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spacedikut · 4 years

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how to ask a girl out ; spencer reid

pairing: spencer reid (criminal minds) x reader

summary: elle sees an opportunity to teach spencer about asking a girl out. 3275 words

a/n: based on this scene. this is the longest fic ive ever written so sorry if it’s a painful read

Spencer feels creepy staring at you like this.

There’s no other way to put it. He feels like he’s twelve again, the youngest in his Las Vegas high school, staring at all the pretty girls that get his heart racing just by existing. But you’re more enchanting than those girls. He could watch you do anything, he thinks, because no matter what you’re doing you look picture perfect, like you don’t have a single bad angle.

Spencer still has the social skills of twelve year old him, though. Especially when dealing with cute people.

“You know,” The voice makes Spencer jump, “If you stare long enough, she just might notice.”

Elle is smirking with her arms crossed, shooting Spencer an incriminating look. He tenses.

Seeing his discomfort, Elle relents, “I’m teasing, Reid.” He visibly relaxes against the door frame he’s half hiding behind, half leaning against.

“I’m not trying to be weird.” He mumbles. Elle thinks he sounds like a kid that was caught with his hand in the cookie jar.

“I know you’re not. Have you… spoken to her?”

You’re somewhat new to the unit. Some kind of assistant to JJ who joined several months ago (three months and three days, if Spencer counted correctly) (he did), which means the team don’t see you that much, just enough that you’ve been the topic of discussion a few times. It doesn’t help that JJ sings your praise, and Hotch recently revealed you made yourself available for babysitting his new-born if he ever needs it. Every time someone mentions you, it’s followed by some kind of compliment. Everyone loves you. Spencer has said all of five words to you, and he’s smitten.

“Hi. I’m Spencer. A doctor.”

When you were introduced you didn’t pay him much attention. He can’t blame you, it was overwhelming for you – being introduced to a whole bunch of FBI agents and then thrown head-first into sorting cases for them. But Spencer paid attention. He couldn’t tear his eyes away. Derek’s caught him staring one too many times, but it isn’t Spencer’s fault he can’t stop thinking about you. You enter the room and Spencer’s attention is pulled to you, like a magnet.

Derek thinks it’s time he made a move. Spencer agreed and maintained that confidence for all of fifteen minutes, until he heard your joyful laugh dance down the hallway and his tongue felt too heavy to form words.

That’s when Elle noticed.

Across the room, you’re laughing at something Derek said with JJ. Seeing you smile makes Spencer smile, and Elle nudges him.

“Have you considered approaching her? Rather than, you know, watching her from afar like she’s prey?”

Spencer huffs, “You think I haven’t tried?”

Every time he’s moved to start a conversation, he finds himself unable to complete a single sentence. After he says hello, then what? He dies?

Elle breathes through her nose in frustration. “She’s a nice girl. I’ve spoken to her a couple of times. She mentioned the other day she wants to visit the local museum, since she just moved and hasn’t really explored yet. Shame no one is available to accompany her, right?”

“Are you implying something?”

“Yes.”

“I-I don’t. I can’t-“

“You can’t or you won’t?”

Spencer’s always admired Elle’s ability to be blunt and fearless. But he isn’t Elle, Elle isn’t him, so to him it doesn’t feel like he simply chooses to pussy out of talking to you – it feels like he’s physically constrained. Like he’s fighting against the tide of the ocean to reach you, and he keeps getting pushed back, further and further away from you.

Elle’s eyes shift between you and Spencer, like she’s watching a tennis match. “Just go up and ask her. It’s that simple. If she says no, she says no. No big deal!”

Spencer shakes his head, “I can’t do that. It’s Y/N! She’s-she’s-“

“A normal human being. You know, like you and me? The second you start putting people on pedestals is when things start falling apart.” She pats him on the shoulder as encouragement, “Have some confidence, Reid.”

And she walks away, as if just telling him to have some confidence will make him suddenly have the courage to whisk you off your feet.

He wishes he could whisk you off your feet.

+++

The paperwork is never ending. Times like this, Spencer considers recanting his stance on technology – maybe having everything on an online database would be a good idea. The stacks upon stacks around him would agree.

A paper ball hits the back of Spencer’s head.

He turns, slowly, and Elle gives a wave from her desk. “Hi.”

“Hi.”

“Can I… help you?”

“Yes, you can.” She nods to the paper on the floor, “Read it.”

He leans and grabs the ball from the floor, opening it with furrowed brows.

Step 1: Actually talk to her.

Suddenly, Elle is standing right next to him, looking all-too-pleased with herself. She leans over him.

“What does this mean?”

“You wanna date Y/N? Talk to her. That means marching right up to her pretty little face and saying more than, like, a few words to her. You need to have a conversation with her to let her know you’re interested.”

Elle’s clearly confident in her plan, but it seems she’s forgetting an important detail – this is Spencer that she’s dealing with. Not Derek, who can charm anyone out of anything (or into anything), not Hotch who, when he wants to be, is the smoothest criminal ever. Not even Gideon, with his soft eyes that make anyone that stares into them feel safe. He’s Spencer Reid who, according to one guy, looks like a pipe cleaner with eyes.

Spencer’s hesitant to take any of Elle’s advice.

“What would I… say to her?” He asks. If he does talk to you, what does he even say? Do you even want to talk to him? What if you immediately hate him and JJ beats him up? She could do it. He’s seen her guns.

Elle looks at him incredulously, “Reid! C’mon! Anything! Ask how her day has been, if she had a good weekend, are there plans for this weekend… Literally anything.” Spencer gives a look of distrust, “You’ll know if she’s interested, trust me. She’ll reciprocate. If she doesn’t, she’s not up for it, and there’s your answer without even asking her out.”

At that moment, you and JJ appear from thin air, whispering to one another with your arms full of files. Both Spencer and Elle’s watchful gazes follow you right up until JJ’s office door is clicked shut and when you can only slightly be seen through the blinds, Spencer still stares. Elle hits him over the head.

“Pay attention!”

“She’s distracting!”

“She walked by you, not gave you a lap dance! Focus on the plan!”

With a sigh, he looks back to the crumpled paper in his hands. “What’s step two?”

The paper’s yanked out of his hands and Elle furiously scribbles something before handing it back to him.

Step 2: Make her laugh.

“I can’t do that.”

She scoffs, “Reid.”

“People laugh at me, Elle, not with me. The only way she’ll laugh is if I make a complete fool of myself and when I do that, I’m running away and never looking back. You’ll never see me again.”

Sick of the self-deprecation, Elle leans close to Spencer’s face and begins to whisper menacingly.

“Listen, bud,” She threatens, “You need to stop being so hard on yourself. You’re young, you’re inexperienced – that’s why approaching Y/N is so terrifying. Not because she’s out of your league, or you’re not good enough, it’s because you’ve never done this before. It’s simply a fear of stepping out of your comfort zone, so stop being so hard on yourself.”

Spencer isn’t sure how to respond, silently wishing something could get him out of this situation. He’s not used to being complimented so ferociously.

God answers his prayers. In the worst way possible.

“Incoming. Make her laugh, Reid.” Elle says, slinking off back to her desk.

Spencer quickly realises you’re approaching and his hands grip the armrests of his chair. He’s not ready for this. He wishes he had time to prepare, maybe google how to woo a woman, but you’re in front of him, all precious smiles with a manila folder in your hand.

“Hi, Doctor Reid.”

Your voices sounds like heaven. He can’t help but think, despite only listening to classical music, he could listen to your voice and only your voice if given the option. It’s like honey, sweet and smooth, and something inside him stirs. Everything about you is lovely.

He clears his throat and nervously wipes at his nose, “Hey. What can I do for you?”

“I was told to bring this to you,” You hand him the folder, “And JJ wanted me to check up on you. She said you’ve been working non-stop and that you probably consumed your bodyweight in coffee with enough sugar to give a small army diabetes. My guess is she wants to check your heart is still beating.”

Spencer laughs at that, which encourages you to giggle along. He freezes when he sees the way your eyes scrunch and smile widens when you laugh – he’d only seen it from a distance, up close it feels intimate and causes his throat to tighten. When your laughter dies, you’re left with an awkward silence as he stares. You shuffle your feet.

Elle is trying to look like she isn’t paying attention, but in her head she’s screaming at Spencer to say something!!!

“Sorry for disturbing you if you’re – um – if you’re busy.” You gesture to the mess on Spencer’s desk, and it’s then that he realises how his silence could’ve looked – to him, you quite literally took his breath away, but to you? He’s a weirdo that is still holding the file mid-air and hasn’t said a thing for far too long.

“No! No,” Spencer brushes his hair back, “Thank you for the file. JJ’s right, I should probably take a break-“

He looks up then. This is his chance, right?

“Are you busy right now?”

You glance around and your eyes find JJ’s office, where she’s signalling for you to come over, “Yeah. Sorry.”

It feels like a punch in the gut – is this rejection? – but there’s a look of sadness that crosses your face. Your mouth falls at the edges and your brows slightly crease – do you wish you weren’t busy?

If Spencer didn’t feel like he’s seconds away from vomiting, he’d ask. Maybe. That sounds a whole lot like flirting and he isn’t sure he can handle that.

You quickly leave, not before you tell him to look after himself (his heart swells), and the second you’re far enough away Elle is marching right over and throwing the paper at him, again, even though she’s standing right in front of him.

“She rejected me.”

“Yea- wait, what?” Elle starts to celebrate, but stops at her words, “No she didn’t. Did we see different things?”

“It sure felt like rejection. Felt weird.”

“That was the perfect chance to ask her to go out after work or maybe on the weekend, but, in your defence, that’s a Derek-level response and we’re not quite there yet. Step three, go.”

Spencer unfolds the paper ball begrudgingly, wondering if any of this is actually worth it.

Step 3: Get JJ to back the fuck up.

Spencer laughs.

“Either you tell JJ you like her assistant and ask for her help, or you tell JJ you like her assistant and that she needs to stop using her so much.” Elle sounds matter-of-fact and confident.

“You want me to tell JJ to stop giving her assistant work?” Spencer asks, face scrunched.

With a shrug, Elle says, “Or you could ask her to help you. She knows the most about Y/N.”

Looking up to JJ’s office, he realises how true Elle’s statement is. JJ knows you better than anyone else here, you’ve quickly become good friends, and JJ wouldn’t lie to Spencer about you if it involved his feelings. He trusts JJ like that.

But then you throw your head back in laughter, a hearty laugh that JJ follows with her own tinkling chuckle, and Spencer is reminded of the sinking feeling he’s had when he’s been rejected before. The emotional slap in the face that causes you to lose all confidence. In his head, he rationalises that attempting to ask you out is pointless. You won’t like him, scrawny profiler who follows his team members like a lost puppy, the guy unable to maintain eye contact for more than four seconds. The logical side, however, the side that runs the show when Spencer is on a case and hides his feelings, tells him he has nothing to lose. Morgan would be proud of him, not ashamed, because Spencer had the guts to ask someone out – Spencer! Elle would understand and tell him something about learning for next time, and the rest of the team wouldn’t really care.

He has nothing to lose and everything to gain. A date with you? A relationship with you? That’d feel like winning the lottery. It feels more likely than winning the lottery, too.

Then Morgan walks past him, more like swaggers, all good looks and charm and everything Spencer doesn’t have.

Spencer decides he’ll save himself the rejection.

+++

JJ gets involved without Spencer realising. He connects the dots on the way back to Virginia, after a case in which you were brought along instead of JJ.

There was a “family emergency”, apparently, after the debrief and right before take-off. Although it wasn’t your first case, it was your first time travelling with the team. When you pad in, sparkling eyes gliding all around the jet, Spencer zeroes in on the gruesome scene photos to avoid being caught staring.

You fit into the role flawlessly. It’s like you were born for the part, effortlessly slipping into the job of communicator between the team and the police force, standing fearlessly in front of the press as they piled on the pressure.

In the conference room where the team set up, he noticed you actively try to stay out of the way whilst simultaneously help in any way you could. You offered coffee every two hours (Spencer counted), cleaned up any and all rubbish the team left around – burger wrappers, useless post-it notes – and mothered the team by reminding them they need breaks, too.

At the hotel, you jokingly poked Spencer in the shoulder and said, “No more coffee for you. You’ll get a sugar rush and won’t be able to sleep.”

“Like a toddler?”

“Exactly like a toddler. Straight to bed for you.”

You grinned at eachother before you separated to go to your rooms. Around three am, Spencer instinctively went to make himself a drink but stopped and thought of you. He decided for that night, just that night, he could get a somewhat decent amount of sleep.

Now, on the flight home, Gideon pauses before his move in their third game of chess to stare at something behind Spencer’s shoulder. When he notices, Spencer turns to see what has his mentor’s attention and stutters when it’s you. You, looking like you’re straight out of a cheesy romance movie when you push your hair back while reading your book.

Gideon switches from staring at you to staring at Spencer.

“She’s a pretty girl, huh?”

Spencer knows where this is going.

“Elle told me you’re sweet on her.”

“Elle shouldn’t have said anything.”

“Elle has been watching you two the entire case.”

“Elle-“

Gideon clears his throat, making Spencer finally make eye contact, “You scared? Worried?”

“About what?” Spencer asks.

“Rejection. If she’ll laugh in your face, say something about never wanting anyone like you.”

Sometimes, Spencer is terrified of Gideon’s ability to read people. He swears he has this inhuman ability to take a peek into people’s minds, read their most intrusive and negative thoughts, and confront them about them. Like he’s doing to Spencer now.

“Something like that, yeah,” Spencer murmurs. He shuffles uncomfortably in his seat, “It’s your move.”

“I know.” Gideon nods to you, making Spencer look again, “Don’t you think, in twenty years’ time, you’d want to look back at this moment and be glad you asked? No matter the outcome? Rather than wondering if she’d said yes, asking all kinds of what-ifs…”

“You’re telling me to ask her out?”

Gideon gives Spencer a smile that fills him with confidence. He doesn’t know what it is, but he trusts Gideon with his whole life. If he tells him to go for it, then he should go for it, right?

“I happen to know the Virginia museum is having a deal on tickets if you order them online. Might be something to look into.” He sounds borderline smug now.

With one last look to Gideon, he stands and slowly waddles to the chair opposite you.

“Mind if I sit?” He asks, a hand gently resting on the back of the empty seat. You startle slightly at the unexpected voice, but gesture for him to sit with a smile.

“How are you feeling?” You wonder, squinting slightly as the sun shines in your eyes. It makes them sparkle, and Spencer has never understood wanting to drown in someone’s eyes until that moment.

“Just glad the case is over. You did a great job, by the way, filling in for JJ last minute.” Spencer is surprised that his voice doesn’t crack or stop completely.

You beam at the praise, “Thank you. JJ’s got some big boots to fill, even if it’s for one case.”

He shrugs and pulls a face as if you’ve said something ridiculous, “Don’t sell yourself short. When she realises how good you are, she’ll start taking all kinds of holidays.” He jokes.

He can’t help but grin when you laugh.

Elle passes. In the very brief eye contact they make, Elle’s eyes are wide and jumping from you to Spencer, Spencer to you. She’s sending him a message, and he bets Gideon is watching, too.

“Hey,” He starts, leaning on the table between you. You instinctively lean closer, too, which Spencer takes as a positive sign, “How would you.. like…”

He has to take a second to inhale a shaky breath and nervously push his hair behind his ears. You wait, all patient and divine, and his eyes dash around your face.

“To go to the museum with me?”

It comes out rushed and you look confused. “Huh?”

Spencer tries again, after clearing his throat, “How would you like to go to the museum with me? When we get back. As a date.”

“You’re asking me on a date?”

“…Yes?”

If you weren’t staring directly at him, he’d think you were making fun of him and about to unleash a nice bout of rejection.

You move one hand to lean your face against, moving in a little closer, “I would love that.”

Spencer is speechless. You would love that?

“Oh- wow. Yeah, thanks. Good.”

Who says thanks when someone agrees to go on a date with them?

You giggle.

“We’ll plan when we get back?” You ask.

“Yes. Definitely.” He nods three times.

You can’t help but bite your lip, he’s too cute, and it immediately draws Spencer’s attention.

Behind you both, Gideon turns to Elle. “Success.”

Elle rolls her head against the back of her seat and stares out the window, “Step four: Get Gideon to get the job done.”

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fanfic #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds fanfic #mine #this is incredibly self indulgent because i would give anything to go on a museum date with spencer or mgg #also this was longer before editing and originally included a whole thing with a male police officer being interested in reader but it was #already SO LONG

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mari-beau · 3 years

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GIVE ME A REASON: PART FOUR - A Rogue One Fanfic

So this part/scene got a little out of control. Ironically, since I only had the base idea of when it would take place until I started writing it. You can also find/read this story on AO3 now.

Part One

Part Two

Part Three

Title: Give Me A Reason: Part Four

Genre: Hurt/Comfort

Characters: Jyn Erso POV, Cassian Andor

Pairing: Cassian/Jyn (mostly pre-ship?)

Spoilers: Rogue One; Episode IV A New Hope

Setting: Post-Rogue One AU (Cassian & Jyn live); Also during/post A New Hope

Warnings: Some sappiness?

Words: 2,978

Story Summary: Jyn’s entire universe has been turned on its head, so maybe she’s clinging a little too hard to the one thing she feels certain of (strangely enough) as she tries to figure out her place in the galaxy. And maybe she’s being a little overprotective of a wounded captain.

Also can be found on AO3.

...

“Ms. Erso, it is time for you to vacate the infirmary.”

Jyn jerked, jarred from sleep and reaching for the knife she no longer had on her person. Her situation settled back around her surfacing consciousness, calming her immediate fight-or-flight response but keeping her on edge.

“No,” she told the medical orderly droid. “I already told the doctors, medical staff and you lot that I’m not leaving Captain Andor. I don’t want him to wake up alone.”

“Yes. You were most clear regarding your intransigence, Ms. Erso.”

Droids had the worst attitudes. Shouldn’t med ones be programmed with a better bedside manner?

“But the bed is needed,” the droid went on when she just wanted it to go away so she could wallow in the overwhelming mix of emotions drowning her; loss, guilt, relief. “There are numerous incoming casualties from a skirmish in the Za’dan sector.”

Jyn scowled, but didn’t budge.

“What difference does it make if I leave? It’s not like I’m taking up an extra bed.” As if to prove her point, she shifted closer to Cassian in the infirmary cot, making her already petite body take up even less room.

“Captain Andor is to be processed for discharge. So you will keep your superfluous vow that he won’t wake up alone. Even though he wouldn’t be alone anyway. There are medical staff and med-droids present.”

Jyn was too alarmed by the droid’s revelation to mind the griping typical to its type.

“You’re discharging him?!” Jyn shifted, pushing herself up to study the unconscious man.

How well she knew every bruise and injury visible and many hidden by the white medical tunic and pants. She’d passed out herself from exhaustion as they began treating her injuries, but as soon as she’d woken up, she’d bullied, threatened and pleaded until they brought her to Cassian, making her wait outside the operating room, only able to watch as they finished the surgeries and treatments. They’d let her curl up in a chair next to the Bacta tank they’d stuck him in afterward, and no one even questioned by the time he was relocated to an infirmary bed when she climbed in beside him.

She’d seen the bandages, bruises, burns and scars. And she knew how they’d changed as the hours, the days had passed. Barely days, just three days since Scarif. Were they insane? They were just going to turn him out, in his condition?

Apparently, they were.

The med-droid was already injecting him with something, and Cassian was rousing. Jyn’s heart beat faster and she practically held her breath, on her knees on the edge of the bed, leaning forward with anticipatory anxiety, clutching at her kyber crystal with one hand. His past few hours of sleep had been strained. He’d been unconscious but also tense, in pain. She’d felt it in the rigidity of his muscles, the periodic hitches in his breathing.

“Did you give him more meds for the pain, too?” she asked the droid. How could they ask him to get back on his feet when he was in so much pain just lying still?

“Yes. And the stimulant should keep him awake until he gets settled back into his quarters.”

Jyn sagged in relief slightly until Cassian came crashing back into reality with a gasp and a jerk, and bewildered, began to thrash. She threw herself on top of him, placing her hands on his shoulders to hold him down, hoping he wouldn’t hurt himself worse, but understanding how confused and frightened he must feel.

“Cassian, It’s Jyn.” As if that would make a difference to him, if he even remembered her upon waking from a days-long practically-a-coma, someone he’d only met far less than a week ago and since had suffered devastating traumas. “You’re safe. You’re on the rebel base on Yavin 4. In the infirmary.”

Almost instantly, he went still, calmed, like a switch had been thrown. But she supposed the man did have quick reflexes, was highly adaptable to various situations. Otherwise, he wouldn’t have made it so long as a rebel spy.

“Jyn?” His eyes found her face. They were a little glassy and unfocused but were still, well, captivating, dark, intelligent and expressive. “What happened?”

“We did it.” She shifted back to kneeling beside him, gave him a smile, a genuine one albeit bittersweet. They had succeeded in their mission, but at a tremendous cost. “The plans to the Death Star were received by the fleet.”

“Are they planning an attack?” Cassian pushed himself up to a sitting position, wincing and inhaling sharply, making Jyn picture the freshly healed surgical incisions that were doubtless strained by the movement.

“I…” Jyn had never thought to ask. The moment she realized they weren’t going to die on that beach, making sure Cassian survived had become her only concern. “I don’t know.”

“I should report to Command.” Cassian moved to get out of the infirmary bed, but Jyn stopped him, grabbing his arm to hold him back. She shimmied across the bed and hopped off it to stand in front of him.

“If they needed any more information or intel, they would’ve asked me.” It sounded plausible, even though if they’d tried it, she couldn’t rightly say she would’ve cooperated (they hadn’t listened to her the last time she tried to convince them of the truth), but especially if it meant leaving Cassian’s side. Even for a moment. How had someone else become her primary, her only concern, that she now cared only for his welfare? “And you’re not in any shape to help. Give yourself a little more time to heal.”

She reached for him as he was already trying to stand, stiffening and wobbling for a moment when he was fully upright. But Jyn would support him without him needing to ask, slid her arms around his waist and tucked her shoulder under one of his arms. He leaned into her, likely without even realizing it. From what Jyn could tell, Cassian was an independent sort of person, like herself, but unlike herself, was not too proud to accept help, being more of a team player than she ever had been.

His fingers went to pinch the bridge of his nose and his eyes squeezed shut. He took a long, deep breath, swaying a little.

“How far are your quarters from the infirmary?” she asked.

He sighed. That close, was it?

“Can you make it? If I help you?” Jyn looked around, but the droid had already stripped the bed and skittered off. She would go find whatever he needed for assistance because maybe he was a little proud, too, and had sacrificed a good portion of his independence by leaning on her. She waited, letting him decide, despite her wanting to wrap him up in soft warm blankets in a fluffy bed of pillows and keep him safe.

“Let’s try it. I should probably find out how bad the damage is sooner than later.” His expression had gone tight and unreadable, and her heart broke to think of the justified fear he must be feeling, that he may have suffered permanent damage that could affect the rest of his life, that might take away his purpose of serving the rebellion.

“They healed the blaster wound easily, but you’ve got an impressive scar,” she said as he took a tentative step, using her like a crutch, not questioning why or how she knew his wounds and medical diagnosis and treatments. “The fractures in your vertebrae and ribs probably haven’t completely knitted yet but the prognosis is good.”

Well, this wasn’t so bad. His weight was a burden making her own steps difficult, but Jyn didn’t begrudge it, not when it meant he was alive, and on his feet even. And they were already at the infirmary door. The medical staff hadn’t given them even a second look, but Jyn steeled herself for the possibility of stares as they entered the rest of the base. She couldn’t care less but these were Cassian’s fellow soldiers and he deserved their respect and not pity.

“They replaced your hip and part of your femur,” she said when they entered the hallway.

“Is that why it feels like I’ve been sliced open from my ribs down to my knee?”

“They sealed you back up.”

A light chuckle escaped him. “Things could be worse, then.”

They could, they really could. If Jyn were to make comparisons, it wasn’t just the fact that they hadn’t died on Scarif like it seemed they should’ve, but this situation she found herself in, saddled with a wounded spy (by her own choosing), on a rebel base, a Death Star out there somewhere in the galaxy… It was still the best place she’d been in since… Since she was abandoned by Saw at 16? Since her mother had died and her father had been taken?

Part of her that enjoyed the warmth of Cassian’s body beside hers, the feel of his wiry flank beneath her hand, the smell of his skin, even the weight of him he placed on her shoulders, that part proposed that this was the best situation, the best time in her entire life.

How pathetic did that make her?

She enjoyed dragging a severely wounded man around some giant old ruins half-reclaimed by the jungle converted to a military base… sort of base… The Alliance was so loosely confederated, everything seemed slapped together and piecemeal.

But hopefully the medical facilities had been up to par… They had seemed nicer than anything Jyn had ever experienced. But that wasn’t saying much at all.

“You need a minute?” she asked, finally realizing Cassian’s steps and breathing had become labored. She maneuvered him towards a wall and leaned up against it with him, nodding to a passing rebel soldier of indeterminable rank and unnotable appearance.

“Maybe it would’ve been better if you’d left me on Scarif,” he said, his voice low, quiet and pained as he almost-panted, sagging against the ancient stone wall.

“No,” she said. “You don’t mean that.”

“I was ready to die.”

She didn’t want to hear this. The meds and the strain were making him say things. She told him as much.

He shook his head.

“Listen to me, Jyn.”

What could she do? What could she say? That she didn’t want to hear how he valued his life so little, that he’d throw it away just for the slim chance of providing an opportunity for the rebellion to destroy some Imperial weapon, a terrifying one, but one weapon of many. She-

“I felt peace. For the first time in my life, probably.” His voice had gotten even lower and quieter, almost a whisper, wistful even. Jyn didn’t dare look at him, had to concentrate on breathing normally when she felt his fingers slip into her hand. It was easier to consider her unsolicited affection for the man when he was giving no indication of whether or not he returned it. “And I think it was because you were there. For the first time in longer than I can remember, I didn’t feel alone.”

Oh, Force. He was getting delirious, saying things that, from what she knew of him, he would never share even if he did feel them.

“Come on, let’s get you back to your own bed.”

He didn’t say anything else as they traversed several more halls, and Jyn wondered if she’d hurt his feelings by not responding to his raw, quiet confession. But he continued to lean on her without any hesitation and the silence between them felt comfortable. It was strange. He’d made her so tense in the beginning, the way he watched her, how secretive he was, so guarded. But somehow, somewhere along the way, she grew to not only feel comfortable with Cassian Andor, but to trust him as she’d never trusted anyone else before.

And she thought, maybe he trusted her in return. He followed her on a suicide mission, let her support his injured, vulnerable self on Scarif, let her drag him off that cursed planet, and now lead him across the rebel base, passing by people who really amounted to the only family he’d ever had.

There weren’t many, however. And none stopped. Or stared, too much. The med droid must have been right about the incoming survivors of the skirmish, everyone seemed a little rushed and mission-oriented. Or maybe there was more going on…

“Stop. Stop.”

Jyn immediately froze.

“Are you okay?” she asked, shifting beneath Cassian’s weight to try to get a good look at his face. “Do you need a break?”

“We’re home,” Cassian said, his eyelids sliding nearly shut before they shot open again.

“Oh,” Jyn said, ignoring the way something fluttered inside of her over his choice of words. “Which one?”

