#but it was probably something he lost sight of and begun valuing again after losing sky

[evie-doesnt-write]

Unsure if this is an unpopular opinion but I think Viktor’s writing in Arcane s2 is just all over the place

[scarlettwitcher]

The Funny Thing About Life

Summary: Dean struggles with the aftermath of a difficult event in his life involving reader. (It’s super vague I know, but if I literally explain anything, it’s all spoilers. I swear it’s good)

Characters: Dean, Reader, Sam, Cas, OC!Leu, mentions of Ellen and Jo

Word Count: 5,300

Warnings: Angst up the wazoo, mild description of wounds, also some of the warnings are spoilers so I’m putting them in the tags lol

Author’s Note: Here’s this fic that I wrote a few weeks ago. I haven’t had a chance to post it till now. I was inspired after watching a youtuber play a game based on this concept. If anyone’s curious about the theme I was going for, let me know. I’m very glad to explain. I hope you guys like it, I haven’t written Dean in years lol. I apologize in advance if it’s bad, I’m not good at angst.

Death was inevitable. Dean knew that, Sam knew that, even Cas knew that but given the type of life they lived, they didn’t know when it was going to be permanent or if it was just a never ending cycle of lost heartbeats and gasps for air. Sometimes death was permanent and there was nothing they could do about it, watching countless friends and family pass away right under their noses. Sam and Dean somehow always found a way to cheat death though. Come back and walk the earth as if they hadn’t just been lifeless moments ago. Deal after deal after deal trying to protect each other from what was the inevitable end for the brothers. It wasn’t until you had just danced your way into their lives that they started to value life for what it was without trying to die. You traveled with the brothers for years, keeping them company in the back of the impala, cracking horrible joke after joke, offering your candy to a grumpy dean, or just sleeping the previous hunt away. To the outside world, it probably would’ve been weird just how comfortable the three of you became in a short amount of time but you just understood each other. The brothers had already lived a long and hard life before you came into the picture. They took their necessary precautions when it came to you but in a few short months, you had become one of their own. 

Living a life with the Winchesters was tough and sometimes downright impossible but you proved loyal to them every moment you could, sticking by through their hardest moments. Dean became attached not only to your beautiful face and appealing form but to your kind soul, your caring nature, your inability to give up. If he was to be completely honest, he fell in love with you the moment he first met you but he’d never admit it. He’ll never admit how much your smile can brighten his days instantly, how your laugh is his favorite song over Zeppelin and Jovi, how every moment with you is his favorite. He always had it bad for you since the moment you joined his misshapen crew. Dean could never understand how lucky he got that you even glanced in his direction, let alone fall in love with him too. He was terrified at first. He knew he had destructive habits, moments of lost clarity where he wasn’t himself truly. Having traveled with Dean for years before finding the bunker, you understood this, understood him. You were patient, loving, and Dean would never say it, but in a way you were his salvation. You showed him how to love himself first and how to better improve for himself and not only did he grow and achieve that, he learned how to truly love you. 

“Dean. Dean? Hey!” Dean snapped out of his thoughts of you to look up at Sam as he waved his hands in front of Dean trying to get his attention. Dean looked at Sam emotionless as Sam sighed, flipping his computer around to show Dean some camera footage. “There was a sighting of a man and a woman in New Mexico and caught police attention. Here they are passing through a gas station.” Dean clenched his jaw as he watched the tape play, the man they had been tracking for weeks walking across the aisle, motioning towards the girl to grab food for herself. The girl looked timid, almost broken as she grabbed a few bags of snacks, and water. Even though the tape was grainy and just a bit laggy, he could see the shake in her hands, the tremble in her body, the way her eyes looked everywhere in desperation almost as if she was waiting for someone to save her. The girl looked up at the camera, her eyes wide and teary, one eye clearly bruised up, cheek swollen, lips parted from what only looked like constant abuse. Dean felt the anger boiling inside of him as he pushed the laptop back at Sam, a bit more forcefully than he meant. Sam only let out a quiet click of his tongue as he took his laptop back, scrolling through a few more camera feeds. 

“When?” 

“Two weeks ago.” Dean grabbed the whiskey bottle as he filled his cup back up, throwing the glass back, the amber liquid burning his throat. Dean let out a quiet hiss before moving to refill his glass once more.

“Dean, how much have you drank?”

“Does it matter?”

“You know she wouldn-”

“Dammit Sammy, she’s not here is she?! She’s not here to tell me I shouldn’t.” Dean growled out loudly as he stood, chest puffed out as his breathing became more ragged and hard with every breath he took. Sam said nothing as he stared his brother down, trying to get his thoughts together. Dean was tense and if Sam pushed him, he’d probably break and take it out on him and that last thing they needed was to waste time they could be using to find you. 

“We’ll get her back, Dean. I know it’s only a matter of time but she’ll be home soon.” Dean only shook his head as he grabbed the whiskey bottle, leaving his cup on the table as he made his way towards his room which really was his and yours. Dean walked in, looking around, almost as if he was searching for you from instinct, searching for any movement, smell, any indication that you were in the room, hiding from him like you always did. He clenched his jaw, knowing you weren’t there and he felt the tension building in his bones again at the reality of the situation as he took a large sip from the bottle, trying to drown everything with the golden liquid. He wanted to drown his memories of you, thoughts of you, the smell of you, and forget. Forget you’re gone, out of his reach, forget that he didn’t protect you like he promised and had failed you. 

A month had passed since you disappeared. Dean couldn’t find you and after a week of no contact, he grew increasingly worried. It wasn’t like you to leave without a notice, without a call, or a note, or even a text. Saying that Dean was losing his mind was the understatement of the year. No one had heard from you and not even Cas could tune into your location. Dean denied it. He denied any idea that you had abandoned him, that you were fed up with your life with the Winchesters. He denied the thought that you didn’t love him anymore. Sam reassured him constantly that there was no way you had left him, that you were just as love sick as Dean. 

Another week passed and nothing. That was until Sam found something, or in this case, he was sent something. A video. Dean threw up after the first few minutes of watching the video and he couldn’t stomach watching the rest, leaving Sam to have to watch it, searching for any clues that could aid the brothers. The video was of you, bound and bloody, screaming into a mouth gag as the hooded man carved into your skin, making you sing songs that Dean would gladly never, ever listen to again. You looked like you had gone through hell and back. The man laughed in the video as he finally showed his face. “Hello Deaaanie! You’re probably wondering who I am. You can call me Leu.” The man chuckled as he moved closer to your exhausted form, wincing  as he grabbed your chin hard, making you face the camera. “Say hello to your dear husband sweetie.” 

Your tired eyes fluttered for a few seconds before focusing on the camera. Your lips parted slightly as you took a deep breath. Your throat was sore, like you had swallowed knives from all the screaming. “Dean, baby, don’t.” That’s all that you managed to say before the man slapped you hard, knowing the few specs of oxygen out of your lungs, leaving you almost breathless as you tried to breathe. 

“Well that was lame, I was expecting something more heartfelt. Oh well. Come and find me Dean.” The video went dark after that, Dean’s solemn and terrified face staring back at him. He grimaced and looked away, feeling the shame building inside of him more and more as the seconds passed by. He should’ve protected you better, should’ve been a better partner to you. Your blunt statement started ringing in his ears as he remembered what you said. Don’t. He knew exactly what you were talking about but he couldn’t bring himself to listen to you. How could you tell him not to when he had to and would. Sam had begun to do everything he could, tracing the video, searching for the mystery man in all of the databases, and unfortunately, re-watching the video for anything he missed, anything that could tip him off about your location. 

Dean laid on his bed as he stared at the bottle of whiskey, his anger boiling inside of him, his inability of being able to find you, adding gasoline to the fire burning inside of him. Sam had found a lead though and it seemed promising. He was about to take another sip but the loud call of his name had him running down the bunker, towards the main room where Sam was typing away furiously into his computer. “Dean, look at this.” Sam was about to show him another video feed before the video was interrupted, the skype window filling the whole screen, someone trying to call them. The name showed ‘Unknown Caller’. Sam sighed as he pointed towards the screen. “This is the third time this person calls.”

Dean grunted and clicked on the answer button ready to tell whoever was on the other end to go screw themselves but before the video loaded, there was a soft moan from a woman, one in pain, one Dean recognized all too well. The video loaded in and Dean was face to face with your broken body and the so-called Leu beside you. He had a large grin as he moved closer to the camera. “Finally! I really thought you were ignoring me for a second. Wouldn’t want to make our dear Y/n worry.”

“Son of a bitch! I’ll kill you!” Dean roared out, almost tempted to punch the computer screen but Sam was very ready to contain his brother.

“Now now Deano, don’t be so rude. We have a guest.” Leu walked closer to you, poking you with the knife in his hand. You stirred slowly, groaning as he touched another wound on your skin. You looked thinner, you clearly lost a lot of weight and that really worried Dean. “Don’t you dare touch her.”

“A little late for that remark. I really think I’ve created a masterpiece. So many different hues of blue and purple but my favorite is red.” Leu began to drag his hand across your arm, pulling grunts of pain from you before chuckling quietly as he walked back towards the camera. 

“What do you want?” Sam chimed up when he realized all of Dean’s focus was on you, watching as you struggled to breathe and move. Your bones ached with every movement and there was a point where you just stopped moving, the uncomfortable position better than the burning of your skin. 

“I want you to suffer.” Leu smiled wide as he turned and motioned to you. “It’s pretty easy really. The cycle of life, if you’d like to give it an official name. ”

‘You will pay for this. You will suffer as much as she has and worse.”

Leu let out a full belly laugh as he looked at the camera, wiping away fake tears. “Oh wow I’m definitely trembling in fear.” Both the brothers stared at Leu. If looks could kill, Leu would’ve been assassinated gruesomely. “ You can’t hurt me but I can hurt you. Enjoy this moment because after this, you will never see her again.” Just before the camera cut out, Leu blinked his eyes portraying the black eyes that constantly mocked the brother their whole lives. Demon. 

Dean felt his jaw clench and as he opened his mouth to speak, say anything, the call ended. The screen was blank and that was the last time he ever saw you just as Leu promised and that drove Dean just a bit closer to insanity. Dean didn’t waste a single second before moving back to his room and hastily packing his bag, shaving any clothes he could get his hands on in it. He grabbed his weapons and anything else he needed before moving back towards the main room where a confused Sam sat, typing away at his computer. He looked up as Dean dropped his bag on the floor, moving towards the bookshelf looking for something he also needed. 

“Dean, don’t.” 

“You can’t stop me Sammy.”

“She wouldn’t want this, you know that.”

“I’m leaving.” Finding what he needed, Dean grabbed his duffle bag from the floor before he hastily made his way to the garage. Sam knew better than to try to even reason with Dean. When it came to you, he would move heaven and hell a million times over to get to you. As Dean entered the garage, he threw his bag in the back of the impala, before slipping into the driver’s side, speeding out of the Bunker, a man on a mission. He knew the way to the crossroads like the back of his hand. He had done this countless times, he knew the drills. Crowley was no longer an option and he had to resort to old ways. Pulling up to the location, he moved on autopilot. He opened the trunk and pulled out a tin can, already prepared. Dean double checked it before making his way towards the middle. He set the trap in place before he dug the hole, burying the box.

“You know, we had a bet going to see how long I’d take for you to appear here.” Dean turned to face the Demon. Dean’s expression never faltered, if anything it became more menacing. The demon smirked as it watched Dean, walking around in the circle as she sighed, clearly already bored.

“Then you know why I’m here.”

“Yes… I do.” The demon moved closer to Dean, almost taunting him as her eyes flashed black. She chuckled quietly before clicking her tongue. “Unfortunately for you Winchester, I can’t make the deal.”

“Then get me someone who can.”

“That’s the thing pretty boy, we can’t.” Dean felt his lip curl in anger as he tried to stay composed but it was getting harder with every second that passed that he wasn’t getting what he needed. 

“I don’t want time, trade me for her.”

“I’m sorry Dean but no can do.” The demon was clearly amused and not an ounce of sympathy was in her actions. Dean licked his lips as he nodded his understanding. He rubbed his chin with his thumb before quickly turning and stabbing the demon straight in the gut. The demon flashed as it died on Dean’s blade but Dean showed no emotion. It didn’t matter how long it took, he would find someone who could give exactly what he wanted and what he wanted was you, safe at home. 

