in surprise, appearing behind Flowey, a shocked and horrified look on his face.

"Thousands?... In a row?" Flowey asked.

"yup. nothing changed. ever. how long'd you last, dust?" Killer asked.

'hundreds, but... but definitely not thousands...' Dust replied, 'no wonder you went crazy.'

"hey, that goes for you, too. you're just less crazy than i am." Killer said.

Flowey just looked at him with a strange expression; this was probably weird to see. Killer headed over to the shop Dust was at earlier that timeline, ignoring the confused faces, digging around for food, finding some high HP food and eating it, feeling his HP and magic levels going up again.

'leave some g too.' Dust said.

"why? it's not gonna matter once everything resets." Killer replied.

'unlike you, i still believe in consequences, and i think that a bit of generosity goes a long way.' Dust said, appearing next to him.

"you also have a conscience." Killer said.

'i think deep down, you do too.' Dust said.

"don't get your hopes up. you want this back or not?" Killer asked, leaving the required G on the counter. Flowey was still watching him.

'.... yes. thank you.' Dust said, walking through him and taking control back. He walked over to Flowey, and said, "don't forget what he said about killing you if you tried making all this worse. he wasn't kidding. believe me, i know him. he's got... experience."

Flowey nodded a little, staying silent, and Dust teleported back to the True Lab.

"BROTHER! YOU'RE BACK!" Papyrus cheered.

"yeah, me and flowey talked." Dust said, though he was relieved to see Papyrus was mostly ok, his injuries treated.

"Now will you explain to us too?" Undyne asked, arms crossed.

"not right now." Dust said.

"Sans, at least tell us how you're still alive." Asgore pleaded.

"my hp is higher than you think it is. the hit almost killed me, but it didn't. the kid has a weak swing for 5 LV." Dust said.

"So you raised it? How?" Asgore asked.

"it's complicated..." Dust said, looking at the ground.

"... I see. I see you're uncomfortable talking about it, and I won't ask further. Get some rest, Sans. You'll need it." Asgore said as everything grew fuzzy.

Dust looked around in confusion, seeing everything was fading out. The kid was Resetting again... Sans appeared in front of him, still looking freaked out about the nightmare, but he was doing much better.

'what's happening?' Sans asked.

'mornin', sleepyhead! it's about time! the brat's resetting, so brace yourself!!' Killer said.

'dust? thank you. for saving everyone... it means a lot to me.' Sans said as everything grew blurrier.

'you're welcome.' Dust replied.

RESETme

#undertale #ao3 fanfic #undertale alternate timeline #undertale alternate universe #undertale au #undertale sans #undertale fandom #sans undertale #horror sans #dust sans #killer sans #mergingtimelines #murder time trio

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mooodyblue · 2 years ago

Note

I love your cg!austin, please write more! Maybe just them spending the day together 💕

hope this was okay!! it's a little all over the place but i think it came out cute ^^ enjoy!

picture perfect | cg!austin x little!reader

warnings: little space, age regression

wc: 1k

masterlist | request | taglist

two days ago, austin was on the golden globes stage holding his award proudly and now here he is, smiling at you while sat on a swing, watching you happily, run around a playground as he took in the moment. it was times like these where he was so thankful for everything in his life, especially you.

you'd woken up little, which he didn't mind. he was lucky to have a couple days to rest after the long aftermath of the after party, that meant more time he got to spend with you. it was difficult to take little you out in public, but there was a nice park behind your shared home that nobody ever visited except the two of you. he was still cautious though, people always manage to find ways to take photos of you two.

his hands were tucked in the pockets of his jacket, lightly kicking his feet against the wood chips to get rock himself on the metal swing. "wow, look at you!" he grinned, watching you come down the slide. he pulled his phone out of his pocket, swiping to open his camera. "how 'bout one more time?" you giggled and ran up the steps, resting at the top of the slide then quickly sliding down. you skipped over to austin and plopped onto his lap. he chuckled and put his phone back in his pocket before wrapping his arms around you, gently swinging back and forth. "what do you wanna do now, baby?"

you hummed, resting your head on his shoulder. "'m cold." you muttered.

"told you to wear your jacket." he shrugged off his jacket and wrapped it around your shoulders. "ready to go home?"

you held the jacket tightly, shivering slightly as you nodded, hopping off his lap so austin could get up. you walked with him hand in hand back to your home. once you finally returned home, austin got you in favorite pair of cozy jammie's and made two mugs of hot chocolate, setting one in front of you and the other on his side. "marshmallows? please, daddy?" you begged.

"i'll do you one better!" he grinned, taking out not just the bag of marshmallows but a can of whipped cream from the fridge. your eyes lit up as he sprayed a decent amount into your mug and his before topping it with marshmallows. was it a lot of sugar? sure, but who cares. you took a drink from the mug immediately, not even bothering to wait for austin. he turned around after putting everything away to the sight of you with whipped cream on your upper lip and nose, chuckling. "hold on baby-" he pulled his phone out again, snapping a picture of you with a mess on your face and the mug in between your hands. he put his phone away then wiped your mouth with a napkin. "you're so silly." he laughed. "is it good?"

"very good! thank you, daddy!" you smiled happily, taking another drink. "such good manners. my best baby. let's cheers," he held his mug up, you copying after him. "don't bang it too hard." he reminded. you did your best and clinked your mug against his, spilling a little before you both took a drink at the same time.

after finishing up drinks and cleaning up, you ran off to get your coloring books and crayons, spreading everything out on the coffee table. austin wandered into the living room and gasped, "can i color with you too?" you scooted over on the floor, patting the empty space next to you. he sat beside you and crossed his legs, "which one can i color in?" he asked, looking at the various coloring books on the table.

you put a finger to your chin. "hmm..." you wanted to color in flowers today, but part of you wanted to color in a giraffe from your animal book, but there was also the book with all the fishes.....you couldn't decide. "um....um....." austin chuckled at your indecisiveness, knowing it was probably a hard decision for you. "i-i can't pick..."

