#falls onto the ground and fucking dies forever.

[fallenclan]

FC I'M GOING TO BLOW UP EXPLODE ABOUT THIS . GOD. GOD!!! CYCLES!!!!!

Otterslip was Insecure as an apprentice, then Ambitious as a warrior, mentored by Maplethorn, the current deputy. Adopted son of the former leader Scorchstar and respected deputy Nettlestem. By all accounts, a good mentor.

Stormsight was Lonesome as an apprentice, then Righteous once they got their name, mentored by Silverbelly. Son of Toro, second of the two litters that redeemed the medicine cat Sunwish in her own eyes.

Interestingly, Silverbelly had that same trait progression - lonesome, then righteous. Which on one paw is really cute to consider that they both dropped the lonesome trait at the end of their apprenticeship, as if to signify they have more support than they first did, or at least first thought, but it *also* means this.

Every single medicine cat since Sunwish, sans Eaglestripe(? from all I could find), has had the Righteous trait at some point. (Eaglestripe was Compassionate, now Loyal.) It shifts as it goes on, growing and changing as it's handed from each mentor to apprentice, but the knowledge is the same. The heart of it is the same. It's an unbroken line from Sunwish, all the way down.

The righteousness is a part of that, I think. At least for Silverbelly and Stormsight. Silver might've suspected, and Storm might've found out for sure - after all, he saw Nick in his apprenticeship. It's not unimaginable that he could see another Starclan cat more recently. That he could ask.

I wonder if he told Otter, too. If he thought he deserved to know, or if let it slip in an argument, or Otter saw or heard him and Silverbelly talking and suspected the worst - confirmed it, teeth bared in rage, near the edge of the cliff.

That's not the point of this ask, though - that cycles are. BECAUSE! I'M GOING INSANE ABOUT BOTH THE SIMILARITIES HERE AND WHERE THEY DIFFER.

Both Sunwish and Stormsight wanted to reach out to someone before their murders. Only Stormsight succeeded in this. Both were Righteous, and struck down by someone who grew to loathe them, possibly blaming them for the death of someone dear who couldn't be saved. Otterslip was trying to defend his mother's secret, too. Both were medicine cats struck down by their own clanmates. Sunwish didn't want to be. (Do they even remember that part of her story, anymore?) (God. Lays on the ground. I wonder if it was the opposite that sealed Stormsight's fate. His connection to Starclan gave him the chance to learn the truth, and it was for the truth Otterslip killed him.)

As much as Otterslip's hurt and fury at Grassroot's death (WHICH I AM. SO MOROSE ABOUT I'LL MISS HER… . God. Imagine Grassroot having to look down and see her dad doing this. Being exposed to this seasons-old anguish and having to reconcile her place in all of it. She didn't *ask* for this.) makes sense, it's not a solid defense. Grassroot was killed by a dog - there probably wouldn't be a chance she *could* be saved, even if she was alive when they found her, and still alive when a medicine cat could attend her with the herbs necessary. And besides that, Stormsight isn't the only current medicine cat! Silverbelly, Eaglestripe, both were equally bound to try and save Grassroot's life, and they couldn't. But Silver was here before him, he grew up beside her, and Eagle is still just a kid. And of course - even if Silver's not his favourite cat, he doesn't **hate** either of them like he does Stormsight.

So it has to be his fault.

god… I had to stop typing to handle something so I've kind of lost my train of thought but this is . SO. God.

Thinks about Silverbelly. JUST READ THE NEWEST JAGUARFIC. GOD. THINKS ABOUT SILVERBELLY X100. Ohhh unrelated to current tangent but Jaguar I really enjoy how you take care to use more cats than just the focuses, it makes the whole clan feel a little more alive, it's nice :3… BUT SERIOUSLY. Silver just lost one of her own kits a few moons ago, grandkits left behind, and Stormy - god. Stormsight was her little brother. Stormsight was her little brother, her apprentice, he was stubborn and passionate and he liked to make her laugh, she got to see him come into his own from the lonely kit he used to be, and he just. He never comes back. What did they even talk about last? After everything about Sunwish - did she wish him good luck, when he left? Did she remember to say I love you? What was the last thing he said to Eaglestripe, his apprentice, bound by blood and teaching, that kind-hearted cat who's grown so well herself? Did Eagle even know something was going on?

Does Stormsight weep angry tears for them, from his perch in the stars? Does he wish, desperately, to warn them? For someone to *know?* Does Sunwish sit beside him, bad with cats at the best of times but feeling the need to support him, this apprentice of her apprentice, this kit she saw as a newborn, struck down for trying to reveal her own fate? More than her - does he get his tearful embrace with Toro and Goosewing, do they sit vigil with him from the clouds? Is Scorchstar warned away with raised hackles, the wound still all too fresh?

Sorry. Sorry. I'm thinking all too much.

(- 🐈‍⬛)

i am so fucking unwell about this whole thing. but yeah Stormsight and Silverbelly were Best Fucking Friends. making me even sadder

[warlocksoup]

into the spider-verse: nishinoya yuu

volume one, chapter two: calls

word count: 2.5k

masterlist | main masterlist | taglist

On the rooftop of the Flatiron Building, she leans back, and stares at the sky above her. She’s learned that looking down gives her vertigo, and if she’s lying down, she can pretend she’s not twenty-two stories off the ground.

Noya laughs at her, because he always does, but he still holds her hand, because he knows it makes her feel better. “I can’t believe you’re still afraid of heights.”

“I feel like this is a super reasonable fear to have.” She inches a little but further away from the edge as she speaks. She doesn’t even wanna be close to it. “Plummeting to my death isn’t like, a big priority for me right now.”

He squeezes her hand. “You know I’ll catch you if you fall.”

He would. She doesn’t even doubt that for a second. If right now she stood up and decided to take a swan dive off the side of the building, there would be nothing getting in between him and her, and Noya would have her safely in his arms before she hit the fifteenth floor.

But still. It fucking terrifies her.

“Okay, sorry my primal instinct does not recognize that you got bit by some weird science experiment spider and now you defy all laws of nature,” she rolls her eyes, still tightly holding onto his hand as he sits upright beside her. “I’ll work on that.”

Nishinoya leans over a lightly pinches the soft skin of her stomach under her t-shirt. She squeals. “Keep it up with the attitude and I’ll throw you off the side of this building myself.”

“Hmm, not very hero-like of you, Spider-Man.”

“You bring out the worst in me.”

She grins. “I’m going to have to write an article about this. ‘Spider-Man throws innocent journalist with fear of heights off Flatiron Building.’ Jameson will love it.”

Nishinoya scoffs. “Yeah, I’m sure he would. Too bad you’ll be busy being a sidewalk pancake.”

Her eyes find their intertwined hands. It’s always been natural, their friendship, everything that happens between them feels like it’s supposed to. The handholding and the couch-sharing and the arm over her shoulder. It’s always right, with Nishinoya. She doesn’t even have to think about it.

She watches his thumb as it brushes against her skin. “How’s it been out there lately?” she asks.

“Quiet,” Nishinoya replies. “Saving kittens from trees and helping old ladies across the street. Besides Sytsevich, everything’s been quiet since Osborn died. It’s kinda weird, y’know? Like eerie.”

“Yeah, I imagine waiting for the next disaster to strike can feel like that,” she comments, leaning back to stare up at the empty sky. You can’t ever see stars out here. “Hey, Noya?”

“Yeah?”

“Do you think you’re gonna stay here forever?” she asks. “Just stick around and be Spider-Man for the rest of your life.”

He hums a bit. “I dunno. I think I’ll probably just go wherever you end up.”

🕸 ｡𖦹°‧✩｡🕷˚⋆｡

She’s sitting on the train, a hot cup of coffee in one hand, and her phone in the other. She’s looking down at an email from her favorite Yahoo user: If you don’t want the whole world to find out, do as I say.

It’s pretty explicit. It’s hard to misinterpret that kind of message, as much as she’s deliberately trying to. Her fingers tap against the paper cup, trying not to let panic work its way up her throat in the middle of this train cab, surrounded by bored commuters that wouldn’t flinch twice at any sort of breakdown she could have.

A heavy breath leaves her lung, and she pockets her phone, trying, with a tight feeling of desperation around her throat, not to think of it. If it’s not in her face, it’ll be marginally easier to pretend.

Yachi’s waiting for her at her desk when she gets into work. She slides into her chair, and Yachi skips the greeting. “Jameson’s pissed,” Yachi says, tapping a pencil against her desk.

“Yeah? What’d Spider-Man do now?” she questions, typing her password in. She mistypes it, and curses slightly under her breath.

“The PI he hired to find out his identity quit,” Yachi laughs. “Apparently there wasn’t enough for him to go off, and the guy got tired of Jameson raising his blood pressure at him for forty minutes a day.”

She snorts. Noya’s told her about private investigators before. Everyone touts that they’re going to be the one to unmask Spider-Man, but it’s kinda tricky trailing a man with superhuman sixth sense and the ability to basically fly through the city. “I give it another three months before he tries this one again.”

“I give it one,” Yachi counters.

Her desktop loads up, and she is immediately hit with a barrage of emails, looking like they’re coming in all at once, all in caps lock. “Fuck, looks like he’s taking it out on me again.”

Email after email, the subject lines varying from things like, “This piece is crap!” to “How are you still employed here?”

Yachi leans forward to get a better at her screen. “Oh, that’s bad. I’ll leave you to that.”

And it’s just that Yachi gives her a sharp grin and two-finger salute that another email pops up. No subject line, just a simple: Wait for my instruction.

🕸 ｡𖦹°‧✩｡🕷˚⋆｡

Harry Osborn looks smarmy on the television screen, a thin layer of sweat shining on his forehead and slick smile that looks a little bit too pleased for his father’s funeral. She knocks her knee into Noya’s leg underneath the blanket they share. “That guy’s such a piece of shit,” she comments, jerking her chin forward towards the younger Osborn.

Noya knocks his leg back into hers. “My guy looks like he just won the lottery,” he remarks, eyes not leaving the screen. There’s a bit of history between Spider-Man and the Osborn family, mainly consisting of Norman committing acts of domestic terrorism from the vantage point of a hoverboard, dressed like a fucking goblin.

“Yeah, well he basically did,” she snarks. “Imagine inheriting Oscorp before you’re twenty-five. Basically guarantees you a fucking thirty under thirty spot.”

He snorts. “I’d rather not have anything to do with Oscorp. I’d rather be broke.”

"Oh, you mean the company that basically sponsored the lizard-ification of Dr. Connors? I can't imagine why." She lops her head to the side to look at him. “And anyway, I’m broke. You’re a freeloader.”

Nishinoya waves her off. “Same difference.”

She snorts, turning to face the television again to see they’re playing old footage of Norman Osborn in a lab (coat and everything), explaining the mission statement of Oscorp. To build a better future.

There were rumors about Norman, post-mortem. Details floating around about how he was driven mad in his final year. That the Osborn curse had infected him beyond hope, and his mind had began to decay, along with his body. Some people think he’s been dead for much longer. Some people think a group of investors had been secretly running Oscorp for years while Norman received private care upstate. Some people even suspect him of being the Goblin.

She wonders if that was the better future he had envisioned.