Demon kill after demon kill, Dean was relentless. Weeks and weeks of capturing and torturing any demon he could get his hands on. Then, they stopped appearing completely. The demons stopped appearing and Dean was losing his mind. He never had felt so out of loss of control as he did in that moment. He was sitting in his motel, staring at a photo he had of you and him. You were sitting at the bar table with Dean at your left side and Sam on your other. You all had chosen to stop at Ellen's for the night. Sam had gotten up to go to the restroom and left you and Dean at the bar. Dean thought it would be smart to say something funny and you were laughing hard as Dean watched you with a huge smile himself. Jo was working the bar and thought it was a cute sight and snapped a quick photo with her phone. Looking at the photo now, Dean realized this was when he really started falling in love with you. It was super obvious in the way he was smiling in the photo, watching you as you laughed your worries away. Dean ran his fingers across the creases the photo had from the wear and tear of being in his wallet. That moment felt like it was a lifetime ago when it really only was a few years old. 

Dean took a deep breath as he gingerly put the photo back into his wallet before tossing it on his bed. He grabbed the bottle of whiskey he had bought earlier, popping the lid, and taking a big swig of it. The amber liquid burned his throat but he didn't care. He welcomed the pain. He welcomed any distraction from his reality. Dean was no stranger to depression and feelings of inadequacy but this was a whole new level of low. Everything he promised he would and wouldn't do, he had done and that wasn't his biggest failure. His biggest failure was keeping you to himself when he knew you were worth more than someone like him and here you were, paying the consequences for his inability to admit that to himself. Dean felt the anger slowly dissipating, being replaced with the sorrow your absence created. He never wanted to know what life was like without you and now he did. He hated it. 

Dean never stopped looking for you. The days passed and he kept looking, pouring himself into his work, but each day, it was harder and harder for him. He'd drink his pain away, resort to the devil's liquid to get through his days. He became an empty shell of himself. Sam stopped calling after a few months of Dean ignoring his calls. Dean knew his brother deserved better too. It wasn't just losing you that affected him, it was losing his best friend, his hunting partner, his wife. Till death do you part. The few days he was conscious, those words rang through his head. Were you even alive? Had you escaped and just not come back? Was your body at the bottom of a lake? In a ditch? He didn't know and that's what sent him down his dark path. 

After a year passed, his depression got worse but he knew he had to return home. He wasn't Dean anymore and he didn't think he would be again. He felt numb at best. Walking back into the bunker by himself, was a new slap to his face. This was it. He had to accept that you were gone and you weren't coming back. Sam heard the door and made his way to the stairs, staring at what was left of Dean. Dean was thinner, he had new scars, he looked like he hadn't slept in months, and his eyes were just different. "Hey Sammy."

Dean would like to say it happened quick, that he was okay within a year, but that would be a lie. It took him years before he could even say your name again. Sam had finished making dinner and they sat in the library in comfortable silence as they ate before Dean pulled out his wallet, pulling out the photo of the two of you, dropping it between the two on the table. Sam looked at the photo with furrowed brows before looking up at Dean silently asking about it. Dean cleared his throat as he tried to organize his thoughts but in reality, he didn't want to. He was tired. He just wanted to talk. 

"Remember when we stopped at Ellen's? Y/n was just whining and whining about how much she missed her and Jo? She drove us crazy that whole drive?" Dean chuckled quietly as Sam nodded. 

"She said she wouldn't be your friend anymore if we didn't stop there."

"I couldn't believe she had even said that. Thought I was having a nightmare." 

"I mean, we both know she was just fibbing. Had she pushed just a bit more, you would've caved anyways."

"Yeah, she did have me wrapped around her finger, didn't she?"

Sam scoffed and smiled as he stared at the photo. "Since the first day we met her." Sam felt his smile falter a bit as he nodded towards the photo, his eyes flicking up to watch Dean, being careful with how he approached his next question. "Do you miss her?"

Dean felt his eyes water. He wasn't one to cry but when it came to you, the tears always flowed freely. "Always. Every day. I don't think I ever stop missing her."

"You haven't said her name since the day you came back."

"I know. I think I'm ready."

"To talk about her?"

"To let her go." Sam didn't need to ask what Dean meant. He knew exactly what it meant. Sam nodded his understanding before motioning for Dean to finish eating. 

By the end of the day, both boys had organized everything they needed, standing in front of the Hunter's funeral they had created. They didn't have a body to burn but had replaced it with all of your favorite things, everything that made you you. There was a plate with your favorite food, your favorite shirt, and little things you loved to collect. Dean stared at it all. This was it. Sam waited for Dean to ask him to stop. When the minutes passed and he said nothing, he threw the lighter onto the wood, watching as it all engulfed in flames. Dean accepted your death and hoped that you were in heaven, enjoying yourself. You deserved it. 

"Dean?"

"Yeah Sammy?"

"Wake up." Dean furrowed his brows as he looked over at Sam. 

"What?"

"Dean, wake up!" 

Dean jolted awake, pulling the gun out from under his pillow, aiming it at Sam's head as Sam jumped back with his hands in the air. "Woah woah!"

Dean groaned out as he put the gun down, sighing as he rubbed at his eyes. "What's going on Sam?"

Sam sighed as he rubbed the back of his neck, hating what he had to do. "Dean, come on. It's today." Dean felt the blood run cold inside of him as he looked up at Sam, feeling the anger raise in his blood. 

"Is Y/n ready?" Sam swallowed thickly before nodding his head. He felt his throat closing up before clearing it. 

"Yeah." Sam didn't want to talk more as he made his way out of Dean's room. Dean let his head fall back into his pillow as he stared at the ceiling. What a fucking nightmare he just had. He looked over at the picture frame he had on the small bedside table. He picked it up and stared at the photo before taking a deep breath. 

"When I come back, I'll tell you all about the nightmare I had. You won't believe it. It felt so real." Dean kissed the frame softly before putting it back on the table. He got up and made his way to the closet, pulling out his fed suit. He remembered clearly that you had asked him to wear his best suit, he had to dress up fancy. You wouldn't accept anything less. He chuckled as he could hear your words echoing in his head. "You better look good Winchester or else you'll feel my wrath. I won't even make you pie for a whole month." 

This feeling in Dean's chest was heavy, it felt like he had swallowed bricks and they were sitting in his lungs, ready to suffocate him. He grabbed a red tie you had bought him just for this. You had to match, you told him when you gave it to him. He stood in front of the mirror, going through the motions he knew all too well. Once he was done, he walked over to his dresser, slipping on his wedding band, smiling at the relief the known weight brought to him. Once he was ready he made his way outside where Sam, Cas, and you were waiting for him. He felt the breath in his lungs be knocked out of him as his eyes fell on you. You were wearing a beautiful red dress, your favorite dress. Your hair was curled and you weren't wearing any makeup, your natural beauty shining through. Dean swallowed thickly as he kept his eyes on you, committing the memory to sight. 

Sam nodded his head to Dean before looking over at you, feeling the swell of emotions bursting in his chest. The weight of the lighter heavy in his palm. He took a deep breath and threw it, watching as you burst into flames from the moment it made contact with your skin. The three boys stood watch as you slowly burned away, moving on to heaven where you wouldn't suffer anymore. "Goodbye baby." Dean murmured as he watched the flames slowly die out. The sky trembled and within minutes, the rain poured onto the men but they didn't care. 

"I'm sorry Dean."

"It's not your fault Cas."

"I should've done better.” 

"It's what she wanted Cas." Cas took a deep breath before turning back to the burned embers of where you used to be, of what's left of you. 

"She deserved better than this."

"That's the funny thing about life isn't it?"

.               .               .               .               .               .               .

"What's your name Sweetheart?"

You chuckled as you pulled your knife out of the monster you had just killed. "Wouldn't you like to know sweet cheeks?" Dean chuckled as he licked his lips. Sam joined the both of you as you all made sure there were no more threats. "But if you really long for this information, I'll indulge you. It's Y/n."

.               .               .               .               .               .               . 

"Dean?"

"Yeah sweetheart?"

"This isn't a one time thing right?" Dean frowned as he looked down at you as you laid on his bare chest. The fact that you even had to ask him hurt his heart. He knew in that moment he wanted nothing more than for you to wake up everyday in his arms. 

"Of course not. It never was." Dean kissed your head gently and you hummed your appreciation, slowly succumbing to sleep in his hold. 

.               .               .               .               .               .               .

"Dean we need to talk."

"You can't break up with me. We're already married." You let out a choked laugh as you tried to think of the best way to tell him. 

"I need you to be serious with me for a second." Dean felt cold. Whenever you said something like this to him, it was never good news. He didn't say anything and you took a deep breath, unknowingly speaking what would be your demise. "The doctor called me today."

"And?"

"I tested positive."

.               .               .               .               .               .               .

"So when do you start losing your hair?" You chuckled quietly as Cas grabbed your hair, looking at it like it would attack him. 

"When I start treatment. Doc said it would be aggressive." Dean sighed as he held your hand and you looked at him with a soft smile. 

"There's still time." 

"No Dean besides, I'm okay with it. I'm not scared to die." 

"But I'm scared to lose you."

"I'm still here and I'm not going anywhere." As much as Dean would've loved to push you, he knew he needed to support any decision you made. He owed you that much as much as he hated it. 

.               .               .               .               .               .               .

"We should name it."

"Name what?"

"My sickness duh." Dean looked at you like you grew a second head and you laughed. "Don't look at me like that?"

"Why do you want to name it?" Sam was also looking at you the way Dean was and you rolled your eyes, poking at your food with your fork. As the time passed, it was getting harder and harder for you to eat but Dean pushed you, trying to get you to eat anything. 

"To make it normal. For me." 

Dean took a deep breath as he watched you poke your food before licking his lips. "Alright, I'll bite. What do you want to name it?"

"Well I don't want to name it something outrageous. I was thinking about Leu. "

"Leu?"

"Short for Leukemia. I thought it was clever."

Dean smiled slightly as he nodded. "Very clever."

.               .               .               .               .               .               .

"Dean?"

"Yeah sweetheart?"

"Promise me that if you see a girl in a bar and she's hot you'll go for it."

"Now's not the time for jokes." You coughed quietly as you tried your best to scowl at him. 

"I'm not joking. I'm serious. I want you to have a life after me, after all of this." 

"There's nothing after you."

"Don't be such a romantic and promise me you'll live your life when I'm gone."

Dean sighed and remembered his promise to support what you wanted. "I'll try."

"Good. You need some friends." Dean laughed as he moved to get comfortable. Sitting next to the bed where you lay, surrounded by tubes and wires wasn't the best place for comfort but he didn't care. Before he could respond, your nurse came in to check on you for the night. 

.               .               .               .               .               .               .

The day you passed away, Dean was in shock, numb to the world. He never thought it would happen. A whirlwind of doctors running into the room, pushing him out so they could try to revive you, except they couldn't. You signed a DNR. Dean was left with himself, having to watch as you took your last breath. The loud dinging of your heart monitor making him feel like he'd lost his hearing, forever cursed to hear that sound. He didn't sleep that night. He couldn't. Returning to an empty bed, a bed you belonged in, was the icing on top of the shit cake he was handed. He broke a lot of furniture that night. 

.               .               .               .               .               .               .

"Yeah, I guess it is." Dean felt his lungs cut off his air as flashes of memories of you played throughout his head. Sam patted Dean on his shoulder, relaying his silent support. Dean nodded towards him in thanks. The sound of Sam's boots crunching in the dirt sounded behind Dean as Cas moved to stand next to Dean. 

"Did you dress her?"

"Sam couldn't and asked me to. She picked a nice wig. It’s really close to her natural hair."

"Thanks Cas, really."

Cas stayed quiet as he looked at the burnt spot on the floor. He didn't want to leave his friend alone, not during his weakest moments. He knew Sam left because he didn't want to cry with Dean around, it wasn't about him, it was about Dean. Cas smiled slightly as he thought of you. "You can go inside Cas."

Cas nodded as he pat Dean in the back. "I'll be inside."

Dean stared at the floor, the rain completely drenching him. His hair was matted to his head and a slight breeze made his teeth chatter but he couldn't move. He had to stay around just a bit more. His eyes were glued to the ash on the floor. He took a deep breath as his fingers fumbled with his wedding band, trying to figure out what to say. “I know I said I’d tell you about my nightmare later but I think now is a good time. You’ll probably laugh but it started with me and Sammy..”

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[psychosistr]

Second Chances & Bloody Nights- Jonawagon Vampire!AU Chapter 1

Summary: Speedwagon is in mourning of Jonathan’s death when he receives a mysterious visitor in the middle of the night.

Notes: Decided to do some quick edits and proof-reads over this to post it for Jonathan’s birthday ^.^ This is a canon-divergence AU where Jonathan was turned into a vampire when Dio tried to take his body and Speedwagon is the only one he tells. I’ll post AO3 links as they become available. Enjoy!

A dark, sparsely lit street with no working street lamps. A cold, foggy, rainy night that chilled any who would be foolish enough to venture out into it right down to the bone- which, thankfully, was seemingly no one for a change. A moonless sky that made the darkness of the night feel all encompassing. And, lastly, a lone building sectioned off from the rest of the street as if it was not meant to be approached, the drawn black curtains and lack of light from within further adding to the general aura of depression and loneliness that the building seemed to give off.