"well," he started. "is there one you want to color in first?"

you looked down at the books, carefully examining each one and thinking about what's in each one. pointing at the one with flowers, "this one!" you exclaimed.

"then i'll color in this one with the fishes and when you're done, you can ask nicely for this one! how about you pick one for me to color?" he suggested. you were quick to pick a picture for him to color, opting for a page with multiple fishes on it. he even picked one for you, picking the page with a rose on it. austin put on a cartoon for you to play in the background while the two of you colored for a little while. although it was a kids coloring book, he still wanted to color everything in perfectly while you were just doing mindless scribbles on your own coloring page. he smiled widely at the finished product as you held it proudly, even finishing it off with a scribble of your signature like austin does when he finishes off his own page.

"look at that, baby! aren't you talented! a real artist!" he ripped the page out from the coloring book and stood up, "this one's gonna go on the fridge." he gave your head a little pat before going off to put it on the fridge. he gave one final look at it, smiling softly to himself. he glanced at the clock, it was about time to go down for a nap and he was definitely looking forward to it. he wandered back over to you, looking at you proudly as you were putting your crayons away. "nap time?" you asked.

"yes, baby. once you pick up the crayons we can go for a little nap." he even helped you this time, stacking the books in a pile on the table. normally he'd ask you to put them back in the room, but you'd probably go back to them later. he shut the tv off and followed you into the bedroom, getting you into bed and tucking you in with your favorite plushie. "paci?" he asked, you shook your head. "just you." you replied. austin wasted no time and got in bed with you, holding you tightly until you fell asleep.

#austin butler x reader #austin x reader

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stargazingdruid · 2 years ago

Text

This was a response to @fruit-sy! :) What do you all think of this?

I truly believe that Kaycee started the fire out of a temporary bout of insanity. She's been sleep-deprived, driven to several mental breakdowns and is fully aware that she "knows far too much" in the sense that her employer is going to respond...not so favorably. She's probably been harassed by Kaminski through phone calls.

She hasn't answered the texts or emails from her fellow devs out of sheer paranoia that they want to hurt her. I'm pretty sure even "Amanda" is involved in this, though I haven't thought of how. Kaycee feels backed into a corner with no way out...but she knows they can't have this disc back. Buries it in the woods, the coordinates on a card in a resealed pack (in my headcanon, given to her unsuspecting younger sister), then went to work as normal.

Whether it was Kaminski or another Dev sent by Kaminski to corner Kaycee after work to retrieve the disc (I like the latter with the idea that this dev and kaycee were once very close). She's tired. She's not in her right mind. She knows that this will not end well. How she started the fire, I'm unsure, but I'm convinced she did. Whoever is cornering her, throughly disturbed by her response, flees to not get trapped in the fire.

Kaycee comes into clarity, realizing what she did. Somebody made sure that she couldn't get out of her cubicle, and even if she could, the fire is now too great. She knows she's trapped. She knows this...but she hopes that the disc, that Leshy remains safe, and that nobody EVER sees what's hidden beneath the surface of Inscryption.

(As for the headcanon of Kaycee having a younger sibling- the thought of her having a little sister who she did care about, but still gave her the coordinates to the disc unknowingly was very fun for me to play with, especially with the multi chaptered story I'm working on. The sister never opened the card packs, mainly out of grief and anger for losing her older sibling at the place where she worked and not even wanting to LOOK at the cards, but still hanging onto it as a last memory of Kaycee. Time goes by, she kept the card packs in her bedroom and went off to college, soon moving out of the house. Her mother is cleaning out the rooms for a garage sale, sees the card packs and seeing that it was a painful memory of her eldest daughter, threw them into the garage sale and not even caring what she was paid for them....

And in comes Luke Fucking Carder, Kaycee's sister unknowingly passing her torch of burden to a guy who once won against Kaycee in a game years before.)

#inscryption #inscryption ideas #inscryption oc #inscryption luke carder #inscryption old data #inscryption kaycee #inscryption kaycee hobbes #spoilers

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amplifyme · 5 months ago

Text

@randomfoggytiger tagged me on this one. Thanks!

I answered the original set of 20 questions here but found her additions too intriguing not to answer.

20 Questions for 20 Writers

Gonna throw in some new questions, because why not?

1. Is writing a hobby or way of life?

I wish it was a way of life. It probably could be if the muse wasn't such a pain in the ass. Unfortunately it's only an occasional hobby.

2. A journal full of writing notes or a clean, completed manuscript?

Clean and completed!

3. Who (or what) is your writing inspiration?

The various fictional loves/ships of my life. All inspiration comes from them.

4.Which is worse: someone you "idolize" reading your first draft or listening to you sing?

You don't want me to sing. I mean, I can carry a tune and my range is pretty good, but singing solo in front of anyone triggers my anxiety big time. And then they'd have to deal with the fallout.

5. Has writing from someone else's POV ever changed your own perspective?

Nope. Probably because my main blorbos are people I share similarities with. There's something in each of them that mirrors something in me.

6. Tumblr, AO3, LiveJournal, or FFN?

Tumblr, because it has all the comforts of home.