Noya shifts uncomfortably in his seat. She reaches over and grabs his hand, squeezing it tightly in hers. She’s sure he’s wishing the son will be better than his father. She’s hoping too.

His thumb traces circles over her knuckle. He doesn’t look in her direction. She tries to focus on the news and enjoy the way his hand feels in hers before there’s some police broadcast or distant siren or whatever to call him back to duty.

🕸 ｡𖦹°‧✩｡🕷˚⋆｡

Meet me @ 300 W 57th St tomorrow at 8am. Or I tell everyone about him.

She sits at her desk, biting down on the end of a pencil, and weighing her options.

One: she could tell Noya.

There’s not even a chance he would let her go. Not even if he were there. No matter the argument she would present. Nishinoya would sooner web her to the couch than let her go meet up with some mystery blackmailer. She also knows that this threat would do little to sway him. If she tells Noya, the most likely outcome is him, masked up and aggravated, showing up to fight.

Which would result in ijs99ETJfdhsg@yahoo.com telling everyone.

Two: she could do nothing.

There’s really been no hard proof presented to her that shows that Yahoo user ijs99ETJfdhsg knows what he claims he knows. This could all very well be a big misunderstanding on her end. And so what? Even if he does know what he claims to, it’s not like the world would so easily believe that Nishinoya Yuu, random unemployed man, is Spider-Man. Random liars claim to be Spider-Man every day. Noya could easily blend in with random liars.

The consequence of doing nothing though is, of course, him telling everyone. And still, the possibility that the masses believe him or that Yahoo user ijs99ETJfdhsg does have some hard evidence on his side gnaw away at her. She can’t shoulder that.

Three: she could show up.

She could put some pepper spray in her bag and give Noya the address just in case something happens, and she could go and meet with this mystery blackmailer to see exactly what the fuck it is he wants.

And then, he wouldn’t tell anyone.

The thought of it puts knots in her stomach, and those knots are worsened by the acknowledgement that it’s probably her best course of action.

She sighs, using her cursor to highlight the address he provided and plopping it back into search bar. She’s envisioning some deserted alley, an abandoned storefront or someplace that would leave no witnesses if she were to be kidnapped and/or murdered.

What she wasn’t expecting was fucking Oscorp.

🕸 ｡𖦹°‧✩｡🕷˚⋆｡

Harry Osborn’s office is neat. Almost empty, save for a few hard-drives and a stack of unopened newspapers at his desk. The wall to ceiling windows provide a view of the city she’s never seen before, and standing in the middle of it, she feels so starkly out of place. She looks behind her, just to see the assistant that led her up here closing the door behind him.

She feels trapped, at once.

Harry himself is leaning against a window, and as if operating on a que, he turns on his heel, a sickly grin plastered on his face, and, if she squints, she can almost see a greenish sort of hue in the undertones of his skin. “There’s my favorite journalist,” he greets, arms extended out as if he was going to hug her.

She steps back. “Erm, yeah,” she responds, head turning slightly to eye the closed door behind her. There’s something off in the air of room, something off-putting in the way Harry is looking at her. “Is there a reason you summoned me here through cryptic emails, or did you just wanna like, hang out?”

He stops, and lets his arms drop back down to his side, stuffing his hands in his pant pockets. “Straight to the point. I like that. I like that quality.”

It’s strange to be in the same room as him, New York City’s prodigal son. She’s seen his face on the cover of magazines and on news segments and she’s written articles about him. Harry Osborn has almost always been some kind of mythic figure in her head. An untouchable prince. Nothing she could get away with printing in the Bugle would ever have any impact on him.

But here before her, he does not look mythic, or untouchable, he looks like a very sick man. His hair falls flatly on his forehead, and he uses the back of sleeve to wipe off droplets of sweat. The longer she looks at him, the greener he seems, like his whole body is lightly stained.

Harry takes another step towards her. She steps back again.

“Y’know,” he drawls, and moves to stand behind the large desk that takes up most of the room; she watches him carefully, eyes trained on his every movement, “one of the most underrated parts of a power acquisition in a company like Oscorp, is that you suddenly have a lot more information at your disposal. A lot of information that money can’t buy.”

There’s something about the way he talks that is starkly unnatural. The PR training bleeds out of every word, and though he looks young, but the way he carries himself is eerily like his father. It makes goosebumps rise on the back of her neck. She looks over her shoulder, back at the door behind her. “O-okay.”

Harry takes a seat, like he’s unbothered by her presence. His hand lingers over one of the hard drives. “Did you know that, back in the early two-thousands, this company poured millions into researched on genetically enhanced spiders. They were supposed to be this miracle cure. A magic spider that could cure any illness. Until, of course, the head scientist died in some accident, and they had to kill off the whole project, including all the spiders they bred. Y’know, today, I think we only have one thing to show for that project.”

Her face is hot, and her ears feel like they’re stuffed with cotton. This all suddenly feels like a mistake, like she’s in over her head and she never should’ve come here without Noya. Her tongue is dry when she tries to speak. “Is this, is this on the record, or…?”

Harry leans forward in her chair, and sneers. It chills her blood, that expression, cold and gnarled. “I’m not interested in going on the record with some second-rate journalist at a trash paper. I’m interested in this.”

Harry Osborn grabs the newspaper on his desk and slams it forward. She takes a step forward to get a better look and knows immediately what it is. It’s the Daily Bugle, with Spider-Man on the front page and her name printed on the bottom.

The First-Ever On-The-Record Interview with the One and Only Spider-Man!

Her hands are shaking. She looks up to see Harry grinning at her. “It’s funny, actually, how someone right out of school, with no credentials and no reputation to go off, could get this kind of interview.”

She can hear her heartbeat, and all she can think of is how unbelievably, colossally fucked she is.

Harry Osborn stands and makes his way to stand directly in front of her. The closer he is, the more of him she can see. The green tint of his skin, the almost scaly quality, the point of his teeth. “I want you to find Spider-Man, and I want you to get him to give me his blood.”

🕸 ｡𖦹°‧✩｡🕷˚⋆｡

On the busy street beneath the Oscorp building, her fingers tremble as she dials Noya’s number. He answers after the first ring. “Hey, what’s up? I’m just dropping this bodega thief off at the station-“

“Noya,” she cuts him off, trying to hold back the sob in her voice. “I fucked up.”

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[wasteofbandagesxx]

I wanna live

{Dazai x reader}

warning: toxic relationship, suicide, forced suicide, lack of communication, pressure, Dazai losing his sanity

"Dazai your not listening to me!"

"Shut the fuck up. I'm tired of listening to people telling me that there's hope in life, and things are gonna be ok."

The relationship has been complicated these past few weeks, almost a few months. You were dating one of the port mafia executives and of course, your dating the demon prodigy himself. Dazai Osamu, his charms never failed to amaze you, but it's his humor and personality that attracted you.

His sweet words pulled strings to your heart, you couldn't help but fall for the devilish man. He had a demons tongue, almost like the master of seducing woman. He was a womanizer after all, until he met you. Something about you just made him interested, wanting to know more about you. You weren't like any other woman he's ever dated. You were genuinely sweet, carefree, and resilient.

Now the relationship has gone down hill, after 3 years of dating, everything has changed. The death of friends and the constant missions be affecting their relationship. It didn't cause any fights, just less time together, but ever since Oda died, things completely changed. Dazai did nothing but drink his sorrows away and slightly take his anger out on you. You do your best to comfort him, let him know that he's not alone. On the top of the mafia base, you two were having a little date, until Dazai lost his shit. His day was bad, but he pretty much reached his breaking point. You tried talking to him, but he just pushes you away.

"Dazai, there's more to life than just suicide. You know I can't handle the negativity no matter how hard I try. You pressure it into me and it scares me! I constantly worry about you and check on you because I care about my boyfriend. My own boyfriend can't even acknowledge the fact that someone is there for him, that I'm there for him! Am I not enough for you to live?" You sobbed, pouring your heart out and all Dazai could do is stand there speechless.

"Y/n, Darling....there's nothing for me here. This place is s hell hole. It's not like I-"

"....Dazai?"

Dazai stood frozen, a crazy smile slowly formed onto his face before he even looks directly at you, as if he came up with an idea.

"Let's commit double suicide, for real this time." He said, the desperation in his voice was obvious. You got scared, as much as you wanted to run off you still wanted to try and support your boyfriend, even though Dazai will never listen or seek for your comfort in a time like this. "Dazai, I've told you this 100 times. I'm not doing it." The anger in your voice was very clear that you didn't want to have this conversation again. He's tried convincing you multiple times, even when your at your worst. Despite all that, you were never broken enough to take your own life. "Dazai, please-"

"Let's go to the afterlife together! We won't have to worry about anything. Belladonna, we can rest in piece and live the way we want in the afterlife!" He grabs you by the hand and pulls you close in excitement but you weren't having it. You quickly pulled away and shoved him back. "Your fucking insane."

"Only for you, and death!" Dazai laughs it off like a kid at a comedy show, he knew that wasn't right to say but he doesn't think before he says something.

"Dance with me Y/n! Let's dance our way into the afterlife, and rest in peace like forever lovers." He grabs your hand again and drags you to the edge of the roof, u tried hardening your foot on the ground but he kept dragging you until you both were on the very edge. The air blows against your face, you were too focused on trying to stay alive and Dazai couldn't care less as he admired the view of the city that he will no longer see. You screamed and yelled, trashed and tried to punch at him but it was no use, his strength was too much for you to overpower and there was nothing you can do. Nobody can hear your cries of help because you were too high in the air for them to hear. You didn't want this. "Ready my love?"

He slowly leans forward over the edge, and that's when you found the strength to save yourself.

"I wanna live!!"

You forced your strength against him with your back and made him tumble backwards, he hit his head on the hard concrete as he groaned in pain. You immediately got away from him and stood up with tears streaming down your face and your eyes showing fear. Dazai sits up and takes a good look at you, but he couldn't bring himself to say something as he spotted the tears running down your face. The fear in your eyes made him finally get the hit, he understood, you didn't want to die with him. He was too much in his delusional fantasies to be thinking about what you want, how you felt about all this. Regret written all over his face, you had to sit down when your legs were trembling so you wouldn't fall and hurt yourself. You were too busy processing what just happened while Dazai was processing his mistake. He couldn't force you, not when you don't want it. It's not love, it's forced . He felt bad, he looks at you again to apologize but couldn't find the words when he witnessed the fear in your eyes gotten worse. How could he mess up this badly?

"I wanna live."

[berriweb]

╰┈➤ ❝ out of this world ❞

: ̗̀➛ ft. miles morales x reader

: ̗̀➛ warnings. none

: ̗̀➛ part one / part three

: ̗̀➛ a/n. i just be writing anything fr, this wasn’t supposed to have another part but now i can’t stop writing, I’ll write a part three when i feel like it and this once against isn’t proof read so if you see a typo no you don’t :)

Miles screwed up.

As he swung from building to building, taking a moment to stop and perch on a street lamp as his head tilted to the side, his eyes were trained on Gwen but his mind seemed to be elsewhere.

Well, that wasn’t the right word for it. It was everywhere. Between trying to find out what was up with Gwen, knowing he was in deep shit with his parents and the fact that he was on bad terms with you, he didn’t know what to worry about more. Before Spider-Man had been an escape from his own life when he didn’t want to deal with it, but now in some sick sense of irony his secret persona only seemed to be making his life worse.