All of this sets the stage for the bizarre twist of fate that comes to impact this particular reality.

Within the building- a tiny, broken down, dilapidated dwelling that could hardly be considered a house, but, for one man, was still considered a home- a lone figure occupied the space within. It was a man by the name of Robert Edward O. Speedwagon who had years ago claimed this little hovel for his own and now used it as his means to ignore the outside world.

Speedwagon sat upon a tattered and worn-down couch he’d hauled into his small home about two years ago to liven the place up, but now it only served as a seat for him to wallow in despair semi-comfortably. What would normally be considered the parlor room or living area of the home was in complete disarray- several books and pieces of cutlery had been tossed about in a fit of rage, a black and white hat had been left to gather dust atop an overturned bookshelf, and the few plates of food that had been set out had long since begun to fester from neglect after barely being picked at. The room was largely unlit, the only source being the flickering embers of a nearly dead log sitting within the fireplace.

Among the ashes of the fireplace, the torn and charred remnants of a newspaper article were visible: The article’s date was February 8th. There was an image of a ship. A title with the words “Horrific Tragedy”. And an obituary for the many who had lost their lives at sea the previous day. Half-way down this list there was one name visible just before a tear in the paper that read “Jonathan Joes” before the frayed end cut off the rest of the name.

Speedwagon himself did not look any better than the rest of his home did at the moment. His hair was matted and dirty, his skin also looking fairly filthy, both clear indicators that he had not bothered to bathe himself for several days now. His normally neat and sharp suit was disheveled and unkempt, his jacket was discarded to the floor, many buttons of his shirt were opened without a care, and the cloth was stained, wrinkled, and dirty like the rest of his appearance- giving away the fact that he had not changed his outfit in quite some time. His skin was pale and there were abnormally large, dark bags beneath his bloodshot red eyes, a clear indicator that he had not gone outside in the sun nor slept properly for at least a week.

The last ember of the dying log in the fireplace finally flickered out of existence, leaving nothing behind but soft wisps of smoke and the memory of something that was once warm. How fitting, Speedwagon thought to himself, it was just like his memories- filled with wisps of happiness and burning adventurous spirit alongside two amazing comrades whose absence left him feeling cold and empty.

His eyes glanced over to the black and white hat that had been spared his earlier rage and sat safely on top of the bookshelf. Losing Baron Zeppeli had been a hard enough blow. Even if the two had not known each other long and had squabbled quite a bit during the earlier part of their adventure, Speedwagon still considered the older man a friend by the end of it all. He held onto that hat to give himself, and the rest of the world, some reminder of the brave man’s existence and sacrifice to keep everyone safe.

Speedwagon’s eyes managed to tear away from the hat, but they instead caught sight of a framed news article up on the wall by the fireplace. He had been tempted during his earlier fits to tear that article up as he had the other, as it only brought back bitter memories each time he happened upon it….but…he could not do it…the article had a beautiful photograph of the lucky, lovely Joestar couple on their wedding day, with both faces smiling as bright as the sun itself. The article was the only thing he had left of the late Jonathan Joestar to remember him by- he had no other pictures of the man, nor any items of sentimental value as he had for Baron Zeppeli, only this single article.

Speedwagon rested his elbows on his knees and held his face in his hands as yet another round of dry sobs wracked his body. He had already cried so much today, as he had every day since he read the article now crumpled to bits in the fireplace, and while he was out of tears for the day he was by no means out of sorrow to cry over.

He remembered the wedding day with a strange mix of fondness and bitterness that churned inside of him and festered until it only served to fuel his current depression. The wedding had indeed been a gorgeous, grand event worthy of the article depicting it. Both Jonathan and Erina had been so happy the whole time. They both looked so beautiful- Erina in her elegant wedding dress and Jonathan in his dashing suit- it was like looking at something out of an old painting. Speedwagon had been truly happy for them on that day. But…he had also been terribly jealous…jealous of Erina and the happy life she was about to have alongside Jonathan…

Many of Speedwagon’s closer friends (namely Tattoo and the Kempo Master) already knew of his “eccentricities”, as the wealthy and polite members of society were prone to call it. For less wealthy, and far ruder members of society, he was known by many derogatory names that all boiled down to one common factor: Speedwagon was homosexual. Sure, he could show all the secret signs in the world- the long hair, the various accents and colors of his clothes, the clean-shaven face, etc.- but it did little good when he never got close enough to anyone to really feel anything for them. But, then, that night on Ogre Street happened when he met Jonathan Joestar and he felt his heart beat madly for a man he’d just met. With one punch, he’d fallen hard- both literally and metaphorically. After that, he dedicated himself to becoming a better person and following Jonathan, providing what little aid he could, no matter the peril he put himself in.

Speedwagon would have gladly spent the rest of his life by Jonathan’s side had it not been for two key incidents: The first was the night he snuck into the hospital to keep Jonathan company in his hour of need and saw Erina there instead. The two of them were far more perfect for each other than he could ever hope to be for Jonathan, so he left without a word and gave them the space they needed. While heartbroken, Speedwagon had resigned himself to living with his one-sided attraction so long as he was able to remain in Jonathan’s life. But, the second incident struck when Jonathan lost his life at sea when he and Erina had set off to enjoy their honeymoon.

It was so cruel, how life toyed with his heart in such a way. Life had shown Speedwagon the perfect man, one whom he would gladly love and follow to the ends of the earth for the rest of his life, only to take him away both emotionally and then mortally.

His current fit of sobbing eventually petered out. By then, the last remaining heat of the fireplace was long gone and the cold of the outside world was seeping in.

He should grab another log for the fire so he wouldn’t freeze to death…

He should eat something so he wouldn’t starve to death…

He should sleep so his body wouldn’t go into shock from fatigue…

There were many things that Speedwagon knew he should do to keep himself alive, but he simply could not bring himself to do any of them at this moment in time. In all honesty, simply allowing himself to die sounded kind of nice right about now…no more pain…no more despair…a part of him even hoped that he would get to see Jonathan on the other side, but he knew he’d probably never get to go to the same place as him…

As his body began to grow weary once again and Speedwagon braced himself for another restless few minutes of passed-out “sleep” on the couch, he heard a loud, thudding knock on his door. He opted to ignore it at first, probably just some drunkard looking for a place to crash or some lost fool begging for a place to stay. However, the knocking sounded again, forcing Speedwagon to respond.

“Go away…” His voice was gravelly and rough from the worn-down condition his body was currently in, barely covering the distance to the door from where his head was still held in his hands.

The knocking sounded again in response.

Speedwagon scowled slightly and uncovered his face, raising his voice slightly to make himself heard better. “Go away!” Whoever it was should have heard him that time.

The knocking sounded again, this time after a moment’s pause.

Speedwagon clenched his hands into fists, his reply this time louder and his words more clipped to show his irritation. “I said go away, damn it! I ain’t got no bed fer no one t’ sleep on an’ I ain’t interested in anythin’ yer sellin’ or sayin’ so just LEAVE, damn it all!”

There was silence for almost a full minute, leading Speedwagon to believe that whoever that was had finally gotten the message and left…but the knocking resumed once more, this time far more urgent and insistent in its cadence.

Speedwagon glared towards the sound and forced himself to stand. His legs shook as they carried him to the door, but apparently whoever this was wouldn’t leave until he told them to do so face-to-face. He unlocked and opened the simple wooden door, greeted with the sight of a large, imposing figure standing at his door garbed in a hooded cloak that shielded its face and body from view as well as from the rain.

Just as Speedwagon was about to tell the bastard to bugger off, the person practically forced their way inside with strength that surprised Speedwagon. He may have been physically smaller than this person, but he was by no means a pushover, and yet this hooded figure had grabbed him by the shoulder firmly enough to push him back inside without hurting him in any way before closing and locking the door behind itself.

Speedwagon’s glare turned defensive as he stared up into the shadowy face of his unwanted visitor. He grabbed a knife from beneath his belt and pointed it threateningly at the giant now towering over him with a hand still on his shoulder. “Alright! I don’ know who the bloody ‘ell you think you are, but you picked the wrong man t-”

“Speedwagon.” An all too familiar voice sounded out of the darkness clear as a bell, making his heart nearly stop. “Speedwagon, it’s me!” The figure reached up with his free hand and pulled back the hood until it pooled at the base of his neck and shoulders to reveal the handsome face that had haunted what few dreams/nightmares Speedwagon had experienced in his brief periods of restful sleep.

He stared up with wide eyes, his hands shaking so badly that he dropped the knife he’d been clutching a moment ago. There was no way…this couldn’t be real…but…there he was- in the flesh. “J…Jonathan…?” He reached up with his trembling hands and placed them on the sides of Jonathan’s face, needing to feel the flesh and muscle and bone to confirm that this wasn’t just a hallucination. He was rewarded with the solid feeling he longed for but had not dared to hope. “Jojo…h-how..? I…we all thought…you were…”

“Dead?” Jonathan finished with a soft smile that seemed far too sad for such a miraculous moment. “Well…you are not completely wrong in that regard, my friend.” He gently pried Speedwagon’s hands from his face and knelt down to retrieve his knife for him. He handed Speedwagon the knife before extending a hand towards the couch that mere moments ago had been Speedwagon’s brooding location. “Would you mind terribly if we sat down so I can explain?”

Speedwagon nodded quickly, his mind still not fully wrapped around the situation but his heart pounding rapidly in his chest. “Y-Yes! Of course!” He made his way to the couch with Jonathan, nudging anything in their path out of the way with his foot. “Pardon the mess…” He now lamented the state of his parlor. He would offer to take Jonathan’s cloak, but he honestly had no idea where he would hang it.

Jonathan took a seat next to Speedwagon, the furniture creaking in protest of his large mass on its weary frame. “It’s quite alright, I know this whole thing was…rather unexpected, to say the least..” He offered Speedwagon an apologetic smile. “My apologies for coming to you so late.”

Speedwagon shook his head, not wanting any apologies at that moment, only explanations. “Think nothin’ of it- it’s not like I was asleep, anyway.” He reached up once again and touched Jonathan’s face carefully, still nervous that this would all turn out to be some sort of cruel illusion or a dream. “I still can’t believe it…’ow are you alive? From what Erina said, you…you sacrificed yourself t’ beat Dio…”

A soft smile graced Jonathan’s face at hearing Speedwagon’s words. “Erina is well? That is such a relief. I was quite worried for her safety..” His smile slowly melted away into something more solemn as he gently laid his large hand over Speedwagon’s own. “As for what happened with Dio..well..here…” He carefully guided Speedwagon’s hand down to his neck, to the side facing him so that he could feel where Jonathan’s pulse should have been…only to feel nothing beating beneath his fingertips. Then, he carefully took Speedwagon’s fingers and guided them towards his mouth. He parted his lips slightly and allowed the tip of Speedwagon’s finger to come into contact with a sharpened fang that lied in waiting just beneath the soft lips.

Speedwagon’s mind processed all of the information, piecing it together into the obvious conclusion. “A vampire.” He gasped when the realization hit him and he stared up at Jonathan with wide eyes. “You’re a vampire! How did this ‘appen?! What did that bastard do?!”

Jonathan set Speedwagon’s hand back down on the couch between the two of them, giving it an oddly tender caress with his thumb before letting go. “Dio wanted to steal my body and use it for his own. We fought, and, I am ashamed to say, he nearly won. I was on death’s door..but..just as I was about to pass on from this world and Dio believed he’d won and that I was already deceased, he began pumping his own blood into my body to rejuvenate it, likely to make taking over my corpse a tad bit easier. He miscalculated, though…seeing as I was still alive, I fought back and, the more he pumped his blood into me, the stronger I became. I finally defeated him for good, but the fight left me exhausted and I passed out. I later awoke, completely submerged under water. I feared I might drown, but I quickly realized that I no longer needed to breathe.” He looked down at his hands with a pained look that broke Speedwagon’s heart. “Then..I saw the blood stains that managed to soak into my sleeves..and the corpses floating alongside me in the water…it…all clicked into place after that…”

Speedwagon didn’t know where to begin. On one hand, he was just so overjoyed that Jonathan was HERE and ALIVE and they were TOGETHER again! But..on the other hand..Jonathan had been through so much..the pain of realizing that he’d become the very creature he’d trained so hard to defeat must have taken a quite a toll on him psychologically. What comfort could someone like him be in a time like this? He wasn’t sure how, but he’d try his damnedest to make Jonathan feel better!

“That..is a lot t’ take in, Jonathan…but..” He slowly and carefully grabbed Jonathan’s hand with one of his own, successfully drawing his troubled gaze away from those previously stained hands and towards the man holding them instead. He gave Jonathan a gentle and warm smile, trying to silently convey everything he could not say aloud. “However it may ‘ve ‘appened, I’m just glad you’re here now.”