“Left side of the hall.” He indicated the door directly to their left with a nod of his head. The stimulant must be failing to combat the pain meds, and his body’s need to rest, to heal. Because he was getting heavier and more slack in her arms.

They staggered over to the door to his quarters and he was at least coherent enough to punch his code into the lock. His room was by no means large, barely larger than Jyn’s cell on Wobani. But at least he didn’t have a cellmate, er, bunkmate… Well, not officially…

She basically dumped him on the narrow bed, which he didn’t seem to mind at all, making a groaning sound of relief and taking several deep breaths, his legs hanging awkwardly off the side. Not knowing what else to do, she bent to lift his legs and slide them onto the bed, forcing him to lay down in a less uncomfortable position. She pulled the white slip-on infirmary shoes off his feet and tossed them in a corner, feeling only a flash of contrition over sullying the pristine room. It was so austere, even with two of the walls comprised of the old stone of the ancient temple. It could’ve been anyone’s quarters. No. That was wrong. It’s nondescriptness, everything hidden away in the meager storage units, only Cassian would keep his personal space in such a spartan manner.

“Cassian…?”

He mumbled something she took to imply he was listening and not passed out yet.

“Do you have extra bedding? A blanket or something?” She could do without. She had, many times. But it would be a little bit better than sleeping on the bare hard stone floor.

“No… Jungle moon… Already too hot… Why?”

“I was going to sleep here, if you don’t mind,” Jyn said. Why was this an awkward conversation to have? Why was she so afraid he’d say no, send her away? “On the floor.”

His eyes opened and that furrow formed between his brows as he studied her with a gaze that seemed to be having trouble focusing. But then he was scooching over until he was almost touching the wall.

“I think this is a nanometer larger than the infirmary cot,” he said. “What do you think?”

Jyn tried not to smile as she kicked off her own flimsy infirmary shoes and climbed onto Cassian’s bed to stretch out beside him. Something inside her sighed, content. She didn’t let it out.

“I don’t know…” she said. “But I guess if they made the infirmary beds nicer than the barracks, they’d have sick rebels all the time.”

A chuckle escaped through his nose.

“I don’t think they usually offer an ángel as a companion, either.”

“What?” Jyn shifted onto her side to study his face. His eyes were closed and he seemed content. The pain meds must be working.

“My mother was a believer in an Ancient Festian religion that worshipped a creator god. I don’t remember very many specifics...” Jyn didn’t dare breathe out, afraid of interrupting the story, softly spoken with hints of nostalgia, sharing a childhood memory, an intimacy she knew Cassian permitted, well, probably no one. “Except, there were these creatures that did the creator’s bidding, guiding people, aiding them, saving them… Angeles… I don’t know the word in Basic…”

He looked at her, and her apprehension about breaking the spell ebbed. Cassian knew full well who he was talking to, even if the pain meds had loosened his tongue, broken down the rigid walls he kept around his private self.

“I don’t know the word, either,” Jyn said. “I’’ve never heard of such creatures, mythical or otherwise.”

Cassian laughed, a soft little rumble that was accompanied by that rare smile of his that was brighter than a yellow dwarf sun and warmed her just as well. But, “What’s funny about that?”

“You…” His hand found hers, fingers sliding against her palm to curl around hers, engulfing her smaller hand. He shifted to face her, wincing a little, but his expression was soft if serious and . “Jyn, you saved me, guided me, are still coming to my aid… You’re my angelita…”

Oh, shit, he was so tired and drugged up he was becoming incoherent. Hopefully, he wouldn’t remember saying such emotional things- oh.

He brought her hand to his lips and kissed the back of her knuckles, making her swallow a gasp of surprise, and fight the sigh when he held her hand to his chest as he lay back, his eyelids finally losing the battle and sliding shut.

Oh, Cassian…

“Don’t worship me,” she whispered to his sleeping form. “I’m nothing worth venerating.”

Of course, was she behaving any different when it came to him?

They were quite the mess, the two of them.

She wriggled her fingers in his hold until she was able to interlace them with his and feel the warmth of his palm against hers. Jyn closed her eyes, immersing herself in the quiet, safe moment.

#fic: give me a reason #Rogue One #fanfiction #rebelcaptain #cassian x jyn #Cassian Andor #Jyn Erso

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samwrights · 4 years

Text

When You Wake

I literally cannot believe I wrote this. This was originally started to celebrate Yaku’s birthday (happy belated, my love), and to satisfy the requests for a Noya/Yaku threesome. Uh, don’t come for me. I couldn’t find inspiration in the normal hq world, so we’re making it weird. If y’all thought Between the Lines was long, this monstrosity is 13.2k words. 13,200 words, with a shameful, side amount that is smut. Literally, this is all just plot.

ear candy list is, surprisingly, on the smaller side.

⤞ Revenga - System of A Down ⤞ Violent Pornography - System of A Down ⤞ Question! - System of A Down

pairing: Yaku/Reader/Noya

w a r n i n g s//TW: rape, murder, blood consumption, mentions of getting roofied, gore, blood from wounds, supernatural AU, revenge, temporarily mute reader, reader is converted to a vampire without consent, dubcon, death, spitroasting, dirty talk, senpai kink. PLEASE read through these warnings over and over until it is clear to you that this is not going to be an easy read. The reader literally goes on a revenge spree. ⤞ THIS. IS NOT. AN EASY. READ.

Now that you have been thoroughly warned, enjoy.

The way media and films and television glorified and romanticized college parties never could have prepared you for the fateful encounter in the alleyway on a muggy August evening. Primarily, college parties were depicted as fun—drunk nights on the weekends with your girlfriends, maybe hook up with that cute boy from chemistry that somehow ended up with you grinding on him on the dance floor. Though, in some genres, college parties end up with the protagonist roofied and raped and follows how the heroine spirals and recovers. But it only was supposed to happen in the movies, right?

It wasn’t supposed to end with you halfway to death, knocking on Hell’s door with blood pooling around your lifeless body in a barely lit, bleak alleyway. It wasn’t supposed to end with warbles of light fading in and out of your vision as cars passed you by, unknowing there was someone in the alleyway between a closed down butcher shop and a florist who had already gone home for the evening. You were only in your early twenties with only two more years of university to compete—it wasn’t supposed to end yet.

“We can’t just leave her here.”

“I think she’s too far gone, Yaku. We were too late.”

The voices swirling around you were unfamiliar, or at least from what you could gather. In your condition, it was impossible to discern them in the first place—were they even real voices? They sounded entirely too angelic from what you could process in your catatonic state. Maybe they weren’t; maybe death had taken you without your knowledge and the jury that decided whether or not your soul would ascend to heaven was passing their judgment on you.

“I can save her, Noya.” One of the voices, presumably this Yaku character snarls back with urgency. It is the last thing you hear before your limp body is pulled from the concrete. The movement, regardless of how delicate, causing more blood to rush from your open wounds and draining any ounce of consciousness from your mind. “You mind trying to collect the fallout?”

Nishinoya, though shaking his head, gives a subtle grin that cannot be seen in the dead of the night. He pulls out a large mason jar from the satchel he’s carrying and places the mouth of the jar where blood is pouring out profusely from a knife wound. The man collecting the blood knew entirely too well that once his mate sets his mind to something, there was no changing it. Not that it served as a recurring issue; if anything, Noya was grateful for Yaku’s stubbornness considering it was that exact trait of his that had given the former his second chance at life.

The two of them move swiftly, trying to make it back to their hidden mansion, that was quite a distance away, in secret. Yaku is doing all that he can to make sure not to disturb your body so as not to open any wounds further that could force you to bleed out and meet the grim reaper. He wasn’t a very pleasant creature, but that was a story for another day. At the same time, Nishinoya is almost fighting to keep the same steadfast pace while simultaneously holding the now half full mason jar just under the knife wound. The blood was beginning to thicken, turning from bright red to a deep crimson as it oxidizes.

The moment they enter their private garden, Nishinoya busts down the door to their home with expertise, alerting the other members of their clan. “Akaashi!” He screeches, his voice bellowing out in decibels that should not be used unless trying to project a voice in an amphitheater with no microphone. Thank omniscient beings for noise cancelling enchantments. “We need you!” An almost timid, young looking man enters the foyer where Noya is still collecting blood and Yaku is holding your limp body in his arms.

“So that’s where you two have been,” Akaashi deadpans, unfazed by the steadily decaying girl. “Bring her to my room. You can store what blood you’ve gathered there while I remove the knife and get her patched up.” Though calm, the three of them move at breakneck speeds, laying you face down on an operating table while Akaashi suits up. From what he can tell, this was going to be a real mess, considering how deep the knife is. The three of them knew what was to come and what their designated roles in this moment were—Nishinoya was to separate the blood he had gathered from your body and ration them into IV bags, while Yaku was provide suction in case of a bleed out.

“We can save her, can’t we?” Yaku asks quietly, tools in hand.

“That will depend on her will to fight,” Akaashi says quietly, half due to concentration, half because he genuinely does not have a valid answer. “You’ve done this time and time again, Yaku. If anyone is going to save her, it’s going to be you.”

Upon coming to, the only muscles in your body that can move are your eyelids. Peeling them back as much as you can muster, you notice the only light filtering into whatever room you are currently residing in is coming from the blaring moonlight through an open window. The shadows around you make up areas and shapes that you are entirely unfamiliar with, causing you to sit up impulsively to make sense of your surroundings. A mistake on your part, as you are immediately met with a searing pain in your ribs. With further inspection from your droopy eyes, you learn that your torso is entirely bare, save for the copious amounts of medical grade bandages and gauze around your breasts and stomach. Blood pooled somewhere along your left shoulder blade where the pain felt the worst.

“You shouldn’t try to sit up right now.” The same voice you faintly remember from the alley, the one that didn’t want to leave you, before blacking out calls out from across the bedroom. The room is quite large from what you could tell and his smooth voice seems to be leagues away. “Lay back down before you bleed out again—I’ll change your bandages.” From the shadows, a man whom you presume to be Yaku emerges before you, perfect pale skin and sandy brown locks nearly reflecting in the moonlight as he approaches. His face, while incredibly handsome, is blank and is strictly business as he saunters near. Even as he is gingerly tearing off the tight bindings around you with next to no effort, his face remains nonplussed. Even as he washes the dried, crusty blackened blood off your bare chest, nothing. “Do you remember anything?” Yaku’s voice is quiet and somber as he asks his question. He takes your silence as a no.

Your mind is a hazy smog, trying to recall any type of memory at all. Rather than actual imagery, you see a white light when you close your eyes—you see colors you don’t remember seeing before, you hear crying. You hear your name. Not just your first name or a nickname either, you hear your entire given name along with your birthday, even the time of birth.

Any attempt to recall memories is interrupted by a sharp pain. You suck in a breath as Yaku tries to lift your arm to wrap the fresh bandages around your torso, causing him to grimace ever so slightly. This task was a bit easier for him when you were still unconscious, but nonetheless he is glad you’re awake. When the pain subsides, you peel your eyelids back once again, staring at the man sitting at the edge of the bed in wonder. Why was he tending to your wounds? How did he fit into the story? “You needn’t worry about that right now, [name],” he murmurs quietly, reintroducing the same delicate tone you heard before blacking out in the alley. Yaku can tell you’re wondering how he knew what to respond with and how he knew your name but, after a small deliberation, he decides it’s best not to overwhelm you right now. “Get some rest, little one,” he speaks again, “I’ll be here when you wake.” Before you know it, you’re out like a light once again.

Yaku exits his and Noya’s shared bedroom to dispose of the sullied bandages, only to be greeted to the sight of his mate leaning against the bannister closest to their room. “How’s she doing?” Yaku’s lips tighten, the seam becoming a hard line as his grimace deepens.

“She doesn’t remember anything but when I asked her if she did...”

“What?” Noya presses, perturbed at the silence. Very few things in their lives rendered Yaku speechless.

“She started seeing memories of her birth.” The two shorter leaders of the clan meander their way down the grandiose staircase in silence, each step accompanied by the dramatic chimes of a grand piano coming from the foyer. The music stops when they reach the bottom of the staircase, Sugawara pausing his fingers and quirking a brow at the couple. It was a rare occurrence to see both of them, or Nishinoya in the very least, look so morose.

“What’s got you guys looking so down? You look like someone just died.” The musician muses. Sugawara Koushi always did have the most twisted sense of humor—that was partially the reason that Yaku had kept him around. The other primary reason was solely for bragging rights and an inside joke between the clan because no matter how many times Sugawara introduced himself as Beethoven or Bach, people assumed that they all just meant he was talented. Not that it was literal and Sugawara was just a name he’d adopted when he earned another century of life.

“Ha ha,” Nishinoya drawls satirically, for both himself and for Yaku. The latter excuses himself, parting ways because he knows he can’t handle conversation right now. “Come on, Suga, that’s not funny. Yaku’s already taking this really hard and if we lose her...”

“Humans die all the time, Nishi. A conversion isn’t a guaranteed shot at a second life and Yaku knows that so why is he—“

“Because she was found just like I was. Wrong place at the wrong time and it ended with...” the shorter of the two can no longer find the words to speak. It didn’t matter how many centuries old everyone in the clan was, it didn’t matter that they had watched plagues take countless lives or even bared witness to some of Jack the Ripper’s victims—it was a different monster entirely to genuinely watch a person become prey to another human. “I hope she makes it through, if only to rip out the guys throat that stabbed her.”

Three months had passed since you had first woken up. Strength is returning to you little by little, though not enough for you to hold consciousness for more than a few minutes a day. Regardless, Yaku is relieved to see you making some form of progress, to see that you’re somewhat handling the conversion well. The head of the clan was almost always present when you did awake, though there were instances in which his partner, Nishinoya, had been the one to greet you.

Nishinoya was much more boisterous than his other half—much more talkative and, considering you haven’t found the strength to speak quite yet, that was entirely okay with you. You learned that Yaku and Nishinoya had been together a very long time and Yaku had saved his life ages ago, as the latter phrased it. In admiration, Noya mentions his partner’s abundance of patience—a skill that he himself lacked—and determination to see justice being served had swayed the younger of the two to continuously stand alongside him. Through these little vignettes of their life, however, Noya makes it a point to acknowledge the fact that he was once almost too overbearing for his senior, often intimidating him with just how open and blunt he was. “Nishi, are you boring her with details of our mundane life?” Yaku asks bemusedly as he enters the room you’d been resting in.

“Hey, we aren’t boring. I’m not boring you, am I?” Noya looks to your face, your expression not giving much away save for the light in your barely live eyes. It was far from mundane—if anything, hearing the stories made you so curious considering from just barely glancing with the two, they seemed to be a strange couple.

“We are,” Yaku confirms, though as to what, you aren’t sure. You were certain you hadn’t said anything aloud, considering you practically can’t. “Let’s just say I can hear your thoughts. It’s how we’ve been communicating with you.” The head of clan saunters over casually, sitting at the edge of the mattress opposite to his partner. Both of their rich, golden irises are gazing at you, gauging a reaction from you as he shares this bit of information. Weird, was the only way for you to describe it. Though Yaku didn’t need to read your mind to know that; the slightly panicked look on your face gave away your thoughts.

“Don’t think we don’t know about those vivid wet dreams you have of us—“

“Yū, you weren’t supposed to tell her that!”

“What? We’re all adults here—“

“Nishi, get out,” Yaku covers his face in utter horror, even more so as his partner exits the room laughing as he does so. Shameless Noya. The door closes, leaving you and Yaku alone—were he able to go red out of embarrassment, he probably would have. “I-I am so sorry about him.” Testing out the information that the man beside you supplied moments ago, you reassure him that it’s fine—that you have no control over your dreams and that he probably doesn’t have a way to turn off this strange ability. For a moment, he’s relieved because you seem to be accepting everything with grace thus far; maybe telling you the truth wasn’t going to be the worst case scenario.

But the thought of the truth makes Yaku hesitate—there was no way you were ready to handle the entirety of the truth. At the moment, you could barely handle your weekly check-ups with Akaashi—the household doctor. After a formal introduction, you learned that Akaashi was the one who patched up your wounds when you were first brought to the little mansion. From what you gathered, he was quiet and direct, kind even, but you hated the weekly visits. Not only was Yaku carrying you rather painful, as you’re still recovering from your injuries, but Akaashi had to do regular blood transfusions because, according to the young doctor that you swore could not have already completed medical school and residency, you had lost a lot of blood during the incident.

An incident in which you still can’t recall.

“It’ll come to you,” Yaku says morosely, probably responding in accordance to your thought. The man beside you gets up from the bed, holding his arms open to you, silently asking for permission to pick you up. “Sorry, I’ll try to be more gentle.” His arms are cold as he lifts you up, but all you can focus on is the throbbing in your back as he moves you. A sharp intake of breath leaves your lungs as Yaku supports you physically, adding gentle words of encouragement because he can almost feel how much pain you’re in. Every step down the steep staircase adds another metaphorical bruise to your tender skin, a small groan leaving your throat each time. And while you’re not uncomfortable with the idea of being in Yaku’s arms, you’re grateful when you’re laid down in Akaashi’s office along the leather exam seat.

“How are you feeling today, [name]?” The young doctor asks as he preps you for your blood transfusion. Much to your surprise, you feel hungry—ravenous, even—like you hadn’t eaten a meal in months. Maybe you hadn’t; it wouldn’t be that ridiculous to consider since your memory was a little shoddy.

“You’ll feel better after the transfusion,” Yaku reassures from the chair he’s sitting in beside the exam bed, “we’ll get some food in your system before we start your physical therapy.” There’s an interesting intonation in the way he speaks this, you notice. Like there’s an underlying joke or hidden agenda that you don’t quite understand, but at the same time, the strange phrasing doesn’t trigger your fight-or-flight system in any capacity. If anything, it just seems that Yaku wants to help you regain strength as best you can.

Though, that was currently proving to be a challenge as well. While you weren’t entirely sure how long ago your injuries occurred, you knew a decent amount of time had to have passed. One of your first check-up appointments with Akaashi led to the explanation of the muscle atrophy in your legs from lack of use. Once you slowly became acclimated to being awake for more than just a few minutes a day, Daichi was introduced to you as your physical therapist. He was another enigma—entirely too young to be as experienced as he was in his field, but you decided against questioning it—temporarily mute or not.

Being mute was another issue that was taking much longer than you liked. You hated only being able to communicate through Yaku’s inexplicable talent of being able to read your mind. There were many occasions in which you wanted to ask Akaashi about your condition and how bad of a state you had been brought to him in; how you wanted to ask Sugawara how he’d learned to play such a vast variety of melodies so expertly; how you wanted to tell Nishinoya that every time he tried to feed you a soup or something, it tasted foul and metallic no matter how fresh it was.

You’d have to wait until you found your voice again.

After your check-in with Akaashi, Yaku brings you to Daichi’s office just down the hallway. “Hey, there’s our little fighter.” Daichi was probably the kindest out of everyone in the household. He had a warmth to him that seemed to contrast his icy fingers when he’d hold and guide you for your therapy sessions—a little uncanny that everyone in this mansion had freezing finger tips. Maybe everyone had poor blood circulation?

From the opposite end of the room, Yaku stifles a laugh by biting his cheek. Glad to know that your deconstructed concept of time hadn’t waned on your sense of humor. Meanwhile, Daichi lays you gingerly on a mat on the ground with you back flat as he wraps a resistance band around one of his ankles, as well as your own. “Alright, [name], I’m gonna help you get your leg up and I want to see you pull your leg up as high as you can go, understood?” Five didn’t seem like a very large number, but for now it was the goal. If you could at least lift your legs five times, it was progress considering the severe muscle atrophy in your legs.

Some days, it was difficult for Yaku to sit with you through therapy. He can see the way you wince in pain because you’re trying to relearn and rebuild your muscle groups; other times he just wanted someone, anyone, to blurt out the truth about the situation and hope that it inspires you to push yourself to heal. Some days, it was difficult because Yaku found himself just wanting to hold you in his bed that you’d taken over while the two of you plot out the revenge you didn’t even know you needed. But it wasn’t always bad. There were days, like today, where the progress on your therapy was going much better than anyone in the clan anticipated. There were days where Yaku would ask what you remembered about...anything, and you would have some form of answer for him.

On those days, Yaku began to realize that your memories were coming in chronological order. From the first time you sat up or crawled, to your first word even. In fact, Yaku’s favorite moment that he’s witnessed thus far was watching your father teach you to take your very first steps—it seemed to recur during your therapy sessions, as if subconsciously encouraging you to try to walk again. Maybe that’s why today, you were able to provide Daichi with double the repetitions that he asked for—a sure sign that strength and muscle were returning to your legs. But even with what progress you’ve made so far, Yaku makes it a point to carry you back to your room and lay you back in bed to rest. As always, Yaku tucked you in as he spoke, “get some sleep, little one. I’ll be here when you wake,”

For weeks on end, dreams stop becoming dreams. Per usual, Yaku awaits in the corner opposite of the bed where you rest, allowing your memories-turned-dreams to flood his mind. Each night, they’re progressively becoming more and more clear—you’re able to recall outfits that you’d worn twenty years ago with perfect detail, scars and scrapes that your friends had, even when that one sock was in the corner of your closet from when you were seven. But the clearer these chronological dreams became, the less frequently you were waking up and it was beginning to worry the head of the clan. While you were still obtaining your weekly blood transfusions to help sustain your life, it seemed to be that they were no longer providing you with enough energy to move past your current stage of recovery. “Yaku, she needs to start feeding,” Akaashi had instructed him during a consultation.

“I still haven’t told her—“

“Come on, man, it’s been almost eight months,” the house doctor groans. There was no reason to coddle you anymore as your life-threatening wounds had already healed for the most part. Sure, there was still discomfort from your broken ribs but even those had almost entirely healed over; your physical therapy sessions and rehabilitation with Daichi were going rather well but, at this point, if you didn’t start getting more substance in your body, this would be the end of the line for you. Akaashi had advised him this for weeks now, but Yaku still hesitated. “We’ve got to tell her.”

“I know, I know. I just—“ the sandy brunette ruffles his claws through his mussed locks in frustration, “I think her power is developing. And I’m afraid if we drop the bomb on her now, it’s going to halt or hinder that progress.”

“Either tell her or feed her,” Akaashi bites, “if you don’t, she’s not going to have any power because she’s going to starve to death.” With that, Akaashi walks away because he has nothing left to argue at this point. While he may be the youngest of the brood, this made Akaashi the most volatile of the group. More often than not, he was relatively kind and patient, timid even, as he was in his human life, but also very stern and strict—all of it coming from a place of love. And Yaku, knowing the tremendous amounts of emotional pain that the former had received, the leader of the clan dare not disrespect him.

Rather than making it an argument, Yaku roams around the lodge to grab a couple bags of O negative out of storage before heading back to his room. Much to his surprise, Nishinoya is sitting at the edge of the bed already, a slight look of panic washing over his features. “Yaku, I think something is wrong.” Without another word, the creature in question hands the bags of blood to his mate before resting his forehead against yours—a sure fire way to make sure that the mental images he picked up from you were pristine and uninterrupted as you dreamed—ignoring the cold sweat beading on your forehead.

You were at the Pike house. It was the first week of the new college semester and your roommates had convinced you to tag along to a frat party they were invited to. The night was going along exactly like a corny romantic comedy—you had locked eyes with a man from across the dance floor. He was sweet—much kinder than others you had met that night. He grabbed you drink after drink, but your memory begins to go fuzzy after that despite being able to recall memories of your own birth or the stupid girl that picked on you when you were twelve and even the small pimple on her temple that you figured was probably making her insecure. So if you were able to recall these memories, dreams, whatever they were, with such perfect clarity, why could you not remember leaving that party? Did that mean he had been drugging your drinks? It was entirely possible, considering Pike wasn’t exactly known for their hospitality. You vaguely remember the man holding your hand firmly as the two of you weave and bob around people and being met with the sweltering humidity of a muggy August night and your roommates, Yukie and Kaori, were nowhere to be found.

You were dragged into a dimly lit alleyway, stumbling with every step that the man had nearly carried you by your wrist alone, reeking of trash that had been long overdue for pick up and maybe even rotting carcasses. It was difficult to tell considering the drugs you assume that had been placed in your system and it was even more difficult to recall the memories. Bits and pieces of your memory were coming back in patches—though the face of the man that had brought you there was not one of them. Nor were any of his friends that had joined in, appearing at the opening of the alleyway. You remember the sound of tearing fabric, salacious laughter of the group of men surrounding your body. You remember feeling searing pain as one held a knife to your throat, warning you that he would slit your throat if you tried to scream.

The threat was replaced in the form of one of the frat boys ramming a half-hard cock down your throat, knife still in place along the jugular vein, while every orifice and inch of your skin had been violated. Vaguely, you remember trying to bite down on the cock in your mouth and run away. The one that threatened to kill you had missed your throat when you ran and threw the knife into your back instead. Foul screeches of demeaning slander left their mouths as they kicked your ribs in at full force, as if the knife deep in your back wasn’t bad enough.

You remember them leaving your bare, naked body in the alley for death to take you.

You remember their faces.

Awakening with a start, you sit up abruptly, only to fall back into the pillow with a resonant clacking noise followed by a dull throb to your forehead. Yaku recoils, mostly out of shock rather than pain—maybe laying his head on yours wasn’t his finest moment. “You remember,” he balks after he’s recovered from the impact. You’re trying to scream, no sound leaving your lungs while tears barreled out from your eyes. Remember? Why was that a memory? Why did it have to be a memory?

Nishinoya acts hastily, tearing open one of the O negative packs and draining half the contents into his mouth and holding it there as he shoves Yaku out of the way. The smaller of the two slats his lips over your silently screaming mouth, puncturing a small wound to the inside of your lip with his teeth and letting the blood trickle in the hole. It feels like pudding trying to push through a sieve, the flavor of copper and iron tampered out by an earthy, meat flavor—maybe venison? The desire to scream fades away as well, rather being over taken to have whatever nourishment Noya is giving you to enter you more and more. Out of necessity, you mold your lips over his, sucking hard on his lip while wrapping your arms around him because it just didn’t seem that he could get close enough in this moment. Despite the fingers you have threaded in Nishinoya’s gelled locks, he pulls away with a shit-eating grin, his tongue swiping away at the trail of red liquid dripping from the seam of his lips. “Careful, might make a guy a fall in love with that kinda kiss.”

“M-more,” you croak out, deflecting the younger one’s flirty comment all together. Yaku and Noya’s eyes go wide upon hearing your voice for the first time. The former acts on instinct, downing the remaining contents of the bag in his partner’s hand before reenacting the same gesture as the latter. Yaku’s lips are much softer than his partners—or maybe it’s the quelling of whatever hunger that hadn’t been satiated that eased the desire. With Yaku, his tongue laves against the wound that Noya had made, coaxing the fluid to enter at a much more steadfast, intimate pace. Even well after he was done feeding you, Yaku sucked on your tongue, encouraging you to reciprocate, so as to get every drop. “W-What was t-that?” You pant out brokenly as soon as the two of you break apart. The question startles the two sitting at the edge of the bed—now that you had your voice somewhat back, Yaku no longer needed to communicate for you. That also meant he couldn’t control the flow of responses to not overwhelm you.

“I think it’s time you finally got your answers,” Noya mumbles, treading carefully as he looks at his partner. It was a silent reassurance that, no matter how this scenario proceeded, he would be here to support Yaku. To make you more comfortable, he adjusts the pillows behind you so that your back can rest properly along the headboard.