Miles picked up the pace to catch up with Gwen as she swung through the city, but just as she turned a corner he recognized the street they were on. It was where you lived, in fact he could see your building from there. For just a moment he caught himself in a dilemma, slowing down just enough to stick to the wall and climb towards the window he knew was connected to your bedroom. The window was closed, strange considering he knew you had a habit of leaving it cracked even on cold nights due to how stuffy the air in there could get. When he attempted to peak through the small cracks in the blinds, your room looked empty.

Shouldn’t you have been home by now?

Miles let out a sigh and backed up from the window. On one hand, he could’ve stayed to confront you when you got home, assuming you weren’t just in another part of the house, and hopefully resolved the unavoidable conflict you two had. But on the other hand…

He turned back to the streets, seeing Gwen had gained distance in the few seconds he had stopped, almost just out of sight. If he stopped now he’d never get answers. He’d never know what she was really here for or why she’d have to leave, he might never see another Spider-Man again.

The mask hid the guilty expression he wore as he jumped from the wall, swinging from building to building while promising himself that he’d give you all of his attention as soon as he was done figuring this all out before landing at the crime scene of what he’d soon realize would be the consequence of one of his own screw ups.

Surprises weren’t always a good thing.

Between the multitudes of flashing colors and scenes, the exhilarating yet terrifying sensation of never ending falling that seemed to take forever, and the blood rushing to your head, you couldn’t even begin to make out what was happening for you. For a moment, the idea that you must’ve died and were going to the afterlife crossed your mind in the few seconds that felt like hours flew by.

Maybe I tripped and hit my head on the way home? Maybe there was something in the juice and I’m hallucinating? Maybe this is all a dream?

As much as you wanted to believe any of those possibilities, they were all crushed by the realization that you couldn’t have been making this all up when in the midst of falling, you noticed what seemed like a dirty surface getting close and closer. Luckily for you, it seemed like the constant falling did have a destination. Unluckily for you, there was nothing to cushion the fall as you hit the ground with a loud thud and a gut wrenching crunch.

Pain shot across your right side as you laid there, looking up just in time to see the same warping pattern that initially pulled you in shrinking and disappearing before your eyes. ‘What the fuck?’

As aching as your body was, you knew you couldn’t just lay in that spot forever, opting to roll over onto the side that wasn’t throbbing in pain and push yourself into a sitting position. The pain in your side returned and you reached to hold your side, face twisting in pain as you winced. You’d probably broken something, a rib maybe? The adrenaline rushing through you likely being the only thing keeping you from rolling around in agony. Forcing yourself on your feet, you nearly doubled over, taking deep, slow breathes to keep yourself from freaking out and making things worse. Taking a quick look around, it seemed as if you’d been left in a dimly alleyway, garbage cans and bags lining either side. The walls looked old and past due for a pressure wash, but you weren’t too quick to judge, you’d seen worse.

Thankfully, you hadn’t managed to drop your bag and reached to fish out your phone, your other hand glued to your side to manage the pain in your abdomen. Your first thought was the open your contacts, taking a moment to decide who to call before ultimately deciding on attempting to call your mom/dad, but the call only flashed on screen for a second before your phone alerted you to the fact that you had zero service.

How is that possible?

Cursing under your breathe, you shoved it back in your back before sucking it up when you realized you’d likely just have to walk home, assuming you were even near it.

You slowly walked out of the alleyway, the smell of smoke and a rotting stench filling your nostrils that made you scrunch your nose out of disgust. Looking around, you took note of the street sign and thankfully recognized the name. You must’ve still been in Brooklyn.

You were able to map out the way home from where you were, hurriedly making your way there while also pacing your steps to aid your side. There had to be an explanation for all of this. Maybe you had secret superpowers? It’s not exactly out of the question considering all of the heroes and villains you’ve seen on the news. Teleportation, maybe? Or could it be that someone else with powers attacked you?

When you arrived at your home you settled on the fact that the portal must have been time travel, because where your apartment building should’ve been, a massive pile of left over debris and no building was in its place.

“This can’t be right…” you trailed off, looking back to double check you were on the right street. You were, same sign, same letters, but as you took a final look you finally began to notice all of the big and small inconsistencies you’d written off as misremembering things, beginning to wander down the streets. Signs weren’t the same colors as you remembered them to be, shops you visited on the daily were either gone or in the wrong spot, across the street from where they’d been before hand or worse. It wasn’t a perfect city to begin with, but now? Brooklyn looked a mess, and the state of the city left you on guard and suddenly way more concerned that you were out here with no one you knew at night.

What the hell is going on?

Stepping into a convenience store, you glanced around to take in its appearance as the bell jingled and the cashier muttered out a greeting that showed he was clearly uninterested in anyone entering his store. You were going to search for a pay phone, too rattled to bother trying to ask the man where it was. Brands had different names, items were different colors and you could just sense that something was extremely wrong. Finding a phone screwed into the wall, you fished out a few quarters to dial a number as you heard the bell ring again, only to be disappointed when the automated voice informed you that your parent’s number was somehow invalid.

Sighing in defeat, you set the phone back and took the loss of the few coins, dragging your feet as you headed for the exit, but as you reached the door you couldn’t help but freeze in your spot when you recognized the face the cashier was talking to.

“Yeah man, he’s doin’ good. We got some business to take care of later but feel free to swing by tomorrow if you want, I’ll make time,” he chuckled, taking his chance and shoving it in his pocket as he looped the plastic bag around his wrist, dapping up the clerk before heading out the door.

You had ducked into another aisle, kneeling down to avoid being seen with a hand over your mouth as you breathed heavily.

Uncle Aaron?

You were almost certain you had died now. Or at least you wanted to be, but you weren’t dumb enough to believe that. It had to be something more.

As an act of bravery, or maybe stupidity, you decided to follow him. You had no idea what would come of it, but if you couldn’t find your house or your family, making your way back to Miles was your best bet. Oh god, what would Miles think?

You trailed behind down the blocks, keeping your distance and making sure to slow your already unsteady pace to avoid being seen. It was hard to believe the man you were sure had died was now casually walking in front of you, but you didn’t know anything about your situation to be able to make an accurate guess as to what was going on, so you opted to avoid assuming anything.

It seemed like Miles place remained in the same place and in tact, as that’s where you ended up, watching him climb the steps and eventually disappear through the door. Watching from the ground below, you eyed the building before deciding to climb the fire escape. You had no clue how anyone would react to you just walking up and knocking on the door and asking for Miles, as one: for all you knew it could potentially be dangerous, if everything else changed was it possible that your relationships had too? And two: you weren’t exactly on good terms with Miles either. Making it up to the fire escape, you peered into one of the windows, getting a clear view of the living room. Aaron was greeting Miles’ mother, who seemed normal for the most part, albeit a bit more tired.

You couldn’t tell what exactly they were saying, but she had a somber look on her face and Aaron’s seemed devoid of any sort of emotion. It was unlike him, back when he was alive anyway. Shortly after, Aaron left the apartment again and you caught a glimpse of him going upstairs. You took one last look at Mrs.Morales before quickly and quietly following him, catching up just as he got on the roof and peeking up from where you stood on the steps.

He was on the phone, and the few bits of conversation you caught were all talk about some sort of plan and him reminding whoever was on the other end to be on time before chuckling.

“-yeah yeah, your mom just got back home too.” Your mom? Is that- “See you in a few.”

He hung up, and if your mind wasn’t already scrambled enough, hearing that only made it ten times worse. You wanted nothing more than for someone to sit you down and explain what was going on, but that wasn’t going to happen. Maybe if you pinched yourself hard enough you’d wake up from this nightmare. You’d be at home, laying in bed and none of this would’ve ever happened. You never would’ve scolded Miles, you wouldn’t be worrying about your relationship and you for sure wouldn’t be here.

You watched as Aaron seemed to mess around with some rusted device, it being far too complicated for you to know what it was, but he was clearly skilled at fixing it. The air suddenly became tense and you felt something tying a knot in your gut. Call it survival instincts or just a gut feeling, either way you didn’t like it, but it proved to be helpful as just after the feeling passed Aaron’s attention turned from the device to directly where you stood. Your heart sank down to the pit of your stomach.

He knows I’m here.

He rose to his feet and you instinctively jumped back, only to lose your footing on the step you were on and trip, thankfully not falling off but instead stumbling until you hit the railing, a painful reminder of the injury you’d been trying not to focus on.

“Shit!” The pain shot up your side once more, seemingly far more unbearable now that the initial shock had worn off and you gripped the railing.

“Y/N?”

A distorted voice from behind made you jolt and turn your head, holding onto your side and you made eye contact, or what you assumed was eye contact, with a black mask and jagged, glowing white eyes. The person was wearing a combination of purple and black clothing with a seemingly spray painted logo on the front of the shirt, donning gloves with pointed fingers you could only hope weren’t going to get used on you.

You took a staggered step back and bit your lip, suddenly feeling far more lightheaded. You wanted to ask who the figure was. Why were they talking to you- no, more importantly, how they knew who you were, and if they knew what was going on, but now of all times is when your injuries finally decided you were down for the count. Your head felt full of air and your vision went white, the last thing you saw being a clawed hand reaching out to stop you from toppling over the railing as you lost consciousness and fell.

Amazed at the sight of hundreds if not thousands of other Spider-people, Miles marveled at the sight and excitedly greeting most who passed by. He could’ve spent forever reveling in the warm feeling that overcame him that moment, but that was cut short by his spidey sense when he suddenly froze and a cold feeling washed over him.

Something was wrong.

Stuck in place, he glanced around and nothing seemed to be out of place or threatening, but he couldn’t shake the sense that something bad was happening and he was somehow involved.

“Miles, you catching up or what?” Gwen called out from the small distance he’d created.

He smiled and shook his shoulder, giving an affirmative nod as he jogged to catch up with the rest of the group. Was it possible for a spider sense to give a false alarm? Miles wasn’t sure, but he was hoping on it.

╰┈➤ ❝ tag-list ❞

— @go-to-sleep-salem, @justmare, @itzmeme, @zeyzeys-stuff, @luvaline, @chasing-liberosis, @justanerd1, @lilacsandamethysts, @j-natsuka, @planetliaa

if you want to be tagged in the next part just lmk in the replies or my askbox <3

[kakujis]

𝐈𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐃𝐄𝐀𝐃 𝐎𝐅 𝐍𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓… ☽

baji vers | geto vers

synopsis: unbeknownst to you, the grave you visit everyday has been empty for years. keisuke is finally ready to come see you again.

warnings: gn!reader, vampire!baji, character death, devotion, grief and dealing with it, slightly angsty but also fluffy, pet names (baby, kitten), swearing, a little selfship coded, NOT PROOFREAD!, SFW feel free to interact but pls remember i'm an 18+ blog!

ft: vampire!baji x reader, 2.4k

network: @enchantedforest-network

an: here's baji's version!! actually, this one was supposed to come AFTER suguru's but... erm... hehe. it also was supposed to be spookier, but i am nothing but a big ole softy for my loverboy. ): happy halloween! i wanted to post it on his birfday, but i think this is more fitting! could've been longer but i just wanted to get something out LOL. thanks to nie for letting me ramble about this lil fic!!

life is such a finicky thing. and sometimes, the time ticks by too slowly for your liking until it’s suddenly too fast, too short, too soon.

you’ve been to this grave a hundred - no maybe thousands of times, over the years. and yet, like the snowfall, your tears slip down your cheeks, hugging the warmth of your body, til they fall onto the ground disappearing into the asphalt. 

chifuyu matsuno thinks one day, he’ll beat you to it. one day he’ll be the one who arrives first, turning around with a smile and holding a bag of peyoung yakisoba. it’ll be his eyes rimmed red with hands trembling so hard that he’s sure they’ll snap. but you are always here first, almost every day for the past god knows how many years. 

every aspect of the word “first”, is what keisuke baji had embodied. first division captain, first born son, and your first love. he was rowdy, rough, sometimes a little insensitive, but at the end of it all, he was loyal. he was yours. 