Jonathan returned the smile with a small one of his own as he gently squeezed Speedwagon’s hand in return. “Thank you, my friend. I will admit, the journey was quite long…but, it was worth it to see you again.”

Speedwagon’s smile grew slightly. He had successfully shifted the mood a little bit, so he decided to follow up on what Jonathan said to continue distracting him. “ ‘ow did ya manage t’ get ‘ere, anyhow? Hitch a ride on another boat?”

Jonathan’s response was a sheepish smile and a slight chuckle. “Actually, no. I…well, I essentially alternated between swimming and..walking along the bottom of the sea..”

Speedwagon’s eyes widened and his jaw dropped at the admittance. “You did WHAT?!”

Jonathan laughed again, though this time it was clearly at Speedwagon’s reaction. “I’m afraid you heard right, Speedwagon: I swam along the top of the ocean at night so I could follow the stars back home. Then, during the day, I used a large, curved scrap of metal from the ship wreck to hide myself from the sunlight as I walked along the sea floor. Ah, though I did still have to stop occasionally during the day to get a little bit of sleep. It was quite a long process- took me about a fortnight, if I’m not mistaken.”

Speedwagon sat in stunned silence for a while, simply taking in the idea of what Jonathan said. Then, all at once, he began to laugh. It was loud and joyous and it was the first time in weeks he’d been able to laugh or smile so much that he felt short of breath and his cheeks began to hurt. “Bloody ‘ell, Jojo! Only someone like YOU would’ve thought o’ that! Gotta admit, it was damn brilliant! Still, wish I could’ve been there t’ see ya scuttlin’ ‘bout like a ‘ermit crab!” It took Speedwagon several minutes to calm himself down, having to catch his breath and attempt to reign in his large grin. He had missed this warm happiness so much… “Though I’m grateful for the thought, Jonathan, I ‘ave t’ ask..” He looked up at Jonathan, still smiling but calmed down enough to ask something that was bugging him. “Why come back t’ England? I’d ‘ve thought you’d wanna go after Erina. She’d be just as happy t’ see ya as I am.”

“In all honesty, part of it was because England was closer to get to at the time. The other reason…” Jonathan’s smile sobered into something more somber again, his attention being drawn away from Speedwagon to look at the framed article on the wall- the one of himself and Erina on their wedding day. “Erina..is such a strong, amazing woman..but..I’m afraid she’s been through so much- far too much, really- because of me..I do not think I could face her as I am now..besides..I have already said my goodbyes to her..it felt rather unfair to not give you the same courtesy, though..”

Speedwagon blinked, a look of confusion painted on his face. “Huh? Wha’ d’ ya mean, Jonathan?”

Jonathan looked back to his friend with a soft but sad smile. “You are a strong person as well, Speedwagon…but I am afraid that you’ve been through your fair share of trouble because of me, too…I truly cannot thank you enough for all that you have done for me…” His eyes drifted upward, as if he was gazing at the sky through the roof of the small dwelling in an act of reminiscence. “When I awoke out there, in the middle of the ocean, I knew that I had been given a second chance to say my goodbyes and finish any final business that I had in this world. I did not know what I would do when I arrived here, merely that I HAD to return to this place and find you. That way..I could say goodbye..”

Speedwagon’s breath caught in his throat. His heart stopped in his chest. A heavy feeling of dread and realization smothered him like a freezing blanket of terror. “Good..Goodbye…? Jonathan..what..what are ya sayin’..?” He grabbed onto Jonathan’s shoulders desperately, looking at him with terrified eyes. “Ya can’t be serious, Jonathan! You’re ALIVE! Why would ya want t-?!”

Jonathan put a hand on Speedwagon’s arm in an attempt to calm him down, though his tone and expression were still quite serious. “It is not that I WANT to die..merely..that I already AM dead, Speedwagon. By all rights, I should not be here right now. I should be gone from this world. I am glad that I was given this chance to say farewell to you, but I cannot live my life like this. I trained under Baron Zeppeli to make sure that monsters such as Dio would no longer roam this world and feast upon the innocent. You saw for yourself the destruction that he and his men caused- the lives that they ruined. I refuse to become that sort of being- I will not continue the cycle of death and destruction.”

“Then don’t!” Speedwagon stated firmly, close to shouting at this point. “If you don’ want t’ become a monster, then just DON’T!”

Jonathan shook his head with a pitying frown at Speedwagon, gently but firmly removing the others hands from his shoulders. “I don’t believe it is that simple, Speedwagon. This power..it corrupts and twists the hearts and minds of men..and, whether I wish to or not, I will need to feed on the blood of others to survive. I have barely restrained myself from doing so already, contenting but disgusting myself by taking blood from the bodies of the ship wreck and any animals I passed along the way to sustain myself..but I know that it will not be enough to sustain me for long before the hunger consumes me and I attempt to take it from a living person. Before that happens, before I lose myself to the thirst for blood and harm someone, I have decided to stand out in the sunlight as it rises and leave this world for good.”

When Jonathan started to stand from the couch, Speedwagon desperately tried grabbing onto his arm again. “Jonathan, please! Don’t do such a foolish thing! If anyone can overcome somethin’ like this, it’s YOU! Ya’ve already done impossible things, survived the most bizarre battles, and faced down immortal dangers t’ get t’ where y’ are now! Ya can’t just go an’ give up now!”

The ease with which Jonathan was able to resist and remove his grip only served to infuriate Speedwagon even more. “I am not giving up..I have merely accepted my fate and chosen to act accordingly. I am truly sorry that my actions have caused you so much distress, but you must understand that I do not wish to lose my humanity and live the life of an immoral monster as Dio did. I could not live with myself if I caused harm to an innocent person- even more so if it was someone I care for, such as you.” He gave Speedwagon a sad half-smile and turned to leave. “If you will excuse me, I have a few more affairs to get in order before the dawn comes. Thank you for hearing me out..and..thank you, truly, for everything, my dear friend…” His voice wobbled slightly towards the end of his sentence, as if he was holding back something- tears, perhaps, or more words that would still be left unsaid, it was hard to say.

Speedwagon stood there, watching as Jonathan made his way towards the door. No! This couldn’t be how this ended! He wouldn’t let it be!

“Jonathan Joestar! Look at me, damn you!!” Speedwagon shouted at the retreating figure as he prepared to pull his hood back up at the door.

Jonathan did as Speedwagon asked after a moment’s hesitation, preparing to say something but it died in his throat almost instantly. “?!” He saw Speedwagon standing by the sofa, the knife he’d drawn earlier now clutched tightly in a white knuckled grip and held against the left side of his own throat. Jonathan’s eyes widened at the sight, a look of fear and confusion placing itself firmly upon his face. “Speedwagon?! What are you doing?! Don’t-!”

“Shut the hell up, damn it!” Speedwagon spat at him, a toxic mixture of rage, sorrow, and desperation giving his voice the power to make Jonathan flinch back as if struck physically. Speedwagon stared him down hard, his eyes set in a firm glare even as tears that he thought he no longer had left flowed freely down his face. “If y’ think I’m just gonna sit ‘ere an’ let y’ walk out that door t’ go kill y’rself, ya’ve got another thing comin’, ya daft bastard!!” His free hand was clenched into a fist at his side, trembling with anger and so many other pent up emotions that were now openly on display. “I already lost ya twice! I ain’t ‘bout t’ lose y’ again!” Speedwagon began to press the knife into his flesh, hissing slightly from the sting as it drew blood to the surface but refusing to look away from Jonathan.

Jonathan gasped when the hot red liquid began to bead and drip down Speedwagon’s neck, his eyes turning red and his hands twitching at his side with obvious need. He held himself back, though, muscles tensed as he fought to stay in place. “Sp-Speedwagon..please..don’t..!”

Speedwagon ignored his friend’s pleas and instead pressed the knife in deeper. “No. I’m not gonna stop ‘til you’ve come t’ your senses.” He stepped around the couch towards Jonathan, each step closer making more tremors run through Jonathan’s body as he attempted to restrain himself. “You say you’re scared of losin’ your morals an’ who you are just ‘cause Dio did? You’re forgetting one thing: You’re nothin’ like Dio!! I said it that night in the mansion, didn’ I? Dio was BORN a monster, evil t’ the core with no concern for no one but ‘imself. ‘e didn’ need that mask t’ be a monster, ‘e always was one- it just gave ‘im more power. But..you..” He stopped right in front of Jonathan, the harsh look on his face melting into something much kinder, more caring, but still sad. He smiled softly with tears falling from his eyes as he looked up into the panicked red ones of the man he cared for with all of his heart. “You’re nothin’ like that, Jonathan. You’re kind, compassionate, trustin’, honest..a true gentleman..you embody everythin’ good in this messed up world.” He grabbed Jonathan’s trembling right hand and began to raise it, giving the knife one last twist to cause more blood to pour across his neck. “I know you’re stronger than this, Jojo..show me that man I met on Ogre Street- the one that ‘it me ‘ard enough t’ knock me on me back but ‘ad enough control t’ not really ‘urt me or anyone else..I know you’re still in there under those fangs and red eyes..” His smile left him, a look of resolution taking its place as he pulled the knife out and allowed the blood to flow freely from his wound. “You’re not a monster. You’re Jonathan Joestar- the most amazin’ man I know. If ya really think you’re just a monster, then go on- kill me an’ prove me wrong, I’ll just wait for y’ on the other side so ya won’t die alone. Either way, I ain’t gonna watch ya leave again.” With his part said, Speedwagon pressed the fingertips of Jonathan’s hand to the bleeding wound on his neck and closed his eyes, accepting whatever fate awaited him.

Jonathan’s red eyes were practically glowing as they stared with growing hunger at the precious liquid cascading down that pale skin. He seemed unable to resist, his fingers plunging into the wound and creating new holes on the side of Speedwagon’s neck. The veins along the wounds tightened, becoming more defined as Jonathan began to drain the hot liquid into himself through the extraction points on his fingers. His eyes rolled back slightly, his lips parted as a euphoric sigh escaped him. “A-Ahhhhh..” His other hand rose to mirror its counterpart, holding onto the other side of Speedwagon’s neck and allowing his index and middle fingers to puncture the flesh and draw out more of the blood he craved. Even though he claimed to no longer need air, he still panted as if he was lost in ecstasy as he fed off of his dearest friend’s life force.

Speedwagon’s legs felt weak and he feared they might give out on him, but he didn’t try to pull away. He wouldn’t stop believing in Jonathan, even if it cost him his life. He reached up with one weakened, trembling hand, and managed to gently touch the side of Jonathan’s face. “Jo…Jo…”

Glazed over, red eyes slowly lowered to look at him once again, gazing unseeingly into the deep brown orbs before him for what felt like hours, but was really only about a minute. Then, as if a switch had been flipped, the red eyes suddenly blinked wildly and came back into focus, a gasp of shock leaving the larger man in clear counterpoint to the euphoric one from earlier. “Ah! Speedwagon!” He looked down at his own hands as if they were foreign to him, his fingers still buried in the pale flesh as they continued to feed him even without his conscious command. His arms trembled as if he was fighting to break free of some strong invisible bonds. “N-No! Stop! I-I won’t..do..it…!!!” Then, all at once, the bonds seemed to break and Jonathan escaped them to roughly remove his fingers from Speedwagon’s neck.

Even though blood was still seeping out of his wounds…even though his body was in pain from the strain put on his muscles…even though his world was starting to sway around him…Speedwagon was smiling up at Jonathan as if he’d just won some incredible prize, a fair analogy for what just happened, he believed. “See…?” He asked, his voice sounding weak and strained but so elated at the same time. “I told ya…you’re…still…Jo……Jo……” Before he could finish speaking, Speedwagon’s world began to tilt sideways as his body finally gave out against his will.

He expected to hit the ground, but was pleasantly surprised by a pair of strong arms catching him just before he reached his destination- one around his waist and one around his shoulders. “Speedwagon!” The arms turned him so that he could see Jonathan kneeling on the ground while holding him, a look of fear and something akin to desperation in his eyes as he spoke quickly to the blond man lying limply in his arms. “Speedwagon, please! Hold on!” Speedwagon tried to do as he was asked, he truly did, but he just felt so tired and so dizzy that his eyes started to slowly flutter closed. “No! Keep your eyes open! Please, Speedwagon, stay with me, I beg of you!” Speedwagon wanted to comfort Jonathan, to touch his face again and calmly say that he wasn’t going anywhere, but darkness was encroaching upon his vision and it was all he could do to fight off his own fatigue. The last thing he saw before the darkness swallowed him and claimed his mind in its calming embrace was Jonathan’s terrified, pleading expression- tears in his eyes as he tried with futile desperation to keep the man in his arms awake. “Speedwagon! Speedwagon, please, don’t leave me..! Speedwagon…! Spe..g..n…!”