“M-my d-d-dreams?” Having just rediscovered your voice, it still came out in sharp, staccato-like whimpers, but the boys weren’t going to discourage you from speaking. Much like everything else Yaku had done in his life, he had done with patience and your recovery and rehabilitation were no different. But your throat was still raw and it still hurt to speak—thankfully with your mind rushing like a bullet train, Yaku was able to grasp the entirety of your question.

“I think they’re more memories than dreams.” His words come out like a condemning nail in a coffin—like a doctor telling you you only have a few months left to live—because that means everything you recalled from Pike house, the drinks, the party, the alley, all of it was real. “Noya and I found you that night barely clinging to life. Naked, soaked in blood and semen. You died that night, [name].” As he speaks, his cold finger tips traced along your breast until you feel the throbbing mound of flesh—a scar of where the knife had been thrown into you from the back and exited out the front. “The knife had gone through your aorta. Akaashi spent a long time trying to repair it but was unable to.”

Your body begins to tremble as silent sobs wrack through your body. You died? “S-so how ‘mi h-here?” Yaku looks over at Noya in discernible worry—not because the head was afraid of telling the truth, no. He was afraid how you would react to the truth. His partner looks at him poignantly, mentally reminding him that this was eerily similar to how Noya had reacted when he had learned the truth as well. Yaku’s head bobs in agreement, swallowing his hesitance before speaking again.

“I made you like me. Like the rest of us.” Your brows furrowed in confusion, suspicion even, because there’s no way that he’s saying what you think he’s saying. But rather than offering a verbal response, Yaku holds his hand out towards Noya, in which he places the other bag of O Negative in his palm. While the original plan was to just feed you once again, the second Yaku tears open the bag, the hunger you thought had eased returned at full force. You rip the bag out of his cold hands, elongated claws scratched at you as you do so, before you down the contents like a shotgunned beer before you could realize what you were doing.

“T-This is a joke, right?” You balk, voice clear as day due to the strength returning to your body once again from freshly consumed sustenance. But the tensions have gone down significantly, to the point where Noya feels relief and excuses himself to feed, leaving you in Yaku’s solitary care. Once the two of you are left alone, Yaku can only shake his head as he continues to press on with the truth. This had to be a cruel, sick joke. But it wasn’t funny and you certainly weren’t laughing. Yet Yaku had no reason to lie to you and the snack you had just consumed moments ago was meant to serve as a final nail in the metaphorical coffin to make you understand that he was telling the truth.

“We have been alive for centuries—storytellers dubbing our kind as vampires—but originally, we were simply called the Damned.” Yaku proceeds to go through the history, much like he had with all the others before you, because he feels the need to share the truth, needs to tell you that your death isn’t the end of your life but rather the beginning like it had for all those in clan. The most recent addition to the family was Akaashi. He was less than a century old, compared to the others. Akaashi had been tied to a tree and shot repeatedly, only to watch his lover drown to death, who had been tossed into the ocean before shortly before with a thirty pound weight attached to his ankle with his last few breaths. Yaku and Sugawara were the ones to set his nearly lifeless body free with the head of the clan performing Akashi’s conversion. This lead to the newborn to coming back to slaughter the community that decided to his partner needed to die for being a man in love.

Each of their stories was nearly identical. Sugawara, who apparently has been every major known classical musician in history hiding under the guise of his shapeshifter ability, and Daichi were hanged together for being a homosexual couple after their village had carved unsavory words on their bodies to remind their reincarnations of their sins. Yaku and Noya had saved each of them respectively, and allowed the two of them to go on a rampage to annihilate their executioners.

Lastly, or rather firstly, was Nishinoya himself. As Yaku goes into detail about transforming his partner, he tears up ever so slightly. And as you listen actively with no interruptions, no questions even, as he tells you about how Nishi was wrongly imprisoned for theft and how the other prisoners constantly violated and sodomized his body because he was smaller than the rest; how he ended his own life by ingesting whatever toxic chemicals he could find and how Yaku broke him out of prison to start a new life together. “Speak of the devil and he shall appear,” the aforementioned prisoner re-enters the room, a fragile smile on his thin lips as he takes a seat beside his partner. “So you finally told her?”

“B-but why m-me? Why not just let me die?”

“Do you not want revenge against the assholes that killed you a year ago, [ name ]?” Noya bit before Yaku could jump in. “They’re still alive after what they did to you—how is that fair?!”

A year?

You had died a year ago. How did your family take the news? Your roommates and best friends? Nishi was right—it wasn’t fair at all. Yaku raises a hand towards his partner in attempts to get him to calm down before he got too riled up about the situation and before he could get out the most important question. “I have to know, [ name ], if you want to continue on with this lifestyle or not before we proceed with the real rehabilitation.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” You tilt your head to your newfound savior. He said it so nonchalantly, as if learning how to walk or learning that your diet was blood wasn’t rehabilitation.

“Well, we have to teach you how to feed properly so your strength gets back up—unless you just want us to feed you for the rest of your eternal life.” Noya jokes, waggling his eyebrows suggestively in what you’ve come to understand is his typical, joking demeanor.

“I mean, I wouldn’t complain.”

“Noya, can you maybe save the flirting for later?” Yaku grits out—once again slightly mortified. It brings laughter to the man in question; it was like rewatching his own life all over again, seeing him get flustered at the smallest amounts of forward affection. It was endearing, if anything.

“Sure. Let’s get [ name ] healthy first then.”

After coming to terms with your transformation and feeding more regularly, still off of a supply stock that the mansion carried, you were able to attend therapy sessions with Daichi more frequently. And while you hadn’t entirely regained muscle or use of your legs, you were able to at least stay awake more often than not. Rather than being cooped up in the bedroom, you found yourself lounging near the entryway where Sugawara would entertain you with the countless pieces he had written over the years. It was soothing and peaceful and Sugawara’s jovial personality kept you from spiraling into a deeper hole knowing that you died. It was still an insane concept, but the five men in your new home had worked hard to keep you sane. “Ready for your session?” Yaku asks gently as he takes a seat beside you on the luxurious sofa. He’s not as uptight as he was now that you knew the truth, though he still did get flustered when you would openly show affection. Even if it was something as simple as leaning your head on his shoulder like you were now.

“I think so,” doing what you could, you scooted and clambered onto Yaku’s lap, wrapping your arms around his neck firmly while your weakened lower limbs splayed across his lap. He tucks one arm under your knees while the other supports your back, effectively scooping you up and brings you to the kitchen where the blood stock is kept. You quirk a brow at the creature carrying you, knowing you’ve already had at least three bags since you woke up.

“Gotta get your strength up so you can recover faster,” is all he responds with before he sets you down on a bar stool. Yaku tears open the bag of O Negative and, much to your shock, he drinks half the contents without swallowing before his lips are on yours. One of his fangs finds purchase on the inside of your lip, sinking down and creating an opening for the blood to flow in for quicker delivery. Usually, Yaku would only have to feed you like this when you were in a weaker state, so it felt a bit out of place for him to be doing it right now, but it certainly wasn’t unwelcome. While the blood trickles into the wound, Yaku’s tongue swirls with yours intimately, coating the cavern with the liquid and he doesn’t stop until every ounce is clear from both of your mouths.

“Not complaining,” you say slowly, “but is there a particular reason you wanted to feed me instead of just letting my chug the bag?” As you ask your question, Yaku is draining the rest of the contents of the bag into his mouth before pulling you towards him in another kiss. The question is repeating over and over in your head, he can hear it loud and clear, but the other thoughts are spurring him on further. The thoughts of how Yaku’s touch makes you crave more, makes you want to feel his lips along your skin and his large hands gripping your thighs tightly. Sometimes he’s unsure whether or not you conveniently forget that he can read your mind, sometimes he wonders if you let your salacious thoughts run wild on purpose. His chest is heaving, deep intakes of breath are plunging through his nostrils despite the blood being long gone. He doesn’t want to stop but centuries of control are begging him to.

“We’re going somewhere today, after your PT,” Yaku pants out after he pulls away, tilting his head down because he can’t look at you right now—he’s afraid to. He needs to try to dampen whatever feral thoughts are running through your brain so that his own self-control doesn’t just get tossed out the window. “Noya and I are taking you out for your first hunt.”

“Uh, am I ready for that?” Shit, you can’t even walk in your own yet. Yaku laughs, grateful for the reprieve from your sexually charged thoughts when you point out the setback.

“That’s why the extra feeding tonight. I needed to make sure it was in your bloodstream so that you had enough strength for PT and the hunt,” Yaku adjusts you from barstool, scooping you into his arms once again to bring you to the mansion’s back garden. Daichi is standing a short distance away adorning a tight muscle tee and joggers, while Noya and Akaashi are sitting at the small table with cigars in hand. Yaku steadies you in front of Daichi, the latter holding onto your hands to make sure you don’t fall, before the former joins the rest the clan at the table. Sugawara emerges from inside the mansion as well, passing off a cigar to Yaku while lighting his own. It was uncomfortable in some capacity to have everybody watching—you couldn’t help but feel as if you were being critiqued on your performance.

“I’m going to be one step ahead of you, and I won’t let go, okay?” Daichi holds his arms out to give you space to take your first step. You take in a sharp breath, the scent of scent of cigars and pine trees overwhelming your nasal cavity. When did you sense of smell become that strong? With trembling limbs, you cling onto Daichi’s muscular forearms, praying to god you didn’t fall as you took a step forward.

“Hey, look!” Noya cheers from a distance, nudging Yaku in the stomach. “She took a step!” The excitement in his voice was evident because, after months of constant aid, Noya has come to have a soft spot for you almost as much as Yaku does. The two of them are watching, utterly enthralled with the way you’re only moving mere millimeters—but millimeters is better than nothing considering the muscle decay and atrophy that had taken place over the last year.

After the first few steps and curling your toes in blades of grass, your feet begin to relax as you tremble forward. Gripping Daichi with all the strength in your hands, you pick your right foot off the ground and place it forward. “That’s good, [ name ]! Gimme one more,” Daichi, a therapist in more ways than one, encourages you to continue moving, wanting to make sure both legs were receiving equal treatment. You repeat the motion with your left leg, taking two full steps. While not perfect, you kept moving forward with his guidance until his calves hit the stone wall of the garden fountain. Considering where you started, twenty five feet was a tremendous distance to cover. “You did amazing, [ name ].” The vampire holding onto you smiles big, pride swelling in chest like a father praising his daughter for taking first in a beauty pageant.

Yaku and Noya are by your side immediately in celebration, the latter much more overt with it as he’s hugging you and holding you up. “What do you think, Daichi? Is she strong enough to at least witness a hunt?” The former asks. Mentioning the “H” word again perks your ears up because a part of you almost wishes to not have to engage with whatever a hunt entails, but part of you also knows that this is your life now. Everything you thought you knew was no longer valid—this was your rebirth, your awakening.

“I think she’ll be okay if one of you carries her for it—“

“Ooh, I’ll do it!” Noya cheers almost too loudly in your ear as he’s still holding you. Without so much as a chance to offer a rebuttal, you’re swept up into his arms as he stands at full height before glancing at his mate. “Ready to go?” Yaku gives a nod, gripping tightly at the satchel over his shoulder before the three of you are off at breakneck speeds. They’re silent as they travel—perhaps because were they to open their mouths at this speed and velocity, they would be catching a whole lot of bugs in their mouths. To your surprise, the three of you end up outside ten-foot-tall brick walls and a chain link fence.

“This is a...”

“A prison,” Yaku answers simply, as if he were answering with what his favorite color was rather than his favorite meal, “considering our diet, we choose to collect our sustenance from those who do not deserve redemption.” There’s a malignant, dark twist in the headman’s words.

“Personally, I prefer going after the rapists and child molestors. Those bastards deserve to be drained of every ounce of blood.” Noya snarls—you could tell it was personal for him. But how could he tell? Surely it wasn’t just written on placards outside of prison cells.

“Easy. Walk in, ask them what they’re serving time for, and their minds fill in the blanks.” The foreboding you sensed from Yaku deepened even further; deepened to the point where it felt like a magnet drawing your eyes towards your savior. But he looked anything but. Yaku stood merely a few inches taller, his claws sharpening and turning black while red overtook the once golden hues of his irises. You look up at Noya curiously, wondering if he’ll undergo the same sort of transformation, but before you could even question it, the gold in his own eyes had already molded into crimson rings.

The three of you enter the building with ease, aiming for the top floor because, according to Nishi, that was where they kept the worst criminals. It played out exactly as Yaku said it would—ask them what they were imprisoned for and, if they were in captivity under the basis of rape, first or second degree murder, sexual assault, or anything involving a minor, he would sink his fangs into their jugular vein and drain them dry. Though he announces his satisfaction, he remains in this strange form that he has presented you with as Nishinoya passes you off into his arms.

The smaller of the two repeats the same process, taking down two prisoners of his own before taking the satchel off of his partner’s shoulder. Noya continues questioning prisoners, letting Yaku’s power of mind reading acting as the judgment call, before pulling out a small, sharp knife from the satchel and slitting each victim’s throat while holding them downcast like a gavel banging down the rule. As blood fountains from their necks, Nishinoya holds fresh IV bags over the openings to collect whatever comes out like rain. Was this how they ended up getting blood for you to feed over the past year. “Yes,” Yaku answers evenly, looking down at you with his crimson eyes, “but we were hoping to actually teach you how to feed tonight. Are you up for it?” Every nerve in your body seemed to scream no, like you shouldn’t be witnessing these events let alone doing it.

But your guts are telling you yes, yes this is now your way of survival. These men were horrid, their victims needed justice. You needed justice. Giving Yaku a small nod, he gives you instructions while the three of you search for your very first meal. Considering neither your fangs nor claws had grown in, as you were very much still a baby by all intents and purposes, Noya would have to incapacitate your prey for you while you bit the inside of your lip, reopening the same puncture wounds from earlier, to allow easier access for the nutrients to enter your body. Once they were out, Noya would puncture the jugular vein for you, while Yaku dipped you down far enough to feed.

Your lips latched on to the raw skin, hooking your own canines for leverage as you draw the blood from your dinner and the moment the warmth seeped into the opening, all doubts about what you were doing had flown out the window. You adjusted the way you’re sitting on your victim, your hands finding purchase on his shoulders as you continuously sucked every drop of life from him. “Did she just—“ Noya questions, not missing the fact that you had just moved your atrophied legs. And while Yaku is very aware of his mate’s balking, he can only focus on the way your lips mold against your meal’s neck or the muted slurping noises bubbling from your lungs like a woman starved. In a sense, that was quite literal. Noya looks over at his partner—silence wasn’t typical of Yaku when asked a question—but words are lost on him when he sees the way Yaku’s eyes are hungrily staring at your form and he’s unsure if its due to hunger or hunger. The moan that leaves your tongue when you finally pull away from the now empty body confirms the shorter one’s suspicions. “Not that seeing you turned on doesn’t turn me on, but you might wanna put that away, Morisuke.” Noya teases before walking towards you, the call of his given name causing Yaku to snap out of his stupor. Well fuck, he snarls bitterly in his head. He was gonna have to feed again, considering all the blood he had just consumed went straight to his cock.

You feel alive—more alive than you felt in ages. And despite your attempt being incredibly shaky, you managed to stand on your own two feet, using the wall to brace yourself. Noya rushes over to your side to try to hold you steady, asking if you’re alright. “I’m more than alright, Nishi, holy shit.” He has an arm under you, carefully bringing you back towards Yaku, though for the most part, you’re walking entirely on your own.

“So what, have you guys just been giving me snacks this whole time?” You sneer teasingly, though Yaku looks away because your accusation because it isn’t entirely wrong. The blood packs were indeed “snacks” but were usually only used to stave off hunts, that way they didn’t just decimate the prison on an every other day basis, but were also used as post coitus replenishments.

“One more?” Yaku coughs out, as if choking on his own spit. “We can do this one together, if you like.” He’s trying to be polite, despite the feral look in his eyes while also trying to calm down the lust and adrenaline running rampant in his system.

“Yeah, that’d be nice.” As opposed to carrying you this time, Yaku flanks to your empty side, helping you walk between him and Noya until you came upon your next victim. This one was larger than the last few—stocky and skin marred with stories of a brutal past. No matter which way you looked at him, he looked bitter, and after asking him what he was in for, you figure he was a perfect candidate. After all, intentionally murdering his wife and three children was heinous by definition. Yaku approaches the much taller man, crouching ever so slightly in the event your meal tried to escape; not that he could even if he wanted to. The leader of the Damned was behind him in seconds, snapping his neck to disarm the threat that was his build.

To everyone’s surprise, you made your way over slowly to the now lifeless, six-foot-three prisoner while Yaku punctured holes on both sides of the victim’s neck, allowing the both of you to feed. It was oddly intimate, being so close to someone while sucking the literal life out of somebody. The lapping, sucking noises brought back salacious thoughts to the man beside you, and he’s doing all that he can just to avoid trading sustenance for an erection again. Meanwhile, Noya is watching both of you in amusement. Does his partner realize that he’s gingerly scraping his claws along your spine? Is it out of encouragement, or interest? Yu can’t quite tell, but he finds it entertaining nonetheless. Even more so when Yaku squirms at the throaty moan leaving your lungs when you pull away, lips plump with a bead of leftovers dripping from the seam of you mouth.

Either way, Nishinoya knows it won’t be long now until Yaku cracks. Despite the great amount of self-control he tends to exercise, Yaku is but a simple creature that cannot stave off his desires and Noya is no different. They were going to give way to their desires sooner rather than later, but they made a vow eons ago that revenge must always come first.

One year, three months, one week, and four days. That was how long it had been since you died in the alleyway. Today was the day those boys were going to die for what they did.

By now, you were fully functioning; walking on your own, feeding on your own. The only difference between you and the others was that you still slept, though not very much anymore, and according to Akaashi, it would be a trait that you would grow out of maybe two decades after your first century. That was actually the sole reason there was even a bed in the house—Nishinoya still slept merely because he enjoyed it. He wasn’t like the others who had found a passion project that kept him up around the clock, so more often than not, he would join you in bed. After all, it was originally his bed.

And more often than not, Yaku would sit in the spacious window sill while Noya wrapped his arms around you protectively in your shared slumber, as if to abide by the repeated mantra he had said over the last year—he’ll be there when you wake.

Your dreams are no longer memories, as you’ve got caught up to current events thanks to the playback speed that they paced themselves at. Now, you’re able to recall on every single event of your life that you’ve witnessed thus far with perfect detail—including the faces of your five murderers. Each of them belonged to your university Pike fraternity; two of them were a year older than you, two the same age, and the one who had the knife to your neck was a freshman not yet old enough to drink legally, but apparently old enough to to pull the metaphorical trigger and throw the knife that had gone through your entire body, severing your aorta in your heart.

After researching in the form of disguise, you learned that tonight Pi Kappa Epsilon would be holding their annual holiday gala; fancy words for a giant frat party for those who chose not to return to their hometowns for Christmas. Knowing how these events tend to function—it was relatively easy to sneak in, even with Nishinoya and Yaku flanking your sides. You flashed the doorman a crisp fifty, knowing males always had to pay a fee for entry while women always got in for free. The bouncer grins upon seeing you in a tight, red body-con dress, but the grin is immediately displaced when his eyes land on the two men beside you. Giving your best, most flirtatious smile, you grab both of their wrists before heading inside. “Don’t lose me, okay?” You yell over the pounding music.

“We won’t,” they say in unison. Noya gives you a reassuring smile, hand pressed against Yaku’s back gently, while the latter purses his lips together in discomfort. “Just keep talking to me through here,” he adds, pressing his cold lips to your forehead chastely, “and I’ll find you.” You give him a confident nod before you throw yourself into the throng of people to find your targets. It proved a bit of a challenge, considering the strobe lighting and the myriad of people—all of the men looked the same on top of that. But once your eyes narrowed in on the man you first lured you, it was game over.

Like a tiger ready to pounce, you sauntered over to him, pushing aside whomever he was with at the moment before wrapping your arms lewdly around his neck. He looks down at you skeptically, but otherwise pleased with the bold actions. From a short distance away, Yaku and Noya are hiding like wallflowers, listening to the resounding chant happening in your head that screamed to kill him. “You know,” Noya chimes in lowly, distracting Yaku from the way your hips are grinding and gyrating against the strange man’s, “we could just kill the entire fraternity.” Yaku shakes his head—Noya was always fond of the idea of revenge against all who were guilty by association. While the others in the clan gave into his persuasion, Yaku never found it amusing.

“What if they had no idea that their brother killed someone?”

“They probably bragged about it,” Noya grumbles. From his own experience, the shorter of the two liked to think that he knew how these people tended to operate.

“It’s go time.” Yaku says abruptly, eyes locked onto your retreating form as you pull one of your rapists by the tie and lead him out the frat house. The two Damned maneuver their way towards the quietest space, hunting for a window they can exit out of to follow you without garnering too much attention towards the situation. When they end up on the sidewalk outside of the Pike house, they see you parading—brokenly, complete with fake stumbles to allude to you being drugged again—the man by the tie until he shoves you into the same alleyway.

Close behind were four others, all built and stocky as they traveled in their pack and making their way towards the alley. You were cornered amongst trash and dead rats, the five of them trying to zero in on you, yet you showed no fear. Instead, you stood at full height with the addition of your stilettos, as your body transitioned into it’s more predatory form. “Remember me?” You ask sweetly, cracking your knuckles nonchalantly. Your hair that’s covering the ugly mound of flesh scarred over from your injury is swept over the opposite shoulder, giving them full view as your short, blackened claws graze over the skin. “Over a year ago, the five of you brought a woman to this alley, raped her and you,” a feral snarl leaves your lips as you point to the youngest fraternity brother, “threw a knife into her back that went all the way through her heart and killed her.”

The five of them begin looking over at each other, wondering who ratted out who considering they had never spoken of the night since it occurred. It was easy to avoid, considering the body was never found. There was never any evidence. “W-who are you?” The youngest one squawks out.

“Don’t remember?” Your head snaps in the direction to one of the older members. “I should have bit your dick off when I had the chance.” There’s no more room for talking, no room for rebuttal. Instead, you grab the same man you lured into the alley by the tie, bringing him close enough to snap his neck. When he was neither moving nor breathing, the remaining four began to back up.

“Yo, this bitch is crazy, let’s get out of here—“

“You think you’re just gonna get away?” Noya laughs dryly as it crescendoed into full volume, shaking the walls and mimicking an earthquake that did not expand beyond the walls of the alley. The remaining four fall to the ground, not prepared for such loud noises let alone a trembling earth to accompany the sound. Yaku shakes his head in utter disgust before the crimson ring in his eyes locks with the prey.

“Done eating, love?” He calls out, causing the four other frat boys to look over in horror at the “e” word. Once again, you’re standing at full height, the back of your hand wiping away the blood that had escaped from your mouth from your feeding.

“Not quite yet,” With every step you took, they trembled back, only to be met with your two saviors blocking their only exit. The youngest one is hiding all the way in the back, trepidation causing his bones to rattle within his skin as his back hits Yaku’s calf. “I’m still hungry.” Noya lets out a snort at this—he truly did love your sense of humor.

“You’re next.” Yaku looks down at the young boy, only nineteen-years-old, who had been your executioner. That same boy looks at the leader of the clan in horror, eyes wide because he never in a million years saw this as his end. Effortlessly, Yaku picks him up by the collar of his shirt before tossing him in your direction. Rather than catching him, you gathered your claws together to form a single point, driving the makeshift lance through the stomach of the one who had ended your life. Without verbalizing it, you gave the boys permission to feed on the other two—so long as it wasn’t the one that you had tried to bite down on when he rammed his cock in your mouth.

You had plans for him.

In the mean time, you pull the now lifeless body off of your bloodied hand, drinking down whatever was dripping down your arm before tossing him off to the side; you had one more pressing matter to deal with. The last of the boys—the dessert to your meal was pressed against the wall as he tried to run from this situation, watching in mortification as Yaku and Noya beheaded the other two brothers with their bare hands, feasting on their prey. “Like I said,” you sneered as you approached the last one, ripping off his pants and boxers much like he had when he violated your mouth. “I should have bit your dick off when I had the chance.”

And so you did.

“Remind me to never get on your bad side,” Yaku muses, having finished his meal, gawking at the way you had just left the last one along the wall with his penis bitten off all the way down to the base while you returned to the youngest member again, draining your murderer for all he was worth.

“I dunno, it’s kinda hot, babe.” Noya jokes, watching in amusement as well.

“I’m actually kinda full,” You shrug, having drained the stabber entirely—that put your body count to two full bodies. “D’you guys wanna have the last one? I got all I wanted from him.” At sound of your permission, Yaku approaches the last one with a predatory glare, not daring to break eye contact as he asked you one more question.

“[ name ], do you feel that justice been served?” With a nonplussed grimace, you gave a shrug.

“If anything, these assholes got the short end of the stick. They murder a girl they raped so she comes back from the dead and kills them all with two beautiful men by her side? Yeah, I’m happy with that.”

By the time you returned home, you were an entirely different creature. You felt...free. Like there was nothing else anchoring your dead heart, like you no longer had a tether to this world. Like you had no purpose.

So now what?

Silently you meander back to your shared bedroom to further contemplate your existence, the boys you left behind glancing at each other in concern. “Want me to talk to her? I might be able to better sympathize.” Noya asks quietly so that your now heightened hearing can’t quite pick up on the conversation. Regardless, Yaku shakes his head. He knows exactly what you’re thinking, what you’re feeling and not just because of his ability to read minds.

“I’ve got a few things I want to say to her anyway.” Noya presses a tender kiss to his mates cheek before he flits away to hang out with Daichi as he normally does when he’s not with Yaku, while the head of the clan makes his way to the room. You’re lying in bed already, the dress and stilettos shed and traded for bare feet and a slip. Despite your back turned towards him, you feel the bed dip as he lays beside you, something atypical of Yaku. “How do you feel?” His voice is merely a whisper as he cautiously wraps an arm around your waist.

“Shouldn’t you know the answer?” You retort, but Yaku doesn’t recoil because he knows. He knows the sort of limbo you feel you’re placed in now that your postmortem mission had been carried out. What were you supposed to do for the rest of eternity besides act as an impromptu executioner, feeding off of the worst criminals within a hundred mile radius?

“Is that all you see us as?”

“No,” You say quietly. These Damned men had accomplished great things, from what you knew of them, in their lifetimes. Sugawara has continued composing even well after his other alias’ deaths, Akaashi has been working on a research piece for decades regarding cancer in the form of preventative measures rather than a cure, in addition to a cure. Daichi had participated in the Olympics a number of times, Yaku was once a politician in multiple countries and Nishinoya had worked closely with electronic developers over the years including Microsoft and Linux. “You guys have accomplished so much in your lifetimes, I just don’t want to be some sort of disappointment—“

“[ name ], we never knew were going to do those things. We just kept pushing on, finding out things we were passionate about and since we have unlimited time, we’ve had time to hone and perfect those skills.”

“What if I never do anything that great?” Yaku lets out a sigh, turning your now fully restored body around to face him and pressing his face into your neck. Over the duration of your rehabilitation process, he’d become so over protective of you, wanting what’s best for you in any capacity yet never fully being honest with himself.

“You have time to figure it out,” he mumbles into your own icy skin, lips tickling your veins. “Until then, just stay? With me?”