“if i’m yours, then you’re mine.” he grinned, toothy, vibrant and all encompassing. his hands held yours like they were the world, and maybe, in a sense, they were. but even the world cannot last forever, the stars themselves bursting at the seams when their time has come. 

“they’re so pretty.” you told him, leaning against his shoulder, pointing up with your index finger. “don’tcha think?” 

“they’re alright,” he mumbled, but he kept his eyes upward, staring at the same stars as you. “i'd rather look at you.” 

“you’re so fucking cheesy.” you laughed, before pressing a chaste kiss to his cheek. 

when stars die, they leave a beautiful supernova, an explosion of color across the galaxy, painting the universe in rich hues of color. but when baji died, you thought it was so fucking ugly. you remember throwing up the first night, your own shitty constellation within the porcelain of your toilet. 

then the world started to dim, like the world was dipped in muted shades when there used to be so much vibrance. the sun was no longer as bright and you no longer sought comfort under the moon, hiding away from even her blue light. 

if there is solace in one thing, it’s that baji was a really good liar. sure, he was different that day and sometimes had trouble looking at you, but there was nothing to suspect that he would decide to plunge in that knife and bleed out on the ground of that god forsaken junkyard. 

“i’m scared you’ll go away,” you told him one night, so desperately wishing now that you would’ve noticed the way he tensed ever so slightly. “like, one day, i’ll wake up and you’re not there anymore.” 

you remember how he leaned in, nose brushing against yours before pulling back slightly. “and where would i go that doesn’t have you in it?” he grinned, another bright fanged smile that eased every single worry out of your brain. and you decided in that moment, that keisuke was always going to be the one that held your heart in his hands. 

“marry me one day.” you replied and he laughed, before holding up his pinky to yours. “good. saying no wasn’t an option.” 

“figured.” 

but today is not a day to be caught in memories as the sun plummets below the horizon, as the sky shifts from a pretty magenta pink to inky black. feet bouncing off the pavement, you scurry over to his grave. you chastise yourself for being late today of all days, it was his birthday. 

“sorry!” you call out as you finally make it, hands on your knees as you suck precious air back into your lungs. “sorry i’m late, kei.” 

you do the usual of pouring water onto the tombstone, before you light a candle and spread the blanket beneath you, sitting cross-legged as you pull out the contents of your bag. “i got a little something extra today,” you say, eagerly pulling out the sealed little slice of cake you got at the bakery. “okay… so it looks a little fucked, but don’t mind that.” you giggle, before sighing.

“if you were here… what would you say?” you mumble to yourself, before putting on your best keisuke voice. “hah? it’s still edible isn’t it?... or something.” you nod as if in response to him, before tearing it open and setting it down. “chifuyu saw you earlier right? did he bring you something good? oh! and, i was looking at some of the cats at the pet shop earlier, they’re no peke j but, they’re still cute, y’know?” 

you always do this. you ramble and ramble, relaying your day to him as if he’s listening intently to you. sometimes, you’ll imagine when the two of you sat in his room, his lips quirked up into a smile as he nodded and listened to you. 

“the cake is good!” you exclaim, taking a bite. it’s fluffy, creamy, and sweet, it almost masks the saltiness of your tears that seep past your lips, onto your tongue and settle on your buds. 

almost.

“fuck- sorry. sorry for crying.” you use one hand to wipe away at your tears, the other holding onto your convenient plastic fork. it’s harder to breathe now, sobs wracking your body as your mind floods with “what ifs” once again. what if you had asked him to stay with you that day? what if you tried harder? what if you had noticed something was wrong sooner? could you have done anything? and what if-

lost in your thoughts you almost miss the familiar drawl that used to set your heart and soul on fire. “still a crybaby, eh?” 

you freeze, the fall breeze caressing your cheek as you sniffle and ever so slowly, turn. you must have been hearing things, you think, as there’s nothing there but the other stone graves and the leaves on the wind. 

“maybe i am losing my fucking mind...” you mutter, taking a deep breath to calm yourself, “i should look into therapy.” 

you shake your head, a little spooked. it’s getting later by the moment, the only light nearby being the candle, a warm-orange flame surrounded by night. you lean over to blow it out, but stop, feeling that you should stay a bit longer. not only are you late, but it’s keisuke’s day, it wouldn’t be right to leave so soon. you frown, before settling back in place. 

“anyways, what was i saying?” you hum, taking another scoop of your dessert. “something-“

“something about the new cats at chifuyu’s shop right?” that familiar voice sounds again, closer this time, tickling the shell of your ear. 

you immediately jerk around and almost pass out at what you see. crouched down and smiling, that familiar wolfy grin is keisuke, looking just like you remembered. from the way his long, inky hair frames his face to the vivid carmine of his eyes, it’s keisuke. 

“hey, continue the story baby, i was listening.” he gestures to the cake on your fork, slipping off the utensil from the shakiness of your hands. “lemme have a bite?” 

you’re snapped from your stupor when he finally touches you, cold fingers lightly guiding your hand upward towards his mouth. you immediately scramble back, the cake falling onto the blanket below. 

“kitten,” he says, frowning at the mess, “y’know i hate wasting food.” the pet name almost sends you into a spiral, the way it falls off his tongue so easily, just like he always used to say it, almost like it was your name at times. 

“you’re not real.” you whisper, shaking your head slightly, the words trapped behind the door of your brain unleashing in that moment. “i’m hallucinating. i have to be.” 

he inches towards you as you continue to crawl back, back hitting the cold gray stone. keisuke leans in, snuffing out the candle between his fingers first before redirecting his attention to you. he’s so close you’re sure he can feel your breath, but the odd thing is, you can’t feel his.

“if i wasn’t real…” he starts, inching in so close your noses just barely touch, just a hair widths away, “could i do this?” he kisses you then, just barely holding back his deep fervent need to snatch you up and take you home. wherever that was. 

it’s strange, baji’s cold, nearly ice, and yet you feel the familiar rush of warmth through your veins that once bloomed so deeply in your heart, that everything suddenly does feel real. the two of you stay like that for a few moments and when he pulls away you lean in again, snatching him by the collar to press another kiss to the lips that you missed so much. 

baji’s wolfish grin plays on his face in between the kisses you continue to plant against his lips and his skin, alternating between his cheeks and jawline. “yeah, yeah, i missed you too, you big crybaby.” he laughs, cupping your face to swipe at the tears that fall freely once again. 

you whine when he forces you to pull off, bringing your hands up to his, almost as if you’re sure he’ll run off again and be gone by morning. “you’re really keisuke? …this isn’t a joke?” you shake your head as you ask, hiccuping and trying your best to heave in gulps of air. 

“yeah, it’s me.” he answers, the crinkle of his eyes never leaving. 

but you just don’t get it. how is baji here and not well, six-feet under? almost as if he can read your mind he speaks, “i’m not really sure how it happened either.” he starts, releasing you and staring down at his palms, opening and closing them, almost as if he’s also in a daze. “i shouldn’t be here, i know that. i made sure i wouldn’t and yet, i woke up not too long after that day.” he lifts his shirt up and you wince in anticipation, but there’s nothing where the old stab wound should be, like it never happened. 

hesitantly, you place your hand flat against the area, before your fingertips trace the outline where it should be. you exhale deeply before speaking again, “how come you only showed up now?” 

he gives you a sheepish grin, rubbing the back of his neck, as the hem of his shirt falls back into place. “well… i had to sort of figure things out. dunno how well received i would’ve been if i just showed up after my own funeral.” he jokes, but you glare at him. 

“do you have any idea at all how badly that fucked me up?” you ask, remembering the countless nights you spent staring up at your bedroom walls so utterly exhausted from crying or the days you spend in a haze, trying your best to get through the day. you won’t lie, you’ve been so angry since that day. endlessly lonely, endlessly empty, and just when you thought you’d be able to get over it, he shows up like it wasn’t that big of a deal. 

“well, i watched you a lot.” he admits, gazing around the cemetery. “you come here every single day, you cry every single time, even when you say you’re not going to. you’ve cursed me out in death more times than i can count and i think you’ve tried every single type of peyoung soba. you, chifuyu, and kazutora have only come here together a handful of times and everytime one of you ends up drunk crying.” he snorts, before continuing, “you sleep with my hair ties under your pillow and almost had the balls to ask my mom for my toman jacket, multiple times.she would’ve said yeah, by the way. every evening you say goodnight to me and that you love me.” 

he grins when you sit there, mouth agape, and asks, “did i miss anythin’?” 

you shake your head, “but what now? i still don’t get why you came here today?” 

he shrugs, “i’ve got a question for ya.” but his expression is serious now, the shift in his features making you nervously fidget with your hands. but before you can look away, he tilts your head towards him, the other hand intertwining with yours, locking you in place. “you still wanna be with me forever?” 

your heart pounds in your chest, almost alarmingly so, as you gaze at him with lidded eyes while your voice is light, fluttering back up to him and relaying the answer he’s been waiting to hear. “of course, keisuke.”

“and you’d do anything? …let me do anything?” he questions further, squeezing when you nod your head. 

you’d let me turn you?

and you’re aware now, what it is he’s asking. and maybe, you think it’s because you centered so much of you life around him, that leaving it behind doesn’t sound too bad. if you were the clouds, then baji was the sky, always trying to stay in that space so intrinsically bound to one another that only death could have separated you. 

he never said the word, but he didn’t really need to. what was the one thing that could have escaped death like this?  what else was he but a vampire? 

“okay,” he sighs, “if you’re sure.”

“more than ever.” you state. 

keisuke is fast, picking you up and into his arms. naturally, you wrap yours around his neck, a part of you still thinking that this must be a dream. 

“well, there’s no way we’re gonna do it in some freakin’ cemetery.” he jokes and you giggle. if his heart could beat, he’s sure it’d flutter just as fast as yours. 

“hey are you gonna turn chifuyu?” you ask, blinking up at him, ���or tora?” 

“you think they’d wanna hang out with us? for eternity?” he asks, picking up the pace as he walks.

“hmm, maybe you’re right. besides, takemichi’s gonna miss them too much right?” you continue, the breeze kissing your now dried cheeks. 