The sounds got further and further away as Speedwagon sank into the dark oblivion of unconsciousness. Before the restfulness fully claimed him, though, he had one final thought:

‘I knew y’ could do it, Jojo. I’ll see ya soon…’

Next Chapter->

[edennohebi]

the haze had proven itself to live up to the often applied nickname of hell time & time again; & yet, you had adjusted. you had found a way to exist here, if only by the skin of your teeth. though the serpents were cruel & monstrous, & some of those around you were less than stable -- maybe, just maybe, you could survive & things would go on without too much disturbance.

for that, saeru would laugh & call you an ill-bred fool: a prisoner who had grown far too comfortable in their prison, & needed to be reminded of their place.

it seemed that this would serve as your wake up call to their reality. things had carried on as they usually had in the haze -- up until all of the television sets had begun to flicker alive. previously they had been filled to the brim with nothing more than static: the wash of scrambling grey & the scratching-like noise had been enough fuel to make the ears wary & your sense of intuition slightly unsettled. but it had been nothing more than fuzz, right? it could have been easily ignored; but today, the snakes would not allow such. 

their only use was for that of the snakes & they had never been a good sign. immediate apprehension twists in your core, & your hands feel clammier -- your eyes had no choice: it was not a matter of wanting or not wanting to, the hushed whispers in your ears of the snakes would force you to focus on it until they decided you could stop. every passing second in this never-moving world was torturous, but soon, the screen would twist & shift into focus. however, it was not one of the lesser snakes who appeared on the screen, but the queen & 'king' themselves seated upon their respective thrones.

though neutral in demeanor at first, once the camera locks onto clearing eyes himself his expression tears into a grin: whatever hope that had sat in your heart would soon be torn to shreds.

“my my -- what a magnificent sight to behold ! nothing pleases me more than to see you all stricken with such lost & hopeless expressions: like meager lambs, led along to their untimely massacre. ” he breathes a chuckle, & a sickening tremble teeters into his words -- ‘enjoying it’ was an understatement. “ wonderful, wonderful ! ”

he hums to himself, lids lowered coquettishly. “ of course, your curiosity must be maddening, hm? how you must be starving for answers -- wondering to yourselves, 'what’s this all about?', or perhaps, 'is this the end?' aahh -- please, do continue on with your endless queries ! after all, only i can grant you the knowledge you so seek. you have wandered into a garden, & i shall bestow-- ”

from the background, a voice belonging to none other than the jackal rings higher than saeru’s, excited & growing louder, much to his displeasure. ‘ papa! i wanna do it -- i wanna do it!!! ’ 

before she can be denied, the camera angle is pulled, &. the demonic canine now stares directly into the lens.

‘ what papa was saying is that things are going to really start picking up! everybody seemed to be getting kinda relaxed about the idea of dying, & i guess it’s because you all got used to the idea that mama could just bring you back, all nice & pretty, right? unfortunately for you, that’s starting to get a little annoying, now, so it won’t be happening anymore. you stupid humans shouldn’t forget that even though mama was gracious enough to give, she can just as easily take away. since all of you seem to need a lesson, in it, consider this chapter one! ’

‘ because everyone is just fine with losing their lives all the time, every one of you is going to start losing your senses, too -- some of you won’t be able to see in front of you, or hear who’s approaching from behind. some of you won’t be able to feel it when someone touches you, or have the pleasure of smelling or tasting your next meal. for some of you, that might be easier, & you can live without it. for someone else, though, maybe they’ll be bothered enough that they’ll finally kill someone on their own terms & stop waiting for it to be something as small as a dare? ’

‘ either way, it’s going to get worse the longer you make us wait for someone to kill somebody else, & if you keep doing it in those little games to make sure mama can bring you back, maybe she’ll just stop making everything work right, on your body? i sure hope you’ll be okay trying to run away from your next killer with a clubbed foot, or hold a weapon with fingers that won’t close around the hilt! ’

‘ & for the first person who doesn’t keep us waiting, if you’d like to stir up the pot some more, & make everyone really hate & fear you, we wanna offer a little reward. if you really want to get back to your happy little lives, or to your friends & families, make it a point to come straight to us, so we can go ahead & let everyone know who decided they couldn’t take it, anymore! ’

‘ kekeke..that said, you should probably hurry. someone else might have the same ideas as you, now, & that just means the clock is ticking. ’

before the jackal can continue on further with her rambling, a hand is quick to grab a fistful of her shirt. off the ground she goes, akin to a cat picked up by it’s scruff, & is soon deposited into the queen’s lap with a hiss of "children should only speak when told to, brat."

‘ ppft ... ’

there’s a distinct click of the tongue as clearing eyes comes back into view, expression marginally soured. but he’ll continue: such is his job.

“ what a tragedy, ” there’s a false lament in his tone, uncaring entirely, “ for you to have been fed false information. the child only speaks in half-truths: error laces itself so easily into the words of the unknowing & the idiotic. you see, to assume her Majesty holds any mercy for your pitiful lives at all is rather bold -- stupidly so. gorge yourself on the rush of blood lust & adrenaline if you so wish. it’s quite the spectacle, but ah -- do not expect things to continue on as they had. ”

a hint of a smirk plays on his lips.

“ after all, you had killed so ruthlessly with security, had you not? the assurance that death here was not permanent, that your fates lied at the Queen’s fingertips, & so long as someone died, they would return. ” a snorted ‘how stupid’ follows suit, “ it would be no fun at all, right? imagine: suffering the consequences for your actions & facing the throes of guilt! ”

he laughs.

“ imagination is a useless thing. a pitiful realm of fantasy holds no weight here; instead, you must face your reality. allow me to explain: if you are harmed, our hands will no longer heal. survival is something you must fight tooth & nail for: not something simply handed over. further more, if you are to kill, i advise you be aware of the consequences. prophets once spoke of a belief -- ‘an eye for an eye’, was it? those who kill unashamedly before a crowd will be killed in return -- by my hand. understand?  ”

“ ah, & one more thing. i'm sure none of you wish to be without your most valued of senses. animals who are crippled, after all, are nothing more than easy prey. " he hums. " if you desire them once more, then you must commit murder: & get away with it effortlessly. pure & simple. if you cover your tracks, then you shall be guided towards the gates of freedom: but if you are to fail, then you must pay for your foolishness & mistakes as aforementioned. but the risk is well worth a chance of livelihood again," his head tilts, eyes narrowing in tease. " isn't it? ”

he sits back, though his hand seems to stay within immediate eye-shot. the Queen & Ellen are within view, too: though the Queen’s gaze is fixated upon the screen, her hand runs idly through ellen’s hair, perhaps in pacification. even so, all of their smiles hint at sadism, & the unison in their ‘farewell’ fails to bode well. a moment passes, & the screen becomes void of their image; only leaving you with your thoughts & the mind numbing sound of static on the televisions once more. they have thrown you to the dogs, & now they will serve as spectators in your suffering.

                          WELCOME TO THE NEXT TRAGEDY                                                                   ( The Story of Eyes Rendered Sightless )

UPDATES :

✘ welcome to the first chapter! this one is considerably longer than all the future ones to both get players used to the format and accommodate for upcoming holidays.  ✘ as allured to, characters will lose one of their five senses as result of the queen’s power. we've used RNG to decide what muses lose what sense, and you can find that under the READ MORE below. please note that these senses will be returned once someone is killed and a body drop post is made . ✘ for reference, characters who lost SIGHT are completely blind and extremely vulnerable as potential victims, characters who lost TASTE have a constant taste of lead in their mouth that will not go away as they cannot taste other flavors, characters who lost TOUCH are completely numb and can not feel ANYTHING -- including pain, characters who lost their HEARING are completely deaf and easy to sneak up on, and characters who lost their SMELL just simply cannot take in any aromas. there is a sixth handicap, but such is reserved for the Old Master as you’ll see below. if FOR SOME REASON your muse’s name is not in the list, let a mod know and we’ll add it. ✘ this ALSO means that WE ARE NOW ACCEPTING MURDERER / VICTIM VOLUNTEERS . please message a mod or send an ask if you wish to volunteer, and do not tell ANYONE if you did and whether you were or were not accepted. ✘ you may no longer kill each other in games of truth or dare, kings game, etc. if you do, the murderer WILL be killed by saeru. you MAY injure each other to your heart’s content without punishment, however, but if you go too far and someone dies, your muse will be held accountable. ✘ further, wounds attained from truth or dare will NO LONGER BE HEALED. you may only buy a medkit or hope to god you get medical supplies from the raffle, otherwise you’re on your own.

Shintaro Kisaragi | TOUCH

Toko Fukawa | SMELL

Hiyori “Ice Queen” Asahina | HEARING

Hiyori “Hiyo” Asahina | SIGHT

Samael | SMELL

Tsubomi Kido | SIGHT

Shuuya Kano | SMELL

Elodie Masters | SIGHT

Satou Matsuzaka | TOUCH

Marry Kozakura |  THE ABILITY TO SPEAK

Katherine Baker | HEARING

Henry "Stein" Dobbs | SMELL

Ayano “Charlatan” Tateyama | SIGHT

Kousuke "Amata" Seto | HEARING

Haruka "Pompompurin" Kokonose | TASTE

Vincent Nightray | TOUCH

Ayano “Aya-nee” Tateyama | SMELL

Korekiyo Shinguji | TOUCH

Magdalena Parks | HEARING

Meredith Dacosta | TOUCH

Rachel Devore | SMELL

Uta | TASTE

Rantaro “Ran” Amami | HEARING

Momo Kisaragi | TOUCH

Hisashi "Usagi" Yoshida | SIGHT

Tempo | SMELL

Rosaline Viviani  | TOUCH

Ayano "Nee-Nee"Tateyama | SMELL

Azami | THE ABILITY TO SPEAK

Tsukihiko Kozakura | SIGHT

Shion Kozakura | HEARING

Tomoyo Daidouji | SIGHT

Valentine Damis | TOUCH

Kousuke “Kose” Seto | SIGHT

Momoka Oginome | HEARING

Satou’s Aunt | SMELL

Kitaumekawa Daichi | TOUCH

Charlotte Wiltshire | TOUCH

Kurogane | HEARING

Yue | SIGHT

Touma Kozakura | HEARING

Rin Kido | SIGHT

Garven | HEARING

Frisk | SMELL

Renji Yomo | TASTE

Ian Ortega | SIGHT

[sea-and-storm]

DRABBLE :  Ghoa Mankhad

It had always intrigued Ghoa how, no matter how many times she had wandered the streets of Kugane, the city never grew stale to her. Perhaps it was the constant flow of merchants and travelers with the same sort of wanderlust as she, or the fact that no two days spent perusing the markets ever seemed entirely the same. There was always something new in this bustling and vibrant port city, and nothing drew Ghoa's attention quite like novelty.

Yet on this day, it wasn't the siren's call of the unfamiliar that guided her steps down the packed earth streets of the Rakuza district. She wasn't on the hunt for the next new distraction, but rather the comfort of familiarity.

The crowd was only beginning to come alive as people took to the markets just before the cresting of the mid-day sun in the skies above them. Bodies were beginning to make navigating the busiest streets a difficult prospect, not to mention nigh impossible for the petite Xaela to see past. The soft din of the sleepy morning markets was steadily growing into a roar of muffled shouting, haggling, and the laughter of children as they mischievously weaved in and out of the crowd.

Luckily, however, she wasn't in need of her sight or her hearing to lead her to her destination. Memory guided each footfall, and the delightfully nostalgic scent in the air growing stronger with each step confirmed to her that she was headed in the right direction.

After a time of squeezing her way through one of the busier streets, Ghoa broke away from the pack to turn down a decidedly less crowded alleyway. Not many shops or stalls lined the side of this street, save for one at the far end whose old, off-white banner reading 'UEDA' flapped softly in the modest breeze. There was nothing flashy about it, nor the worn storefront it advertised.

This old food stall lacked the attention-grabbing frills of the others that dotted the main street. At any other time, in any other circumstance, it was unlikely that she would've ever given it more than a passing glance.  Yet instead, after pausing for a moment to close her eyes and savor the familiar smell, it was exactly where her steps finally came to a stop.

Across the other side of the counter, two men worked. The elder of the pair, a man by the name of Sanjuro, lingered in the back near a large steaming pot, his knife tapping softly against the counter next to it. His son Osamu, who couldn't have been more than a handful of cycles younger than Ghoa herself, huffed as he lifted and shouldered a heavy sack of rice. As he turned and finally noticed that they had company, his mouth opened to greet her as he would any guest.

Yet the greeting never came, and instead the look on his face turned momentarily stunned. Though it took only a tick later for that look to fade and set his face alight with recognition and a wide grin to come to rest on his lips.