“Yaku...” he had never fully outright asked you to stay—only alluding to it in the past with talks of the future.

“I-I want you,” he whispers almost uncharacteristically. Being a diplomat, stuttering was not a thing that Yaku did very often. “To stay with us forever. To stay with me forever.” This is it, he figures. It’s now or never. Yaku can’t stand the idea of you leaving the clan, leaving him when he hadn’t yet had a taste of you, had you in any other form than a few mere kisses for feeding or in fantasies. Pulling away, Yaku shifts once again so that his arms are holding his weight above you, his lips ghosting intimately over yours.

Both of you are overly aware of the attraction that’s there—you knew of the daydreams you’d had of him throughout the year and with his ability, he was unwillingly subjected to them. Reaching up slightly, your lips press against his hungrily, your tongue immediately dancing along the seam of his lips, begging for permission to enter. Yaku doesn’t waste a second dropping the support from his arms in favor to press his body fully into yours because he’s been waiting for this moment. It’s evident in his fervent kiss, it’s evident in his ever present erection. A mewl warbles in your throat as you feel him grind against you.

Why the hell had you waited so long for this? Why did he wait so long for this?

There was no more waiting.

Breaking a part for a moment, you pull the slip off your torso hastily while Yaku unbuckles his belt and frees his lower half. Impatience floods you as you tear off the thin Henley he’s wearing, leaving the two of you entirely bare in front of each other. The large scar on your bosom that had made you self conscious for months suddenly felt dull in comparison as you’re met with the varying marks that marred Yaku’s skin. From what you could tell, they looked like whiplashes. “I need you now,” he pleads, ignoring your wandering thoughts as he hungrily pulls you in for another kiss. Though rather short lived, your overwhelmed with warmth and pulsing in your core as his fangs run along your neck before sucking lovingly at your collarbone.

“O-oh,” you moan out wantonly, clutching at his shoulders to keep yourself steady. With no preparation, not that you needed any, Yaku slowly sheaths his member inside of you, the girth stretching you deliciously. For a moment, the two of you remain still to bask in the reprieve you both felt, unaware of the third party member watching pleased in the lounge chair across from the bed. “Fuck,” you hiss out between your teeth as he’s pushing in inch after inch.

“You’re doing so good, princess,” for a moment, he’s impressed—taking eleven inches with little to no preparation can be torturous, and he knew that from experience. “Come on, baby take the last of it—oh fuck yeah,” Yaku groans out as soon as he’s balls deep within you. The two of you are still, enjoying the moment of togetherness before he bottoms out entirely in your sweet little hole. His hips move almost languidly so as not to hurt you but good lord for all that is unholy, is he holding back.

Soft whimpers leave your lungs each time his hips snap back into yours—why the hell hadn’t you fucked Yaku sooner?! A throaty chuckle grumbles in his chest at the thought. Even with him slamming his cock in you at half-force, his mind is intertwined with yours to the point where your thoughts feel like his own. “I had to take care of you princess, wanted to make sure you could handle me fucking you.”

“Then fuck me harder, ass-hat.”

“He likes it better when you call him senpai.” Nishinoya calls out from the opposite corner of the room, as if he wasn’t just leisurely watching his partner ream himself into your core. You let out a scream and at this point, you aren’t sure if it’s because Yaku have a particularly hard thrust with the head of his dick meeting with the edge of your womb or if Nishinoya’s presence surprised you. Even more so to see that he was stark naked, stroking his cock that he’s presenting to your mouth.

“Suck off your senpai, princess.” Yaku whispers devilishly in your ear, holding his cock still within you as he does so. Tentatively, you give a kitten lick to the head before you, testing out Nishinoya’s reaction to the motion before deeming him worthy. A soft grunt escapes him, his body more than welcoming of the sensation—but it just wasn’t enough for you.

“I need a better reaction than that, Nishi,” You joke.

A poor plan on your part.

The shorter of the two looks down at you curiously, a wicked twist of his lip displayed for you as he briefly tosses an amused look towards Yaku, to which the latter lets out a chuckle in addition to the shake of his head before he starts to withdraw his cock from within you. “How’s this for reaction?” Noya chirps before deftly wrapping his claws in your hair, slamming his engorged member down your throat while Yaku simultaneously thrusts back inside you. The carnal desires that had run rampant through your mind on occasion had built to this moment, built up the needy desire that the boys finally had the chance to release with you. “Yeah, you take that cock in your throat, baby. Show us how much you’ve wanted us from the start.”

Nishinoya is absolutely relentless as he repeatedly withdraws and replaces his erection in your mouth, pulling so far back as to have his tip tease and smear pre-cum along your lips, all the while chanting praise and how much he loves you; how much he’s dreamed of having you between him and Yaku. The latter can’t help the stuttering motion of his hips as he unabashedly strokes his member along your walls, the tip of dick all but moving into your womb. “Yeah, princess, take your senpais cocks so fucking good, yeah? You want us to fill all your holes with our fucking cum, don’t you?” You can only wail out around Nishinoya in your mouth in response, clenching and squeezing your pussy tightly around Yaku inside you. The clan head lets out a very audible groan at the abrupt friction. “Oh, fuck yeah. Fuck yeah, senpai’s gonna cum so fucking hard inside you, yeah yeah yeah.” Yaku is absolutely wrecking and ravaging your lower half while all the foul, salacious words leaving him were only serving to turn on his partner even more until the both of them hold still to empty their first loads inside you.

After a momentary reprieve, the two of them withdraw from you, the smallest whine leaving your lips at the distinct emptiness. Between pants, both of the males look to each other before letting out a laugh. “Princess,” Noya calls out from your left, golden eyes light and airy as they gaze at you, “did you think we were going to let you cum?”

“Y-yes?” Why wouldn’t they? Wasn’t that just normal, sex etiquette between partners?

“Oh no, love,” Yaku adds, “We’re gonna show you just how much we love you, gotta coat every inch of your skin in our fluids before you can even think about cumming.” Before you can blink, the boys are up again with Nishinoya taking his position with the tip of his still hardened member teasing the outer lips of your pussy. Meanwhile, Yaku makes it a point to slap your cheek with his own erection, making sure to keep your attention and focus on him. Simultaneously, they thrust into their respective orifices that they’ve traded—Yaku treating you much more delicately versus Noya who shoves his entire mast inside your depths.

“Oh damn, babe, you’re so fucking tight!” The latter howls, throwing his head back in ecstasy. Despite having identical lengths, Nishinoya was much more rough and rigid, your walls acclimating to every vein out of necessity before relentlessly pounding away at your insides. At his pace, your pussy doesn’t even have a chance to miss the feeling of fullness. Your voice is no longer coming out in moans or screams due to the damning pace—only in a broken staccato of warbles from the speed that Noya’s fucking you. “Yeah, baby? Gonna stay here with us forever and get dicked down every night? You’d like that wouldn’t you?”

But with the almost tender, loving way Yaku is holding your throat while repeatedly sliding his cock in from tip to base, there is no actual way you can reply. Instead, you let out grunts and cries of affirmation because you would stupid not to welcome the way these two were screwing you. It’s also more than just that.

These two, as well as the rest of the brood, had taken you in being inches from death, presented you with another opportunity for life that served as an opportunity for you to seek revenge, while caring for you and almost...loving you.

“We do,” Yaku bites, withdrawing his cock from your lips offended at the thought of almost, “love you, that is.” The hand that is cupping your throat moves to brush the backs of his claws along your jaw before pulling your chin and torso up so that Yaku can kiss you fully. There is no lust or wanton desire in this kiss—it’s love through and through that is simultaneously cold yet warm.

“You’ve been dreaming about us for a long time, princess,” Noya grits out, his peak approaching all too quickly with the way you’re clenching around him with no relief. He’s panting heavily, no longer caring about his need to assert his dominance in any capacity; all he can think about is cumming deep inside you while you cum around his thick cock. “We want to make your dreams come true.”

Yaku pulls away from the kiss in time to hear your cries—a delicacy he had never had the pleasure of knowing in a past life—as you cum with Noya. The latter is holding still for a brief moment before withdrawing, his spent body collapsing beside you. You’re sensitive, you realize, as Yaku slides back in to reclaim his space. Your walls are still trembling in the aftermath of your orgasm, but Yaku is much more gentle this time around. Pressing his body flush against yours, he wraps both his arms around you with one cradling your head, the other around your lower back to pull you as close as possible. His shallow moving thrusts in accompaniment to his pulsing girth are enough to trigger yet another orgasm in direct succession, and coercing his own orgasm. “Please stay, [ name ].” He mumbles into your hair as he feels his seed spurting within you. Though you supply no answer due to trying to catch your breath, you only nod in response. Yaku remains still inside you, so as if to seal both his and his partner’s emission within you with his own softening cock, smiling at the simple fact that you had nodded in response. “Get some rest, little one,” He adds, adjusting so that he’s on the opposite side of you and a now sleeping Noya. “We’ll be here when you wake.”

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booksbookandmorebooks · 4 years

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Emma in the night Book review.

Hello there my lovelies, I know its been a little while since I last posted and I have honestly missed doing this so much, so thank you to anyone still here and still supporting me, it means the absolute world.

As everyone is fully aware 2020 was an awful one but hopefully this year we can aim for a little more positivity and happiness, which is why im back today with a review of my first read of this year and bloody hell did I pick a goodun! So this is my first review for my first book of 2021, enjoy!

The writing style

One of my favourite things about this book was the different points of view you get to experience and how well they mesh together. For example, we are told very early on that the events Cass is recalling aren’t exactly what you would call accurate and that she has spent months planning and creating this false narrative in an order to manipulate the people she's describing them to (which in itself is something I always get drawn into, the mystery and the need to figure out the characters motives and intentions along side the biggest question of all WHY?! Which is a question will find yourself screaming at the pages) This is made very apparent from the use of the choppy and restrictive way that these scenes are written. Wendy also somehow manages to create a feeling of desperation and messiness whilst having the characters maintaining such a mellow and collected exterior, you know the calm before the storm! Which is such a jarring feeling but one that realty captured and immersed me. A feeling I don’t think is easy to convey through a book format. That in itself is a testament to Wendy’s talent as a writer.

When you compare Cass’ chapters and inner dialogue to detective Abby’s they are so different but when they are looked at side by side they create a very interesting contrast that as I said before works so well, while there is a calm chaos to Cass’ words there is in turn a very structured and balanced feel to Abby's, almost a little detached like you were reading sections cut directly from a police case file. Through this constant difference in characters POVS the story flowed flawlessly and at the perfect pace for a thriller book.

The climax of the book was not just shocking but also depicted so well in how the writing matched the pace of the reveal, the whole book alternates between cass and Abby with each chapter assigned to one of the characters but towards the end you see that the different POVs are whittled down to single sentences or just a few paragraphs that get shorter and shorter as the tension builds, creating this intense feeling of panic, alert and fear. A method that I swear had my heart physically racing at the end! It was like watching a classic cat and mouse scene play out in my hands/

I also have to mention that very last chapter. I'm sorry for waffling on but please bare with me. For a book based around secrets and deception the ending was that of a perfect one because of its ability to make you feel like after reading it you now share a secret with Cass and you are now part of this extremely messed up story and family, you have this understanding of her whole character and her motives which really brings everything full circle.

The character development:

The character development in this book is one of the best ive seen in awhile with each character being incredibly layered and yet undeniably flawed. Its done in such a human way that it doesn’t feel too far fetched like some thrillers ive read in recent years. Ensuring that all of the emotions tied in with said characters hit 10 times harder than that of those very basic 2 dimensional characters, even the worst people in this story have a difficult background or some type of abusive past, just a catalyst for their behaviours and characteristics and by gradually being informed of them you and being given the bigger picture you almost create an individual relationship and opinion on them ranging from hatred to pity. We get amazing development in every single one even the seemingly unimportant ones because even they are given enough backstory to still secure a connection of some kind with them, something I know we can all appreciate as readers.

The relationships.

The main relationship ill focus on is that of the sisters Cass and Emma. I know there are a lot of relationships in this book that over lap and intertwine in really interesting and sometimes awful ways but as these two characters are the basis of our main storyline it makes a little more sense to focus the attention on them

As a huge plot point throughout the story we see that due to the actions of their mother and her lack of genuine maternal instinct and well, love we see the girls in this constant battle of who can earn their mothers love trust and affections first. Which was so heart breaking to read, through their mothers constant manipulation and abuse we see them fighting the resentment and distance that they know is growing between them and sadly a lot of the time losing because of Mrs. Martins influence and involvement. Its very obvious when reading about their mother that her abuse is based around the fear she feels at the idea of any kind of alliance that the girls could potentially form with each other, god forbid they turn against her and out her as a bad mother! So she decides its easier to create a wedge between the two of them by openly favouring one over the other which unfortunately results in a lot of cruel actions from Emma direct at Cass, creating another toxic relationship and situation for the girls to live in. Although we do get the occasional glimpse at these really beautiful and raw moments of sisterhood and love they share deep down. After seeing so much pain in their story it made these moments just that little bit more special and down right beautiful which was a part that i especially adored.

The themes:

In its relatively short amount of pages this book manages to explore a huge variety of themes from love and obsession to betrayal abuse and manipulation, which lets be honest is everything you want in a good thriller book but usually when a writer takes on this many themes I always find some of them are either touched upon very quickly then dismissed and never revisited or thought of again or done so badly with such a lack of care that its obvious they were just included for the author to be able to say they've hit all the key themes a reader would expect a good thriller to hit. Yet Wendy manages to not only explore all of these and more, but manages to do it well and so subtly you don't notice until you sit back and think about them all which to me just shows a writers real talent.

The psychology:

Another huge part of this book and something I adored were the analysis parts of the book, the in-depth look into narcissism and its effects on the children it surrounds. We are constantly listening to Detective Abby explaining and exploring the characteristics of the people Cass is talking about in her chapters, exploring the connections and the risk factors associated with such a serious disorder as narcissistic personality disorder. I found this to give the story and writing some real merit, it felt like i was reading a psychology book and getting down to the real science of why characters work the way they do and giving the reader a chance to explore it themselves instead of just being told this person has this which is something I cant stand in books. Instead of investing time and effort into helping guide you to a conclusion or even showing you they just tell you this is how it is and expect that to be enough. So frustrating! None the less, this is something I haven't experienced in another book and a technique I hope to see more of!

Similar books:

When reading this I got very strong sharp objects vibes, the fractured relationship between families, focusing on mother and daughter, a highly manipulative mother, an obsession with public facades and the desperate need to keep up appearances and so much more! If you liked sharp objects you will love this, as Emma in the night has all of the important story beats and intrigue that sharp objects has but more intensity and a faster paced story something I felt was missing when I read SO’S.

Over all I adored this book, as you can probably tell and considering it is my first Wendy walker book I can safely say i have fallen in love! I can promise you now this will not be my last read from her collection. I was captivated by her story and her writing which is why i couldn’t recommend this more!

A very very easy 5/5.

so that's it, thanks for reading my review, i really hope you enjoyed it! sorry if I waffled at all its been awhile since ive written any reviews and am still getting my bearings with it again so please be patient with me. Hope you have a fab week my lovelies, Bye!

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oflgtfol · 5 years

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ok wait i was thinking abt this when i was watching kfp 3 the other night but i didnt have any energy to write it then so im gonna say it now cause ive been thinking abt it a lot actually

like the villains in kfp 1 and 2 are so good. they have clear motivations to their actions with something compelling about them.

for tai lung, i’d say he’s almost sympathetic. i don’t know what i’d do if i was literally raised with the idea that i was destined to be x, and all my life, literal decades, were spent working towards that “destiny,” only to be told that that wasn’t actually my destiny. to know that literally your entire life’s work has been in vain. now i know for sure i would not go rampage and destroy the entire village and potentially kill people over it (it’s never explicitly stated he killed anyone since it’s a kid’s movie, but like, the amount of security put into his prison? the sheer dread everyone felt upon hearing he escaped? the fact the entire town had to be evacuated when he was on his way there? i’m pretty sure it’s implied he killed people in his previous rampage). that part of tai lung is not sympathetic. but the motivations behind his actions are. i know i’d definitely be feeling very lost and uncertain and angry and, betrayed. tai lung is absolutely at fault for taking his anger out so violently on innocent people, but his anger was.... justified? i mean. shifu should NOT have literally raised him with the idea that he was destined to be the dragon warrior . that’s just setting your child up for failure and, at best, the feelings i described above.......... at worst, what tai lung actually did....... either way that’s gonna fuck your kid up mentally and it wasn’t right to do that. so tai lung is definitely an interesting villain with, sympathetic circumstances but not sympathetic/justified actions

i think shen is probably less interesting than tai lung in that regard but he makes up for it in different ways. i don’t think he’s sympathetic in any way tbh. at most there’s a bit of... inadequacy? that his parents didn’t love him? but his actions were absolutely abhorrent so honestly......... you deserve it LOL. but his actions WERE so completely abhorrent that he makes up for the lack of sympathy and moral ambiguity that’s fun to think about with just sheer Threat. he committed literal genocide for no other reason than to ensure he wouldn’t be taken down according to a prophecy. he is far deadlier than tai lung, plus his presence brings a lot of repressed memories out of po which is a really interesting way to paint shen as a threat. because po could absolutely just beat him up, but each time he’s near him he gets flashbacks and can never actually defeat shen until he works through his memories. shen isn’t interesting so much in motivations but he’s very interesting in terms of the themes the franchise explores, the danger he poses to the protagonist, and even his personality

but kai..... falls flat compared to the first two villains. after seeing kfp 3 several times i’m still unsure of why he’s doing anything he does? he learns how to use chi and then immediately starts killing people? to....... gain power? does he do everything just for power? and his backstory with oogway is kinda confusing like.... when was oogway in charge of an army???!?!! and he’s said to be oogway’s brother in arms which sounds like a very close relationship but we don’t ever really... get to see it besides like “oh haha see what im doing, oogway?” and then destroying oogway’s statue.

and nobody ever takes him seriously as a villain either. everybody’s like “kai who?” even the random farmers completely dropped their guard after being like “never heard of you” despite literally being scared shitless of him 2 seconds ago....... kai takes out every master in china within like a few days and it sounds like it could’ve been very threatening and ominous like knowing that the jade palace is Next.. knowing that he’s slowly but surely making his way to the pandas. but literally no one takes it seriously they just fuck around for a few days until tigress comes around and is like “we’re the last ones left.” and so all the pandas team up to fight kai in their own ways but even then... nobody’s taking it seriously? if he wins he’s gonna kill you all!! but they’re all laughing and having a good time during that fight like huh? IDK like yes po is very much one who always makes fun of his villains, his whole final battle with tai lung was like that and most of his time with shen was him making fun of him too. but the final battle with shen was SO serious and honestly i guess kfp3′s lighter tone is particularly jarring especially because kfp 2 was so serious, what with literal genocide, cannons (which literally killed master rhino early in the movie), repressed trauma, coming to terms with said trauma, etc. shen was SUCH a serious villain, and people took tai lung very seriously even if po didn’t at the end. literally NO ONE takes kai seriously and it’s kinda irksome especially when it’s added onto the fact he doesn’t have very strong motivations... idk. kai’s definitely the weakest villain

i mean this all in the best way... i love the kfp movies and part of it is cause they just get me thinking about a lot of things, whether it’s the themes or even just writing stuff like this. kfp 3 is still a very enjoyable movie this is just a criticism i had with it

i think even if they fleshed out his backstory with oogway better, maybe had kai tell it himself instead of from the characters reading oogway’s scroll, then he’d feel like a stronger villain. and maybe had the characters treat the situation with the proper stakes too. nothing wrong with jokes and light heartedness, i mean this is kung fu panda, even kfp 2 still had a lot of jokes and light hearted scenes, but if they were used at more appropriate times rather than directed at the villain almost entirely then it’d be better. and im only saying that because, when the villain doesnt have clearer motivations and the threat he poses is kind of abstract and shown mostly off screen, then it’s hard for the AUDIENCE to take him seriously between all that and the characters themselves mocking him/not taking him seriously every time he shows up. and compared to the serious villains in past movies it’s just like.................... oh . ok

#the only time tai lung was ever treated like a joke was at the very end . otherwise he was a very serious threat to the valley #and shen wasnt ever treated like a JOKE persay just that.. po would make a joke during a scene with shen #like the whole time they meet in the tower with the 'oh hey' and shen's '........hey' thats so funny #and po's like 'i dont even know who you are!!!' isnt taking him very seriously #BUT. then he has a flashback during that scene so even if po isnt taking him seriously.... shen's still a threat #but like po NEVER takes kai seriously except for that one scene where he realized he couldnt use the wuxi fingerhold on him #and po's face of absolute DESPAIR is so jarring considering just 2 minutes ago he was interrupting kai's monologue with #'UGH STOP WITH THE CHIT CHAT' and generally mocking him lol #but po's jokes fit in. considering how he dealt with tai lung #but the PANDAS. who are honestly fighting for their lives at this point? are all laughing adn shit which is really the main... -__- thing #LIKE. logically there are high stakes in this movie. but nobody acts like the stakes are high #and there are very few moments of real tension so . the audience never feels like the stakes are high either even if we know they are #delete soon

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sleepthinks · 5 years

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I'm having Dumb Bitch problems.

We are in Texas visiting my niece who plays soccer for the college out here. I haven't been to Texas since like 2006 when we moved. I think we came back for like a quick few days in maybe 2008 or 2009 for a funeral. My father still lives in Texas with his new family. We haven't spoken since 2006 when I told him I was moving across the country. Before that it had been maybe 9-12 months since we had talked. After the move I received birthday cards for a few years but found out that it wasn't him, it was his new wife sending and signing the cards. After some therapy I decided to ask them to stop sending cards and officially cut off all ties. There was always pressure from her for me to come visit them and I felt like the cards were her way of guilting me into coming back.

We had to drive through the city they live in on our way to my niece's school. My mother made some smartass remark about going to visit him. I didn't respond.

Im still connected to some friends from Texas on Facebook. But having moved the week before we started high school, and not really ever coming back, I think we've all grown very far apart and there's not a lot of common ground anymore. I tried reaching out to a few friends, didn't hear back from most. There's a chance I can see a friend tomorrow night, maybe for dinner or something, but I'm really anxious about it. I don't feel like I've been successful or that I'm in a good spot in my life and I'm nervous to go meet someone I haven't seen in almost two decades. Worst case scenario I reveal how much of a loser I am. Or I have to face some harsh truths Ive been avoiding.

There's also some dumb bitch gay problems. Which aren't really problems. Allow me to explain. One of the boys I went to middle school/junior high with in Texas has been in my dreams lately. We're always in a happy relationship. Being depressed and miserable and oscillating between that low and just like a neutral "okay," having a dream where you're happy or elated is a trip. It's jarring because those basic feelings shouldn't be something you miss, but when you DONT have them, once you feel a little taste of it again, it reminds you of how far away you are.

It's really dumb this boy in particular is in my dream. We maybe spoke once or twice in the years I grew up in Texas. From 2nd-8th grade we never had any classes together. My mom was friends with his mom (they worked together before she got fired from that job thus burning all bridges she had made) he was friends with one of my "best friends" I had growing up. But he and I never really ever interacted. But he's in my dreams. Often. 3 or 4 nights a week.

Side note about that best friend. Since moving we haven't really kept in touch. I tried to reach out a few times and never got a response. Growing up either I stayed at his house or he stayed at ours nearly every weekend. It doesn't make sense to me. So much of our childhood was tied together, yet we have nothing to do with each other now. Do they ever think about me like I think about them? Do they ever dream about me? Towards the later years of our friendship we were at odds a bit. He was getting into trouble and getting into girls and getting into trouble WITH girls. He was super disrespectful to his parents. It made me mad. His parents were so nice. They provided everything for him. He lived on a huge farm, had every game and toy he could want. He got a phone and got taken to anywhere he wanted to go (we couldn't drive in 7-8th grade)

Looking back I start to wonder. He had several friends that were like me. Boys that didn't really have any other friends. It's hard to do it without naming names. Idk if anyone reads this anyways. This friends name was Randy. Randy was friends with Colton. Colton didn't really have other friends. He was just a big goofy kid. (looking back so was i) he was friends with Taylor. (the boy in my dream) Taylor's only other friend seemed to be his cousin (who was a girl, and for middle schoolers that meant he was weird) there were more boys but I can't remember specifically now. The point is. Looking back. I think maybe Randy wasn't really our friend. The friendships seemed one sided. I get the feeling that his mom put him up to it. All of us were kind of lonely kids. Not popular. Quiet. Maybe that's why Randy doesn't want to keep in touch. He didn't want to be friends in the first place. He was obligated to.

This all culminates to now. Now I'm in Texas again. Now I'm at a college visiting my niece. (I have other college anxiety but that's another long post) this college happens to be the same college both Randy AND Taylor went to. I'm not nervous about seeing them. I don't think they would recognize me anyways (I didn't have a beard in 7th grade) but it's weird being here. Being were they lived. I feel like an unwanted invader somehow.

Ah fuck I forgot to explain the Taylor in my dreams thing. I think the reason he's in my dreams is because he's got similar features and body types to my friend from Seattle. See my friend was a cute boy that i lived with and he was nice and paid me attention and acted like he wanted to hang out with me so OF COURSE I had a little infatuation. I'm so starved for friendship and love that any sort of attention like that would draw me in. I feel dumb. I just want to be friends with my friend without feeling like I'm crushing on him or something.

#anyways #long post #me #dumb bitch problems

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thornfield13713 · 6 years

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Ok, back to Drastic Measures.

….I would like to make one thing clear. I do not hate this book. I really don’t. It’s...well, it’s mediocre, but that’s its worst sin. It’s...competently written. Not deeply characterised, and with a bad case of women-in-refrigerators, but not awful. I’ve read much worse Trek novels.

This passage, for example is....a bit narmy, maybe, given it’s happening between two people who barely know each other and doesn’t really seem to grow out of the conversation naturally. But it does effectively convey a lot of the shock and horror of something like this happening in what is, to these characters, an almost aggressively ordinary setting. Tarsus IV is Everytown, or rather, Everyplanet, and that is a major part of the horror of what has happened there...

“I wasn’t born on Denobula,” Dralax continued. “My parents were scientists living at the Federation colony on Arvada III. We were among a very small number of nonhumans, but it was a wonderful place to live. I have so many friends there, and so many happy memories.” He closed his eyes, drawing a breath. “I can’t stop thinking about something like this happening there. My parents, my friends; the idea of them being forced to....” The sentence faded, and he placed a hand over his mouth. “I’m sorry, Commander.”

Like I said, jarring in this particular place and time, but not bad writing, in and of itself. This book is full of little gems like this. The trouble is, it’s like finding a chocolate coin inside a wodge of tofu - you still have to eat an awful lot of tofu to find the chocolate, and when you do get to the chocolate, the taste of it goes really badly with the tofu.

Again, there is nothing particularly wrong with the plotting of this book. So far, the plot has held up fairly well, and better than many Trek books I’ve read (Spock’s World might feature a lot of lovely character moments, but T’Pring’s revenge plot is by far the weakest aspect of that book). There are pacing and characterisation troubles, but the greatest failing is the failure to establish atmosphere. Tarsus IV is a tragedy and a disaster. I should feel something while reading about it, but the very nature of our POVs means that this is so much more difficult to do than if we had got the perspective of, say, thirteen-year-old Jim Kirk, who has been living as a civilian on Tarsus and is attached to Tarsus in a way neither Gabriel Lorca nor Philippa Georgiou really can be. The author is relying on reader investment over character investment by using Tarsus, and while this technique can sometimes be used effectively, here, it blunts the horrors of Tarsus when our characters are so much less deeply and personally affected by it - even Lorca, who lost a partner in the massacre at the amphitheatre, barely seems affected by Balayna’s death at this point. And, since we already know the plot of catching Kodos is doomed to failure, it undermines a great deal of the plot element of the book.