“don’t forget mikey.” he adds, before continuing, “well, it’s not like we can’t visit sometime.” 

you nod, placing your head on his shoulder, “not too soon though, we’ve got a lot of catching up to do.” 

he smiles at you as he answers, “don’t worry. we’ve got all the time in the world.” 

as the two of you leave, you peek back towards the lights of the city, becoming smaller and smaller with each step. and you wonder how upset chifuyu’ll be tomorrow when he finds your half-eaten cake, spread out on an already forgotten blanket. 

[lily-alphonse]

So I finally finished watching ATLA (the animated series) all the way through, for the first time. Here's my final reaction post! You can see the others at the first tag listed below (#lily's atla reactions)

I had always known it was a good show from what little I saw of it. Im not a big TV watcher because a lot of it gets too intense for me. I can’t separate reality from fiction and get so stressed I would actually die watching something like Game of Thrones lol. So I’ve started going through series from my childhood and of course I was going to start with this classic.

(Im cutting this in case you are like me and took forever to watch this and dont want spoilers)

I unsurprisingly love this series. My boy Zuko stays on top, I love his emo ass. Uncle Iroh is a close second, I know, based lol. I was very pleasantly surprised by the Earth King, an unexpected little side character fave that I latched onto and WILL be writing for.

Honorable mention also to Appa. I adore Appa. His episode broke me. Absolutely broke my heart to see him lose his trust in people, and then when Suki found him OH MY GOD 😭 I was so relieved. (Which, btw, did not expect her to be such a big part of the series that was nice)

Speaking of animals though, the hardest I cried was for Roku dying with his dragon. When the dragon just jumped back in to the flames to die with his master I fucking lost it bro. It reminded me of how Aang and Appa nearly died together, and how Aang’s instinct with his dying breath was to protect them BOTH in that ball of ice BRO I SOBBED ALOUD.

Oh as far as characters I also have to mention the explodey eye guy. I love action and he was SO menacing I was always on the edge of my seat when he was around.

In general I love the scenery, I love pretty scenery and colors and I was so well fed. I am worried that if I continue on to LOK I won't like it as much, considering the time jump to the industrial era. I'm a renaissance faire girlie lol.

I love the heavy messages they didn't shy away from. I think the show probably helped conceptualize a lot of really heavy subjects for kids, and I'm grateful to it for that. How revenge hurts everyone, how mistakes don't define you, how grief works.

I love the friendship and found family, the Zuko adventures episodes were probably my favorite. I can see where everyone is coming from with their various Zuko ships, I'm hearing all of you. If I had to choose one, though, I might actually be pro Zuko/Aang? Which is kind of wild and unexpected because Aang isn't my favorite, but I honestly felt like their characters complemented each other the best. It's funny because I share Zukka art all the time and the only fic Ive read was a Zukka fic lol. They're hot together what can I say? I do like Sokka and Suki together though! I think the show really did them justice as a couple.

There were a couple of really cool moments in the ending. Toph falling onto the metal door and metalbending herself armor? SO badass. And Sokka's boomerang coming in clutch again. I love clever moments in action like that.

Overall, unfortunately... I did not love the ending. I wish I had more of a reaction for you, but I found myself being too critical in it, and that is not how I want to contribute to the fandom. I recognize it is a kid's show and I am an adult, and probably wouldn't have anything to say that hasn't been hammered into the ground over the years since it aired.

I loved the show, expect to see an Earth King fic from me someday (and maybe other ships? who knows). I might watch Gravity Falls next since I can't handle adult television lol. We shall seeeee

[scribblestatic]

...So I thought of something kinda cute, sad, and crack all at the same time. I'm sure someone else has thought of it, too.

Like, canonically, we all know the Lamb is, like, grown enough to handle the stuff (kinda, sorta, I don't think there's any age you can handle all'a that). The "Lamb" is just, you know, cause of all the lambs and stuff in cultural things.

But what if...hear me out...

The Lamb was literally just a lamb.

Like, Narinder feels when the last sheep dies and he cackles, knowing this is the one that will fulfill the prophecy and release him. So he summons their body and soul so he can tell them what they must do.

He sees them, off in the distance, and waits.

And waits...

...For some reason, whoever this is seems to be moving quite slowly.

And as they get closer, more visible through the fog...

It's a fucking baby.

"Aaaaababababa..."

It's walking on its lil feet, hands to its sides as it tries to balance itself. It took so long to get closer because it's literally just learning how to walk. Narinder is still, staring. Aym and Baal's eyes are wide open.

The little Lamb falls on its butt. Aym jolts forward just a bit before remembering himself.

However, the Lamb doesn't cry. It just leans forward, gets all four of its little chubby limbs underneath itself, and pushes back up onto two legs.

It huffs, almost managing to look proud, and then it gets back to walking, baby babbling all the way til it falls against Narinder's clothes. The One Who Waits stiffens, both because he hasn't been touched by someone else in a long time, and because his cloak is made of the sheer and blood of all the little lamb's murdered ancestors.

However, the Lamb either doesn't recognize the smell of lanolin or isn't focused on what he's wearing. Hell, does the little one even have a concept of what clothes are made of?

Instead, the Lamb looks up at Narinder, opens its little mouth, and bleats.

Narinder shuts his eyes tightly.

...This is the last lamb. This is the only lamb able to somehow release him from captivity. Because the lamb is otherwise dead, it will not grow quickly, if at all. If he doesn't have this lamb go back into the world, somehow start a cult, and kill his siblings to release the chains, he's stuck in this place forever.

...He is not cruel. The Lamb is simply a pawn. Nothing more or less. He can use it, like his followers, as he pleases. There's nothing cruel about doing so.

He chants that in his head several times until he can manage to open his eyes.

When he sees those beady eyes full of curiosity and love staring back at him, he has to close his eyes again and chant what he thought a few more times. The chant is interrupted briefly with another little bleat from the one using him to balance itself before he continues.

Aym and Baal watch as the baby eventually sits, clinging onto Narinder's cloak, and stuffs its little thumb in its mouth, waiting patiently.

...Ridiculous.

Steeling himself, Narinder leans down, staring at the infant. It can't speak, so he reads its mind.

"You. Do you want to live?"

'Biiiig...!'

"...That is not what I asked."

'Big safe. Big. Safe! Soft.'

Narinder has to spend another few moments with his eyes shut tightly.

After trying and failing to get the little one to understand several times, Narinder takes a different approach.

He simply takes his crown off, putting it on the ground in front of the Lamb.

Its eyes are on it immediately, growing wide with curiosity. It doesn't let go of Narinder's cloak, but it gets on its other hand and knees and crawls forward until it's right in front of the Red Crown. It grabs the crown, coos at it, and puts one of the top ends in its mouth.

Narinder clears his throat, and the Lamb looks up.

He mimes pulling the crown out of his own mouth and putting it on his head.

The Lamb, merely a baby, follows suit, putting the drool-covered crown on its head.

It blinks, eyes turning red with eldritch power and knowledge no infant should have.

Up above, the Lamb resurrects, awakening underground. It doesn't have to breathe, so it's okay. It just digs its way out, the crown instinctively becoming grasping claws. It pops up out the ground like a sprout before pulling the rest of its body out.

It looks left, then right, then below itself. It can sense the hundreds of thousands of bodies in the mass graves, merely fertilizer for the earth now.

...It's dark. It would be nice to be somewhere with more light!

Cooing softly, the Lamb wobbles its way forward, going toward the exit to the land of the Old Faith on tiny legs, a Red Crown on a tiny head with little horns grown onto it entirely too early.

Baby shenanigans ensue.

[lxinesux]

when i sink my teeth, (your skins not so tough)

Relationship: Peter Parker x Green Goblin!Super Solider!Reader

Summary: Peter reacts poorly to your attempted sacrifice. He seeks to let you know just how much you mean to him.

Warnings: Panic Attack, guns, PTSD, gore, violence, blood, and implied torture. Slight dubcon kissing that becomes very con lol Frottage, love confessions.

A/N: *screech* this has been rotting in my google docs for WEEKS and i’ve been editing it ova and ova and it’s still not up to par, to me. So I give lol. I really love this reader so- you may see her again. ONWARD!!

Peter very gently sets you on your shaky feet, trying to keep hold of your waist while he maneuvers out of the window.

You're already bleeding through the layers of webbing he used instead of a bandage and it’s soaking through the spandex of your costume. The wound itself doesn’t hurt, the adrenaline making sure of that, but you’re hot and cold and shaking and are pretty sure you're gonna vomit-

You tear the mask off your face, grunting as a few stray hairs are ripped from your scalp. You’re coated in sweat and grime but you’re freezing.

“I can’t believe you did that,” Peter says from some faraway place.

You press against the wound just under your ribs, shuffling to the cluttered couch in the far corner of the living room. You fall onto it and shut your eyes.

There’s that pain from earlier. It’s hot, white lightning in your stomach. It makes you mean. “Fuck off-“

“Let me see it!”

“No, fuck off Pete!”

“You just want me to let you bleed out on the couch!?”

“Yes!”

Talking is too much right now. You can hear Peter’s mask drop onto the cluttered living room floor. Hear the soft thack thack thack that means he’s crawling on the ceiling.

Away from you, thank fuck.

You press your cheek against the jersey couch cover and try to ground yourself while your wound gains a heartbeat.

You really should’ve just let him get hit. Asshole. Truthfully, you’d rather die right here than have to explain why exactly you took a literal bullet for him.

It was all so embarrassing.

His back was turned, his reflexes delayed while he dealt with the rest of the villains of the week’s goons. You were too far away to get the gun away, and you could just tell, from the aim-

It might’ve killed him. Gotten into his spine. Paralyzed him in a way his dumb healing factor couldn’t fix.

Yes, he’d been shot before. Yes, he’d gone through worse. But what if this was the one time he wouldn’t heal? This split second, the moment the bullet left the chamber and burrowed under his skin-his life over, forever.

You couldn’t risk that.

So you jumped in the way.

His life was more important than yours, anyway. Everything Spiderman represented: hope, justice, protection, was worth more than anything you could do. That wasn’t the entire reason.

You couldn’t risk losing Peter. He was the only thing you had left, the only good thing. He was the only person in your life who didn’t think you were a freak or a monster.

He taught you how to be good. And if he were gone, your source of goodness would be gone with him.

At least if you died, it’d be martyrdom.

You can hear the thack, thack, thack return. It reverberates in your wound and between your ears. Pain, heat, pain.

He drops down in front of you, you can feel it through the cool air his descent leaves. He’s on his knees.

“Please,” he says.

“Can’t-”

He sighs, “Okay. This might hurt though. I’m gonna cut off this webbing, okay? It might peel off some skin so just-”

“Get on with it.”

Peter oh so gently peels your tacky, bloodied hands away from the wound. You’re locked in a fetal position from the pain, your knees up to your chest. You can feel the blood clotting though, a sign your much slower healing process is beginning.

Thank you, Goblin Formula.

It’s less painful and more irritating. The skin around the wound is tender and angry. Peter lets out a tense intake of air. It must look awful but you’re not gonna peek. You can handle blood and gore, just not your own.

“I’m cleaning the area now. It might sting,” You hate how his voice sounds so soft, so sweet, “You’ve stopped bleeding, but you’re gonna need stitches.”

You let out a pathetic whimper the moment the anti-septic touches your skin. You nearly arch up in pain. Fresh tears prick at your eyes.