7. AO3 wordcount, and are you satisfied with it?

I'm too lazy to do the math that would involve since I've posted for posterity several fics written by BATB writers who are no longer with us. I think the last time I was tasked with figuring it out, the number hovered around 500,000. I'm more than satisfied, considering my chronic and extended bouts of writer's block.

8. What movie/book/fic gripped you irrevocably?

How much time do you have? It would be a lengthy list. Off the top of my head... Books: The Stand, The Passage trilogy, the as yet unfinished A Song of Fire and Ice series, Outlander, The Lion of Ireland. Movies: Fight the Future, Arrival, Primal Fear, the limited TV series Midnight Mass. Fics: Into the Wood, Kindred, All the Dead Mulders, Three Little Words, Night Giving Off Flames, Parabiosis, Iolokus, the Acquainted With the Night series, This Massive Darkness. I could go on, but I won't.

9. What's the highest compliment you could ever be given, and have you been given it?

That I'm a good person. And yes, I have. More times than I probably deserve.

10. What defines your writing style?

Controlled chaos? I dunno. I think that's for my readers to decide.

#writer's questions #about me

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practically-an-x-man · 8 months ago

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Your oc pairings doing the tiktok couples paint each other trend? (It's what it sounds like, couples paint each other and film it to show their reactions) (unfortunately I've seen a lot of sad cishet ones where the guy paints his gf or wife really badly, like intentionally, where the gf/wife looks like a monster so I need some actual nice ones to feel better and thought I'd ask about your ocs)

Awww that sounds so cute! (though it really sucks about the sad cishet ones, I don't know why you'd want to paint your partner badly on purpose, that's just mean and awful :( )

I'm just gonna answer this for the couples you know I think, just for simplicity's sake

Rae: Isn't that much of an artist, but she'd do her best. It's not fantastic quality but it's really clear that she tried to get all the details (especially in his eyes because she loves his eyes). I think she'd either just stick to drawing a bust of him just to make sure it's manageable, or would try something ambitious like him with his wings wrapped around her. Warren: Refined upbringing... I'm sure he's taken some art classes, not to mention his mom liked to paint, so he knows how to paint. He hasn't done it in years so it's a bit of a slow start, but once he finds his rhythm he actually makes something really beautiful. It has Rae crying a little when he shows it to her (but happy tears of course)

Robin: She's more of a music person than a 2D art person, so her solution is to paint a bunch of wiggly stripes in shades of blue and silver and say "it's you at superspeed" - kinda cheating, but it makes Peter laugh. Peter: Tries his best... that's about all he can say. He tried to paint her singing onstage for Carmen since that's how they met, but it's a little lopsided and goofy since he's not the best painter. It's not intentionally bad, he's just not an art guy, so he and Robin just laugh together when he shows her.

Madison: Would probably opt to sketch him rather than painting him (she's better at sketching, it was one of her hobbies to pass the time out in the woods), and would actually draw a really accurate sketch of Alex. He's very impressed (and it makes him a little embarrassed about his own drawing, honestly) Alex: Isn't a great artist, so he kinda just stuck to the key details - plus, as we both know, she's kinda hard to draw. Madison thinks it's sweet no matter how it turns out though, he could have drawn a stick figure and she'd still think it was sweet that he tried.

Jasper: Tries to draw the time the two of them kissed across the railing at Jasper's derby bout... Kyle: Ends up, by total coincidence, drawing the same exact moment, since it's also his favorite kiss that they've had. Jasper's is more cartoony and Kyle's is stuck in that vague zone of "past the anime character stage but not quite the right proportions yet" but they were both so surprised to flip it and reveal the exact same moment that neither of them are really paying attention to the quality of the paintings.

Prometheus and Corinthian: I feel like as dreams they'd probably have some kind of like... photographic art thing? I mean, they are themselves artistic creations, in a way, and they're not exactly human.... I guess what I'm saying is they'd both make realistic paintings of the other, and though they'd both find it sweet they also wouldn't quite understand the point of it... it's more of a human trend, I think.

Indie: Also opts to draw him rather than paint him (maybe with pastels or colored pencils, and she'd play with a fun color scheme), since she already enjoys drawing. It comes out really clean and accurate, and Hux is both impressed and maybe a little overwhelmed because I can't imagine anyone's paid enough attention to draw him before he met Indie. Hux: I also feel like he knows how to sketch a bit (admittedly this is a headcanon I latched onto from a fic I read, but still), though he's probably rusty since he hasn't drawn since he was a teenager. Indie kinda tries to brush it aside when he shows her, saying he's biased and she definitely doesn't look as nice as what he drew, but he insists that it's how he sees her. I mean, we already knew he's completely smitten for her.

#my friends!!!#answered asks #my ocs #rae mckinney #robin cassidy #madison douglas #jasper wilson #oc prometheus #oc indigo

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aufucker · 6 months ago

Text

(Pseudo) Diner Date

BJ/Jack

PREQUEL TO THE LAST FIC BC I FORGOT TO POST LOL

You were used to being up long before the sun rose.

Chores needing to be completed on your family's ranch before school started served for great preparation for your current life of supply runs on the company's dime, spending anywhere from a few minutes to a few hours putting in lumber orders for any bloodied boards or beams that needed to be replaced.

But you always liked to leave earlier if you could. You had a trucker diner you always enjoyed going to, taking the time to scarf down a plate of jalapeño scrambled eggs and almost over-seasoned home fries with your near endless coffee refills. Sometimes, you'd treat yourself to one of their giant waffles. A full stomach did make dealing with the other contractors waiting around much more tolerable.