With a premise like that, character and atmosphere are key to reader investment, and that is where Drastic Measures falls down for me. The above passage gives a good attempt at what that atmosphere could be - this is daylight horror, a bloody massacre taking place in your hometown, or in a generic little town where nothing ever happens. This is all a community’s prejudices and vices and unacknowledged horrible opinions boiling up in a time of crisis and culminating in a massacre. The trouble is, our Starfleet protagonists are so far removed from that that the most effective element of such stories - the gut-wrenching familiarity of the setting where the horrors happen - is lost. This could have been averted with a slower build-up that lets us get to know Tarsus better, establishing what life is like there before the disaster hits, and allowing for a much stronger emotional connection to the subject, as has been achieved in a number of fanworks of varying quality. As things stand, though? Without that emotional investment, the plot itself is undermined, and so is any larger point being made here.

#cat reads drastic measures #star trek: discovery #star trek

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arplis · 5 years

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Arplis - News: My 22 Goals for 2019 Week 49 of 52

My 22 Goals for 2019

Goal #1 Spend More Time Doing What I Love

Red alert people, RED ALERT. It was 6 degrees this morning when I woke up. SIX!!! That.Is.Chilly. The Girl and I were going to walk Lucy on the beach this morning but those plans have been scraped. Gaaaa. I think if its 6 degrees outside, all bets are off and you can most certainly declare it a pajama day. Whos with me on this?

Goal #2 Garden, Garden, Garden

Garden are done for the year. Yipee!

Goal #3 Plant an Orchard {Calling it Quits on this one.}

Lemon baby #3 is on the way and we are patiently awaiting her arrival.

Goal #4 Gussy Up the Potting Shed Done!

I gussied up the potting shed at our old house, but I would like to add some sort of potting station to the backyard here somewhere, but Im not sure where I would put it yet.

I did come across this photo on Author Susan Branchs Instagram page though of a picture she tooth at Colonial Williamsburg. Isnt it cute? I think I need one of those.

Goal #5 Grow Enough Extra Vegetables, Eggs and Flowers to Earn $1500 at my little roadside vegetable stand.

It was totally my intention to grow a ton of fruits and vegetables to sell at the farm-stand when I made my list of goals for 2019 last winter, but then we moved. So, that whole goal was sort of a bust. I do miss it though.

Goal #6 Finish Every Single Unfinished Rug Hooking Project in My Pattern Bin + 10 Things from back Issues of Magazines/Books Ive Been Meaning to Make.

While I didnt add any new finished hooked rug pieces in my Etsy shop this past week, I did hook 4 totally new rugs {1 of which will become a kit and 2 will be offered as patterns} as well as hand dyed a bunch of wool {that I was able to get listed in my Etsy shop}.

I have decided to go back to my old schedule of only listing new hooked rugs items on the first Friday of every month for next year as it seems less stressful to me. It allows me more time to hook, rather than stopping every few days to take photo, write up description and then post a single piece online. Doing it all in one big swoop seems less chaotic to me.

73 rugs in my pattern bin {now down to 16} < SO CLOSE!

183 hooked flowers {finished 150, now down to 33}

10 things from back issues of magazines {finished 0}

Goal #7 Create 12 New Rug Hooking Patterns {with at least half of them being large ones} DONE!

So far this year Ive added 12 new rug hooking patterns and 14 beginner rug hooking kits to my Etsy shop. I just added Santa and Rudy 1892 yesterday and am hoping to squeeze one more kit in before the end of the year.

New rug hooking patterns Ive created and added to My Etsy Shop this year:

Santa and Rudy 1892

Tullia and Thomas Turkey

Double Nantucket Whale Runner

Miss Henny and Penny

Miss Penny

Simple Kitty

Primitive Flowers

2 Fat Cats

Annabells Big Day

Old Fashioned Double Tulip

Fat Brown Hen

Busy Little Bee

Queen Bee

Rug Hooking Kits

Busy Little Bee {in 2 different colors}

Folk Art Heart

Small Nantucket Whale

Primitive Crow

Miss Robin {in 2 different colors}

Simple Kitty

Primitive Flowers

Sunflowers

A Basket of Spring Posies

Fat Brown Hen

Chickys Garden

Goal #8 Split and Stack 2 Cords of Wood for Next Winter

All that firewood! We sold it.

Goal #9 Do Something with the 5,002 Photos on My Phone

Currently at 2415 Back up to 2565.

Goal #10 -Lose the Muffin Top Done!

Sweet digity!

Goal #11 Run, Walk or Crawl a 5k, 10k, Half Marathon and Marathon

As long as its not pouring rain tomorrow. The Girl and I are on for the Half Marathon. Wish us luck!

Goal #12 Read or Listen to 26 New Books {21 down, 5 to go}

No new books this week but we are planning a trip to the library later this week.

Books Ive Read or Listened to So Far This Year:

Marilla of Green Gables #1 Still my favorite

The Great Alone #2

The Aviators Wife #3

Before We Were Yours #4

Secrets of a Charmed Life #5

Whered You Go, Bernadette #6

Carnegies Maid #7

The Gown #8

Unbroken #9

Drama#10

The Alice Network #11

The Shape of Mercy #12

Wills Red Coat #13

Big Little Lies #14

Mr. Churchills Secretary

Born to Run

I Feel Bad About My Neck

Bunny Mellon {Doesnt count because it was my second time}

On Writing {Doesnt count because it was my third time}

Walden

Finders Keepers

Delicious!

50 Things to Do in Maine Before You Die

Following Atticus

Goal #13 Try 52 New Recipes.

39 down, 13 recipes to go. We tried 2 new recipes this week. 1 was a dud and the other I will share on Tuesday. And its a good one!

Goal #14 Clean Up 52 Old Recipes on the Blog

9 down, 44 to go. Why did I make this goal? Note to self: Make fewer goals for next year.

Goal #15 Fill 100 Canning Jars 72 down, 28 to go.

I made a batch of Christmas Jam for gift giving PLUS I tried a new recipe {that was inspired by Mrs. HB} this past week and the HH and I loved it so much, that Ill be making another batch {or maybe 2} of it today {Ill share the recipe on Tuesday}.

So far this year Ive I canned:

9 Jars of..

6 jars Christmas Jam

7 jars Spiced Pomegranate Jelly

7 jars Peach Jam

7 jars of Strawberry Jam

15 jars of Carrot Cake Jam

15 jars of Spiced Pear Jam

4 jars of Almond Pears.

Goal #16 Finish Furnishing Our House

We finished the roman shades for the kitchen nook and kitchen window. I plan on taking a break from making roman shades for the next month so I can finish making kits for my Etsy shop and paint out the entire kitchen area as well as finish a couple of art projects for the walls.

Goal #17 52 Dates with the HH {44 down, 8 to go}

The HH and I went on 2 date days this past week and one of them was to the Sabbathday Lake Shaker Village for their Shaker Christmas Fair and it was so overwhelming, we left after 5 minutes.

Overwhelming in the sense that although we could tell there was going to be a lot of people at the event by the distance we had to walk to the village, what we werent expecting was that once we walked in the doors of the trustees office {where the craft fair was being held}, it was SHOULDER to SHOULDER.

Like, being at a rock concert crowded. The HH didnt even make it 2 feet in before walking out and it took me nearly 5 minutes to get from the entrance and through 3 rooms and back out the door again without even being able to look or pick up anything it was so crowded. It was nuts. And totally not in the calm, welcoming Shaker spirit and all we wanted to do was leave. And so we did.

I do want to go back though at some point to visit the museum, but it will have to be an ordinary weekday with nothing on the event calendar, thats for sure.

Goal #18 Take One Adult Education Class Done {Ive taken 3!}

Block Printing Class with my neighbor.

Spoon Carving Classwith Heather.

Mini pottery lesson {I loved it! and now I want to sign up for a full class}

Goal #19 Secret Holiday Project{s}

Block print towels

Seed packet wreaths

Tea Bag Trees

Goal #20 Create 12 Wowie Zowie Party Platters

8 down, 4 to go. We are planning on making #9 tonight!

Goal #21 Visit 12 General Stores

10 down 2 to go. We visited a new country store yesterday!! The kind that offers human made {and local} baskets to customers to do their shopping with. Ill tell you all about it next week.

H.B. Provisions in Kennebunk, Maine

Chases Daily {I think it should count}

Squam Lake Marketplace

Harrisville General Store

Dodges Store in New Boston, New Hampshire

Zebs General Store in North Conway, New Hampshire

Dan and Whits in Norwich, Vermont

Husseys General Store in Windsor, Maine

Goal #22 Compete with Carole.. Get on My Front Door Game On

Would you believe not a single person walking by {or even a neighbor} has made a comment about the leg lamp in the window? I think theyre showing restraint, while my husband keeps telling me that they are in such awe of it, they just dont know what to say.

Ummmm Okay.

Front Door Bling Ive Made So Far This Year to Compete with Carole:

Late January : Valentine Heart

Late February : Shamrock

Late March : Giant Carrot

May: White wave petunia hanging basket

June/July: Tin Star and Flag Bunting

August : Sunflower

September: Indian corn and pumpkins

October: Pumpkins and spinner do hickeys

November: Indian corn and big pumpkins

December: Leg lamp and nutcrackers in the window and giant Christmas balls on the porch

**************

How about YOU? What are your goals for 2019? If you told us about them HERE, check in! We want to know how you are doing. Because seriously, its so much easier to get those goals checked off your list when you have people rooting for you!

Have a great day everyone,

Mavis

P.S. If you are looking for a last minute gift for neighbor or a friend, I still have a few ornaments left in my Etsy shop and you can find them all HERE. UPDATE: The barred rock chicken is sold out but there are a few more chicken ornaments HERE.

You can read more about my 22 goals for 2019 HERE.

Have a Great Day!

The post My 22 Goals for 2019 Week 49 of 52 appeared first on One Hundred Dollars a Month.

This content was original published at One Hundred Dollars a Month and is copyrighted material. If you are reading this on another website it is being published without consent.

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My 22 Goals for 2019 Week 48 of 52

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Arplis - News source https://arplis.com/blogs/news/my-22-goals-for-2019-week-49-of-52

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dfroza · 5 years

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we may be wronged while in this world

but Love promises to restore, to protect our eternal heart and to make things right, eventually. there will be pure Justice done.

A point seen clear in Today’s reading of the Psalms and Proverbs for Tuesday, October 29:

[Psalm 37]

A Song of Wisdom

Poetic praise, by King David

Don’t follow after the wicked ones or be jealous of their wealth.

Don’t think for a moment they’re better off than you.

They and their short-lived success

will soon shrivel up and quickly fade away

like grass clippings in the hot sun.

Keep trusting in the Lord and do what is right in his eyes.

Fix your heart on the promises of God and you will be secure,

feasting on his faithfulness.

Make God the utmost delight and pleasure of your life,

and he will provide for you what you desire the most.

Give God the right to direct your life,

and as you trust him along the way

you’ll find he pulled it off perfectly!

He will appear as your righteousness,

as sure as the dawning of a new day.

He will manifest as your justice,

as sure and strong as the noonday sun.

Quiet your heart in his presence and pray;

keep hope alive as you long for God to come through for you.

And don’t think for a moment that the wicked in their prosperity

are better off than you.

Stay away from anger and revenge.

Keep envy far from you, for it only leads you into lies.

For one day the wicked will be destroyed,

but those who trust in the Lord

will live safe and sound with blessings overflowing.

Just a little while longer and the ungodly will vanish;

you will look for them in vain.

But the humble of heart will inherit every promise

and enjoy abundant peace.

Let the wicked keep plotting against the godly

with all their sneers and arrogant jeers.

God doesn’t lose any sleep over them

and he knows their day is coming!

Evil ones take aim on the poor and helpless;

they are ready to slaughter those who do right.

But the Lord will

turn all their weapons of wickedness back on themselves,

piercing their pride-filled hearts until they are the helpless.

It is much better to have little

combined with much of God

than to have the fabulous wealth of the wicked and nothing else.

For the Lord takes care of all his forgiven ones

while the strength of the evil will surely slip away.

Day by day the Lord watches the good deeds of the godly

and he prepares for them his forever-reward.

Even in a time of disaster he will watch over them,

and they will always have more than enough

no matter what happens.

All the enemies of God will perish.

For the wicked have only a momentary value, a fading glory.

Then one day they vanish! Here today, gone tomorrow.

They break their promises, borrowing money

but never paying it back.

The good man returns what he owes with some extra besides.

The Lord’s blessed ones receive it all in the end,

but the cursed ones will be cut off

with nothing to show for themselves.

The steps of the God-pursuing ones

follow firmly in the footsteps of the Lord,

and God delights in every step they take to follow him.

If they stumble badly they will still survive,

for the Lord lifts them up with his hands.

I was once young, but now I’m old.

Not once have I found a lover of God forsaken by him,

nor have any of their children gone hungry.

Instead, I’ve found the godly ones

to be the generous ones who give freely to others.

Their children are blessed and become a blessing.

If you truly want to dwell forever in God’s presence,

forsake evil and do what is right in his eyes.

The Lord loves it when he sees us walking in his justice.

He will never desert his devoted lovers;

they will be kept forever in his faithful care.

But the descendants of the wicked will be banished.

The faithful lovers of God will inherit the earth

and enjoy every promise of God’s care,

dwelling in peace forever.

God-lovers make the best counselors.

Their words possess wisdom and are right and trustworthy.

The ways of God are in their hearts

and they won’t swerve from the paths of steadfast righteousness.

Evil ones spy on the godly ones, stalking them

to find something they could use to accuse them.

They’re out for the kill!

But God will foil all their plots.

The godly will not stand condemned when brought to trial.

So don’t be impatient for the Lord to act;

keep moving forward steadily in his ways,

and he will exalt you at the right time.

And when he does, you will possess every promise,

including your full inheritance.

You’ll watch with your own eyes

and see the wicked lose everything.

I’ve already seen this happen.

Once I saw a wicked and violent man

overpower all who were around him,

a domineering tyrant with his pride and oppressive ways.

Then he died and was forgotten.

Now no one cares that he is gone forever.

But you can tell who are the blameless and spiritually mature.

What a different story with them!

The godly ones will have a peaceful, prosperous future

with a happy ending.

Every evil sinner will be destroyed, obliterated.

They’ll be utter failures with no future!

But the Lord will be the Savior of all who love him.

Even in their time of trouble God will live in them as strength.

Because of their faith in him, their daily portion will be

a Father’s help and deliverance from evil.

This is true for all who turn to hide themselves in him!

The Book of Psalms, Poem 37 (The Passion Translation)

[Psalm 2]

The Coronation of the King

Act I – The Nations Speak

How dare the nations plan a rebellion.

Their foolish plots are futile!

Look at how the power brokers of the world

rise up to hold their summit

as the rulers scheme and confer together

against Yahweh and his Anointed King, saying:

“Let’s come together and break away from the Creator.

Once and for all let’s cast off these controlling chains

of God and his Christ!”

Act II – God Speaks

God-Enthroned merely laughs at them;

the Sovereign One mocks their madness!

Then with the fierceness of his fiery anger

he settles the issue and terrifies them to death with these words:

“I myself have poured out my King on Zion, my holy mountain.

Act III – The Son Speaks

“I will reveal the eternal purpose of God.

For he has decreed over me, ‘You are my favored Son.

And as your Father I have crowned you as my King Eternal.

Today I became your Father.

Ask me to give you the nations and I will do it,

and they shall become your legacy.

Your domain will stretch to the ends of the earth.

And you will shepherd them with unlimited authority,

crushing their rebellion as an iron rod smashes jars of clay!’ ”

Act IV – The Holy Spirit Speaks

Listen to me, all you rebel-kings

and all you upstart judges of the earth.

Learn your lesson while there’s still time.

Serve and worship the awe-inspiring God.

Recognize his greatness and bow before him,

trembling with reverence in his presence.

Fall facedown before him and kiss the Son

before his anger is roused against you.

Remember that his wrath can be quickly kindled!

But many blessings are waiting for all

who turn aside to hide themselves in him!

The Book of Psalms, Poem 2 (The Passion Translation)

to be continued with wisdom from chapter 29 of the book of Proverbs for October 29:

A godly leader who values justice

is a great strength and example to the people.

But the one who sells his influence for money

tears down what is right.

Flattery can often be used as a trap to hide ulterior motives

and take advantage of you.

The wicked always have a trap laid for others,

but the lovers of God escape as they sing and shout

in joyous triumph!

[You Can’t Argue with a Fool]

Arrogant cynics love to pick fights,

but the humble and wise love to pursue peace.

There’s no use arguing with a fool,

for his ranting and raving prevent you from making a case

and settling the argument in a calm way.

Violent men hate those with integrity,

but the lovers of God esteem those who are holy.

You can recognize fools by the way

they give full vent to their rage

and let their words fly!

But the wise bite their tongue and hold back all they could say.

When leaders listen to false accusations,

their associates become scoundrels.

When there is no clear prophetic vision,

people quickly wander astray.

But when you follow the revelation of the word,

heaven’s bliss fills your soul.

There’s only one kind of person who is worse than a fool:

the impetuous one who speaks without thinking first.

The source of strife is found in an angry heart,

for sin surrounds the life of a furious man.

Lift yourself up with pride and you will soon be brought low,

but a meek and humble spirit will add to your honor.

You are your own worst enemy when you partner with a thief,

for a curse of guilt will come upon you

when you fail to report a crime.

Fear and intimidation is a trap that holds you back.

But when you place your confidence in the Lord,

you will be seated in the high place.

Everyone curries favor with leaders.

But God is the judge, and

The Book of Proverbs, Chapter 29:4–6, 8-12, 18, 20, 22-26 (The Passion Translation)

and to close out with a sign of rebirth (of resurrection) and restoration from chapter 37 of Ezekiel:

The Eternal had a hold on me, and I couldn’t escape it. The divine wind of the Eternal One picked me up and set me down in the middle of the valley, but this time it was full of bones. God led me through the bones. There were piles of bones everywhere in the valley—dry bones left unburied.

Eternal One (to Ezekiel): Son of man, do you think these bones can live?

Ezekiel: Eternal Lord, certainly You know the answer better than I do.

Eternal One: Actually, I do. Prophesy to these bones. Tell them to listen to what the Eternal Lord says to them: “Dry bones, I will breathe breath into you, and you will come alive. I will attach muscles and tendons to you, cause flesh to grow over them, and cover you with skin. I will breathe breath into you, and you will come alive. After this happens, you will know that I am the Eternal.”

So I did what God told me to do: I prophesied to the bones. As I was speaking, I heard a loud noise—a rattling sound—and all the bones began to come together and form complete skeletons. I watched and saw muscles and tendons attach to the bones, flesh grow over them, and skin wrap itself around the reforming bodies. But there was still no breath in them.

Eternal One: Prophesy to the breath. Speak, son of man, and tell them what the Eternal Lord has to say: “O sweet breath, come from the four winds and breathe into these who have been killed. Make these corpses come alive.”

So I did what God told me to do: I prophesied to the breath. As I was speaking, breath invaded the lifeless. The bodies came alive and stood on their feet. I realized then I was looking at a great army.

Eternal One: Son of man, these bones are the entire community of Israel. They keep saying, “Our bones are dry now, picked clean by scavengers. All hope is gone. Our nation is lost.”

He told me to prophesy and tell them what He said.

Eternal One: Pay attention, My people! I am going to open your graves and bring you back to life! I will carry you straight back to the land of Israel. Then you will know that I am the Eternal One. I will breathe My Spirit into you, and you will be alive once again. I will place you back in your own land. After that you will know I, the Eternal, have done what I said I would do.

So said the Eternal One.

The Book of Ezekiel, Chapter 37:1-14 (The Voice)

my personal reading of the Scriptures for October 29, the 37th day of Autumn and day 302 of the year:

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avengerdragoness · 7 years

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Sentence Starter Masterlist

Batfamily:

Jason Todd:

“You deserve a world without this”

"Guns? Ha! Last I remember, you had string bean arms!"

“It’s not that funny.”

“I know you liked it when they were hitting on you.” "If you would do it I would like it better" "Wait, what" "What"

"If you're not there when this baby comes, I'm going to take that gun, and shove it so far up your--"

"open it" "can you say please?"

"real smooth, tripping over air"

"Alright guys time to play truth or dare"

"well, that was... interesting"

"where have you been"

“You’re so cute when you’re half asleep like this…”

“If you shove cake in my face this will be the worst wedding night of your life.”

“After everything you did, you’re asking ME to apologize for snapping at you ONCE?”

"I know I said I’d get up with the kid in the morning but I’m hoping you can’t tell I’m fake sleeping and hoping you will do it instead"

"It helps that my competition is attractive."

“I’d die for you. Of course, I’d haunt you in the afterlife but really, it’s the thought that counts.”

"I bet I could beat you in wrestling match"

“It must be hard with your sense of direction, never being able to find your way to a decent pickup line.”

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were trying to seduce me.”

"Yeah, because fighting crime wearing the colors of a traffic light is soooooo stealthy."

“I met your parents and your mom was flirting with me. "

"I am not jealous, I'm territorial. Jealous is when you what something you can't have, territorial is protecting what is yours."

"Get over here, Jason 'Crush Me With Your Thighs' Todd!"

"ITS PLATINUM!!!"

"Wait, you're not a virgin? do you even stay awake long enough for sex?"

"you can't just go around killing people"

"So tell me: do all vigilantes lurk or is this just a part of your unique charm?"

"Am I really gonna be a father to an actual human being?"

"Put the water balloon down."

“You’re cute when you’re angry.”

Dick Grayson:

“I did a pregnancy test.”

“You can’t banish me! This is my bed too!”

"What do you mean I can't stay up until 4 am reading? You've stayed up later risking your life in a ridiculous costume!"

"If you sing that song one more time I will fight you"

“I had a nightmare about you and I just wanted to make sure you’re okay.”

"I swear to god if you don't get off the chandelier right now"

"love first of all if you're wearing that kilt to slag me off for me Irish heritage I'm not one fucking bit impressed and second KILTS ARE FUCKING SCOTTISH ugh but you do look the ride in it , i have to say wait there I'm posting a pic of it this gonna be great craic"

"IVE BEEN STANDING IN THIS SHOP FOR TWO FUCKING HOURS TRYING TO DECIDE BETWEEN SMARTIES OR SKITTLES DONT RUSH ME !"

“What do you want me to do with this?”

"You know you have to worst name ever"

"Where do you run off to every day?"

Tim Drake:

“Is there a problem?” “Is there a special reason, as to why you’re wearing my shirt?”

"No, nothing's wrong, I was just fangirling, carry on."

"You should know by know that if you leave your cape laying around, I don't care if it's for 'superhero business', I'm going to wrap it around myself like a blanket."

“You drowned my makeup in water so I used my key to scratch all of your video game discs.”

"stop it, stop whatever the hell your doing"

'please stop staring at that stupid computer and talk to me'

"You're not meeting my boyfriend, Tim, because I'd like to date him a while before my brother kills him."

“This is your twentieth cup of coffee are you trying to break a world record or something?“

"I found you passed out, face down in a pile of coffee cups, are you ok?"

"You have to be cheating! No one is that good poker!"

"There's nothing wrong with taking a break"

"You should really get out of the house more, I almost attacked you thinking you were a vampire. And no patrol doesn't count, get some sunlight."

Damian Wayne:

“Damn, when did y/n get hot?”

"We’re camping and you think you lost the kid but they’re napping in the tent and I’m not telling you yet so you watch them better next time"

"Damian, are you sure your dad is going to be ok with us sneaking a monkey into the Manor?"

“Before you decide to murder me, let me explain…”

“His ego is so visible; I can almost watch it grow.”

“When you love someone, you don’t just stop. Ever. Even when people roll their eyes or call you crazy… even then. Especially then!”

“Do you ever follow directions?”

"dami ..I can't find my reading glasses have you seen them ?"

"I was trained by the masters of the League of Assassins and Ra's Al Ghul himself I DO NOT SING"

"we are not going to steal someone's dog"

"i'm allowed to be obssesed with you, im your husband"

"Why is there a deer in the mansion."

"I'm better at handling swords than you"

“So that’s why you’re always gone... you’re fighting crime in tights...”

"Wait... are you actually trying to stab me with a spoon?"

"Do I have to?"

"Don't worry beloved my family will love you, if anything I'm worried about them scaring you off"

Batfam:

"Not to point out the elephant in the room, but is that a literal elephant in the room?"

<-------------------------------------------->

CW DC:

Barry Allen:

"Cisco I don't need you to hit on them for me."

"I don't care how much a speedster needs to eat, you touch my food, and we're going to have a problem."

"everyone can tell you lover her, it's obvious"

“im NOT jealous, but he was flirting with you"

"I'm so sorry to disturb you but....I ran out of toilet paper"

Wally West:

"you like her, don't you!"

"I recognize that you have reached a decision, but given that it is a stupid ass decision I have elected to ignore it"

Oliver Queen:

"are you jerking off or did you just find another book?"

Mon-El:

"Are you really jealous of a dog?"

"Mon-El, stop trying to make me blush, you jerk!"

Winn Schott:

"Winslow Schott, you do *not* get to saw I'm 'crabby' right now. If I seem to be in a bad mood, it's because *someone* decided to drag all the way to the DEO, first thing in the morning before I had a chance to have breakfast, without actually giving me a reason!"

<-------------------------------------------->

DC (Other):

Billy Batson:

"I'll give you your precious hoodie back, if you say the magic word!"

"How hasn't Bruce Wayne adopted you yet?"

"So...what happened EXACTLY?"

"y'know when you sneak around like that to transform you look super shady right?"

"You snuck into my room in the middle of the night to tell me something that could've waited till morning, woke me up by tripping over a small pile of books, and almost broke the most expensive thing I own. Remind me again why I shouldn't immediately call the cops on my best friend?"

<-------------------------------------------->

Young Justice:

Wally West:

"I'd like to remind everyone to refrain from eating my food"

"I think you're just jealous cause you don't have magic powers! Or maybe you don't believe cause your so dependent on your precious science to explain everything!"

"I don't speak science, think you can translate for us non-nerds?"

Bart Allen:

"You can't keep blaming yourself for what happened to him"

"I'm from the past...I knew your cousin"

"We're about to die!"/"Comes with the job!"/”You're not helping!"

"You can't be serious"

"Hey, could you help me go over these case files-...you do not have a shirt on..."

"Who do i look like, Batman?"

"How are you always late?"

"Give me back my book!! You better not spoil it!!!"

"YOU CAN SING?!?!?!?!"

"You look good in yellow"

"I promise to tell you where your snacks went, if you promise not to get mad."

“are you sure about this”

"please don’t make me say it"

<-------------------------------------------->

Marvel:

The Avengers:

"oops they saw it, well surprise I guess!"

Peter Parker:

"Don't be such a nerd Parker, we need to keep this professional and intimidating."

"You're that Bug Boy Jamison keeps talking about"

"You're an arachnophobe?"

“You're gonna get me killed!"