“That hurts!” You squirm, trying to get away from the source of the agony.

“I told you it would! Hold still!”

“Stop!”

You try to jerk away, but he holds your wrist. You open your eyes then, to glare at him. But he’s looking up at you, his brows furrowed and those hazel eyes are shimmering with unshed tears.

The tenseness of his jaw says he’s angry. You’re familiar with his anger. But not the sadness. Not the fear that his eyes are showing you. You want to shut your eyes again, to get away from the onslaught of overwhelming emotions directed toward you.

His eyes move swiftly back to his work, “Just…just hold still okay? Stop squirming…”

And you do hold still. You make eye contact with the streetlight through the window. Because it’s easier than looking at him.

“I’m gonna sew you up now. You might want to hold onto a pillow or something. I promise…I’m not trying to hurt you. I’ll put on some numbing cream but you might still feel it…”

You nod stiffly. His hands are gentle on the flesh around the gash. You’ve thought about his hands a lot. How shapely they are. Beautifully made. And strong. You’ve felt them on your body before, but never in the way you envision. It almost hurts; this is how he touches you, only when you’re wounded.

The numbing cream doesn’t stop the feeling of your skin getting pulled. He’s pulling your skin together as if he made you. Like you’re a stuffed toy or his suit after it rips. At this you whimper, you squirm at the unnatural feeling. He waits for you to stop moving before he starts again.

This feels too intimate. Your blood is on him, the blood you lost trying to protect him. He’s putting you back together, taking care of you. His breath is on your skin, his warmth near you.

Life is unfair.

If you weren’t so broken, if you were softer, if you were more like the girls at the Bugle-maybe he would touch you when you weren’t bleeding out. Maybe he would look at you with something that wasn’t fear and anger.

You both sit in silence as he bandages the fresh stitches. He swallows.

“Do you…do you want me to wipe you down?”

“…Just bring me a washcloth.”

“…Y/N..”

“Please, just…don’t. Not right now.”

He brings the washcloth, a bowl of warm water, as well as your favorite pajama pants and one of his shirts. He’s brought you a pillow too, and some clean sheets.

He knows you. He knows you and it sickens you to your core.

Ultimately, it means nothing. Of course, he’s seen your behavior. He’s lived with you for months now.

But it still makes your heart stutter in your chest that he knows which pair to fish out of the pile on the bathroom floor. Understands without saying, you need to be alone.

“Yell if you need anything,” He says.

You nod stiffly. God, would he just leave you to suffer this embarrassment alone? You needed to stew in your bitter juices.

He looks at you one last time. And you know him just as he knows you. You can see on his face, the tenseness of his jaw, he wants to refuse.

You want him to stay.

He goes to the bedroom. Your gunshot wound isn’t the only thing aching.

-

You dream of him.

Those dark eyes on your body, his hands on your skin.

His pretty, soft lips on the ugly scarred parts of you. He makes them beautiful, makes them almost worth the pain that put them there if he just keeps lavishing them with kisses.

You can only imagine what his kisses feel like. What his hands feel like in your hair.

You love him. Fuck, you love him. You can admit that here, in the comfort of your brain. Here, you can press your fingertips into his shoulder blades. Feel the warmth of him pressed against your naked body.

You’ve thought about his cock often. You’ve felt it against you more than once. In the mornings, you felt it press aggressively, almost pleadingly, against your ass in that tiny twin bed you share. In the evenings, you imagined it in the grey sweats he wore around the house.

He thrusts in and out of you, slow and deep. His tongue swipes up your jaw and swirls around your ear.

“I love you,” He pants, “I love you so fucking much.”

He would never love you if he knew all that you’d done. You couldn’t even remember how many lives you took, how much blood you spilled.

You were a weapon. You were never taught lust or love. You never felt them, or their lack.

You’d never even thought about sex until you moved into his apartment and started sharing his bed. All you craved was skin, heat, and the soft intimacy of just holding each other. Then those urges gained an edge. A hunger grew in you that frightened you. It would gnaw its way through you if you’d let it.

You can’t say it back, but you don’t need to. He knows. In this reality, he knows. He knows and you know and all that matters is that you’re together. It’s safe and warm here.

Here is a bloodless place. A woundless place.

There’s no pull of stitches as he contorts your body into the position he needs you in. You’re so close. He has you on your knees, back arched. He reaches between your legs, rubbing at your clit in slow circles.

You make noises that you’d never make in real life. Your body betrays itself, and surrenders to the blinding pleasure.

You're gone, your knees locking, your head thrown back, and then-

-

It hurts. Dear fucking god, it hurts.

How the fuck did you manage to roll off the couch? During your sex dream, no less. And landed perfectly on your fresh wound.

“Ow.”

Your pride is what hurts the most. But the new irritation on your stitching sends waves of nausea through you. You lay on your back, staring up at the ceiling for a few moments. Allow yourself a few deep breaths.

You force yourself upwards and immediately regret it. It’s dizzying and fills your mouth with the runny vile you swallow.

So sexy. Very en vogue of you.

You move Peter’s shirt out of the way. Your flesh is irritated, and bright red from your unexpected trip to the floor. But the stitches held. Peter had stellar handiwork.

The morning sun peaks its head across the Brooklyn skyline. The only nice thing about this shit-hole apartment was the bay windows. It allowed for perfect post-patrol viewing, right on the floor.

You feel gross, despite your bird bath last night. You wonder where Peter is. You take a moment, more breathing, to rest against the couch leg.

You need a proper shower. Your hair is heavy with sweat and smells like soot.

At Oscorp, they would’ve laughed at your complaint. Correction, you would’ve never complained. You and your filthy hair were simply meant to serve a greater purpose. They’d give you a public shower with a sad, pale, foamy bar of generic soap and no hot water.

Figure it out yourself, Asset.

You weren’t an Asset anymore. You very gently touch your stitches again. Wince at the tenderness of the wound. You never felt anything before Peter. No pain, discomfort, hunger, or thirst.

After him, you are Human. Unfortunately, repugnantly, aggressively human. With limitations, with discomforts.

You miss the days of numbness. Peter brought out feelings you never wanted and were better off without.

You would give this man anything he wanted. You would do whatever he asked, no matter the price. It terrified you, this deep loyalty. It was as though your programming flipped, from the Osbournes and your handlers to Peter Parker and Spiderman.

You stand up on shaky legs. Finally, it seemed like the pain was abetting. Your stomach gurgling stabilized. Your feet pad across the hardwood, using autopilot.

You turn your head briefly. The bathroom was attached to the tiny bedroom you shared. The only small blessing that brought was confirming Peter was home, he was still bunched up under the covers. Judging by how early it was, he’d probably be asleep for another few hours.

You shut the door, careful to move it along its fickle framework. You slide your shirt off, gently place a waterproof bandage over your gash, and start the water.

-

Of course, you’d decide to make as much noise as possible right when he was getting to sleep.

He groaned, half-heartedly throwing his arm over his eyes.

You were okay though. You were alive. 

Holy fuck. 

Holy fuck, you almost died last night. 

It all comes back to him, the memories stabbing into his brain like a million knives. God, you were being stupid, and reckless, like you didn’t care if you lived or died-

But you were okay now. You were alive, alive, alive. He could go into the bathroom right now, and you would be there. 

It’s too late.

His body trembles. He bites down on his lower lip, trying not to cry out. He squeezes his eyes shut, but hot tears still burn down his cheeks. Shit, shit, shit. Waking up in a panic attack was common but not something he would ever get used to. 

He digs the palms of his into his eyelids. His flesh was going against him, muscles tensing, chest tightening. His burning, screaming lungs weren’t getting any air. He just kept seeing your blood. On his hands, on the concrete, on your costume. 

You could’ve died. You could’ve wound up in the ground. Just like his parents. Uncle Ben. 

Gwen. 

“Hey.” 

His ears are filled with cotton. His hands are pried away from his eyes. Under the sheen of tears, he can see your blurry outline.  

“Hey.” You repeat, pulling him toward you. Your skin is wet, your hair dripping onto his bare shoulder. “I’m here. I’m here, Pete. I got you.”

His hand finds its way into your wet hair, the other gripping your waist hard enough to bruise. His heart beats painfully against his ribs. If you weren’t a mutant, he would’ve crushed you instantly. He had forgotten his strength. 

“Don’t do that again,” he pants into your hair, “I swear to God. I’m not worth that. I’m not-I can’t handle more blood on my hands, more sacrifices-” 

“Peter, I’m not-” 

“You’re all I have, it’s my job to protect you.” 

You want to say that it’s the opposite, that it’s the least you can do, protect him. 

You rub his back, trying to help soothe him through the episode. You did this. You started this. You gave him this episode because of your stupidity. 

What feels like hours pass before calms fully. His body goes limp in your arms. He trusts you so much. He’s so vulnerable. It makes your stomach flip. It’s more than you deserve. 

“Does it hurt?” 

“Hm?” 

“Your gunshot wound?” 

“Oh. I fell on it this morning,” God, how embarrassing to admit that, “But it’s fine now. It’s starting to heal. Might need to take the stitches out early.” 

His face stays pressed against your neck, his warm breath against your jugular.

You feel something press against your neck. Soft, unsure. Then again, a little more urgent, harder. Then again, moving up toward your ear. Leaving small, but not unpleasant tingles in their wake. 

It takes your brain a moment to realize what’s happening. You freeze, every molecule in your body standing at attention. 

When you’d heard the telltale whimpering coming from the doorway, you’d thrown on his bathrobe. It hadn’t occurred to you until this moment that you were very, very naked underneath. 

He moves away from you when your body tenses. 

“Christ, I’m sorry. I don’t know what I’m doing…”

“Adrenaline.” You say. Do you want to believe that? No. You want to believe that Peter was kissing your neck because he desired you. But that wasn’t rational. “You were having an adrenaline rush, your mind was seeking comfort and I’m the closest warm body-“

“Do you think I see you that way? A warm body?”

His eyes are boring holes into yours. He knows you won’t answer truthfully, so you don’t waste your time answering. 

It was how you were programmed to think. It was useless to fully go against your programming. 

“If I lost you last night, I would’ve never forgiven myself.”

“That’s because it goes against your code of ethics. You want to protect humanity-“

He looks as though you’ve slapped him in the face, “Do you know why I wouldn’t let you go into SHIELD custody?”

You don’t. 

“I could make up a lie and tell you it’s because you wouldn’t have been safe. I don’t trust SHIELD nor the Avengers but they would’ve kept you safe. I could say that I think you may be able to secure more information about my parents, but I don’t think I’ll ever really know all the answers. I’m not even sure if I want them anymore.” 

“Stop, stop, don’t go any further-“

You don’t want to give yourself hope of what he might say. Of what he might do. Of any sort of future that would be dashed before your eyes once he knew what you were. 

He grabs your wrists, “You are all I have. You’re all I want-“

“You don’t know what you’re asking for!” 

He pins you down with your gathered wrists, his legs on either side of yours to keep you there. You’re belly up, your brain screaming to right yourself-your heart beats hard against your chest. He’s stronger than you, but only just barely. The bones in your wrist pop as you squirm. 

“Get off me.” 

“I love you.”