"Hah! If it isn't one of our favorite regulars!" Osamu crooned. He let loose another grunt as he set the sack down once again and move to the counter opposite of her, studying her. "I almost didn't recognize you," he finally admitted. The jarring shortness of her hair probably didn't help in that matter any, but she was grateful all the same that he hadn't brought it up directly. "I'd thought you had grown tired of us and found a new stall to frequent. How long has it even been since you were here last..?"

No quick or clever answer came from the woman. In truth, she didn't know exactly how long it had been since she had visited last. It had been before she had fled for Thavnair, that much she knew. But still, despite the years that made it seem like a lifetime ago, that warm greeting and the fact that the place still looked just the same as she remembered made it feel like only just yesterday.

"So long ago that I doubt you could really even consider me a 'regular' any longer," she finally answered with a sheepish smile.

From behind him, the older man looked up from his cutting to see what was happening. As Ghoa caught his eye, she lifted a hand in a short wave. Though his reaction was more subdued than his son's, recognition and fondness were still obvious in the age-worn lines of his face. He grabbed a towel from the counter to wipe his hands as he made to join them.

"Once a regular, always a regular whether you turn up again tomorrow or ten years from now," Sanjuro dismissed her worries, his voice low and rumbling and warm. Fatherly, or at least what she imagined such a thing sounded like. He lifted a hand to gesture towards one of the tall stools next to her. "Go on and sit, then, and I'll get you some tea. And I'm sure my son still remembers your usual."

"Steamed dumplings," the younger repeated, a lopsided grin forming at his lips at her nod. "Hah! Like I would ever forget."

Of course he wouldn't. Not only was it quite literally the only thing that she had ever eaten from their stall, but it was what had served as her introduction to the kindly father-son duo.

It had been years ago, when Ghoa had only just arrived in Kugane after having left the Steppe. It had been her first foray into a large city, and it had been overwhelming to say the least. It was nothing like her homeland or the small Yanxian villages that she had stopped at during her journey. Here, no one even seemed to give her a second glance as they went about their lives. Hers was just another face in the background of these people's busy lives, and there had been something profoundly lonely in that realization.

It hadn't taken her long to blow through what little koban she had gotten from selling the last of her valuables for far less than their worth, having then had only a shaky concept of the value of coin. It had taken even less time for her stomach to begin to ache from emptiness. That day, the rich scent of food in the air had drawn her to the street markets. The young Xaela had moved from stall to stall to try to make a trade. Each one had shooed her on in favor of the next paying customer.

Resigning herself to hunger, Ghoa had left the main street and turned down into an alleyway to sulk. Once again the scent of food had filled her senses from one more stall at the alley's end, and her stomach had rumbled and whined in answer. Yet defeated from her earlier failures, she hadn't even attempted approaching the small, shabby stall. Instead, she had taken up a seat against one of the nearby buildings as she wondered what she was going to do. As she considered whether she had made a terrible mistake by leaving the Steppe and coming here, and felt the first true pang of homesickness and uncertainty that she had experienced since she had left some weeks ago.

A shadow passing over her and lingering there pulled Ghoa's attention from her thoughts, her gaze rising to find a boy standing in front of her with a small, round bamboo container held in his hands. He offered it to her, and insisted even when she explained to him that she had no way to pay. He had watched her sit there for some time, he'd said, and he thought she must have been hungry. Only later would Osamu admit to her that he'd thought she seemed sad and lonely, too, and that the look of gratitude and happiness on her face as she accepted them had been every bit worth the lecture his father had given him for leaving the stall unattended.

That one simple, random act of kindness had not only reassured the doubt-ridden Xaela, but had turned into regular visits shortly thereafter. Each time Ghoa had felt the creep of homesickness start to come upon her, she had found her way back here. Her stops had come at such a frequency that Osamu and Sanjuro had become friends of sorts, and she had come to seek their company as much as their food.

Eventually, however, that longing she felt for her homeland had begun to lose its hold upon Ghoa. By then she had met Ino, and she had begun to adapt to city life in earnest. As her comfort grew, her visits lessened. Once she had found herself thoroughly wrapped up in the Mifune family's business, it had become rare of her to stop in even just once a moon. But still, no matter how scarce a presence she became, they had always remembered her and were always just as happy to see her as they were now.

"Not that I'm not glad to see you again, but what is it that's brought you by after so long?" Sanjuro asked as he set a cup in front of her and poured her a generous helping of softly steaming tea. His tone was casual and curious, but there was a hint of concern in the look he gave her. "Missing home again?"

"No, no," she answered with a soft shake of her head, smiling. "If anything, I haven't ever felt more at home than I have as of late." The admission had the faintest hint of red rise to her cheeks, just as it had when she'd said something similar to Nabi outside of the House of Sparrows not long ago. She shook her head, dismissing it. "Anyroad, these aren't for me for once. I thought I might bring some to a fellow I'm on my way to visit."

In truth, Ghoa had no idea if Batuhan would enjoy them as she had. Hingan dumplings might have been similar to the buuz that he had shared with her weeks ago in Reunion, but they weren't the same. Maybe it was silly for her to hope that he might find the same sort of comforting familiarity in them as she had so long ago herself. Either way, whether or not the gesture's meaning was lost in translation, she hoped it might lift his spirits regardless.

"Oh? In that case.." The elder turned, calling back to his son. "Make it a double order, Osamu." As he turned back to meet Ghoa's surprised gaze, he gave her a kindly smile. "They always taste better shared with good company."

Her surprise faded away into a soft laugh, bobbing her head in a nod. She certainly couldn't argue with that.

[hamiltrash2097-blog]

Cold

A historic Lams fanfic

Set in 1777 during the winter at Valley Forge

A.B.O Verse (alpha, beta, omega)

Headcannon:  Alex hates seeing other people get sick and often has severe panic attacks afraid they will die like his mother did.

Alexander's POV:

I sat at the writing desk in the commander's tent scribbling away  desperate to find a way to get more supplies from the local merchants. Congress writes demanding the general attack the British yet offer no assistance to the starving and freezing men. We have begun to slaughter and cook our horses for Christ's sake! I rub my temples tiredly feeling stressed.

I shivered as cold air seeped through the gap at the bottom of the tent my nose stinging slightly. The Pennsylvania winter is not something I am accustomed to having come from a topical island. The cramp in my hand made itself known but I continued writing anyhow. The rich bastards in Congress are likely sitting comfortably by a roaring fire making demands of the army like we are miracle workers.

Washington tells me the intel he received from Mulligan indicates that the British are suffering shortages as well so, in the least we are not the only ones to suffer.  I pull my coat tighter around my shoulders wishing for that roaring fire to sit by. I finish the letter folding it with shaking hands. "Not used to the cold are you Hamilton?" I turn my head seeing General Charles Lee a small smirk on his face. I sighed standing up, "I am just fine General." I walked past the beta toward the office of the house where Washington resides to deliver the  letter.

"Permission to enter your excellency?" I ask pausing outside the door to the office."Hamilton? Come in." I walked inside seeing Burr with Washington. I handed him the letter allowing him to read it through watching the general relax slightly as he did so. "Well said Hamilton, perhaps this time Congress will receive the message." Washington said giving me a gentle pat on the shoulder. I smile tiredly at the older alpha.

"Here's to hoping." I agreed shivering slightly. "Go back to your quarters and warm up son." Washinton said dismissing me with a short wave of his hand. I bow my head respectfully before heading back to the house myself and John share. I exit the command building drawing my collar up against the biting wind. I hurry over to the house wondering why John was absent from command today; my alphean mate is rarely absent from work. Shrugging I push the door of our quarters open quickly shutting it once I am inside. I remove my boots and coat by the door.

I walked further into the house, "John?" I called seeing his boots by the door and smelling his scent throughout the house. I see his reports filed neatly on the desk and a fire crackles in the fireplace. I add another log to the fire before going to check the bedrooms. I call for him getting no response until I reached the bedroom we share. I push the door open, "John are you asleep?" I said quietly seeing the lump beneath the quilt. "A-Alexander? Is that.." He pauses and sneezed. "You?" I nod going over to the bed. My alphean mate lay nestled under the quilt his cheeks flushed a rosy red. "John are you all r-right?" I asked stuttering slightly. John sat up, "F-fine I just caught..." Achoo! "...a cold."  He looks up at me sniffling a little. I press a kiss to his forehead feeling a burning fever under my lips.  My dearest John is sick. He has a fever... I thought. "Alex?" John calls to me. He could die...I cannot lose him....please Lord...I cannot lose another person I love...

John's POV:

I heard Alex calling for me and shifted a bit waiting for him to come to our bedroom. I have my own room of course but, I prefer to sleep curled around my darling Alexander.  The  poor omega is not accustomed to the cold Pennsylvania winters at all. He comes into our bedroom calling to me softly in case I was asleep and I smile because he is so considerate. I sit up when he comes over to check on me telling him that I merely caught a cold.

He kisses my forehead feeling my fever. I watch emotions flash through his eyes feeling worried, "Alex?" I say to him wondering what he is thinking. He begins to tremble a little not responding to me any further. Tears form in his eyes as he continues to shake sinking to the floor beside the bed. "Alex!" I pushed the quilt aside going to kneel beside him. "Alexander, dearest what ails you?" I asked gently cupping his face in my hands. " P-please lord n-not again..." He mumbles his azure eyes unfocused and glassy tears falling down his cheeks.

"Shh." I wrap my arms around Alexander rubbing circles on his back feeling him trembling in my arms. I press kisses to his tear stained cheeks nuzzling him trying to comfort my distressed mate. I feel him nose at my scent gland inhaling a bit of my scent. He relaxed slightly pulling away to look at me. "My precious lion." I hummed softly kissing his forehead.  He blushes holding me tighter. "Let's get warmed up hm?" I say to him receiving a nod. I scoop him up getting an adorable squeak from the omega.

We settle beneath the blanket my arms wrapped around him; I scent Washington on him probably from a friendly pat on the shoulder. The general values Alexander's input above the other 30 aides including myself. I nuzzle his neck feeling him smile. He turns to face me resting his forehead against mine. "I love you John." My heart flutters every time he says that.

I go to reply the same to him when I feel mucus clog my throat. I turn mu head and begin to cough into my sleeve. Alex sits up beside me looking worried. He rubs my back as I try to hack up the mucus clogging my throat. I feel like I am trying to force a lung out of my mouth hitting my chest  gently. Alex suddenly stopped rubbing my back and I heard him leave the room likely to fetch me a glass of water.

After a full minute of coughing I spit the glob of mucus into a piece of tissue tossing it into rubbish bin. I hear a crash from downstairs and glass breaking. I instinctively feel protective of my mate pushing the quilt aside once again. I get out of bed  quickly heading downstairs. I smell blood and run to the kitchen ready to defend my mate from the invading alpha. Instead I find my mate on the floor a broken glass beside him.

Alex's hand is bleeding and he's shaking horribly. I rush to his side carefully avoiding the broken glass. I pull him onto my lap pulling the med kit off the counter. I find no glass in his hand sighing with relief. I clean and wrap his hand. He is still shaking like I knotted him. Tears pour down his face and his scent is severely distressed.

He whimpers his eyes completely clouded over and unfocused. "Alexander, darlin...." I nose his scent gland trying to calm him down; he looks at me. "What brought this on?" I ask him gently. He clings to me sobbing, " D-d-don't leave me alone! I c-cannot live without y-you." Startled I wrap my arms around him, "Alexander I have no intention of leaving you. I love you too much to leave you." He continues to sob his breathing shallow,  "You're s-sick...and c-could d-die..." Now I'm really worried, "I have a head cold dearest not a deadly disease. I will not die from a minor head cold." Alex is hyperventilating at this point his thin frame shaking harder than before. "P-people have d-died from c-colds!" While that's true it usually results from the cold going untreated and developing into something worse.

"I don't w-want y-you t-to d-die J-John..." I hold him tightly rubbing his back trying desperately to calm him down. Alex has had anxiety  attacks before but, never this intense. He seems beyond listening to reason. I hate using my endotype against my mate but, I know his body cannot handle an anxiety attack this intense at the momemt. I press my scent gland causing Alex to look up at me and whimper his eyes glassy.

I kept my fingers on my scent gland until he shrunk back in submission crying for forgiveness. I immediately stop cradling him in my arms. "Shh shh. Breathe Alexander, deep breaths." I run my fingers through his hair whispering sweet nothings in his ear. Just as he began to calm down I am struck with another coughing fit. I am left gasping for air until I spit out more mucus into a dirty towel over a minute later. I felt wet spots on my nightshirt and see that Alexander is crying again. "Alexander..." I murmur rocking my distressed mate going to sit by the fire. He continues to give soft heartbreaking sobs clinging to me like I will disappear should he release me. I rub circles on the omega's back rocking him gently wishing I had enough of my voice to sing to him. It hurts my heart to see him so upset and even more so when I realize he cried himself out.  I kiss his head standing to go back upstairs. "I love you Alexander, my precious lion." I return to our bedroom tucking us both under the quilt. I stroke his cheek worried about my mate. 