"I dare you to kiss him."

"Explain your powers to me again"

"Could you just get me down from here?!"

"These aren't even quips! They're just bad puns!"

"I cannot believe you of all people got us detention! I always thought it would be me."

"There's no such thing as bad publicity!"

"So, what's up with BugBoy over there?"

Steve Rogers:

"When were you planning to let me know what happened?!"

<-------------------------------------------->

Voltron:

Shiro:

“I’m like 20% sure this plan will work. The other 80% means we could die horribly and violently, but honestly it’s a really solid plan.”

“You’re so determined to protect yourself and your feelings, but what about me?”

“How is my wife more badass than me?”

"i lost our baby"

“Are you hitting on me?”

"...Why did you throw confetti in my face?"

Lance:

“I’m starting an idiot jar. Any time you do or say anything idiotic, you have to put at least a dollar in it—more depending on how stupid the thing that you said or did was.”

"Please tell me you aren't washing a metal, mechanical, slightly magical lion with soap and water?"

“How did you even get that there?“

Keith:

"How in the world did I get you to like me back?"

“I thought it was a good idea at the time, but it now occurs to me that I was horribly wrong.”

“Oh my god! You’re in love with them!” "No, Dumb-ass I'm in love with you"

"I can't believe you talked me into this."

"Keith, I love you, you know I do, but *please* tell me you didn't actually jump out of an airlock to get your lion."

“Why are you staring at me like that?”

<-------------------------------------------->

Criminal Minds:

Spencer Reid:

"i need you to breath in and out with me, this anxiety attack will pass, i......"

"I don't care what you think you know, Spence, I'm *not* ticklish!"

"God, I hate profilers! You can never keep a secret from one."

#sentence starter masterlist #masterlist #sentence starters

177 notes · View notes

monster-apartments-au · 7 years

Text

Fade (TomTord Backstory for MA AU)

Eddsworld fic, 17610 words, tom/tord + paul/patryk

Chapter 3/3: Aftermath

Ao3 Mirror

Whoever said that love conquers all has clearly never been with a demon before.

(Prequel story for the TomTord relationship in the Monster Apartments AU)

Warning for possibly triggering content, including character death, brief depictions of torture, and body horror (monster transformation)

Humans are fragile. It’s been ingrained in Tord since he was just a small Impling, being reared like a child by his superiors. Don’t bother relying on humans, ‘cause they die on you whenever you seem to need ‘em. It was a joke; the older Demons would laugh and so would he. He didn’t know any better.

But he wasn’t laughing when Tom was lying in the aftermath of the explosion on that big heist months ago. Wasn’t laughing when he held onto his limp, injured body, and certainly wasn’t laughing when he watched the blood pool into his terrified eyes.

He didn’t ever fully realize just how fragile humans were until those moments, when he thought for sure his most precious person was done for: when he realized that he could lose Tom to just a bomb, or a bullet.

Tord wasn’t able to sleep for days. Every time he closed his eyes he could see the blood, hear Tom crying out over the radio- He was pathetic and he knew it. Matt and Patryk threw him pitying gazes while he sat outside Tom’s hospital room, staring in and keeping watch whenever the small, broken human was sleeping. It seemed like if he ever looked away Tom could be dead and it was driving him to exhaustion.

But a conversation with Matthew gave him the spark of hope he needed. It was a little over an hour after Tom had woken up, rambling about the police and tearing out his IVs. Matt had to rush in to sedate the poor man and hook him back up before any real damage to the human was done, and Tord watched on, helpless in the situation.

“Humans,” Tord said later on. “Are far too fragile.” Matt nodded, patting the demon on the back and sighing lowly.

“You’re not wrong. Just wish there was a way to help them,” Tord grunted, so the vampire kept talking to fill the silence. “Maybe ceasing to risk your lives while robbing banks is a good way to stop being in so much danger…?” He tried, but Tord simply grunted again.

“I just don’t know how to actually help him,” Tord muttered, bringing his legs up to his chest. “I’m so exhausted mentally I just… Wanna figure out something for the long term. Even if we stop the heists we’ll still find a way to get into trouble: that��s practically Tom’s middle name.” He sighed tiredly, putting his forehead to his knees in defeat.

Tord felt Matt pat his back once more. “Well, things happen, things change.” Matt muttered, trying to find something to say that would pick Tord’s spirits up.

The demon just raised his hands up in frustration. “Unless there’s some way to change Tom from a human to a-” He stopped himself mid-sentence, mouth agape as he realized the easiest answer to his problem. To Tom’s problem. He stared, big, wide eyes turning directly to the Vampire who sat beside him.

“No,” Matt stated flatly, narrowing his eyes before Tord could even get a word out. “I know what you’re thinking and no. I wouldn’t wish this fate on anyone.” A protest started from the demon but he knew he couldn’t argue this, and he definitely couldn’t turn Tom into a vampire on his own. He supposed he could get Paul or Patryk to turn Tom into a werewolf, but the chances of that working were low, and Weres were still pretty fragile in comparison to vampires and demons.

But Tord couldn’t stop his mind from racing, continuously going back to that train of thought if he let it wander for more than a moment. He knew that changing a human into a monster should be- was possible. He had the resources, the time… He just needed a starting point. It’s a couple days later when Tord’s flipping through a magazine and sees an advertisement for a B-List horror movie. He was about to turn to the next page but his eye lingered on the words. ‘Nuclear’. ‘Mutation’. Tord grinned wildly.

He had found his inspiration.

His hands scrambled through his pockets in search of his phone, and as soon as he had the device he was dialing a number he’d thought he’d forgotten. A gruff voice answered on the other end with a tired, “Hello?” Tord smirked, already doing quick calculations in his head.

It didn’t take long for him to explain his entire plan to Eduardo, an esteemed researcher who specialized in nuclear physics and was, of course, someone who owed Tord a favor. Once he was done elaborating, gasping for breath, the man on the other end laughed. “You’re asking me to do something that’s impossible!!” But despite the incredulousness that was in his voice at the time, Tord could make out the intrigue, and he knew he had his partner for his next biggest project.

For the next few months Tord and Eduardo worked together on the plans, locking themselves away in his lab or Ed’s apartment for days on end while working on all sorts of calculations and serums. Even after Thomas had been discharged, Tord brought his work home and poured over notes, spending many sleepless nights working on every possible variable.

It took weeks for their research to take off, but the two were diligent and eventually ended up with a concoction that should, in theory, work. They encapsulated the ‘medicine’ in small pills that were meant to be ingested along with each meal. Tord held the bottle in his hands and considered the dosage they had planned.

“What’re you so worried for?” Eduardo pestered while filling each pill. “Tom will be fine; we’ve worked the science out loads of times.”

But Tord shook his head. “Worked it out or not, we’ve been unable to test it. We can't use it on any humans,” Tord muttered, rubbing his forehead in thought. “Or animals, for that matter.”

“Don’t want a super-dog?” Eduardo chuckled and the demon just glared, dumbfounded.

In exasperation he asked, “What kind of dryad are you??” But Ed laughed more and Tord sighed. “Anyways, we have to be completely sure that this will work. There’s no room for error. The minute radiation exposure over time, as well as the other components, should be enough to mutate him... As long as I’m careful.”

Tord began to stress but of course his assistant piped up, slapping him on the back encouragingly. “Jeez, don’t worry so much, you’re gonna make the smoke alarm go off.” Eduardo laughed at the fierce look he received.

…

When Tord handed Tom the bottle of pills, the human was confused. “What’s this?” He inspected the jar in his hands, reading the label for the information. Tord shifted anxiously.

The demon scratched at the back of his head. “Some meds you gotta start taking; remember how you were complaining about your eyes hurting a few weeks ago? These should help.”

Tom’s jaw dropped. “You made a medicine for me? All by yourself??” He was wide-eyed and amazed, and Tord, trying to not let the admiration get to his head, gave Tom a small shrug.

“An acquaintance of mine helped me develop it, and it should be just the thing to help your eyes,” Tord pointed out. “It’ll be best for you to start taking it as soon as possible, but big differences might not be noticeable for a few weeks or maybe even months.”

“Something is better than nothing at this point,” Tom sighed in relief, looking up at Tord with an earnest smile. “Thanks, Tord, this means a lot!”

It took some effort but Tord smiled back, staring pointedly at Tom’s nose instead of his happy eyes. “Don’t worry about it.” He murmured and ruffled the shorter man’s hair, walking away with his shoulders a little slumped. He knew it was ultimately for Tom’s own good, but fuck, Tord thought. I’ve got to be the worst boyfriend.

...

It didn’t take long for Tord to notice Tom was changing. It started with minor behavioral changes, then a slight change in sleep schedule and food habits: nothing to Tom’s physical appearance but that was the point. It was supposed to be a secret.

Tord let himself get caught up in research again, in order to stop thinking about what he was doing to the human. He hardly slept, never giving his mind that time to fill him with worry and doubt. Paul had suggested before that something paranormal was running a rival gang, and they sabotaged them, but Tord never really put any faith in the thought. Nevertheless, it was something to put his mind to. He didn’t actually expect he’d find something, and even worse, he never expected it would be someone so bad.

It was fucking Balis.

Tord shivered as a wave of dread and nausea hit him at the sight. Memories of the brutish demon filled his head and in a fit of fear and rage, he flung all of his books to the ground and shouted. He couldn’t deal with that piece of shit again and he couldn’t put anyone he cared about through that literal fucking Hell.

“Tord?” Almost on cue Tom piped up, waking from a dream. Tord felt a pang of guilt at waking his boyfriend but pushed it aside. “‘S wrong, babe?”

The Demon attempted to calm himself down. “Fine,” He assured the human. “‘M fine. Sorry for waking you.” Tom did his best to assure him and comfort him, but Tord wasn’t able to get the images of his past with Balis out of his head for the rest of the night.

…

After that, Tord got careless. He tried to get to Balis before he could get to them, but it was the other way around, and he was snatched up from the family he created for himself. Balis kept him in a big penthouse style meeting room with a bunch of other demons, but all of them were serving him and making his life on Earth comfortable.

While the rest of the demons ran free, so to speak, Tord was bound down by a copper ring nailed to the floor. There was no way he could get out of it without probably killing himself, so he stayed put and dealt with whatever Balis would throw at him.

And Tord meant that quite literally. Despite being trapped to the spot he would constantly chastise the demon that kept him prisoner at every chance he could, even going so far as to spit on his boots whenever he walked by. Every transgression was met with a punishment. Balis’s favorite was throwing salt down on Tord, to cause a searing hot pain on his flesh wherever the salt landed. Occasionally he would also be subjected to religious symbols, holy water, the works.

Despite all the torture, though, Tord remained resolute in his quips and jokes, and he could tell Balis was at his wit’s end. “Why don’t you just shut up?” He’d demanded while Tord was currently writhing in pain but still managing to get jokes in about being salted like a french fry.

“Infuriating, isn’t it?” He panted out in between body spasms. He’d learned how to be an annoying asshole from the best, after all.

Tord wasn’t sure how long he was held there, but he’d have to guess a few days. He managed to see the sun set a few different times, but he slept most of his hours away, trying to conserve what energy he could, so it was hard to tell regardless. The Norwegian tried several times to slyly get out of Balis what he actually wanted with him, but every time he caught on and every time it ended up in the demon walking away or kicking him in the face.

So all he was able to do was bide his time, and try and find an escape route whenever he was left alone, which wasn’t often. He secretly hoped that Tom and the Werewolves were looking for a way to save him, but it wouldn’t be easy and he didn’t want to count on it. Not that he doubted them. He’d never doubt his boys.

When he catches word of them infiltrating the facility, it’s like Christmas morning.

He first hears about it from a little Imp that comes bouncing in the room, screaming its little head off. It used some kind of demonic language and if Tord’s honest he tried to block as much of that out as he could when he ditched, so he could only make out a few words: “Guns” and “Big Death”. It had to be his boys.

Tord did his best not to look giddy and eager from his little spot on the floor, especially when more demons came pouring into the room all followed by Balis, who, despite a straight face, it was easy to tell he was pissed. The demons gathered around the main table in the room, all conversing with one another in hushed tones while they waited for Balis to give out some orders.

“Where are they?” Balis spoke evenly and slowly, sounding out every syllable so everyone could hear. It was clear to see he was pissed, and it took everything in Tord not to smile, because he’s pretty sure Balis would’ve actually killed him. Nobody in the room attempted to answer Balis’s question, and there was a beat of silence before the leader slammed his hand down. An uproar of voices started from all around the table, everyone trying to talk over each other in an effort to figure out where the infiltrators had gone.

In the middle of the conversation one of the demons cried, “The elevator!!” Everyone turned to Balis who angrily barked out some orders, trying to regain his composure. It didn’t take long for everyone to be able to hear the elevator coming up, everyone going into high alert, talking only in hushed tones while they shuffled crates and set up in positions.

Tord ended up hidden from view by most of the crates, but thankfully he was able to see most of the room through a small crack. It felt like an eternity, waiting for the elevator to come to the top floor, but when it did it gave off a small *ding* and everyone silenced, watching the door with wide eyes.

The elevator opened slowly, and it took a lot for Tord to not shout with relief when he saw his boys. “Hey!” Tom shouted. “Release Tord and nobody has to get hurt.”

“Tord?” Balis said, mocking surprise. Tord rolled his eyes as he continued. “And what would a simple human want to do with a runaway whelpling like that? Does he owe you something, or..” He trailed off, as if realizing something. “Oh, I see, you're his pups and his snack, right? You lot can call me Balis, I-”

The gunfire kicked off immediately after Balis said his name and Tord gave a small nod in appreciation. He used the commotion of gunfire, screams, and shouting to cover him looking for a means of escape, seeing if he could pry up the copper ring from the floor with his claws. He worked the entire time on it but he was getting nowhere fast, and the sounds of the fight were starting to die down.

Tord heard someone moving closer to him, so he curled up and feigned sleep, trying to get them to leave him alone so he could get back to work on escaping. The shuffling sound made its way towards the Demon, causing him to tense in case a lesser Whelp decided now is a good time to douse him with salt again. A hand was gently pressed to his face. His eyes snapped open while he hissed, baring his teeth and fangs. As soon as he recognized Tom though, he allowed a wave of relief to wash over him.

“Tom!” He shouted excitedly. “How did you find me??” Tom smiled weakly, shrugging.

“Looked through all your books, found a way to port to you. But, Tord, how can we defeat Balis? He heals from aggression, how can we stop him and save you?”

Tord thought frantically for a moment before gesturing to the copper ring on the floor. “Break the circle, I can’t move until it’s gone. I can stop Balis if I get out.” Or at least, he thought he could. Despite Balis being a bit bigger than him they were evenly matched in a fight as long as he could get up close. He just had to keep a level head.

Tom was sawing away at the copper with his knife and getting through it a good way, but Tord saw the hazy look in his eyes and worried. “Tom, are you alright? You look like you’re wavering, babe.” But right as he said it, Balis was behind the human helping him escape, grabbing him by the hood of his shirt.

“I’ll give you this, Tord: you’ve certainly landed yourself a loyal crew, as well as a stupid one. Why would beings as determined as these try and save a pathetic little whelp like you?” He surely would’ve gone on if Tom hadn’t whirled around and punched the Demon right in his ugly fucking face. Balis roared in pain, snapping Tom’s arm in half and smashing his horns into the human’s head. Tord watched on in horror as Balis threw him to the ground, turning away from Tom as he writhed on the ground.

“Tom!” Tord cried out, trying to soothe his boyfriend in some manner, but as Tom laid there, screeching in pain, Tord noticed he was starting to... change. His eyes moved and settled in the middle of his face, becoming one big black void. The bones underneath his body cracked and shifted and grew, stretching out his skin in a grotesque manner. Spines came up from his back and elbows, and two horns pushed their way out from his forehead. Tom’s body cracking and shifting caused Balis to turn back at him, but right as he did he got a huge purple claw right in his face, pushing him down into the tile.

Balis was lifted up and slammed back down repeatedly by the monstrosity that was now Tom, roaring and screaming the entire time that he beat Balis down. Either the demon was too shocked at the change or he was unable to do anything as Tom threw him into the wall and chased after him, tearing into him with sharp claws.

With renewed vigor Tord snagged the knife that Tom left in the circle and worked away at the copper, finally getting it fractured. Once broken, Tord stood, no longer bound by the copper, and he snuck around to look for his wolves. Sounded like Tom had Balis covered.

They were right around the crates, tired and whimpering, but alive and starting to regain consciousness. He moved to help them both, slowly regaining his own energy by holding them and pulling them to their feet.

“Where’s Tom?” Paul spat out, but when Patryk gestured to the big purple monster that continued to pound Balis into the wall, Paul nodded in understanding.

The three rushed over towards the monster that was mauling the demon on the ground, not quite sure of what to do.

But Paul pointed at the monster. “He’s slowing down!” And he was. Tom’s claws were coming slower and slower as he tired himself out.

“We need to act fast,” Tord hissed, edging himself closer to Tom so he could get at Balis as soon as the beast that was his boyfriend passed out from exhaustion. It didn’t take too long before Tom slumped to the side with a loud *thud*, and Tord took to action quickly.

He dragged the beaten Balis over to where all the torture equipment was and got to work, pulling out chalk to draw a big circle around the demon, then dousing him with salt and holy water. Balis started to come to as the holy water burned him, but Tord was too far along in the ritual for him to do anything other than scream as he was being banished back into Hell. A few words that Tord had forgotten the meaning of later, and Balis was fading out of existence in flashes of light.

There was a beat, before everyone let out a big sigh of relief, glad that the worst of it was finally over.

…

Tom didn’t remember a thing, and Tord was grateful. He needed more time to figure out how to explain the monster thing to him, but until then he’d bide his time, just grateful to be happy again with Tom.

Time passed. Tom’s transformation went along smoothly, and aside from a few close calls of his secret being exposed, nothing went wrong. Sure, there were ups and downs, but that was how Tom and Tord had always been. They’d get through it and everything was good.

Until Matt confronted him again.

“Have you told him yet??” He hissed next door from his apartment one night when Tord was about to leave for a late night walk. He’d been taking more of those, lately. At Matt’s question the demon slowly shook his head, avoiding the vampire’s disapproving gaze. “Tord.”

“I know,”

“This is getting out of hand,” Tord tried to make some sort of protest but Matt pressed on, upset. “You can fucking smell it on him; he’s changing.”

The Norwegian scoffed, opening his mouth to protest. He really didn’t want to hear this now that they were done with all the tests, all the time, all the effort. What happened happened, and they couldn’t change it. Matt grew angrier though, shutting his own door and taking a step towards the demon. “You’re doing this to him, Tord.”

He’s just trying to cut deep, Tord. The demon reminded himself in his head before he could say something he’d regret. “Look, Matt. I know what you’re trying to do, but I don’t give a shit,” He said briskly. “I’m doing what’s best for him; I’m giving him a way to protect himsel-”

But Matt stepped forward again. “Tord, I’m telling you right now that you have no fucking clue what you’re doing. You may be older than me, by a few centuries, but I’m telling you right now, Tord, that you don’t know shit about humans…You haven’t ever been human.”

That set Tord off. Out of frustration he slammed his palm against the wall and leaned close to Matt, whispering out his rage as if he were letting out steam. “Well as a fucking demon, I know the worst of what’s out there. I lived in Hell for two of your fucking lifetimes and I have seen every possible horror you can imagine. I could’ve killed him so many times,” He took a breath but continued scathingly. “And so could you. Any fucking person in this complex could’ve. But I’m helping him, I got him involved in our world and now I'm saving his fucking life. So tell me I’m wrong one more fucking time, Harvest.”

“You don’t know any of this, Tord!” Matt whisper-shouted and raised his hands up in exasperation. “You don’t know if he would’ve died from that stuff! These are all could-be’s and would-happen’s. I can get hurt if I’m exposed to a fucking cross for too long, do you know how many people wear crosses in the hospital?? A lot, but I’m still fucking here, Tord,” Matt was choking back tears and Tord felt a pang of guilt. “All he needed was you to protect him.”

Tord narrowed his eyes. “What about me getting kidnapped, huh? How the fuck do I protect him when I’m the one who needs saving?? I’m constantly a fucking target, and now he is too. So what do I do then?” Matt shrugged angrily at the question. “What do I do then, Matt?!?” A shrug again. “What do I-”

“Look!” Matt cut him off, mad and tired of the bombardment. “I don’t have all the answers! But you can’t keep going on like this. Tom needs to know the truth; for fuck’s sake, Tord, he doesn’t even know what’s wrong with him!!”

Tord groaned in frustration. “Nothing is wrong with him!! He turned out just like how we thought he would, he can protect himself and I’ve-”

Matt narrowed his eyes. “You’ve turned him into a fucking monster.”

Before the demon could retaliate, the sound of the dog yelping from inside the apartment started up. Immediately Tord opened the door poked his head in. “Tom? Is Ham alright?”

Tom nodded and rubbed his head, muttering something about the dog needing to be let out. Tord couldn’t stop himself from being concerned so he asked: “You got another headache, babe?” The human nodded some more.

“Just need some air.” He mumbled, stepping out with the dog and moving down the stair well. Matt settled his hand on Tord’s shoulder, who begrudgingly nodded.

“I’m not trying to make you feel bad, Tord,” Matt promised, sounding just as sad as the demon felt right then. “I just want you to understand: this only gets worse the longer you wait.” The demon understood, he just didn’t want to admit it.

But he sighed, letting a single hot tear fall. “I know.”

...

A little more time passes. Tord promises to tell. He keeps putting it off but he promises himself, over and over, that he’ll make sure Tom knows before anything can happen.

It's his phone's ringtone that wakes Tord up. He grunts out of discomfort, the dog lying on his legs, keeping him pinned. Not minding the insistent buzzing, Tord let's his eyes drift closed again, not wanting to be up yet. Just as Tord feels unconsciousness creeping up on him once more, his phone starts going off again. With a sigh of frustration, Tord sits up, carefully picking up Hamilton to set him on the floor, setting him down on his way to the phone.

Tord picks it up on the third ring. “Hello, this is Tord Luvhart. May I help you.” If it's Paul and Pat calling to see if he wants to hang with them, Tord's going to be pissed.

However, that thought is dashed away when he hears the frantic voice on the other end. “Tord? What the fuck, Tord, are you there? Listen to me; turn on the fucking news!”

“What?” Tord is still in a bit of a daze, having not expected Eduardo’s angry voice on the other end. “Eduardo? Friend, what is the commotion about? What’s wrong?”

Instead of answering, Eduardo hangs up. Shrugging, Tord lies back down, figuring it’s nothing. However, just as his eyes slide closed, his apartment door is broken off it’s hinges and thrown to the floor. Tord startles, shifting in a heartbeat with wings unfurled, ready to take flight if need be. Eduardo stands livid in the doorway, looking for the life of him ready to bite Tord’s head off. Tord, again, startles somewhat, hesitating as he tries to keep his shift in check, not knowing whether to attack, run, or unshift. Eduardo doesn’t have time for this, as is made apparent as the dryad storms into the apartment and turns on the tv, not even looking at the screen as he turns and gives Tord his angriest glare possible.

Tord blinks a few times, eyes focused on the television. His blood runs cold.

“And here we are on Durdan Lane as what appears to be a monster straight out of a horror movie reeks havoc on the local community. The authorities have reported that the monster is simply a robot for an upcoming movie, but the locals aren’t convinced,” A reporter on tv, amazingly enough, keeps her composure as a monster in the background is shot at repeatedly, the police struggling to keep the beast at bay. “Due to the potential danger of the situation, we will soon be evacuating the area while the police deactivate the machine. We insist that all passerby and families stay in their homes until the problem is resolved.”

Eduardo shuts off the television set, glowering at Tord with eyes so fierce they could kill a god. “Your boyfriend’s outta control,” He growls, pointing to the window. “We gotta get down there!”

Without waiting for anymore instructions, Tord nods and allows Eduardo to climb onto his back before busting out the window, his wings carrying him to the street below.

…

Tord lands with ease on the sidewalk, his lithe demon body curling slightly as he settles on the ground. Eduardo climbs off at once, struggling to hide his initial nausea from the fall. The demon bites back a snicker, mentally noting that he probably shouldn't take Eduardo flying again anytime soon. The enjoyment dissipates quickly, however, when a roar erupts from nearby. Tord turns, getting a good look at the scene in front of him. Tom’s fully shifted, the large, dragon-like beast gnawing on a nearby car, sinking it’s teeth and claws into the metal. Good; it looks like Tom’s pretty calm at the moment. Save for a few smashed cars and a caved-in road, there doesn’t seem to be any civilian casual-

A crippling sense of dread fills Tord’s insides once he catches sight of a corpse poking out from under a car, the body curled in on itself in self defense. Eduardo, apparently recovered from his nausea, seems to notice it too, looking disturbed. “Aw, fuck, looks like he got somebody,” He mutters, before he pauses, looking more scared than Tord’s ever seen him. “Hold up… is that… Oh God!” He bolts for the body, ignoring Tom entirely.

Tom looks up, blinking as he stares down at Eduardo, curious of the newcomer. Thankfully, the corpse isn’t too close to Tom, so Eduardo doesn’t set Tom into a frenzy when he runs for the body. Gently, Eduardo crouches by the corpse, before ever so carefully rolling it over. Tord pales. It’s Jon. Eduardo hugs the lifeless body to his chest, crying into Jon’s chest with muffled sobs. The scene tugs on Tord’s heartstrings, but not enough to make him try and comfort Eduardo- not when Tom’s still very much a threat. Slowly, Tord stalks towards Tom, gaining the beast’s full attention as he saunters over, wings taut against his back in anticipation, ready to take flight.

There’s a moment of silence, as the two monsters lock eyes. The police and civilians have long since fled, too afraid and outmatched to do much more than hide and pray the monsters go away on their own. Tom lets go of the car, never looking away from Tord as he uses his tail to knock the car away, the car crashing haphazardly into the side of a building. The noise triggers Tord to attack, unable to hold back any longer. While Tom easily outranks Tord in size, weight, and mass, Tord is far more nimble and quick, making it difficult for the one-eyed monster to keep track of him. Tord uses this to his advantage, catching Tom off-guard as he takes off into the air.

Tom tries desperately to get at Tord, roaring and pawing fruitlessly in his direction, yet Tord manages to keep a good distance from the beast’s claws. Suddenly, however, Tom goes onto all fours, clacking his teeth as he tries to do… something. For a split second, Tord thinks he sees smoke coming from Tom’s mouth, but he chalks it up to the smoke coming from himself instead. While Tom’s busy, Tord swoops down and grabs an abandoned motorcycle, flying it up in the air before tossing it at Tom’s head. Tom tries to dodge, but the motorcycle clips one of his horns, causing the monster to grunt at the impact.

The demon tries this a few times, but Tom’s caught onto his little trick, and every time Tord tries to swoop, Tom goes for a swipe. Soon, it’s apparent that Tord can’t get low anymore, as Tom’s gotten enough speed and momentum to almost keep up with him. Tord clacks his jaws together, unsure of what to do. Although he inadvertently created Tom and should know all his powers, he’s still somewhat of an unknown entity. For all Tord knows, Tom could sprout wings and take off after him. It’s terrifying, but Tord has no choice; he has to take him out now or he’s screwed. He can’t afford for this to drag out too long, lest the military get involved.