You seated yourself into your favorite booth after saying your "G'mornin'" with an involuntary yawn. The burnt orange pleather, still only slightly warm from whomever sat last, with the glossy table inlayed with local advertisements of roofing repairs, movers, and landscaping professionals, only to be slightly textured from the stray grands of salt that somehow escaped the recent cleaning, digging into the skin of your forearms.

Your black coffee was served without question and with an almost familiar smile. You never were around long enough to have a fixed view of the server's faces, but the tones of their older voices were always so clear.

Opting to wait a moment before putting your order in, you sipped at your coffee, ears perking slightly as the door's hanging bell was jostled loudly by someone's entrance.

"Grab a seat wherever, hon, we'll be right wit'cha!" you knew that to be Colleen's voice.

And you knew that black and white jacket that walked in to be Dean's.

You both seemed surprised to see each other, you moreso at this hour with his noticeable lack of uniformed blues.

"Oh, fuck. Hey, B. Got you working today?" he asked, his tone low and a little tired. Sounded more like he woke up recently, rather than got off a shift.

"Mm-hmm. You ain't?" you asked into your cream colored mug, hiding the small grin that tugged your mouth as he slid into the booth in front of you.

"Nah. First day of PTO. Got a long ride ahead."

"Lucky fucker. Forgot you're usually gone 'round this time of year." you mused. He was usually long gone to god knows where before you even realized.

You earned a laugh from him. You hated how it made the tops of your ears burn.

He ordered his steak and eggs with water and black coffee, going on about trying to cut back on sugar amidst the chatter you two shared. He was vague about any questions you asked about his whole vacation.

"It's a sex thing, isn't it?" you asked flatly. "You're doing some weird sex shit in the woods or something."

That earned a snort, and a part of your waffle being promptly stolen and shoved into his mouth.

"You got me, B." he said. You knew you didn't.

"Hey! Thought you said you weren't eating sweet shit!"

"Said I was cutting back!" he grinned, wincing only slightly as you slightly-harder-than nudged his leg with your boot.

"Asshole. How long a drive you looking at?"

"'Bout a day, maybe day and a half. I try not to make unnecessary stops if I can help it." Dean mumbled, pulling out and laying down cash on the table. It was enough to cover your plate and the tip. You knew better than to try and argue about it.

But you were going to argue about the car. As the two of you stepped out, you didn't recognize it, it wasn't anything you had ever seen at his place before- an old beater of some sedan, probably from the late 90s, if you had to guess.

"You know that's not good for a poor old thing like that."

He stuffed his hands in his pockets, and you heard the plain clattering of his key. "Only drive it for these trips. It's fine, B. I promise."

You felt your time together waning quickly. Why did you want to keep stalling? Something about that car felt like a death trap, and you couldn't place why. It looked *fine.* Well maintained - the body had some flaking of paint, but that was expected with something as old as you were. Your ears kept perking up to the quiet shifting sounds it made. Was it still settling from his drive in? Probably the leaf springs... your mind was wandering.

With a sigh, you dug for your own keys to the company truck you rode in with, giving the grey haired man a firm look.

"Just take your time getting back, yeah? And make sure you get that thing checked out whenever you arrive to...wherever the fuck you're going, okay? Kinda don't want to hear you're stranded in Bumfuck, Nowhere."

"Alright, alright. I'll pop in to a mechanic on the way back, okay? Thing usually sits in one place the whole time, anyway."

God, you wanted to throttle him. "Text me when you get back. Okay?"

#btd #tpof #tpof jack #btd oc #my writing #billiedean #I FORGOT TO POST THIS

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angel-0f-verdun · 2 years ago

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06 Queen of Darkness

Previous Chapter

I walked until I found Jonathan sitting at a table playing poker, he was surrounded by four different American men. The atmosphere was crowded and full of cigar smoke. However, I knew this was the place to be if I wanted to be around people. It was a relatively small part of the boat but it was the only place where those who wanted company went, while there were three decks that could be occupied, I felt safer here. I was itching to get a drink, there was a bar further past the groups, a bit gaudy for my taste, it had a mirror behind the bartender and faux gold inlay in the design where the bottles of liquor sat. The bartender was assisting an exuberant couple probably here on their honeymoon, I assumed. I waited patiently refusing to sit on the stools provided. The girl from my visions was getting in my head, I watched my reflection in the mirror scared to see what she was doing this time. I listened to the Americans conversation to distract myself from the reflection.

"Quit playing with your glasses and cut the deck, would you Burns?" One asked his colleague who clearly needed his glasses to see. My reflection smiled wickedly in the mirror back at me.

"Without my glasses, I can't see the deck to cut it, can I Dave?" He wittingly replied.

I smiled as I waved the bartender down to order. He smiled at me cleaning the glass in his hands with a towel, waiting for me to speak.

"Old fashioned please" I all but mumbled to him as he nodded I heard my brother join the conversation. I stared down at the wooden bar, following the wood stain patterns with my eyes.

"O'Connell, sit down. Sit down. We could use another player." Jonathan chided Rick, hoping to become friends, I'm sure.

"I only gamble with my life, never my money," Rick said, the words coming from him like an anthem he had. I watched as my drink was mixed with bourbon, sugar, bitters, and water. Happily, the barkeep dropped some cherries in for me. I smiled and thanked him putting some money down on the bar. I took a sip and smiled feeling the cold drink hit my empty stomach. I walked back over to the table where Jonathan sat with Rick standing at his side.

"Never? What if I was to bet you $500 says we get to Hamanuptra before you?" The man with a cigar in his teeth asked my brother.