“No,” You hiss, “I won’t let you. I won’t allow it-“ 

His teeth hit your bottom lip, then scrape against your enamel, before his tongue unceremoniously slides into your mouth. 

And you bite him.

Not hard enough to draw blood, but a warning nonetheless. It’s enough to startle him, enough for you to subdue him. For you to get him on his back, both of you panting hard. 

Your robe is open far too much, your wound is stinging from exertion, but your mind is still in combat mode. Watching him watching you. 

His eye lock on yours. The skin underneath them purple and still puffy. You can see the tackiness of dried tears on his cheek. The faint hint of a bruise on his hairline from the night before. His beard tentatively trying to grow back before he shaves it again.

That hunger is trying to stir again. You want to kill it. But it’s already made its way down. You’re pressed tightly against him. 

You know he can feel you getting wet. 

Your lip twitches. This was supposed to remain in your head. He wasn’t supposed to know anything. You were trying to protect him again. And again you were failing. 

His cock gets semi hard underneath you and it really doesn’t help. A moan claws its way up your throat before you can cut it off. 

“Fuck,” Peter says. 

You don’t know how to initiate anything further. The soldier in you is confused. This goes against programming. Your body gets hot like the after effects of your wet dreams. Functionally, you know how this works. You know it feels good. But this is reality, not a dream. 

It feels so much better than a dream.

You want to move. Not away, but toward. So you put your hands on Peter’s chest and move your hips, slightly, minutely. 

“Oh m’god,” He breathes. His hands, his perfect hands, move to your hips. He’s so careful not to touch your wound that it hurts a little anyway. Like it’s trying to remind you who you are. 

He guides you against his sweats, a little faster than your pace. Your clit is throbbing against this soft fabric and the hardness underneath it. 

You want to tell him about the mess going on your head right now. Your horny confused brain, the hunger it feels. How this is fucked up and you should just get off. Not get off but get off of him. Fuck.

But all that came out were tiny desperate, embarrassing noises. You weren’t being seductive. To yourself, you sounded like a squeaky toy.

His hands move from your hips in the rob to your back, to your ass. He presses you down even harder. The jolt of wetness makes your face burn. 

“Feels good, doesn’t it?”

“Y…yes…”

Peter keeps you rooted there. You try to move again but he tsks, holds your sides again. 

“Pete…”

You squeeze your eyes shut. Your mind feels mushy. Your one singular goal moving out of reach. Your limbs suddenly feel too long, too shaky. Your cunt is throbbing, hole closing around nothing. There’s an ache, an emptiness so intense you think you might fall into it and die. 

“Peter, please…” You don’t sound like yourself. You can’t even hear yourself. Your head is too full of blood. 

You feel that firm pressure against your neck again. You lean into it instead. His arms wrap around you then and you feel so dizzy. 

Chest to chest now, the robe somehow made its way down to your waist. Your nipples brush against his skin and how are you meant to keep calm? It’s too much, it’s all too much. 

Your hips move without him telling you, without his help. Faster, sloppy, erratic. Your stomach hurts. There’s a tightness in your chest that needs release. 

“There you go, baby. Look at me. Look at me.”

He’s in your ear. Tears prick up behind your eyelids. If you look at him, you’ll lose your nerve. If you don’t, he might stop you again. 

You do look. His hand cups your face. His eyes are shimmering with the same hunger you feel. Only, his isn’t shameful. On him, it looks terrifying, but erotic. 

“Let me kiss you,” He groans, “Properly…let me. Please.” 

You nod frantically. You’d agree to anything, the depth of your desperation was so great. His tongue swipes against your lips. You’re mouth opens quickly. You don’t know how to kiss. You’ve only ever seen it in movies. You don’t think it’s supposed to feel like electricity is running frantic under your skin like your lungs are shriveling up. 

It’s not supposed to melt your brain, not supposed to turn your organs into liquid. Liquid that’s quickly running toward your pelvis. Fast, so fast. That ball in your chest unwinding with breakneck speed. 

You cling to Peter’s sweating back, your fingers marking pretty purple-red spots along his shoulders. Your head jerks away from his. 

Oh, God. Oh fucking, God. Too much. Too much. I can’t-

Peter presses back up against you. Your whole body quakes. You think you scream, you must scream. The force of your orgasm tears through you fast and without end. 

Your body is still trembling when you come back down. You slump against Peter. His hands move over your body, petting your hair, rubbing your back. 

“So good, baby. You did so good.” 

“‘m sticky…” 

He rumbles out a laugh, moving to lay you both on your sides. His sweats were a mess. 

“You came in your pants,” you observe. 

Another snort, “You were very hot. It would’ve been impossible not to.” He kisses you again, tongueless and sweet. 

Something warm and sweet settles into your bones. Love. The physical feelings of love, belonging. Peter's fingers are gentle as he moves hair out of your face. He’s smiling and it feels like sunlight pouring on your face. 

Maybe you do deserve this. Maybe it all doesn’t have to be rational. 

“You wanna finish showering with me?”

You nod. His fingers intertwine with yours as he helps you up.

Maybe this could be good.

[mistydeyes]

May you write hyacinth + ghost? :)

Thank you so much for requesting!! This one was too good! Forewarning, I am so sorry at how potentially tragic this is like MAN I WAS TEARING UP WHILE EDITING

link to the prompt list and 1k celebration!

prompt: hyacinth - they decide to interrupt the wedding just as you're about to say your vows

pairing: Simon "Ghost" Riley x f!reader

warning: ANGST, swearing, canonical violence, ABSOLUTE PAIN AND MOURNING, no happy endings here for simon :(

┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊┊

Simon Riley was never a religious man but he said a silent prayer as he entered the small chapel. He settled in a pew towards the back right of the holy place, ignoring the gazes that fell upon him. His breath was heavy on his face mask as he briefly looked at the program. He felt confided in his grey dress shirt and could feel the palms of his hands begin to sweat. He wiped them on his rayon pants as he tried to calm his nerves. Soon the crowd hushed as the wedding procession entered. Simon's eyes flickered to the groomsmen and the accompanying bridesmaids. Violet. They were wearing violet, your favorite color and the one you always envisioned for your wedding.

"Si, look at these," you smiled as you showed him a photo on Pinterest. Simon looked at the violet silk wedding dresses that complimented a smiling group of bridesmaids with orchids in their hands. "Looks nice," he mumbled before returning to his phone. You let out a sigh before responding. "I think I want those for our wedding."

Eventually, the ethereal organ music began to play a different melody and the crowd stood in response. Simon quickly joined the smiling family and friends as their gaze was turned to the door. Nothing could have prepared him for that moment. You walked out onto the aisle looking like a fucking angel. Your ivory gown floated on the ground and in your delicate hands, you held a beautifully designed bouquet with orchids, chamomiles, and hydrangeas. You looked so happy and radiant at the moment. With the softest note of the organ, you descended the aisle to your husband-to-be. Simon's heart ached as he recognized the melody, So This is Love by Emile Pandolfi. As you walked, it was as if you only were in the room with your husband as he watched a fragile tear fall down your face. His gaze followed as you ascended, taking an elegant step on the altar.

Throughout the ceremony, Simon's nerves and anguish reached a fever pitch. He felt like he was drowning as the crowd sat and the priest began the ceremony. His ears rang as he barely registered the words, "If there is anyone present, who can show just cause why these two persons may not be joined in matrimony, speak now or forever hold your peace.” If you asked him this morning what his plans were, attending your wedding was not on the list. But something, maybe it was hope, or maybe foolishness had forced him to dress and drive to the rural estate. As the priest spoke on the solemnity of marriage, Simon couldn't help but muse over the last time he ever saw you.

"Do-do you know how long you'll be gone?" you whispered through tears as he held you in his arms. "They didn't specify," he replied. and you buried your head into his chest. It was 2006 before Simon Riley was a dead man walking. It was a time when he was just a soldier who had a life and the opportunity to love his family and his fiancée. "Remember what I told you, you keep this ring so I have a reason to come back," Simon whispered as he opened your palm and placed a thick gold band into it. "Please don't go, Simon," you cried as he tried to pull away and head out the door. "I'll be back in no time, love," he replied and gave you a soft kiss before exiting out of your life forever.

Since that moment, you had believed the man you loved was dead. Rumors circulated as you found out there had been some sightings before his family tragically died in a house fire, even allegations that he had been the one but you refused to believe it. For 10 years, you looked for him on the crowded Manchester streets but you never found him. However, you were here today with the man you loved and finally had the opportunity at a happy life. Simon knew this fact as well and he tragically continued through the ceremony until the vows were to be said. As your maid of honor handed you a piece of paper, he saw the familiar sheen of a ring on your finger. He knew that ring anywhere as he had bought it with his first paycheck from the service. What struck him more though was as you turned to face your husband, you held onto a gold ring on a necklace chain before you spoke. That was his ring. The ring he gave to you before he died.

"Elliott, poets say that love finds you when you need it most. In what I believe was poetic irony, you found me as I placed flowers on a grave and cynically commented on how the ones we love leave us too quickly," you began to say and Simon began to feel his eyes burn with the prickles of tears. "While we remember those lost, today I am here to celebrate the one who arrived on time, the one who stayed, the one who helped me through the roughest of moments and brought me back to life." That final sentence was all Simon needed to hear as he shuffled out the door and made his way to the exit. Your eyes fell towards the interruption and you felt faint as you could have sworn it was Simon. You met his gaze but the man ran out of the chapel and you could never be certain. Your husband put a reassuring hand on yours and you shakily continued, trying to rationalize the appearances of ghosts from your past rather than the individual being your Simon.

As Simon ran to his car, he let out an anguished cry at the empty field. At that moment, Simon had seen all the painful memories you endured flood back and your gaze filled with fear and uncertainty. He could never put you through that again. He lit a cigarette before driving away just as the wedding bells filled the spring air. Simon would forever be dead to you and you would have an opportunity at a life he could never offer.

[memento-morri-writes]

writing share - body horror edition

So, the lovely, amazing @space-writes expressed interest in reading my fucked-up body horror that I wrote last night/early this morning, and who am I to deny a friend? So, here you go:

A brief bit of context: Just under two days ago, Sigmar, Rook's beloved mentor and kinda-sorta father figure, ended up being revealed as a corpse being puppeted by the BBEG, Dr. Purity. The rest of the party brutally killed him while Rook watched. (Via tooth and claw, and also a sonic shockwave from a magic guitar.) And just today, Warren, the party gunslinger, a werewolf and Rook's other kinda-sorta father figure, died (like perma-forever, never-coming-back died) in order to save Rook's life. (Or rather, in order to resurrect Rook, since he was dead at the time.) Now Rook is extremely sleep-deprived and also being affected by mind-altering parasites, two factors that are working together to give him some pretty vivid and fucked-up hallucinations.