Making his decision, Tord flies as fast as he can back into his apartment, ignoring the broken glass that cuts into his flesh when he forces himself through the window. He shifts back into his human form, scrambling to the fridge in an attempt to find his emergency tranquilizer gun and it’s ammo. He has no idea how well it’ll work on Tom, but it’s not like he has any better ideas going for him. Meanwhile, he can hear Tom trying desperately to knock the apartment complex over, but unfortunately for him, the building has been enchanted with enough magic to survive a nuke, much less a monster throwing a temper tantrum.

It doesn’t take Tord long to find the darts and his tranq gun, although he feels immense guilt as he loads it. “I’m so sorry, Thomas…” He says under his breath, before positioning himself towards the open window.

Tom’s right outside, trying and failing to stick his clawed hand inside the window. With no other option, Tord fires three clean shots into Tom’s paw. The beast howls, losing it’s grip on the building before collapsing onto the ground outside. Tord rushes to the window ledge, poking his head out to see the aftermath. Tom’s still shifted, but he’s beginning to mellow out, the beast visibly starting to shrink in size. Tord sighs with relief, forming wings on his back before fluttering down to the ground. By the time he lands, Tom’s back in human form, although his clothes are almost all completely shredded, leaving him in nothing but a tattered t-shirt and boxers.

Ever so gently, Tord positions himself to kneel on the ground, Tom’s head in his lap. It takes a few seconds, but Tom soon becomes at least partially conscious. “Wha…” He struggles to speak, voice groggy and tired. “What happened?”

Good. He doesn’t remember a thing. “Easy there, Tom,” Tord keeps his voice low, barely above a whisper. “Just sleep… you’ve had a long day.”

With no energy left in him to argue, Tom falls asleep in Tord’s arms. Tord scoops him up at once, wincing when he sees the damage all around him. The landlord’s gonna be pissed, but fuck it, it’s not like Tom’s the first monster to lose his cool around here. Given a few days and a bit of magical influence, this will all blow over like nothing ever happened. If only the same could be said for Tord and everyone else. Just on time, Eduardo joins Tord in front of the apartment building, holding his own friend in his arms. They share a look, before walking back into the complex together.

…

By the time they make it back upstairs, word has spread of the so-called earthquake outside and of what really happened, resulting in Tord coming home to Paul and Patryk in his living room, looking rather distressed. “Oh, thank God you’re alright,” Paul’s the first to speak, looking like he wants to run and hug Tord, but he holds back. “What happened out there? We heard the earthquakes, and some rumors, but…”

“What? You thought it was nothin’, dumbass? Tord’s boytoy fucking destroyed this whole street!” Eduardo snaps, setting Jon’s body in a chair so he can yell at Paul in peace. “If it weren’t for Tord’s crazy experimenting-”

“-Don’t go putting this all on me,” Tord orders, lying Tom on the couch, though his glare is focused on Eduardo. “You helped me with the serum! You helped me with the radiation research! You’re as much to blame here as me!”

“Oh, don’t give me that crap. I was just in it for the research! It wasn't my plan to turn your boyfriend into a goddamned abomination.” He stops, clenching his fists in pent up rage. “Because of you and that freak, Jon’s dead! You hear me? D-E-A-D: Dead!”

Tord can just feel the smoke pouring out of his ears at the word ‘abomination’. “Do not call him that, you piece of shit,” He hisses lowly, struggling to hold back all of his anger. Right now he just wants to lay down with Tom and rest for a few years, he’s had enough stress to last him a century.

“I’ll call him whatever I want! He killed Jon!” Eduardo shouts, stepping closer to Tord. He puffs his wide chest out and shoves it against Tord’s lithe figure and the demon falters, not willing to deal with any of this right now.

“Eduardo-” But the dryad’s past listening at this point, and he angrily swings at Tord. Before any contact is made though, both Patryk and Paul have him pinned down, snarling in his shocked face.

“Stop!” Tord puts every ounce of his ‘I’m the Boss’ voice into the command, causing Paul and Pat to go stark still, the werewolves hesitating. “That’s enough, boys. Off of him,” As much as he wants to tear into Eduardo, he understands what he’s going through. This isn’t easy for anyone. Slowly, the wolves back down, leaving Eduardo to glower as he picks himself up, dusting himself off. “We need some space for awhile… you should take Jon and go.” The demon looks away, ashamed.

Eduardo bites back a curse, before collecting Jon and making for the door. “This isn’t over, Luvhart,” He threatens, voice hushed. “You and I will settle this.” With that, he storms out of the apartment, slamming the door on his way out.

…

Tom stays unconscious for almost twelve hours, not that Tord’s surprised. First time monster transformations are extremely wearing on the user, and although it’s been several millennia since Tord first shifted forms, he still bears the scars. He wonders, while Tom’s recovering, how long this adjustment period will last. Will Tom learn to control it over time? As frustrating as it is, Tord somehow doubts Tom will be able to without some sort of at least minor medical intervention. Maybe Tord should make a hamper to Tom’s abilities? Perhaps, but that could cause another outburst as soon as the hamper is removed, and Tord can’t risk another incident like this. He sighs, head in his hands as he remembers Jon… God, what’s he going to tell Tom?

Tord jolts when the poor Brit finally comes to, though he can tell Tom won’t be able to stay conscious for long.

“Tord?” Tom’s at least alert enough to talk, so Tord figures that’s a good sign. “Oh God, my head… what the Hell happened?” He sits up, then winces. Tord makes a mental note to get Tom a heating pad for his back soon.

“There was a… car accident. You got hit while crossing the street,” Tord lies. He knows full well that stacking lie on top of lie will only end in pain, but until Tom can handle his transformations, Tord can’t risk putting Tom through that level of guilt. “I was so scared when I heard… I thought for sure that I’d lose you.”

Tom chuckles, giving Tord a half hearted punch to the arm. “If I can survive an explosion and fighting a demon, I’m pretty sure I can survive a freaking car accident,” He pauses, trying to pull his thoughts together. “Was I, uh, with someone? Was it you?”

Goddammit, Tord’s been hoping to avoid this, no matter how fruitless it is. “N-No, Tom. It wasn’t me,” He struggles with the words, before swallowing and steeling himself. “It was… Jon. I’m so sorry, Thomas. The paramedics did all they could, but it was too late.”

Tom swallows, his lip quivering as he tries to keep it together. Not bothering to try talking it out, Tord lies down with Tom on the bed, cuddling the Brit close to try and comfort him. As soon as Tord’s arms are around him, Tom sobs, rolling over to cry into Tord’s chest. The incubi pets Tom’s back in response, beating away his own guilt for lying to Tom. It’ll be better this way, he thinks. At least, until Tom’s ready for the truth. But until then, he’ll settle for comforting his boyfriend until the pain goes away.

…

It’s really late when Tord gets home, the demon feeling drained from a long day’s work. As expected, the landlord has been mildly pissed off at him for the last couple of weeks, causing Tord to have to earn back their trust by doing odd jobs around the complex, whether it be fixing leaky pipes or repairing damages, he’s been taking care of everything. He groans at the memory of today’s job, it having been to clean up after a pixie party on the fourth floor. If Tord ever sees another pixie, he’s gonna grind it down into a spice and season it on some family’s Thanksgiving dinner.

Figuring that Tom’s likely fast asleep by now, Tord’s quiet once he gets to his floor, footsteps unheard as he approaches his apartment’s door. He fishes for his keys, struggling to find the right one, when he hears a muffled conversation from the other side of the door. The demon pauses, feeling uncomfortable. Who’s in his apartment? Forgoing his keys, Tord uses his powers to release the lock and open the door, using a low level spell to keep the door from squeaking. Inside, Tom’s on the couch, staring at the tv in the dark, his eyes unable to look away from the screen.

Tord automatically relaxes, making a move to walk inside and turn on the light, but he stops, recognizing the news story on tv with dread. “-we will soon be evacuating the area while the police deactivate the machine. We insist that all passerby and families stay in their homes until the problem is resolved.”

Slowly, as if sensing Tord’s presence, Tom stares up at him, tears rolling down his face. “It… it wasn’t a car accident,” He mumbles his words, looking shocked and afraid. “That monster… that’s me, isn’t it?”

Tord swallows. He knew that Tom would find out someday, but… he didn’t want it to be like this. “Yes,” He says, swallowing the bile in his throat as he begins to lie through his teeth. “That’s you, but… you couldn’t have known, Thomas. You’ve likely had this power your whole life, never having known it. It’s not uncommon for paranormals to develop their powers later on in life, although you are a particularly late bloomer.” He moves in to hug Tom, to try and make it all better, but Tom’s up in an instant, expression petrified.

“G-Get back!” Tom orders, visibly struggling not to shift as a tidal wave of emotions overtake him, throwing the man into a panic attack. “I’m too dangerous!”

“Oh, Thomas…” Tord tries to keep the worry and panic out of his voice, but it’s hard when Jon’s death is still fresh in his mind. “It’s true that you are rather formidable, but I can help you. I’ve been trying to help you. All those medications? They’re to help you get a grip on your powers. I’ve known since the day we met what you were, and now I’m going to help you through this. It’s going to get better, Tom.”

The words seem to get Tom to calm down a bit, his shift ending before he can change into a monster. Without much encouragement, Tom’s in Tord’s arms, trying hard not to cry as he tries to deal with this new revelation. Tord, in the meantime, feels like the real monster. He’s lying over and over again to Tom to save his own ass, but he honestly believes that lying is better than the harsh truth. It’s better this way… Tord keeps repeating that to himself internally as he hugs Tom close, willing away his guilt as much as he can.

…

Tom keeps to himself for the next few days, preferring the dog’s company over Tord’s. Tord accepts this as well as he can- he starts stressing over it like hell. He can’t help it; he’s scared that Tom could shift again at any moment and there’s jack he can do about it. He’s thought of tying some meds to Hamilton’s collar, but the dog has been glued to Tom’s side since the rampage, so Tord can’t exactly get ahold of him. He’s also considered just breaking into Tom’s room and forcing him to take medication, but there’s too high of a risk that Tom will shift. So Tord’s been forced to bide his time, taking a break from working around the complex to help his boyfriend through all this.

It’s only after a few days of occasionally eavesdropping that Tord starts to hear Tom talking to himself. At first, he chalks it up to Tom talking to Hammy out of boredom or desperation, but that’s soon dashed away when it becomes apparent that someone’s talking back to him, although Tord can’t tell who it is. For all he knows, it could be another resident, but there are only a handful of paranormals in the complex that can teleport/materialize through walls/floors, and none of them have taken an interest in Tom or Tord before, so why should they now? Tord just can’t wrap his head around it.

Deciding that there’s no other way to find out, Tord makes Tom dinner and waits outside the man’s door, listening in.

“Oh, wow!” A somewhat familiar voice exclaims, sounding excited. “You’re really good on guitar! I wish you would play more!”

“I can play another song, if that’s what you want. I don’t know much more though; I’m so out of practice.” Tom almost sounds relaxed when he talks to the unknown entity, but Tord can still hear the hesitance in his tone.

“Aw, that’s okay!” The stranger promises, not even noticing Tom’s discomfort. “You’re so good either way, Tommy! You need to give yourself some more credit!”

“Thanks,” Tom still sounds upset, but he quickly dusts it away. “I don’t know why you’re being so nice to me, man… after all I’ve done to you. I ruined your life.”

Ruined his life? Was this the spirit of a bank heist victim? Tord can’t see how, as most casualties had been done without any other options, and Tord figures no dead cops will be happy with Tom or the other crew members anytime soon. His thoughts are interrupted, however, when the unknown entity responds to Tom. “Oh, you never ruined my life, Tommy. If anything, you made it so much better! Now I get to be a monster too, and it’s all thanks to you! I can’t wait to finally tell Eduardo!”

Eduardo!? Oh god, it can’t be… “You don’t have to lie to me, Jon,” Tom says, voice somber and guilty. “I know what I did, and now I’m paying for it. But I’ll make this up to you somehow; I’ll learn to control my powers and I’ll never hurt you or anyone else again.”

Tord sits down outside Tom’s room, head in his hands as he absorbs the information. Jon’s a ghost? How? Well, his death WAS rather traumatic, but plenty of humans have died of car accidents and not stayed chained in the spirit realm. Did Jon have unfinished business? Sure, he hadn’t been able to live a full life, but plenty of souls die young and move on. And how was he haunting the apartment complex without any inside help? It was extremely difficult for spirits- especially newly deads- to haunt an already magically influenced area, so for Jon to do so was quite impressive. That, or Tom has inadvertently bound Jon’s spirit here through his own guilt.

Actually, that does make a lot of sense, now that Tord thinks about it. Tom may’ve killed Jon, but the two share a bond regardless, and it’s not hard for loved ones or friends to bind their dead friends/significant others to themselves, creating a tether around themselves to keep the dead from leaving. Also, it seems that Jon’s a very willing prisoner, causing him to not become a violent spirit or poltergeist. With this in mind, Tord slowly gets out of earshot of Tom’s bedroom. This is big news! If Eduardo finds out, maybe he’ll finally let Tord off the hook for this mess, and then Tord won’t have to worry about Eduardo spilling the beans to Tom. Sure, he still has a few other residents to worry about, but since when has keeping secrets been hard around here?

Not wasting any time, Tord takes off out of the apartment and downstairs, banging on Eduardo’s apartment door in excitement. After a while, Mark answers the door, looking somber and depressed. “Oh… it’s you,” The zombie mumbles, looking neither mad nor happy to see Tord, just… sad. “What do you want?”

“I need to talk to Eduardo! It’s a miracle!” Tord promises, positively beaming. “Jon’s back!”

That gets Mark’s eyes to widen, the zombie looking horrified, then even happier than Tord. “Jon’s alive!? Where is he!?”

From inside the apartment, Tord hears a tired grunt. “What’s with all the racket? Mark, I told ya, don’t mention him or I swear I’ll-” He stops mid-sentence, spotting Tord in the hallway. “Why you son of a- What’re you doing here? Here to pour salt in the wounds, hotshot?”

Tord pushes past Mark, unafraid of Eduardo’s obvious aggression. “Eduardo! I have excellent news!” He assures, almost hugging Eduardo, but he holds back. He can’t risk getting a punch to the face, after all. He can save the merrymaking for when he tells Eduardo the good news. “Jon is back from the dead! Well… not really. He’s still very much dead. But he hasn’t moved onto the afterlife! He’s not bowling with the angels! Your little friend has abandoned his body to become a spirit, and he’s haunting the building!”

Eduardo just stands there, stunned, before his face twists in rage. “He’s WHAT!?”

“Eh…” Tord’s confused. Why isn’t Eduardo jumping for joy? Shouldn’t he be happy? Maybe he just doesn’t get it- he’s probably been soaking in too many rads lately. “He hasn’t kicked the bucket entirely? Come now, friend, you should be happy that he’s still here! Now there’s no need for a silly little funeral- unless he had loved ones, in which case he most certainly should have one, as to not raise suspicions. But forget all that; your friend is back and very, very happy about it!”

Eduardo only looks more enraged, before he calms down enough to actually speak to Tord. “Silly little funeral? You asshole- we already had it! He’s already been buried! I had to hold his weeping ma the whole time, and you’re tellin’ me to let that all go? To go back to normal?” He advances on Tord, livid in every sense of the word. “How long have you had him? Were you hiding him from me? I swear, I’m gonna-”

“Eduardo, please calm down,” Mark insists, coming to stand between Tord and the dryad. “Judging by Tord’s words, he only just found out! Not all spirits come back right away! And I know things have been hard, especially for you, but with Jon back, you can finally let all this unnecessary anger go.”

“You have no right to say how hard it’s been! You weren’t there! You weren’t home when he left, or home when he died! You don’t GET to tell me how I should feel!” Breathing through clenched teeth, Eduardo calms down from his angry high just a bit, before training his eyes on Tord, neon green tears in the dryad’s eyes. “You know this ain’t fixed, right? Look, Jon’s back, and that’s… I dunno yet. But what I DO know is that Tom’s still a fucking threat, and he’s gonna get somebody else if you don’t do something about it! And if you don’t, I will.”

Tord growls, glaring at Eduardo predatorily. “I won’t let you hurt him…” He threatens, tone deathly calm considering how protective he is of Tom. “Besides, none of this is his fault. You were right; I’m the one to blame here. I’m the one who decided to turn him into a monster. I’m the one who injected him with all those serums. If you want someone to blame, blame me.”

“You… you what?”

Everyone freezes, turning to the open doorway. There stands Tom, with Jon hovering by his side, baby blue and see-through. Jon’s got his hands over his mouth, while Tom just stands there, horrified beyond belief.

Tord pauses, trying to come up with a good excuse for this. “Now, Thomas, that wasn’t what it sounded like…” He lies, but he knows it falls flat. He doesn't even sound convincing to himself.

Tom’s face scrunches up in anger. “You dirty fucking liar.” Tom mutters, before taking off to the complex’s stairwell.

Without a second thought, Tord follows after him.

…

They don’t talk for days.

Or, more accurately, Tom doesn’t talk for days and Tord tries and fails to resolve the problem.

It’s not like there’s much he can say, though. After all, he made himself into a Frankenstein and Tom was the end result; a fucked up monster who never asked for any of this. But instead of fearing and hating his creation, Tord still loves Tom to death, and would give anything to undo this. Really, he’d give anything to undo ALL of this. He almost wishes he’d never met Tom- then Tom would’ve gone on to have a normal boyfriend and normal neighbors and a normal fucking life. But now all of that’s gone. Tom can never escape this Hell, and it’s all Tord’s fault.

Tord spends most of his time at home moping, ignoring phone calls and refusing to leave the apartment. He can’t risk leaving Tom on his own, not when he’s still unable to take proper care of himself. He can’t even focus on research, not when he’s so guilt-ridden and worried for Tom. It feels like it’s been so long since he’s held Tom in his arms, and the lack of regular physical contact is making him unbelievably antsy, the demon beginning to build up tension and anger in his body, almost always staying half-shifted as a result. He knows full-well that this can only end horribly, but whatever- he’s had just about enough bullcrap, and enough is enough. He can’t take anymore of this. He’s settling this, whether Tom’s ready or not.

He stands up from the couch, ready to storm into Tom’s room, but before Tord can go for the hallway, he hears Tom’s door open ever so slightly. Holding back, Tord hides behind the couch, keeping hidden in an attempt to attract Tom out of his room. There’s a pause, in which Tord can hear every slight sound as Tom considers his options. He apparently comes to a conclusion, as the man soon tiptoes out of his bedroom, Hamilton right on his heels. The brunet’s careful to keep quiet as he approaches the kitchen, and Tord follows his example, covering his mouth with his hands until Tom’s got himself inadvertently cornered in the kitchen.

Tord rises slowly, not wanting to give Tom the chance to run for it. “We need to talk, Thomas,” The demon explains, ignoring the way Tom jolts in surprise, the man shivering out of fear of what exactly Tord will do. It absolutely breaks Tord’s heart. “I’m not mad… you have to understand, I never wanted to hurt you. I just… wanted to make you stronger. To keep you safe. But I understand that what I did was wrong, and while it didn’t go quite as planned-”

“Not quite as planned?” Tom repeats Tord’s words, before turning to meet his eyes, his own void-like and harsh, though he still appears somewhat cautious. “You ruined my life,” He corrects, vicious and unforgiving. “You think you can just… manipulate me? Drug me and pretend it’s for my own good? I was plenty strong before, in-case you forgot. I’ve gunned down police by your side, for Christ’s sake! I thought you respected me, but now I see that I’m just a toy to you; a toy you can play with and alter on a whim. One minute we’re like newlyweds, the next, I’m a science experiment.”

“Now hold on,” Tord can’t hide his anger anymore, the aggression in his voice showing, yet it doesn’t cause Tom to back down, to his surprise. “You have no right to say that. I did my best! I was protecting you. I am protecting you! If I left, Eduardo or someone else would kill you!”

“Is that a threat?” Tom snaps, unimpressed by Tord’s anger. “You think you can scare me into being a good little boy? Well guess what, asshole, I ain’t afraid anymore! I’m not gonna let some goat demon tell me what I can and can’t do. You’re so full of crap, Tord!!”

Just as Tord opens his mouth to shout back at Tom, Hamilton let’s out a scared little whimper. At once, both men pause, glancing down at their puppy. “I should go,” Tom bites out, scooping up an abnormally quiet Hamilton into his arms. “I’m gonna crash at Matt’s… don’t you dare follow me.” With that, he storms out, leaving Tord to wonder how in the world he could’ve messed up this fucking bad.

…

Despite trying his hardest not to, Tord falls into a depression. He’s had depression before, but it’s been years since it’s been this bad. Not since before he met Paul and Patryk. Not caring to stay home any longer, Tord goes back to working on people’s apartments, fixing everything he can as a way of distracting his mind from thinking of Tom. ‘He hates you he hates you he hates you he never wants to see you again you really fucked up this time, Tord’- All Tord can do to ignore the endless chanting is work, using his brain for anything but feelings. It’s not until a few days have passed that someone intervenes.

“Oh, leader…” Patryk mutters, his voice sounding far away to Tord’s ears. “What’s happened to you?”

“Whuzat?” Tord’s groggy as he comes to, realizing too late that he’d passed out from exhaustion while fixing someone’s toilet, his knees soaked in water from having slipped into the toilet’s seat. “Pat? What’re you doin’ here?” He asks, mindlessly using his hands to continue working on the toilet.

“Sir, we’re here for an intervention,” Paul deadpans, looking very concerned for his leader. “We’ve been trying to contact you for days, but you’ve failed to respond. As your packmates, it’s our duty to protect and help you.”

“But… I’m a monster… literally,” Tord explains, his voice depressed and hopeless. “There’s no hope for me, boys. You should go help Tom… and that’s an order.”

Paul and Patryk share a look, before, in one swift movement, Patryk scoops up Tord rather effortlessly, visibly cringing in sympathy when the demon leans heavily into the other, starved of physical contact. “I’m sorry, sir, but we’re…” Paul hesitates, before shaking it away. “Fuck it. We’re disobeying orders whether you like it or not. And that’s final.” He looks very uncomfortable saying all that, but regardless, Tord’s rather impressed by the display.

“He’s right,” Patryk confirms, able to disobey pack dynamics much easier than Paul, who’s been raised on those beliefs since birth. “Look at yourself, sir. You’re an absolute mess, and Tom already has Matt to help him. Someone needs to help you right now.” With that said, the werewolf carries him out of the bathroom.

They get a few stares going by, but no one questions the werewolves as they take Tord out of the complex and buckle him into the backseat of their minivan. The wolves make careful banter between each other, leaving Tord to mope and scowl in the backseat, feeling like a toddler being driven around by their overbearing parents. However, Tord doesn’t have long to brood, as they soon arrive at their mystery location. Tord blinks in confusion once they park, giving the outside world a curious look through the window. They’re at a public park, but it’s nightfall, meaning there’s no one around, save for a handful of couples and teenagers.

Paul and Patryk immediately pile out of the car, Patryk getting out and stretching while Paul gently pulls Tord out, ignoring the demon’s small hisses and glares. As angry as Tord is with being kidnapped, he’d never dream of laying a hand on Paul or Patryk. Once he’s out of the car, Tord takes a closer look around, seeing that there’s a number of playscapes, jungle gyms, swing sets, and picnic tables in the shadow-covered park. If Tord were a feral demon, he might have at one time considered this place as optimal hunting ground for fresh meat. Yes, with so many careless teenagers and couples around, this would be the perfect time and place for a kill.

Those thoughts are interrupted, however, when Paul grabs his forearm and leads him to a picnic table, sitting him down in front of Patryk before taking a seat beside him. “I hope you like BLTs, boss,” Patryk says, giving Tord a big, encouraging grin. “I tried to make the bacon just how you like it. We even brought a doggy bag with extra in-case you wanted a snack for our walk later!”

Tord just stares at Patryk in confusion, before a BLT sandwich is pushed in front of him, looking to have extra bacon. Just how he likes it. The demon hesitates, not knowing whether he’s hungry or not. However, he soon swallows his anxiety and takes a bite, much to Paul and Pat’s obvious relief. He gets about half the sandwich down before he taps out, but that doesn’t seem to upset the werewolves. They just seem happy that he ate anything at all. The wolves eat quickly, barely fitting in any smalltalk before they’re done, already whisking Tord away before he can run off on them. Tord would be impressed by their resourcefulness to keep him around if he weren’t still struggling to not dissociate.

The only thing that stops Tord from completely leaving the station is Paul's sudden Dutch accent in his ear. “The air is so nice tonight, boss,” Paul murmurs, barely biting back a howl when he sees the moon overhead, not yet full but rather close. Tord gives it a skeptical look; it should be full within a week or so. “I’m glad we have you here… it’s been forever since we’ve been able to spend time with you.”

Tord hesitates on responding, but he can’t resist Paul’s bright-eyed smile. “Yes it… has been a rather long time. I forgot how much I missed this.”

Tord’s words cause Paul to light up, and if Tord wasn’t already head over heels for Tom, he might’ve found Paul’s smile attractive, but such a thought is dashed away when he sees Patryk grinning at Paul with lovestruck eyes. God… they’re so in love. It honestly makes Tord a bit jealous, seeing them like this, but he still smiles, keeping up a steady pace behind the couple while they walk through the forest, the wolves holding hands as they go. The entire time, Paul and Patryk stay in half-shift, pointing out everything to each other while discussing the things they see in excited voices.

Out of nowhere, Tord’s reminded of ‘the good old days’. Of the days before he met Tom, of when it was just Tord, Paul, and Patryk as a gang. He remembers how he’d gag when they kissed or flirted, and how he’d roll his eyes when they held hands in public. It had been so grating to Tord… How had he ever believed that he’d never feel like that for a person someday? It makes Tord feel all the guiltier for ruining his relationship with Tom, and yet… He stares at the couple in front of him, gut twisting as he sees a vision of himself and Tom in their positions, all heartfelt and romantic and together. It fills Tord with… determination.

“Boys, um, can we talk for a moment?” Immediately, both Paul and Pat come to a halt, turning to give Tord their full attention. “I think I have an idea on how to fix this mess, but I can’t do it alone. I need your help. I know I have no right to ask for your assistance- not after all I’ve done- but even if it won’t fix my relationship with Tom, it might just save him from… himself. I can’t let him live like this.”

Without even sharing a look or hesitating, both wolves run to Tord and hug him, filling the demon with warmth as he revels in the physical affection. “We’re with you, Red Leader. Until the very end.” Patryk promises, nuzzling into his packmate’s chest.

Paul nods eagerly in agreement. “We’ll help in any way we can. Just say the word!”

“Oh, boys… what did I do to get such loyal friends such as yourselves?” Tord murmurs, holding back thankful tears, as corny as it is. Back as a whelpling in Hell, there’d been no such things as ‘friends’ or ‘trust’. There had only been your name and rank. Nothing else. It feels amazing to have so much more than that now. “I promise you both, I will fix this mess, and we’ll all be a family again.” He assures, petting both wolves in earnest.

He’ll find a way to fix this. He’ll get Tom back. Even if it takes a thousand years, he’ll find a way. After all, he’s got his boys by his side. Nothing can stop him now.

…

Within a couple of days, Tord absolutely trashes Paul and Pat’s apartment, the living room floor becoming his own Fortress of Solitude, at least to a certain degree. Patryk and Paul occasionally join him, whether it’s to recharge him with physical contact, to supply more books, or to help him with research. Despite their best efforts, however, Tord’s mood swings up and down, unable to find a place to stay while he drowns in his books and papers. He has a basic idea of what he needs to do; create some sort of cure or handicap to help Tom get ahold of his newfound powers. It’s easier said than done.