I sat reading my book when the bedroom door opened causing me to tense  instinctively protecting my vulnerable mate. I look up and see Lafayette relaxing at the sight of the married alpha. "Mon ami you were absent again... I had to make sure you are all right." Lafayette sits beside the bed in a chair seeing Alex sleeping. "Finally asleep?" He asked me quietly. "He had a panic attack a half hour before you came in to check on my condition." I replied sadly running my fingers through Alex's hair. "He panicked when I started coughing...beg pardon it actually   started when I told him I have a cold." Lafayette sighs, "John his mother died of illness." I feel my heart drop when Lafayette said that. "Ever since then seeing anyone he is close to sick in any way sets off his anxiety. He has lost everyone except for ourselves." My friend stands, "I shall inform the general that you are unwell." He turns and walks out leaving me alone with Alexander and the new information he gave me. 

I think on it until Alexander stirs beside me; he opens his eyes his ginger hair frizzy from the pillow. "I a- apologize f-for earlier..." He murmurs looking away ashamed. I pull him into my arms nuzzling his messy hair feeling his shoulder slump. I  pepper his face with kisses making him chitter softly and nuzzle my neck. "Alex did your mother die from illness?" I asked as we lay cuddling feeling him tense up in my arms. I receive a nod and hear him sniffle. "Is that why you panicked seeing me coughing earlier?" He nods again a soft whimper escaping his lips.I turn him to face me seeing tears running down his cheeks.

I rub them away with my thumbs kissing his forehead, "Shhh dearest I'm all right." I cup his cheeks in my palms forcing him to meet my eyes. "It's just a cold Alexander, nothing more all right?" "All r-right." He says and I give him a quick kiss enjoying the dark blush that blossoms across his cheeks. I return to cuddling my mate feeling him become more relaxed. "I love you John." H mumbles as he fall back to sleep. My heart fluttered and I kissed his cheek saying, "I love you too Alexander."  As I fall back to sleep myself. 

For @giotanner @of-danvid-and-stars and @alannahablar

[rxbelling-hxrald]

Timeline so far

// Long post warning, I’ll put it under a read more to save space but this is going to be a rough but overall flow to Dan’s story and interactions as a whole so far in his main verse over the years I’ve RPed as him. Not counting resets. So those of you more new to meeting him can get a taste of how far he has developed.

Seriously, You’ll be in for a long droning read. This is only if your genuinely interested in catching up how Dan got to the stage he is in now. This will probably sport several grammar errors and terrible pacing but I might fix that in time, right now my priority is just wanting something for myself and others to refer too as to where Dan actually is in his story.

-----------------

Upbringing and Arrival on Mobius - After several years of torment and harsh training in the demon realm to become the next perfect vessal, Dan finally breaks free of his father’s influence over him and promptly begins fending off his demon counterparts in a desperate bid to evade being consumed. The battle lasts for a day as Dan constantly tries to flee before finally being beaten down by the hordes. His father permits the torture to continue believing it as the end before one powerful strike from an brute type abomination sends Dan flying accidentally into an abyssal portal. With the last of his remaining energy  Dan manages to block the entrance as he flies through it and sending him flying through the multi-verse pathways. His father immediately orders a hunt to reclaim the prize though it would take time to break the seal Dan left on the portal.

By chance he ends up roughly landing on green pastures and surrounded by trees. beaten, bleeding and clueless as to what he was seeing and spending several hours too terrified to even dare to move, All of the colors and plants were things he didn’t believe actually existed and with him fading in and out of consciousness it was tricky to assume it was even real to begin with.

With enough time his body was able to recover and he’d pluck up the confidence to actually try touching the flora, then when it seemed safe, he began trying to eat them....flowers, twigs....you name it. Some were obviously more edible than others but he was starving and didn’t care what it was as long as he could munch it down.

Discovery and In Hiding - It took several days for Dan to finally begin venturing out from his initial landing spot, in that time he’d learned the existence of wildlife and had ended up disturbing them frequently both due to his presence as a demon and the fact he’d also attempt to hunt them like a savage with his bare hands. Unlike the demon realm listening out for sounds caused by the surroundings and wildlife was much easier and night would prove little difficulty for him to traverse being used to the eternal void of space in the demon realm.

One day, Dan would eventually stumble across a collection of structures as he pursued some curious looking birds, hiding in the shrubbery he’d finally catch a first glimpse of the local inhabitants in the form of mobians. Of course initially being the next closest thing to a sentient creature like the demons Dan was actually more intimidated by them seeing their apparent mastery in every field given their well developed common life. who knew what powers they might also possess if they were capable of such decor?

Dan would spend a good period of time observing them from a safe distance, watching their habits and motions. These views soon enough revealed that mobian hedgehogs were a surprisingly common sight and so plans begun to blend in as one, which is what prompted the black hedgehog visage nowadays, their lack of clothing only made it easier to mimic their general physique and after a few tries, Dan was able to completely shift himself into a mobian hedgehog.

Even though most mobians seemed to prefer a lack of clothes, it was peculiar to Dan not to wear anything at all even if he was only used to dirty rags and scraps. So one night he’d sneak along towards the establishments again and stole one single uniform he liked the look of which was his favoured black coat. It also proved to be useful with his powers over shadow allowing him to blend into the night almost seamlessly.

First Encounters and Emotional learning - While he was now able to mimic mobian looks and even got himself some suitable clothing to go along with it, He still had little clue how to actually communicate like them and next went about in public, trying to pick up on certain mannerisms and how others generally acted.

It was difficult to even act like the mobians in a calm and casual manner due to his wary nature that they were still supposedly some unknown powerful group of creatures, like the demons or worse, though it was becoming apparent they didn’t appear to hold any frequent fatality gatherings. They simply spoke to one another.

As Dan had been trying to focus on learning, his demon brethren had finally managed to open up the abyssal portal pathways and quickly squads of scouts were dispatched at regular intervals, unable to perfectly align with the same circumstances their quarry had been sent through they figured exploring enough realms in enough quantities they’d find him sooner or later.

They were right. a group of these demon scouts whose speciality was infiltration would blend almost perfectly with the mobian locals. It didn’t take long for them to silently dispose of figures that were able to find them access to more information in mass and pose as them and with their nature to sense other forms of darkness it didn’t take too long for them to learn Dan’s position.

Another fight would ensue in the forests after Dan had decided to fall back away from the populations, he’d win with his foes not nearly being as deadly as others he’d fought, but he was injured enough for others to more clearly notice him which is how he’d eventually gain the attention of future lost friends in the form of Tails and Silver. Tails wanting to help the injured ‘hedgehog’ after Dan stumbled across his workshop and Silver after having witnessed one of the battles going on later on, thinking a capable but innocent civilian was being attacked.

Unfortunately, the failure of the scouts coming back to report told the demon lord all he needed to know as to where Dan was exactly.

New faces and Lost friends - During this period, the kindness shown to him by both Tails and Silver were what made Dan realise that the mobians in of themselves were not actively hostile, eventually Dan would come clean as to both who/what he was to the pair of them but they genuinely didn’t seem to care about his origin in the kindest way with him not being a threat. but with the danger of more demons arriving on learning his location they needed to find a means of keeping them guessing.

Tails was the one that introduced him to the concept of warp rings and after a few attempts of giving Dan a few to try out, the bright two tailed inventor gave him a custom warp ring device, allowing Dan to input any assortment of coordinates so that he could travel between the zones/realms of mobius near instantly.

While Dan never got the hang of remembering the exact coordinates, it gave him the means to keep ahead of his enemies while also allowing him to learn and explore all the more freely, this is what truly enabled Dan’s wanderlust and picking a direction with little care of where it might lead. It was during this time with the warp ring device Dan would encounter several others whom he’d befriend on his travels such as Voltage and Harmony . Things were a little shaky and Dan would frequently try to avoid coming into proper contact with people too often for fear that the demons would learn to focus the innocents down.

Unfortunately, One encounter with more of his enemies resulted in the warp ring device malfunctioning after sustaining damage. Silver would assist while Tails attempted to fix the device but the damage was worse than expected, while more hordes kept arriving to only further pressure the trio. When one demon attempted to attack the young fox, Dan would get in the way though it would prompt a collision, the device being dropped and activated...everyone was sucked in but cast across various locations.

Dan was alone again, until he was able to find his way back by another warp ring he was able to take for himself but not being a custom built design, the ring only warranted a one way trip.

Wandering and Training - While circumstances had changed, the plan did not as Dan had little else he could go for...evade capture, try to skip between the realms and zones, learn as much as possible and try to keep demons from terrorizing the public, especially his new found friends in the face of losing the duo who had previously helped him so much.

This is why he holds Tails and Silver alternates to such a high value, he wants to repay them for all of their help, so he views him helping them and keeping them happy is paying back what was given to him.

Realising that the threat of his father was constantly looming no matter where he ran too, the only way for this to end was for him to become powerful enough to destroy his kin completely, he was getting sick of running and he knew he had a potential with the darkness unlike most of his kind. Between travelling and the occasional act of thievery, Dan would train alone, honing his instincts, techniques and powers, weaponizing his anger and determined to inspire fear in his enemies by becoming an overwhelming powerhouse with his already impressive traits as a demon.

Most demons in Dan’s kind only respect power, at the same time they both fear and envy those with it. Only Dan’s father had such an uncanny level of power to hold such dominion over the hordes, being the collective consciousness of several ‘dark lords’ that were meant to be maintaining balance, instead they were twisted and wanting to end everything to end the constant struggles between light and darkness, what better method than to deny existence itself so there was no need for a balance in the first place?

Instead of a game of cat and mouse, Dan intended for it to eventually turn into a clash of titans but he needed greater access to power while also being able to spread terror amongst the demon hordes. Hence his travels would now begin focusing on any artefacts, traces of demonic energy any other ‘dark’ types within the zones/realms.

It didn’t take too long for Dan to become obsessed with the topic of one the mobians called Dark Gaia.

A Greater Understanding With A Hint Of Insanity - A long period would be Dan exploring, training and getting into encounters with his friends on their own adventures. He was happy to lend them a helping hand but it was becoming evident that his emotions were getting the better of him.

He wanted to protect them, to live with them but also stay away from them as fear of losing more close friends terrified him. He’d been alone during his younger years and he wasn’t going to allow himself to lose contact entirely. As much as he’d wish to live normally, he was a demon and it would be impossible for everyone to truly accept him so why care? He’d only bring more terror with him being present in their realm or fail in his mission and become another enemy of them anyway.

The paranoia and fear continued to eat away at him, getting increasingly agitated with the lack of success in finding anything he could work with to gain an advantage, Chaos energy proving to be something he had no affinity for, the Light would burn and deny him. Technology being either too frail or beyond his understanding, with a last ditch wish to summon and consume the being of Dark Gaia to further strengthen himself not being favoured by most he knew at all.

It was just not possible to apparently get the message across to those he did know why they should avoid him or help him in his mission, Their care for him was only proving to be a weakness....he was sure of it. If they wouldn’t see the truth then he’d both prove their doubts wrong while also saving them.

Another asset to this increased intense mentality was the essence of his defeated kin he’d began to absorb with each he slew. The most powerful of which was a particularly able and strong, yet failed earlier vessel attempt that had been discarded by his father for being too easily twisted by his power, the creature loved to refer to Dan as his brother. After the battle with the apparent brother was over....the tremendous levels of dark energy gained would soon begin to strain on Dan’s body.

Within hours his right hand that he’d used to impale his ‘false’ brother had become completely overwhelmed in demonic essence, the power was great but it had forcibly transformed against Dan’s will, even the so called perfect vessel evidently wasn’t entirely immune to the twisting power of darkness, it showed a small hint of what Dan truly was in appearance, reminding him once more he was not a mobian by any means.

The ‘Attempted’ Resurrection of Dark Gaia - At first it was just his hand, but the power flow was so great it too began to corrupt Dan’s forearm....then his elbow, his shoulder. Forcibly reconstructing his entire right limb to take the visage of the monster he feared to become and given that his veins would burn with a faint purple glow, it was soon clear that this new increase in power had only tainted him. He needed to win his battle against his father before this ‘infection’ took over his entire body and mind.

At the same time, with his friends growing increasingly concerned and wary of his new developments, Dan’s mind drifted deeper into doubt, assuming they still didn’t believe in him to be able to defeat dark gaia, which in turn meant he was still too weak to fight his father.

Determined to prove them wrong, Dan decided he’d go all out in allowing his new found powers to not only tempt the diety back into the world, but then crush it and add its strength to his own. the demon-hog had learned of a method he could use to possibly incite a reaction. By making use of one of Eggman’s old facilities and repairing a super laser aimed directly into a bottomless chasm, wishing to infuse the beam with his own energy, believing it would be enough to hit the centre of the planet and therfore awaken the beast within.