"You're looking for Hamunaptra?" Rick asked the confusion was clear in his voice for me. However, not to the one he was talking to.

"Damn straight we are." The man persisted.

"And who says we are?" Rick asked.

"He does." All of them said at once, pointing a finger at Jonathan.

"Well how bout it? Is it a bet?" The man asked again. I rolled my eyes.

"All right, you're on," Rick said.

"What makes you so confident sir?" Another pompous fellow pipped up.

"Well, what makes you?" Rick countered.

"We got us a man whose actually been there." The man continued to give away his position. Rick and I both knew how to gamble and win with men like this. Giving information away was the easy part to know what and how to win against them.

"What a coincidence because O'Connell..." Jonathan trailed off as Rick hit him with his pack getting him to shut up.

"Whose play was it? Was it my play? I thought I just..." Jonathan quickly diverted the conversation.

"Gentleman, we got us a wager. Good evening, Jonathan." Rick squeezed Jon's shoulder cracking the bones beneath it.

"Night." I heard Jon say as Rick looked up and saw me standing across from him, sipping my drink. His eyes changed, he knew something was wrong. He rounded the table and took my arm in his leading us to the starboard side of the ship to the promenade where there was no one around. He let go of my arm standing in front of me now.

"What's wrong? You look like you've seen a ghost. One of them?" He asked searching for the answers in my eyes. I looked down feeling the glass beneath my fingers.

"God Rick no, nothing of the sort. Remember what we talked about earlier?" He nodded in response.

"They're getting more frequent, she... She's coming for me. It's the most sinister one I've had, Rick. It's real, and I know it sounds crazy. But I don't know what to do. It's terrifying. I don't know what else to do but wait. Eventually, she will win and there's nothing I can do about it." I gulped down more of the alcohol hoping it would calm the nerves I had. He listened to every word I said, knowing that I was trying to convey the urgency of the situation.

"Okay, do these 'visions' happen around other people?" He asked me putting emphasis on the word visions. I thought back to the museum when Evy checked on me. That's when they began to become more clear.

"Yes, actually Evy walked in when I was having one before. That happened to be one of my first ones. But since then they seem to happen when I'm alone." I told him. He nodded taking in the information.

"Okay, so you cannot be alone. Why don't you go hang out with Jonathan and the other guys?" He asked me trying to find a solution for the moment. I grimaced at the thought but nodded in agreement. He knew I thrived in these types of situations, it's why he always suggests it. But in this instance, I had an inkling that he wanted to go have a conversation with Evy.

"Come find me if anything else happens. Do you have your weapons on you? Something doesn't feel right." He told me looking past the water to the horizon.

"Yes, the ones I can carry," I told him.

"Good, don't leave unless there's trouble." He told me spinning around and walking towards the other end of the boat bag slung over his shoulder. I rolled my eyes knowing he was about to make an ass out of himself. I walked to the rail, it was beautiful, the sun was setting and the colors brushed the sky like a painter, purple, orange, yellow, and blue. I sighed happily feeling the last rays of the sun as the moon took over the sky.

I opened my eyes turning back toward the crowd. The conversation had lulled a bit and I noticed Jonathan's eyes on me. He waved me over after his initial interaction with Rick I was sure he was trying again with the other O'Connell.

"So miss are you comparable to your brother?" He asked me.

"No, in this instance I also gamble with my money. I do prefer to do it with my life but well the circumstances have not called for that yet." I replied to him.

"Is one O'Connell as good as the other?" He asked. I smiled and laughed setting my glass down near the empty chair.

"$100 says I am." I threw the money down on the table. Jonathan's eyes brightened at the competition.

"I'll take that wager." He laughed and dealt me in. I slowly pulled the cards towards me on the table. I had a nine of spades and a queen of spades. The cards laid in the middle were an eight of spades, an ace of spades, and a jack of spades. 'All spades?' I asked myself making sure my expression didn't show the surprise I was feeling.

"So where'd you learn to play?" A blonde-haired man asked with a toothpick sticking out of his mouth. He sat to my right, with a gigantic scarf around his neck. I assumed he wanted to be a cowboy.

"When I was in orphanage in Cairo, there wasn't much to do as a child. So for fun, we taught ourselves to play with the help of an adult who knew the rules." I replied to him, watching him closely and examining his reaction to the story I was telling. This seemed to surprise him.

"Why is that surprising to you?" I asked him.

"Actually it is hard to believe a beautiful woman such as yourself was given up to an orphanage." I laughed, it wasn't that part of the story where he should be feeling uncomfortable it was what came next.

"I assume it wasn't difficult, for the morbid imagination I had. The things I yearned for and saw in my mind." I smiled grimly at him. Calling the hand he had just raised. Jonathan interrupted the story by dealing the cards out, and adding a king of spades to the table. I could tell the entire group was hanging on to the story, they wanted to learn more. We went around the group again calling and folding until it got to the companion I had been talking to. He played with the edges of his cards as he called. I called as well, and Jonathan nodded as he flipped the last card to the table it was a ten of spades.

"So, what, there's a sense of darkness about you that you think your parents couldn't have handled?" He asked stiffing a laugh as if he didn't believe it. I pushed the money I had into the pot.

"I'd bet on it. All in." I told them. Everyone was shocked, the table felt tenser than ever as I turned to Jonathan. He revealed his hand showing three pairs of jacks. The man to my left put his down displaying three pairs of kings. I threw my cards down showing them to the group. A nine and queen of spades.

"Queen of Darkness" the American to my left laughed. The other to his left looked shocked beyond a doubt, and his buddy to the left quickly did the sign of the cross.