As much as Tord prides himself in his tinkering and inventing skills, he’s no God- Tom’s serum to make him what he is today took months and months of hard work, but Tord’s working against the clock here. At any given moment, Tom will shift again, and they might not be able to stop him this time. Besides, if that weren’t stressful enough, Tord feels like he’s struggling on all fronts. As closely related as they are, science and magic are hard to use together, and that alone is enough to drag Tord’s research back by months.

“This is impossible,” Tord growls under his breath, chucking his book across the room so that it hits the opposite wall, leaving a dent in the drywood. “No man can solve this!”

“Not to state the obvious, sir, but you aren’t exactly ‘man’. I’m sure you’ll get it sooner or later,” Patryk says, crouching down by Tord to give him an encouraging pat on the back. “All you need is a little time and patience.”

“Which I have neither of,” Tord snaps, before his gaze softens, the demon giving Patryk an apologetic look. “I’m sorry, friend… I don’t mean to take this out on you. I’m just under much pressure. Tom is a loose cannon, and we have no idea when the fuse will be lit.”

“That’s dramatic,” Paul comments from the kitchen, washing the dishes in an attempt to at least keep his kitchen clean. “Why not rest for a minute, leader? You could use the sleep.”

“I don’t need sleep, Paul. I need a solution,” Tord corrects, before picking up another book, this one labeled ‘An Alchemist’s Guide to Unforgivable Crimes Against Nature: Now in Russian’. He hasn’t dug into this book since he first started working on Tom’s initial serum, but perhaps he kept his notes…

Luck seems to favor Tord, as all of his old notes are still there, save for the few sketches he had made of what he THOUGHT Tom would look like. Boy, had he been wrong. Pushing those thoughts aside, Tord rapidly rereads the papers, at times struggling to make out his own sleep-deprived, senseless scribbles. It’s a miracle he even got this to work. There’s not much there, save for a list of ingredients that Tord doesn’t remember making. Did he write this? It’s most certainly his handwriting, but he has no memory of the list. There isn’t even a title. However, Tord soon spots something on the list that makes him pause, eyes going wide in astonishment.

‘In-case of over-exposure, treat the poisoning with direct injection of zeolites to negate the radiation.’

“Eureka!” Tord jumps up in a flash, spooking Paul in the kitchen and accidentally throwing Patryk off of him in the process. “I have it! I can fix this!”

“Wait!” Paul practically stampedes out of the kitchen, looking confused and more than a bit shellshocked. “What’s going on? Do you have the cure already? Sir?” But it’s too late; Tord’s gone before Patryk even hits the ground.

…

He’s not sure what to do with himself, or rather, he’s not sure what to do with his concoction. The demon is in the final stages of creating it when he realizes he still needs to get Tom’s approval.

He can't go back and give it to Tom secretly. No, this time Tom needs to agree to it: give his full consent. He sighs, rubbing his aching head. Like Tom will agree to this after what I've done. He knows that it can work, and given enough time, he’s sure that within a few years, Tom will be happy that Tord did this. Yes, if all goes according to plan, then Tord’s life can finally get back to normal again. Just the thought lights his insides up, but everytime he makes his way to Matt’s apartment, he loses his courage and goes back to his own place.

What if Tom won’t take it? It won’t be that surprising to Tord if that happens, but regardless, he hopes that Tom might listen to reason. ‘Like you should have?’ A voice mocks from an unknown location in Tord’s mind, causing the demon to growl inwardly- ‘It’s your fault you’re in this mess to begin with’. Tord punches his head in anger, successfully pushing back his nagging conscious, although the pain leaves him with an almost unbearable migraine afterwards. This is getting him nowhere. The incubi sighs, giving his feet a thoughtful look. He has to get Tom to drink it- he just has to. It’s the only way to start fixing this mess.

It’s not until Tord’s out the door that he’s again having second thoughts. What if Tom doesn’t answer? Is he even home? All of these worries overflow Tord’s brain while he struggles to beat down his own anxiety, though it’s about as successful as trying to put a forest fire out with half a cup of water. Tord’s halfway through an internal rant when the door to Matt’s apartment swings open, Tom looking like an absolute wreck on the other side. He’s half-shifted, and his face is pale and sickly.

“Hey, Tord,” Tom interrupts the self-deprecating monologue without even his realizing it, voice sounding groggy and tired. He hasn’t been sleeping well lately, if at all. “What’s up?”

Well, he isn’t yelling yet. That’s a good sign. “Can I, um… can I come in?” Tord asks, not feeling very comfortable with talking about this in the hallway.

Tom hesitates, before nodding and stepping aside for the Norwegian. Tord hurries inside, giving the living room a quick onceover. Nothing seems to be out of the ordinary, save for Matt’s usual bad taste in furniture, but Tord can’t see any obvious signs of damage. However, Tord feels an uneasiness wash over him. He looks around expectantly, not really sure where he’s looking for. Didn’t Tom take something with him? Something important? Tord paces through the kitchen and hallway, Tom right on his heels, sipping from a canteen of what smells like alcohol. Alcohol? Since when did Tom drink during the daytime?

Just as Tord thinks to ask Tom about it, his eyes land on an empty dog dish on the floor, and it all adds up. “Where’s Hamilton?” He asks, crouching by the couch to look around for the corgi. “Hammy? Pupper? Thomas, have you seen-” The demon cuts off his speech when he sees Tom’s face, his expression blank and depressed.

Tom shrugs, not looking very interested. “Dunno…” He admits, looking around a bit, though he doesn’t seem to think finding Hamilton is very important right now. “Took him for a walk, then I got a headache… the rest is kinda blurry,” He scowls at the floor, appearing angry with himself. “I think he… wanted off the leash. Seemed scared. Didn’t wanna hurt him so I just sorta… let him off the leash.”

Tord stares in horror at Tom, before his gaze softens. “Oh God, Thomas… I’m so sorry,” He whispers, pulling the short Brit into a tight hug, ignoring the contact-high in favor of focusing his attention entirely on comforting his estranged boyfriend. “I should’ve been here, with you, but instead I let my own feelings scare me away. I’m so, so sorry.”

Tom seems partially confused, further confirming Tord’s theory that the poor boy’s drunk as all Hell and beyond. Regardless, he leans into Tord, humming in contentment. “I’ve missed this,” He admits, running one of his hands over Tord’s hoodie, enlarged nails catching occasionally on the fabric. “I’m sorry that I’m a mess.”

“You’re not a mess, Tom. I am. I’m the one who’s done this to you,” Tord says, petting Tom’s hair. “I’ve made your life worse than Hell.”

Tom pauses, pulling back to give Tord a weird look. “... Guess that makes you kind of a jerk, huh?” He states rather unabashedly, the alcohol in his system cutting off his brain-to-mouth filter in favor of just saying whatever’s on his mind.

Tord laughs, tears building up in his eyes until they’re overflowing, dripping onto Tom’s shoulder once he hugs him close again. “Yeah… I guess I kinda am, huh? I’m just a big, horrible jerk.”

Tom softens visibly, before hugging Tord even tighter, secretly pressing a kiss to his chest. “Well, even if you’re a jerk, I still love you.”

That just makes Tord cry a bit harder, momentarily forgetting about the serum. He’ll talk with Tom about it later- for now, he’s perfectly happy with just holding Tom until all this bullcrap fades away.

…

“Hey, you up?”

Tord grunts, giving his waker a grimace. After his earlier breakdown, he crashed on Matt’s couch while Tom took the spare bedroom. After all, he doesn’t want to force himself onto Tom, not while their relationship is still so obviously damaged. Slowly, the incubi sits up, biting his lower lip in pain, a headache making itself known. He must’ve dehydrated himself with all that crying, as embarrassing as that is for him to admit. As if realizing this, his waker walks off momentarily, before returning to his side with a glass of water. Tord takes it gladly, chugging it down in an eager rush.

“You alright?” It takes a second, but Tord quickly recognizes his waker as Tom. What’s he doing here? Shouldn’t he be sleeping?

“I’m fine,” Tord mumbles, voice still tired and craving sleep. He shakes it away though, much more eager to talk with Tom instead. “How about you? Holding up?”

Tom shrugs, taking a seat on the end of the couch, placing Tord’s legs over his lap so that he can sit down better. “I guess I’m alright,” He says, though he doesn’t look convinced. He glances at Tord, trying to figure his words out. “... So what are you doing here, Tord? Finally ready to explain this? ‘Cus let me tell you, I kinda wanna know what kinda fucked up monster I am.”

Tord nods in understanding, secretly reveling in his legs being on Tom’s lap. Sure, Paul and Patryk’s touches have been plenty rejuvenating these last few days, but to be touched by his significant other… it’s almost enough to lull Tord back to sleep, but he resists the urge. “In all honesty, I’m not sure what exactly you are, classification-wise. Yes, many mad scientists have created Frankenstein-like creatures, but nothing like this has happened in recorded history. You could be classified as a kind of changeling, but most changelings have several different forms, therefore I’m not sure-”

“-Not like that,” Tom interrupts, unimpressed by Tord’s response. “I mean, am I safe to even be around? Am I like Balis?”

Tord softens, biting back his urge to shift and nuzzle Tom’s cheek. “Of course you’re safe, Thomas,” He promises, before brightening, all at once remembering why he even came here. “In fact, I‘m working on a new serum in my lab that shoul-!” He starts off excitedly, eager to gain Tom’s favor again.

But Tom immediately reels back, looking very visibly scared and upset. “No. Fuck no. I’m not letting you experiment on me anymore!” He explains, shivering at the idea of it.

It takes every bit of Tord’s self-control to not break down right there. He’s made Tom afraid of him now- dang it dang it dang it- but… he knows that this can help him. That this can save him. He just needs Tom to trust him one more time. “Look, Tom… I’ve been a real piece of shit for the last few months. I’ve made your life so much more complicated. But I know that this can help you. It’ll be like a deterrent- it will lower your radiation levels and keep you from transforming until we can find a way to safely train you in your abilities, or better yet, find a way to cure you. If you have any trust in me left, then please… give this a shot. All I want is to keep you safe, and this is all I’ve got left to do that.”

Tom glances between Tord and the floor, weighing his options with caution. Slowly, Tom nods while bringing his gaze back up to Tord, inky black void meeting bright red. Tord can see the terrified hesitation in Tom’s eyes, but he can also see that deep down, after all this, he trusts him.

“When do we start?” Tom questions, giving Tord a nervous glance.

“I’ll get to work on it right away. I should have a finished chemical solution within the next day. For now, though-” He sits up and hugs Tom as tight as he can, almost going limp as the tension leaves his body. “-I’m just glad you’re finally safe, Thomas.”

Tom rolls his eyes, but still ruffles Tord’s hair, giving the demon a lopsided smirk. “Yeah yeah, quit the waterworks, drama queen,” He orders halfheartedly, running his fingers through Tord’s light brown locks. “... You wanna watch a movie? One with a cheesy ending?” He offers, picking up the remote to the TV off the coffee table.

Tord nods eagerly, smiling in contentment as he leans on Tom. Finally, he can rest peacefully. He can relax after all this worrying. As a result, he’s out cold within the first ten minutes of the movie, yet he never feels Tom leave his side. Not even once.

…

“That’s it?” Tom asks, suspicious of the green liquid. They're still getting back to that complete trust they had before, but right now, Tord’s willing to take what he can get.

Tord nods, kind of proud of the serum he’s made. “It should be a sort of ‘nuclear suppressant’. It should make you less likely to transform at first, but over time, I’m hoping that it will cure you of your, uh… Affliction.”

Tom snorts at Tord’s word choice, but decides to just ask about the serum. “So how does it work, like- Do I just drink it?” The demon gives a small noise in affirmation.

“Drink it and it should reduce your headaches, symptoms, etcetera. If something happens like you’re actually shifting, I have a stronger concoction that is meant to be injected,” He supplies the pen-like injector to Tom. “You can use it on yourself if you’re quick enough, but if not I’ll be keeping one on hand as well, just in case.” Tom nods slowly.

“Lots of fail-safes, huh?”

Tord shrugs sheepishly. “I just doubt myself a lot these days.” The slight change in the human’s facial expression at the words gives off pity, but Tord ignores it, smiling tiredly. “Go on, though, give it a drink, tell me how it is!”

Tom hesitantly takes a sip after sniffing the liquid once more, and pulls a face once he’s done. “It’s certainly not tasty,” He quips, scrunching up his nose. Tord laughs a bit at that, taking the solution back.

“I’ll see if I can improve the taste any. If all else fails I’ll increase the potency and you can just mix it with your drinks.” He pauses though, going over the chemical components in his head. “Probably not alcohol, though.

The human lets out a long, dramatic sigh. “What even is the point, then?” The two share a chuckle and shy smiles.

This can work, Tord thinks.

…

Tom’s on the serum for about four weeks and he reports back every day how he’s been feeling. Tord marks it all down and goes over the data, excited and giddy. It seems to be working; whenever Tom remembers to drink the proper amount of serum he has remarkably less headaches, mood swings, and bouts of intense hunger. He still gets his craving for meat, but Tord expected a few permanent changes, not to mention there was still time for some of the symptoms to fade.

In all honesty, Tord thought it would be impossible to change Tom back to completely human, but the results from his research don’t lie: his boyfriend’s getting better. The news has been uplifting everyone’s spirits, so, in an effort to keep them high Tord surprises Tom with dinner reservations at the local fancy restaurant.

“We normally don’t do ritzy,” Tom manages when Tord tells him the news.

“We can do ritzy.” The demon tries to say but even he knows the statement falls flat. A pause, then, “You have a suit, sweet boy?” The human groans at the nickname.

“I think I do somewhere,” He gets up, scratching his side while he looks around. Tord notices that he almost pats his thigh as if to call the dog, but he hesitates and lets the arm fall to his side. Tord feels a pang of guilt but tries to take his mind off it by helping him look.

After looking around the closet, some (still) unpacked boxes, and anything else that opens, they manage to find a pair of dress pants, a tie, and a pair of nice shoes that all seem to fit Tom, but none of it matches and the tie has a big stain on the front.

“Guess we’ll need to go suit shopping,” Tord mutters, scratching his head.

“Do you have a suit??” Tom demands, trying to feel at least a little better. Tord smirks and snaps his fingers, and in a flash of flame he has a handsome dark suit on, with a bright red tie to match his eyes. The human narrows his eyes and mutters, “You asshole.” Before stomping off to find his wallet.

Things are finally getting back to normal.

…

They go out and find a perfect suit for Tom: it’s a dark grey, just a few shades lighter than Tord’s, and it already fits him perfect. They also find a pair of smiley face cufflinks, which after a few minutes of bickering while trying to decide if it’s even appropriate, they end up buying them. Tord can tell that Tom is already quite fond of them.

The pair visit a few more shops and browse, remarking on anything they can to try and get a laugh out of another. It’s too soon when Tord realizes that their reservations for ‘Ritz Central’ (as Tom has been referring to it for the last few hours) are fast approaching, so they swing back by the apartment to prep and then make their way to the establishment.

Five minutes in and it’s already at a rocky start. It takes them forty minutes to be seated, despite the reservation (there was a mistake in the books or something, Tord was fuming). They finally sit down and Tord tries to make a joke but Tom is straight faced, impassive, unmoved.

Tord thinks he’s going to actually die.

The waiter comes, he’s kind of rude about how their hair is styled and Tord has to bite back an insult in fear of embarrassing Thomas. He takes their orders and shuffles of and the demon sighs.

“Sorry this hasn’t been great so far…” He starts with, trying to make amends, but Tom just shrugs. Tord starts fiddling with his napkin. “At least the mall was fun...?” Another shrug.

“We don’t do ritzy.” Tom states flatly and Tord does his best to not look crestfallen right away.

“Guess not,” He mutters, turning away to avoid showing Tom he’s disappointed.

They sit in silence for a while, Tord floundering to find a way to save the night. He ultimately orders more wine, which seems to make Tom a little happier. It’s the small successes. They drink and do their best to make small talk when they can, sipping during awkward silences. At one point Tord swirls his glass and Tom mimics him, just more exaggerated. It ends up in a wine swirling contest which ends with lots of people staring.

Tom falters, not liking all the faces on him, and Tord frowns deeply. He sends a hot glare at all the prudes who turn their noses up at the pair, but the damage has been done, and Tom’s back to silent and anxious.

The food finally comes, and they start eating the fancy meal. Tom ends up not really liking his, Tord can tell from the expression shift, but still the human chooses not to say anything and he shovels the dissatisfactory food in his mouth.

“Ha, you think a place this fancy would at least know how to cook a steak?” Tord jokes, but apparently it’s the wrong thing to say, because Tom stops mid-chew and throws the demon a look so fierce it should’ve killed him. It kind of does, in a way.

Tord looks down at his plate, deciding he’s not very hungry, and Tom sighs, pushing his food forward. “Maybe we should just get this to go.” And Tord nods sadly. They’re waiting for the waiter to come back with the check when someone next to them gets champaign, and the bottle is so loud it startles everyone in the room, including both Tom and Tord.

Tom jumps so far, though, that he bumps a waiter behind him, who drops a dish of something hot onto a lady’s lap. She starts screaming, the waiter starts apologizing furiously, and worst of all: everyone else starts laughing.

Thomas looks like he’s about to cry.

He sits down, eyes looking directly at his lap and hands stiff at his sides. Tord wants desperately to comfort him, but also not make more of a scene in front of the entire restaurant. He fumbles with the check once the waiter returns, but when he tells Tom they can go, he realizes that the human’s eyes have moved to become one big cyclops eye in the middle of his face.

Without a moment’s hesitation Tord takes off the jacket of his suit and throws it at Tom, who is already starting to stand to catch it. The shifting human pulls it over his head and runs towards the bathroom and the demon follows, pulling out the tiny gun he always keeps around his ankle. He summons his mask just like he did with his suit, and then he gets started evacuating.

“Everyone listen up!” He shouts, unloading a bullet in the ceiling. Everyone gasps at the sight. “I want all you obnoxious fuckers out of here before I tear every one of you apart. Get out of here single file: kids first, then adults. Take what you need, I don’t want your purses or wallets. I just want everyone out of the building NOW!” Tord punctuates the last word with a bullet and people pour out, more confused than terrified.

It seems like Tord doesn’t have a second to think before a spiny, purple monster pushes its way through the brick wall to his right, Kool-Aid Man style.

“Oh yeah,” Tord says under his breath, quickly shifting into his demon form and flapping out of the way when Tom’s huge fist plows its way into the ground, smashing a table in half on its way down. The demon figures his best bet for surviving is to just dodge each hit as he can, rolling or flying out of the way while Tom tires himself out.

Except he doesn’t. The beast is relentless as he slashes and bites at Tord, roaring in fury the entire time. In a fit of anger, Tom grabs a table and hurls it at him when he least expects it, hitting him square in the chest. He hits the wall with a choked out “Oof,” and immediately starts scrambling to move the table as best he can, remembering when Balis got thrown at the wall and Tom tore into his prone figure.

Instead of chasing, though, the monster sucks in a big breath and clacks its sharp teeth together, somehow managing to create a big gout of fire. Tord manages to get free in time, but the spot he was just at is engulfed in flame in a matter of seconds.

“You can breathe FIRE?!?” Tord exclaims, completely unaware of the fact. Monster Tom doesn’t respond but takes advantage of the demons shock to ram him with his huge horns. It was growing obvious that not only was Tom not tiring out, he was getting angrier as the minutes passed. Tord needed to find a way to sedate the monster immediately.

“The serum!” The demon shouts, in a moment of realization. All he had to do was get back to their table and find his jacket. Tom attempts to charge him again, but Tord flies above his head and past him, heading back to where the table they sat down at was. His jacket is nowhere to be found.

Tord smacks his forehead. “I gave it to him when he ran into the bathroom!” He recalls, spreading his wings to take off. Before he propels himself forward, though, Tom comes up from behind, roaring and grasping his right wing, yanking it back with intense force and breaking it like a twig. Tord cries out in pain and Tom shouts in victory, throwing the demon at the far wall.

Tord struggles to stand and shake himself off. Deciding now is probably not a good time for wings, he shifts all the way back to his human form, running as fast as he can to find some cover. Tom spits another fireball at him but luckily he dodges, jumping out of the way and over a table. He rolls for a bit, tucking in his limbs and skidding under another table.

Tom seems to have lost him because the loud roaring is replaced with a contemplative clicking, as well as a series of annoyed tail-slaps. Tord uses this moment to ready himself: he can summon the suit to him just like before, but it would create that flash of fire and Tom would know where he’s at. He needs to do it at the perfect time.

The monster sniffs the air loudly, slowly making its way towards Tord’s hiding spot. The demon readies his fingers, and holds perfectly still. 1… 2...

3!!

As soon as he snaps Tom resumes roaring, furious and beastial. Tord fishes through his pockets as quick as he can, trying desperately to find the injector that will knock Tom out- But the monster is back on him, grasping his entire body with one claw and squeezing down. Tord cries out but manages to pull his arms free, serum held high so he can bring it down hard enough to pierce Tom’s leathery flesh.

“Sorry about this one, babe!” He gasps, plunging the needle into Tom’s skin as hard as he can. Monster Tom howls in pain, dropping Tord immediately. The demon scampers away but stays close, watching Tom slowly and drowsily lie himself down with a *thud*.

Before Tord’s very eyes, Tom shifts back to his normal self, body shrinking and morphing. The transformation back isn’t as grotesque, Tord realizes when he doesn’t hear the bone snapping and shifting into place. It also takes a lot less time, because before he knows it, the small human he’s in love with is lying on the ground, groaning in exhaustion.

The Norwegian advances towards Tom slowly, making his way through the rubble and wreckage of the restaurant. He falls to his knees and inspects the human’s body to see if he’s gotten harmed, but there’s not a single scratch on him.

“Hey,” He says, trying to roust his boyfriend. “We gotta go before the cops get here.” Tom grumbles in response, shifting on the floor so he’s lying on his back and looking up at the ceiling. The human refuses to speak, eyes just staring upwards and blinking slowly. Tord looks outside nervously but settles that the police haven’t arrived so they still have time. He lies down beside Tom and looks up with him, worried, tired, and anxious.

They don’t talk for a while. Just stare up at the claw and scorch marks that managed to get all the way up there. For once, Tord can’t even imagine what Tom’s thinking.

It isn’t until police sirens can start to be heard that Tom pipes up. “Tord,” He grumbles out, voice scratchy. The addressed demon turns to look at the human, watching the red and blue lights from the cops flashing across his tired face. Despite how loud the commotion is from outside, Tom’s next words are all Tord hears, and they ring in his head for hours afterwards.

“I think we should break up.”

…

They broke up. After managing to get home unbothered from the police and getting back into comfortable clothes, Tom packed up what he could and left to Matt’s apartment, promising to come back and talk to Tord when he could. He doesn’t take his medicine.

Tord goes through the week dazed, not doing much else other than repeating Tom’s words in his head, over and over again, and then going to bed when he can’t stand to hear it anymore. After a week Tord wakes up to Tom in the apartment, making breakfast for himself.

“Sup,” Tom says cooly. Tord doesn’t say a word, just sits down at the table and waits for the human to keep breaking his heart over scrambled eggs. “Don’t look so hot.” The demon doesn’t even respond and Tom sighs.

“Tord. We can’t keep doing this,” No response again, so he just keeps going. “Every time we’re separate you mope and it’s all you can focus on. How many times is this going to happen before I can just make you forget about me?” Despite the obvious frustration Tom must be feeling, he speaks calmly and evenly, just trying to make Tord understand.

But there’s no forgetting Tom, not after all they’ve been through. They’ve spent the last few years or so together, in every sense of the word. They’v heisted together, lived together, slept and ate together, made decisions together… Though, Tord supposes that he kind of did start making decisions for Tom in the end there. Really, after everything he put Tom through the human should hate him, but he can’t expect Tord to just forget and move on. It just couldn’t happen.

Tord conveys all of this by letting his head drop to the table, and Tom sighs.

“I guess I feel you there,” He mutters, putting two plates of eggs and bacon down before the pair. He sits next to Tord and starts shoveling food in his mouth. Tord manages to take a few bites of the bacon, finding satisfaction and comfort in the crunch as he chews.

“If you can’t forget me then we need to stay together,” Tom says and Tord freezes, shocked. “Not like how we were. We’ll probably never be like that again, but, like it or not, we rely a lot on each other. The money we share is all I have to my name, and it’s impossible for me to get a job now. Not to mention I need you to keep making my meds.” He sighs, obviously having worked all this out in his head and not liking the answer he came up with.

“So I’ll stay.”

It takes a while for Tord to process it all. Tom is staying, but things can’t be like they were. He’s not sure if he’ll be okay with that, in the long run, but he can do his best to put up some walls. After all, they don’t have a choice, like Tom said.

Tord nods, voice cracking out a small, “Okay.” Tom tuts and rubs the demons back slowly. Tord leans into it and sighs, appreciating the comfort.

The human chuckles softly. “Even though I want to so much I can’t hate you,” He sounds defeated but presses on. “I could never hate you, Tord.”

The demon nods, weary and nervous. “And I could never forget you.”

…

Months pass. Tord puts up his walls. He falls back into his old personality, defaulting to snarky and condescending when he can and just plain mean when the first two don’t work. Tom builds his own, too. He’s mostly quiet now, choosing not to speak much to any other denizens of the complex when he doesn’t have to, keeping to himself and drinking the day away. The two carry on like that for a while, and fall into the old pattern of: arguing, refusing to speak to each other, then making up sometime a few days (or even just hours) later. It’s not the healthiest pattern but it’s theirs.

They work through their issues together as much as they can, even if part of the process of ‘working through it’ involves lots of shouting and arguing. They become known as the loudest residents on the fourteenth floor.

“You guys might want to start keeping it down in the future,” Matt says to the pair over lunch one day. He’s been spending more time with them when he can, knowing that they’re less likely to argue when they’ve got company. “I’m looking to get a roommate as soon as possible.”

Both Tom and Tord look surprised. “Rooming isn’t cheap, and not all of us have bank-robbing money,” Matt points out and the other two nod. “I’m thinking about putting an ad out on Craigslist. I won’t be able to enchant it or anything but the charm on the building should be enough to keep non-paranormals away.”

“It’ll be nice to see some new faces here,” Tord remarks, yawning lazily. “Not to mention that you could use some company that isn’t us.” Tom digs a knuckle into the demon’s rib but agrees.

It’s a little later in the evening, when Tord is scrubbing at the dishes from dinner when Tom brings up the idea of new people in the complex. “What kind of person do you think Matt’s new roomie will be?” The demon hums in thought.

“Hard to tell before they get here.” He pauses, putting the dish he’s working on down and turning to look at Tom. “Why do you ask?”

The human shrugs but looks down at the table in thought. “Just curious.” Tord nods in understanding. “I’m sure whoever it is will be good if Matt approves of them. He’s a good judge of character.” Tom nods as well and gets up to grab some ice cream. Tord trusted that whoever Matt found and accepted would be someone they could get along with as well. After all, Matt was always trying to find other people for Tom to get along with so he could get some days out of the house.

Yeah, the new resident would probably be pretty swell.

#ma au fic #monster apartements au #eddsworld monster apartments au #ma au #eddsworld ma au

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