After managing to even capture a relic of Dark Gaia’s previous existence and successfully managing to control it albeit with some difficulty and resistance, Dan felt it was a sign that he was going to wipe out a future threat to the planet and then destroy the current threat to the universe.

The plan would never actually begin however, after weeks of trying and despite all of Dan’s methods and practice he was unable to get anyone capable of repairing the super laser or being able to infuse it with his own tainted energy. The corruption spreading across his body was reaching a boiling point and he was sure that he was going to lose it completely.

Avoiding Disaster and Return - Unbeknown to Dan this entire time, the ‘infection’ was simply the result of an overflow of darkness, to a degree not even his body was used to withholding. Dan believed it was a genuine demonic disease of sorts which would affect not only himself but others.

While there is a degree of truth to the transforming process to become a fully fledged demon, it was not a spreadable disease by common methods.

Expecting the end, Dan felt that the best course of action was to go out with a bang as he willingly opened up one of the abyssal portals he’d spent so much time closing before now, then entering so he could battle the hordes and his father.

The return to the demon realm was as you’d expect, violent but Dan was still not a match for the overwhelming reserves of energy his father had. Dan would take down scores of the lesser nightmares but would be unable to even land a scratch on the dark lord.

Eventually his father would take a hold of Dan’s demonic limb as they struggled, Dan’s physical prowess may have been stronger but even he couldn’t resist the several thousand worth of dense solidified darkness that his father had used to grip him and within an instant, Dan lost the limb...ripped clean off and promptly absorbed into the mass of shadow that was the dark lord.

Even after a year of fighting, training, nothing had changed in the power scale between them, even if he had become strong enough to reduce the other monsters to dust in minimal time, the fight that mattered? Was still beyond his abilities.

It seemed like that was it, the fight was lost as the demon-hog bled profusely over the soot covered ground, several lesser demons already eyeing the crimson liquid to enjoy once this was over. The father went to end this resistance by wishing to repeat the process on the rest of Dan’s body.

It was in these brief seconds that both father and son were reminded of their combined feats. Dan knew he could transform his body, but he’d never attempted to shift himself into a similar state like his father existed as, a gassy, ethereal like creature of horrors. the demon-hog uses his mastery of umbrakenesis to shift his entire body to gas. appearing as the same thick black smoke his father did as he’d phase out and away from his father’s grip.

Naturally the father roared and attempted to regain control by grabbing Dan again, but each attempt simply resulted in the same result of no physical contact being made on any plane. The difference in power was evident but they both had control over their own darkness and in the material plane of gas, any contact made would simply give space for more to float on by. The now ethereal demon-hog quickly floated on out of another abyssal portal that had erupted in sight nearby, repeating the same trick he’d done a year ago.

The father would unleash his rage by killing several of his minions in a single swipe, ordering the immediate retrieval of Dan. The sense of deja vu was aggravating to the dark lord beyond all else.

Dan would also have a similar experience as he’d hit the ground with a painful thud after emerging from the portal and returning to a physical, mobian form. He was armless but the one advantage of having an arm comprised of that twisted, writhing flesh the demons were infamous for, was that it was capable of regeneration given enough time and that right arm was already long tainted by his previous gains.

The New Status Quo - The battle and subsequent survival by going into a different plane took a huge quantity of energy out of Dan, as such he’d soon realise that his previous level of strength had faded but in doing so it had stopped the spread of the ‘infection’ his right arm might be forever tainted now but it was a blessing in disguise much like the rest of his origin being able to survive, endure and eventually regenerate into its mutated mess.

It took several weeks to properly regain its previous muscle mass and deadly array of protruding spikes, but Dan had time, time he spent practising his control over using the abyssal portals, both to seal and to travel so the demons no longer had a method of reliably tracking him down through them without the risk of running into him midway.

By the time they had once again regained access to the portal’s vast array of tunnelling pathways through the universe, Dan had already managed to lock off the majority of access points on the other ends too with his new experience over them. Now he had more time to prepare and plan, while also attempting to get back in touch with his friends and hopefully get past his entire phase of madness.

The Now - Dan has not given up his mission in eventually overcoming and destroying his father so that he can truly drop the threat of demon invasions across the universe. But he’s not as naive as he once was and he’s gained a lot more insight and power in the process even if he is not quite as strong as he was back when he wished to bring back Dark Gaia.

Not much can be said as to what he’ll actually plan to do in future achieve this, but he’s come to realise he should trust his friends more and will need their help and methods rather than relying solely on his own pure brute strength as the apparent ‘Heir of Darkness’  For now he focuses on strengthening his bonds with those he both tried to push away and make the most of his life on mobius, he’s come to understand that he’s not mobian and there’s no point hiding in the shadows anymore. He will be more likely to achieve greater help and strength should he be honest with the world around him.

Who knows, perhaps your muse will hold the key to his success? or maybe something else entirely. Compared to what he once was he’s no longer the anxious and clueless wreck, this was thanks to those he has met and gave him the time of day.

[writeyouin]

Hey! Can i have a Charles x reader one shot based on Epilogue by The Antlers please ? (^^) Oh and the song is originally about cancer (sort of), but can you make it about the reader being suicidal instead ? I understand if it's too much of a triggering topic though

CharlesXavier X Reader – Epilogue

A/N – Her you go reader, a veryinteresting song indeed so thanks for sharing.

Warnings – Trigger Warning – Suicidal Reader. Depression

Rating – M

Charles shook you repeatedly, disbelieving what his senses were showing him. You weren’t dead, you couldn’t be. Yet, as your eyes rolled lifelessly back into your head, there was no denying it. The longer Charles stared, the worse the scene got; he began noticing new things, like the rest of the horrific scene was just catching up. The empty pill bottle was unscrewed on the bedside table, some of the contents strewn on the bed next to you. Dry vomit and spittle clung to your cheeks, remnants of the horrible decisions past. A notepad with a hastily scribbled message, it’s only word, “Sorry,” was next to your abnormally pale palm. How could this have happened? How could he have missed all the signs? Unable to do anything else, he clung to you, feeling your cold seep into him, and let out an anguished, monstrous howl.

With a sickening jolt, Charles woke up, the scent of sweat and fear clinging to him as a painful reminder of the nightmare past. Was it a nightmare? He looked at you, holding himself back from shaking you again lest he wake you. Yes, you were most certainly alive; alive, and dreaming sweet dreams that he would never know. From the day the two of you became a couple, he’d promised never to use his mutation on you; a sign of a healthy, trusting relationship. Despite that promise, he longed to read you now, for how else could he handle the horrible sights which would probably haunt him for the rest of his life. He didn’t however, instead he settled for resting his arm over you, calmed until he could talk to you in the morning.

At the first sight of your smiling face the next morning, Charles was relieved; he didn’t know what had brought on the nightmare but he became quickly reassured that it would never happen again.

“Are you okay?” You asked upon pouring him a coffee over breakfast in the unusually quiet kitchen.

“Hmm?” He moaned blearily, having an unpleasant flashback of the night before.

“You look tired, something wrong?”

“Oh it’s- it’s nothing.”

He stopped, memorising the curve of your face and the way you smelt, using everything he could to reassure himself you weren’t going to disappear.

“Charles,” You grabbed his hand over the breakfast counter, “You’re looking at me weird, if something’s wrong, you can tell me. Don’t get wrapped up in other people’s problems today, just tell me yours.”

Charles sighed, he should’ve known he couldn’t hide things from you, one of the things he loved most about you was your perception. “It’s silly really, I uh, had a nightmare and it keeps coming back to me, that’s all.”

“A nightmare? What about?”

“Oh you know… It was, well… I can’t remember all the details but I’d lost something dear to me and I suppose it’s still bothering me.”

“Aww, sweetheart. You know, I’ll bet I know why it’s really bothering you.”

Charles swallowed uncomfortably, watching you closely as you rounded the table towards him.

“You’re so used to being in control of your own mind that this scared you a little. Don’t worry though, nothing’s going to happen okay? You’ve got this school, you’ve got Hank, you’ve got your abilities.”

“And you.” He added, a little forcefully.

“Yeah… and me.” You brushed off the awkward pause in your speech by kissing the top of Charles’ head before taking his coffee cup away, humming a distracted tune as you washed up.

In the coming months, much like the nightmare, Charles begun to notice little things he hadn’t before, or rather, the little things he noticed before were no longer there. It had started with singing, or the lack thereof. Where you used to sing little ditties whilst washing dishes or cleaning up, you didn’t anymore. Then there was a drop in your usual activities; where you used to find enjoyment, it seemed there was none. After that it was your overall appearance which you were taking less care of than usual. Finally, Charles could no longer sit idly by and watch as you neglected to eat or sleep on a regular basis. However, no matter how often he tried to broach the subject, you would give him your all knowing smile and put his suspicions down to paranoia or over-tiredness. Fear for you is what drove him to his final decision, when you next slept, he would break his promise and look into your mind.

Charles watched calmly as you drifted off to sleep, his mind in turmoil over what he was about to do. He was disgusted with himself but the memory of your corpse spurred him on to what was undoubtedly a necessary evil. Gently, he stroked your temple with his thumb, closing his eyes and submerging himself within your deepest thoughts. Here, while you were sleeping, Charles saw worlds upon worlds, all comprised of the things you loved; each new item presented itself on a new level, he felt almost like Alice, falling down the rabbit hole.

On one level was memories of him such as, the day you both met and your first date, as well as other more menial days in the background.

Another level provided such items representing you hobbies. Then there were islands with your family, imagination, highly valued traits. Upon closer inspection Charles notice that all the islands were behind locked gates, yet still functioning in the subconscious. Then, on the very bottom level, a full length mirror with no glass stood tall, two versions of you stood on either side. One was the very you which Charles loved, colourful and full of life. The other was pale and clammy, she was reaching for the first you with a look that practically screamed for help. Charles wanted desperately to hug that version of you, to find out all that was wrong and fix it; he would reshape the entire universe if it would help you recover from whatever was wrong.

Reluctantly, Charles withdrew from your mind, resolving to search further when you awoke; he’d gleamed all he could from your subconscious, for now there was nothing left to do but wait.

Charles fought not to cry as you aimlessly paced the lake for the third time that morning. Where you would’ve normally picked a spot to read a book or tried (and failed) to skim a stone across the lake’s glassy surface, you simply paced instead. In all his years, he’d seen everything the human mind could throw at him, depression was no different; he’d simply never imagined it would happen to someone so close to him before. Deep down, he knew the real you was in there, attempting to rekindle your old passions to fix the wounds inside. However, without talking to someone or asking for help, even from a stranger, the ongoing battle would be much harder and probably the road to losing you altogether. After much consideration, he realised that his initial nightmare had been your cry for help, whether you knew it or not.

Gathering up all his strength, he approached you, inviting you to sit with him.

“Hey sweetheart, good day?” You asked, sitting on the grass next to him.

“Yes well… (Y/N), we need to talk about something important and I need you to be honest with me.”

“Okay, whatever you want, what’s up?”

“You… You haven’t been well lately and I need you to tell me what’s wrong. You can take all the time you need but please, please talk to me.”

“Is this about the weight loss?” You laughed breezily. “Because if it is-”

Charles slipped into your mind again while you joked on. He gasped as intense emotions hit him like a freight train. Behind your easy smile was tortured, agonised screaming. Fury and self-loathing consumed your waking thoughts, yelling their profanities into the abyss.

“You hate yourself.” Charles whispered, silencing you. “Worthless. Stupid. Not good enough.”

You winced as Charles quoted every bad thought you’d ever had, it sliced in a new way you’d never thought possible. You had thought that the numbness had finally taken over but with each word Charles spoke, the depression bore down stronger than ever before.

“B-Broken-” Charles shuddered, tears now streaming from his eyes unchecked. “You don’t believe I could ever love somebody as damaged as you.”

You cried. It wasn’t sobbing or wailing. You never choked or faltered. You simply cried; fat, silent tears rolled down your cheeks, one after the other.

“I’m sorry.” You whispered.

Charles grabbed hold of you, hugging your waist tightly. He’d never meant to make you apologise, he just wanted to help you; to heal you. “No, don’t ever be sorry for this. I love you with all my heart (Y/N) and we’re going to help you, one way or another.”

“How?”

“It’s a long road ahead and it will be the hardest thing you’ve ever done but you don’t have to face it alone. Please, promise me, you’ll let me help you.”

Charles’ plea rang in your ears, waking something within you that you’d thought was lost, a small spark, tiny though it was; the desire to live. You wrapped your arms tightly around him, surrendering to the overwhelming waves of sadness, fear and pain you’d kept locked up.

“Okay.” You croaked. “H-help me.”