"And what sir do I call you? "I smirked happily grabbing the money in the pot.

"Henderson. Isaac Henderson. And yours?" He looked up at me.

"Eris O'Connell, Queen of Darkness," I smirked putting the money in my bag, that's when I heard it, shots ring through the crisp air, I looked to Jonathan suddenly hearing a piercing scream that ripped through my ear drums. I grabbed him by the suspenders he was wearing and crept around the wall where the hallway was to the rooms.

"I know that scream anywhere, it's Evy." Jonathan proclaimed ripping himself from my grip and running down the hallway and up the stairs to their room. I ran behind him, moving with the wall. I grabbed my pistol out of my waistband. Jonathan went barreling into the room when he got there, knocking over a man clutching his eye who then went into the couch that was on fire. I shot at him a couple of times for good measure, getting him in the leg and arm, while Jonathan grabbed what he needed and we ran out of the room. The man was trying to run after us but in his attempts realized his wounds were too much to continue on. The ship was encased in chaos the fire was growing out of control and those who brought horses were getting them out of the stables. There was no place to leave that offered an easy escape. I pushed Jon towards the railing coaxing him to climb down as I watched our backs for the cloaked male. Once Jonathan was firmly on the ground he ran towards the gunshots that we were hearing towards the bow of the boat. I saw Henderson surrounded by his buddies. He briefly stopped to wave at me. I didn't give it a second thought. As I almost ran straight into Jonathan.

"Americans" Jonathan uttered in disdain. I smiled we did enjoy our guns and freedom. But like I had thought before, these are cowboys. The man on fire from before broke through a thin wall to where we were. He hobbled towards the edge of the ship where Jonathan was standing. Henderson fired more shots at him which made him start spinning in a circle, he eventually succumbed and fell overboard.

"I say bloody good show chaps! And did I panic? I think not!" Jonathan said as he tossed the onyx octagon into the air and catching it. A blaze of fire interrupted his thoughts and he jumped overboard, I followed quickly after him. I immediately felt the water soak through my clothes unhappily. I hated being wet. As I surfaced, I saw Jonathan to my left we looked around the river watching the groups of people flop up on the shoreline. I pointed in that direction so Jonathan would know where to swim as I let my body take over. Swimming I was decently good at but it had been a while since I had done it in action. I slowly let my breathing go and concentrated on it. In when surfacing and out under the water. The swim was relatively quick but the water was cold, it was hard not to focus on how my body wanted to keep warm. We waded up on shore slowly while our muscles relaxed finally being on solid land.

"We've lost everything, all of our tools, all of the equipment, all of my clothes!" Evy exclaimed. I rolled my eyes she was becoming a new person in my eyes seeing her in the action. She did not cope well.

"O'Connell!!! Hey O'Connell! It looks to me like I've got all the horses!" I heard a weasley voice from across the river yelling at us.

"Hey, Beni! Looks to me like you're on the wrong side of the river!!" Rick yelled back to him. I looked at him confused.

"Beni shut up!!" I yelled to him already annoyed at his antics. He wouldn't last long with me in this sour mood. The next time I saw him I would hurt him, badly.

"Let's get into town and sort out our roster of things. I'm freezing." Evy exclaimed. We all headed up the bend towards the dimly lit glowing town. Quite the start to an adventure if I said so myself.

Next Chapter

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light-speed-saint · 2 months ago

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Jenny Caldwell, rescued and enslaved

The rain spatters into the garden on either side of me, bouncing off the withered leaves of dying plants. The door to the century old, three-story mansion is huge; made of heavy black wood with a bronze knocker at just a bout eye level. It’s a lion’s face that’s supposed to be intimidating but looks static and frozen and dead. I grab the ring in the lion’s jaws and wrap three times against the door. The high metallic sound seems small and helpless against the rain. I stand on the stoop, unable to shake a feeling of being watched. Something, somewhere in the gathering storm and deepening twilight, has its eyes upon me, and looks on with malice and bitter cruelty.

I only have to endure the mysterious spectator for a minute or so before the towering door swings open and Jenny Caldwell invites me to “Come in!” with a beckoning wave. I step over the thresh hold into a carpeted foyer. “Alaric!” Jenny beams while I clean the rain and muck from my boots and hang my rain-soaked jacket “Its so good to see you! We haven’t spoken since…”

“Probably not since you got your realtors licence.” I give Jenny a half smile “and joined the real world.” Its petulant to quote Jenny back at herself, but I cannot resist.

“Oh, come on. Are you still mad about that? It was just a little ribbing…”

“Strange thing to put in a breakup letter.” I look at Jenny sidelong. She only blushes for a moment, but I manage to catch it.

“Yeah.” She sighs. If Jenny is letting herself feel real sadness or guilt it doesn’t last long. She quickly stops and brightens into a force smile. “Look, I’m sorry, okay. But you absolutely *must* see this place. *Its. So. Spooky.* You’ll love it.”

I accept Jenny’s offer and let her guide me through cavernous, lamp lit parlors and libraries filled with ancient volumes of forgotten lore. The rooms are all magnificent, but Jenny herself more so. Her long, raven hair is tamed into a bun, and her lips are painted red as fresh blood. Part way through the tour she takes off her blazer to reveal her button-down blouse. Lustrous silk hugs her curves, suggestive but not slutty. Her skirt is the same; long enough to be professional, short enough to be enticing. Jenny finishes showing me the master bedroom with a little giggle. Fantasies stream into my brain faster than I can remind myself they’re impossible. “Jenny…” I exhale as rain patters harder against the windows. “What am I doing here?”

“Well…” she says playing with the gold filament of her necklace. “You might have noticed that this house is…um… it has some bad vibes…”

“I definitely noticed the bad vibes.”

“So, I was kinda hoping you could do a little hocus pocus and get it ready for me to sell…”

I think for a minute. “I don’t know what exactly the problem is, but I could give you my friends and family rate for an exorcism.”

Jenny hesitates, then tells me that “This project is… kinda out of money, and I really need this house to sell.”

With a rush of terrible clarity, I understand Jenny’s game. Dress on the very edge of skimpy and smile just sweetly enough to get me chasing what was never there. The softest parts of my heart want to help, but I force them to harden. “I can’t work for free.”

“Come on, Ricky.” She uses the pet name I have allowed to her alone. “Help a pretty girl out of a jam. For old times sake.”

“The guild would have my head. And I can’t come charging in whenever you so much as bat your lashes.”

“Please!” Jenny clutches my arm in sudden desperation. “I’m really in trouble here. You can’t leave me alone against whatever is haunting this place.”

I chew on the flesh of my cheek. It would be callous to leave Jenny alone against the evil lingering in this house. I swing between pride, bitterness and something that moves between lust and chivalry that finally makes me say “I can watch over you while you perform your own ritual. But if I need to come to your rescue I’ll have to collect my payment in kind.”

Jenny thinks for a moment. “So if you have to save me from whatever ghostie this is, I become your little slave whore? Is that it?”

“In broad strokes, yes.” I nod.

Jenny sighs. “I can work with that.”

I sit on the edge of the bed and watch as Jenny pours a circle of salt; carefully following the instructions of her cheap grimoire. She lights four tea candles placing each at a different point on the circle. The fifth candle, and the closest to me, is a tall black tapper which Jenny puts onto a skull, or replica skull, and sets in place to form the top point of the star. Jenny looks out over the circle that she has just made and draws a steadying breath. I watch from behind as she starts to undress. She removes her shirt to reveal the toned sinews of her shoulders and her back; the gently sloping curve of her hips. Jenny lowers her skirt slowly, showing off the dimples in her back, the smooth skin and perfect arc of her ass. She turns to look at me over her shoulder. “Enjoy the view, but don’t get used to it.” She says with a wink. Jenny undoes the bun in her hair, which falls down her back like an obsidian waterfall. Wearing only her stockings and her garter along with high heeled shoes that gleam in the candlelight, Jenny starts to whisper. Her voice is fast and low as she begins her exhortation.

I cannot make out Jenny’s words but know right away that something is wrong. All around her circle the salt seethes. Tendrils of reddish shadow reach from the inner edge to the middle of the pentagram. They swallow each other when they touch, becoming longer and thicker until one reaches the middle. Then the shadow starts to spread; at first its only a small patch the light cannot touch, but soon its big enough to fill the centre of the pentagram. That’s when the hands begin to emerge.

They aren’t quite skeletal, and they aren’t quite human. The hands have long fingers tipped with claws like spear points. Each hand is connected to an arm. I don’t know exactly how many arms reach out from the portal, because I stop counting after ten. The bone of each arm is connected to another behind it, but none ever touches a shoulder. The arms, covered in leathery grey skin, join together to make an infinite chain of elbows reaching back into the void. Some of the hands drive their talons into the floor and begin to tug, trying to haul something out of the menacing puddle of shadow. Others reach for Jenny, each claw point making an indent in her soft skin. Jenny continues bravely, but she is unable to keep her cadence steady and I can hear the quaver in her voice.

The pulling hands finally succeed in their task, hauling up something shaped like an immense human skull. It hurts to look at; the eye sockets are not so much black as they are the colour of fear and madness. Its jaw falls open and I can see that there are teeth, but only for show. The real work of chewing, of devouring, will be done by the utter depravity and despair that swirl in what would be a mouth. Jenny’s voice catches, her resolve finally breaking. She screams as the skull rushes forward to swallow her into torturous oblivion.

I cannot leave Jenny to this fate. I find the dagger I keep tucked in my belt and slice through the air above Jenny’ head, I cut through the hand the demon has sent forth to claim her, It, and all the other hands, shrivel back. I call out “Karthenos, king of the malicious void and lord of the tormented darkness. I see you with Megara’s vigilance and strike you with Tisiphone’ scourge. With Alecto’s wrath I break your bones! With Hekate’s torches you are burned!” The demon screams, and some of the hands lose their grip, but more emerge and start reaching for me. One grabs my wrist. I inhale. “The furies, the three furies, gather to condemn you. You are ash. You are empty wind. You are less than dust underneath their sandals.” There’s a sudden, metal on metal shriek that pounds into my bones. The shadow at the centre of the pentagram changes to a pool of radiant water. Karthenos’ hands all loose their grips at once, and he falls away from us into the golden, untroubled light.

At my feet Jenny weeps softly, I reach down to touch her hair and find that she is trembling. “You saved me.” She says.

“I did. Do you remember what that means?”

Jenny’s voice trembles as she answers “It means that I’m yours.”

“That you’re my what?”

Jenny’s trembling stops, and she peacefully tells me “It means that I’m your slave, sir.”

Jenny kneels before me, clad only in her stockings and her black high heels: not naked yet totally exposed. I stand above her, watching the slow heave of her breasts while her eyes sparkle with trepidation and desire. I tilt Jenny’s head upward, force her to look me in the eyes as I slide two fingers into the softness of her mouth. I use them to turn her head slowly from side to side, inspecting my pretty whore’s face from all its beautiful angles. I pull my fingers away and tell Jenny to “Put your hands behind your back like a good little slut.”

Jenny hesitates for a moment, but does as she is instructed. Between her knees the candle from her spell is still flickering, resting on the skull, or replica skull she hoped would lend it some power. I pick up the candle, Jenny watches as I pour a few drops onto my forearm. The wax is painful, but not hot enough to burn deeply or permanently. I smile wickedly down at Jenny. “Are you ready to be a good little whore and suffer for me?”

A nervous shudder runs through Jenny’s body before she answers. “Yes, sir. I’m ready sir.”

I take some time to caress Jenny’s breasts, letting my fingers cradle and grope, tease over her nipples. I savour the softness of her skin and the fearful gallop of Jenny’s heart in the moments before her torment begins.

I pour the first fiery drops on to the top of Jenny’s chest. The sudden heat makes her gasp as the molten wax makes contact. I move the candle closer, so each drop has less time to cool as it falls and let three more drops fall onto her skin. The burn is more intense, sudden and searing; Jenny gives soft pathetic whimpers. I pour a pyroclastic cascade between my whore’s breasts and watch her mouth fall open into a voiceless but agonized scream. I give her a second to recover before pouring another hot stream onto the inside of Jenny’s thigh, making her squeak in pain. Another, on the inside of the other thigh, elicits a plaintive yelp. I raise the candle again, but Jenny winces and tries to pull back from the pain.

I grab her by the throat. “I thought you were going to be a good whore and suffer for me.”

“Yes.” Jenny gasps, my grip is just tight enough to make her fight for breath.

“Do good whores run away from pain?”

Jenny swallows. “No, sir. No they don’t.”

“Then why are you trying to get away from me?”

“Because I… it… the pain is…” Fear and agony and lust all cloud my whore’s little mind, make it hard to find her words.

“Is it too much?” I ask, caressing Jenny’s cheek.

“Yes, sir. Its too much, I can’t take it.”

I give Jenny a gentle and reassuring smile. “I thought you could take more, but if you need mercy you only need to beg for it.”

I take Jenny by the chin, tilt her head so she looks up at me while she pleads. “Please, sir. Please have mercy on your helpless little whore. Please please please.”

I step back and take a long second to look over Jenny’s body. “Show me.” I command. “Show me how much you want my mercy.”

Jenny bends forward, instinctively and obsequiously, lifting her ass into the air and placing her face beside my boot. Jenny’s lips part and she extends her tongue. I feel a slight pressure against my foot as my whore runs the livid pink of her tongue along the clean black of the leather. “Please, sir.” She says after the first lick. She changes sides for the second, applying the soft wetness of her mouth to my instep before begging me to “Please have mercy on your whore. Your pathetic slave.” Another lick over my instep, more supplicating words. “I’ll be so good. And it burns so much.” Jenny moves back to the outside before she says “I can make you feel so good. Please mercy. Please can I make you feel good.” Jenny falls silent and rests her head on the top of my laces. I exhale, steadying myself between the lust and sadism that rush through my veins, then grab Jenny by the hair.

I lift her head so that she is on all fours, order her to “Follow me. Crawl.” I lead my whore around the room, keeping my pace steady; just slow enough that she can keep up on her hands and knees, but fast enough that she is off balance. From the corner of my eyes, I watch Jenny’s ass and her hips, the way the muscles in her back move in this atavistic display of surrender. I finally bring Jenny to the bed and lift her to her feet before manhandling her unceremoniously to the mattress. “This.” I run my finger along the outside of Jenny’s labia, teasing my little whore. “This is a view I could get used to.”

“Yes, sir.” My whore moans. “Thank you, sir.”

There’s no warning the spanking is coming. Jenny knows only when my hand strikes against her vulnerable and sensitive ass like lightning. I watch the skin of her buttocks glow pink, order her once again to “Beg. Beg to be fucked like the whore that you are.” More spanks fall onto Jenny’s ass. She screams for the pain of each impact before groveling “Please fuck me, sir. Please. I’m just—" Her words are cut off by more tortured moans as the spanking continues and the sting in her ass becomes overwhelming. “Just your little slave. Your whore. I just want to make you feel good. Please. Please I can make you feel so good sir.”

“Yeah?” I pause Jenny’s spanking to squeeze the flesh of her ass. “My whore’s pussy is nice and wet for me? Waiting for my cock to stretch it out?”

“Yes. I’m so wet for you, sir. Please fuck me. Stretch me out with your big cock. Fill me up with your cum, please. I—”

Jenny’s pathetic begging is cut off by a squeal of animalistic pleasure as I give her what she wants so desperately. My cock presses deep into the welcoming heat of her pussy. I make my whore take every inch, thrusting into her over and over. She gasps and mewls as bliss sparkles in her synapses. Then yelps as my hand impacts her ass. Jenny’s eyes close and her mouth goes slack. The steady glow of pleasure and bright flashes of pain leave my whore’s mind blank. I watch her fingers curl and feel her leg start to shake as agony and bliss overwhelm her nervous system. In her abject capitulation she occasionally moans “Please.”

With a spank on her glorious ass, I tell Jenny to “Come for me. Show me how grateful you are for the chance to be my compliant fucking slave.” Jenny obeys with out saying a word, just gasps and trembles as she plunges into ecstasy.

#bd/sm slave #female sub #bd/sm community #mind break #cnc k!nk #witchcraft #black magic #gothic #horror #demonic #bd/sm dom #monster #dark fantasy #dark aesthetic #dominance and submission #bd/sm brat #pain slvt #worship me

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