(fair warning, this isn't written out fully to the best of my abilities because this scene hasn't happened yet. So this is just my description of what Rook will be seeing and hearing, not a full prose write-up with his internal thoughts and all that. I will almost certainly do that after next week's session, though, so let me know if you want to see that then.)

major tw for extreme gore & maybe body horror under the cut (also emotional manipulation/guilt-tripping)

Rook hears a strange sound, like clumsy, disjointed footsteps. He looks around wildly for the source, and freezes. Out of the hallway we have just come from looms a horrible sight: Sigmar’s corpse is lurching towards him, somehow propelling itself on shattered limbs. All of his joints are dislocated, giving his body a freakishly elongated appearance. His shredded clothes are soaked with blood, and every inch of his skin is covered in hundreds of claw and tooth marks, all of which are weeping blood. A web of dark black veins branch out across his face, and thick black ichor drips from his mouth. It falls to the ground, splattering onto the tile with each step.  He reaches out towards Rook with jagged, broken fingers, and says, “Rook… your friends killed me. Slaughtered me. Ripped me to pieces like wild animals.” He takes another staggering step towards Rook, who backs away, shaking. Sigmar’s face is pleading as he says, “You said you trusted me. You promised to help me.” Rook takes another stumbling step backwards, shaking his head. “No…” he mutters, “no!” Sigmar points an accusing finger at Rook, and his demeanor changes, a dark fury crossing his face. For a moment Rook can see why people fear him. “I should never have spoken to you. I should have burned down Warren’s house with you still inside. It’s what the two of you deserve.” As if on cue, another shape lurches out of the shadows of a hallway across the way. It’s Warren. His chest has been blown open, his ribs pointing in every direction, and the remains of his guts are dripping from the hole where his stomach used to be. His body is splattered in gore. He’s missing one of his hands, the arm ending in a jagged point of bone surrounded by burnt and blackened flesh. He opens his mouth to speak, revealing pointed canine teeth that clash with his human appearance. “Rook, you stupid bastard. I died for you. You.” He bares his teeth and snarls at Rook, an animalistic sound that rattles him to his core. He takes an involuntary half-step backwards. Warren scoffs in disdain. “We should have left you to rot in that fungi-infested hallway. You brought him to us.” He glares pointedly at Sigmar, then looks back to Rook. “You’re the reason those two attacked us – attacked Cherry. You’re the reason I’m dead. The reason Cherry won’t ever have a father.” Sigmar steps closer, looking Rook up and down, disgust plainly visible on his face. “Speaking of fathers, yours was right: You are a useless piece of shit.” He spits in Rook’s direction, then takes another step closer.  Across the room, Warren moves to flank him. “Traitor.” “Liar,” Sigmar adds as the two stalk closer, matching each other step for step.  The corpses lumber forwards, stumbling on broken legs until they’re so close that Rook can smell them. The awful scents of Warren’s burnt flesh and the blood soaking Sigmar’s clothes fill his nose, nauseating and overwhelming. They’re right in front of him now. He tries to shrink away, further into the corner, but to no avail. His limbs refuse to obey, and he stays frozen in place. They reach for him, one with shattered fingers, the other with a charred stump of an arm, and say in unison, “good-for-nothing”. As they do, he hears a third voice layered over the other two: his father. But he doesn’t have time to think on this, because in that moment their outstretched arms reach him, and everything goes black.

[talesfromawannabewriter]

Do you remember Adam's rant before he dies, imagine that but with Lilith in Adam Dies

Lilith: NO! I refuse to let you people end this! I'm Lilith the first ever woman, (turns to Adam) YOU were my husband! you were supposed to be by my side forever. You should've loved me! Not that, that, SNAKE! (turns to the Hazbin group) And as for you! I started everything down here, all Hell's society was created by MY FUCKING HANDS!!! You all should be on your knees worshipping me! You ungrateful, disgusting, sinners! AAAGGHH!!!

a knife suddenly lodges through Lilith's neck causing the demon to fall onto the ground dead. Everyone sees' Nifty was the one who stabbed her, or well IS stabbing her causing the head to become decapitated.

[incompleteth0ts]

No more birthdays

Percy fucked up. Percy fucked up big time.

Percy threw himself behind one of the crumbling pillars that were still left standing in Olympus’ golden halls as one of his father's life-sized nude statues went flying and smashing against the floor where Percy was just standing.

The marble flooring crack beneath Percy's feet as his grandfathers laughter grew louder and closer.

“There is no point in hiding from me, grandson. As your 16th birthday creeps nearer, I begin to gain more power. You will die halfling. You and all those you hold dear,”

Percy screamed as Kronos swung backbiter down on him in a wide arc.

“No!”

Percy cursed as the top of his head hit the top bunk of his bed.

Knock, knock, knock.

“Are you ok, sweetie?”

Percy rubbed on the growing knot on his forehead. “Yeah, Mom I’m fine, just a bad dream. Sorry for waking you.”

Percy listened for the retreating sound of his mother's footsteps faintly hearing Paul on the other side of the door asking if he was alright. Percy felt a little bad for waking his stepfather (?) up, because he knew that his mom would be able to read between the lines and understand that the nightmares he was having weren’t the kind that could be explained and reasoned away, not that Percy and Sally both haven’t tried lying to themselves about the nightmares that always found their way to him.

He couldn’t tell Paul that he was having nightmares about his grandfather and not seem like a complete lunatic.

When he could hear the sound of his mom’s bedroom door closing, Percy climbed out of bed and opened his bedroom window to step outside and onto the fire escape. 

Percy stared at the moon that was washed out by light pollution and midnight clouds as he cursed his rotten luck.

Thalia.

The luckiest demigod Percy knew. She died and came back to life only to be granted immortality. Thalia was all the things Percy wished he was. Prophecy free.

The daughter of Zeus was…kind of disappointing to be around. She was bossy and liked to tell Percy what to do and get mad when he didn’t want to do it. He could see where Annabeth got it from.

Thalia had managed to avoid becoming the prophecy child. Another thing Percy envied about her. Thalia had found a loophole around it all.

She’ll never age, never turn sixteen, never have to fight Kronos, never have to die a second time.

Luckiest person ever.

Maybe Percy could convince his dad to turn him into a local flora. Maybe a Jasmine plant, his mom liked Jasmine or maybe a lily pad.

Percy climbed back into bed and dreamed of frogs and hot tea.

---

“You cannot hide from me forever, Perseus Jackson. I will find you, and when I do, I will handle you just as I handled your father,”

Percy watched in horror as the ground underneath him split open, revealing miles on miles of teeth. Percy tried to jump out of the way but was pushed forward into his awaiting doom.

Percy turned around and locked eyes with a frazzled blonde woman, turning the baby swaddled in her arms around so that it could watch him fall.

Percy gasped when his face connected with the carpet in his bedroom. Percy sat up to glare at the pillow he had shoved in between the bars of the top bunk of his bed and rubbed his bruising forehead. If this kept up, Percy would start to turn into an even bigger seaweed head.

Percy untangled his legs from his dark blue cover as he tuned into his mom’s and Paul’s conversation.

“I want to ask him this time. I don’t want him to think that I don’t care about him.”

“Percy knows you care, Paul, but he’d feel bad if he woke you up.”

“I know, but I’m worried too, Sally. This is the third time this week.”

Percy, unable to listen in on his mom and Paul's argument about him, decided to choose for them. “Paul is that you?” Percy giggled at the audible, flailing from the other side of the door.

“Y-yeah, buddy, it’s me. Are you feeling okay? I thought I heard something fall? Buddy? When have I ever called him that?”

“Everything’s fine. I just fell off my bed.”

Percy could hear his mom trying not to laugh at Paul's kind-hearted attempt at checking on him.

“Looks like Sally didn't tuck you in tight enough tonight. I'll leave her a one-star rating in the morning.”

Percy laughed at Paul's joke and collected himself from the floor.

“If everything's alright in there, then I'll leave you alone. Try and head back to sleep, Percy. After all, tomorrow's a special day.”

Percy froze from his spot on his bed.

Tomorrow was a special day?

Perch leaned over to check the time on his alarm clock.

12:03, August 17.

Tomorrow will be his 15th birthday, and today will be his last day as a 14-year-old.

Tomorrow will be his last year to live.

Percy felt ill.

He broke into a cold sweat and tried falling back asleep like Paul had said.

Six hours later, his mom came knocking on his door to wake him up from school.

___

“Goodnight Percy.”

Mom bent down so she could kiss the top of my head and twirl my hair in her fingers.

“Good night, Mom. Love you.”

Mom smiled at me like she was being reminded of all the reasons she loved me, too.

“I love you, too. Now go to sleep honey, tomorrow's a special day for my special little man.”

My mom looked at me as if I was aging right in front of her. She's been looking at me like that a lot recently.

“Sleep tight, Percy.”

“I will. Night Paul!”

“Goodnight Percy! Try not to fall out of bed again!”

“Paul Blofis, you think you are so funny!” Mom turned to me as if she couldn’t believe half the things that Paul said to us like he was the Greek anomaly.

“I'll see you in the morning, sweetheart.”

Mom closed the door behind her, and I turned to face my blinking alarm clock.

10:58, August 17.

Only a couple more hours until my birthday. Only a couple more hours until my final countdown.

I played with the edge of my blanket as I tried to fall asleep. I thought of the tips I was given at camp to help me fall asleep faster.

Slowing my breathing, sitting up straight, lifting, and lowering limbs. Nothing was working.

11:07, August 17.

This wasn't going to work.

I yanked the blankets off of me and threw them on the floor. Tip-toeing on them, I made my way to the fire escape.

Unlatching my window, I lifted the glass enough to slip out closed it behind me before the nightlife woke up Mom and Paul. I leaned against the safety rail and stared at the moonlace sprouting in Artemis’ glow.

It was a miracle that the flower had managed to survive this long. This single sprout will live longer than I ever will, and it'll be all Mom will have left of me.

I turned my back to the moonlace.

The thought of turning 15 made my stomach twist even more so than the thought of turning 16.

I wanted to get angry like I used to when I was 12. Since the day I was born, the world has been punishing me for all the bad stuff my dad has done, and now I'm doomed to be killed for all the bad my grandfather will do.

I paced the tight space available to me on the fire escape. I was starting to sound like a revenge-hungry lunatic.

I returned to my sulking position on the fire escape railing. I didn't want to grow old.

“It's rather late nephew, shouldn't young boys such as yourself be tucked away in bed.”

I nearly fell over the side of the railing. Two robed arms circle my waist and pull me back to safety.

I was pulled back into the chest of someone who should not be in front of my bedroom window.

“Be careful nephew; it would be a shame to have Thanatos claim you before me.”

I turned around, so I was face-to-face with the man holding me to their chest.

Standing in front of me in all his ten-foot glory was Lord Hades himself.

He was backed into the corner closet to my closed window and tall enough to curl around it. It was like looking at Batman before he launched and attacked.

I nervously looked down at the metal platform we were standing on. The metal didn't give a rickety squeal like it usually did when more than one person got on.

Hades looked assumed with my untrusting panic. He curled his massive body around, blocking my view from the alley and pressing me against the window pane.

I hoped Mom or Paul didn't try to check in on me like they've been doing lately.

“Scared that we'll fall, Perseus?”

Scared of a lot of things right now, falling is only one of them and by the look of things the least deadly.

“Yeah, just a little bit. What about you? When they were calculating the weight limit, I don’t think they took any Gods above the height of 7’3” into account.”

Hades seemed to take his height and non-existent weight into consideration before shrinking down to a more respectable height of 6’4”.

“I suppose you’re right. Humans lack diversity and possibility nowadays.”

“And answers to the unsaid, why are you here?” God or not, if he came here for a round two kidnapping of my mother, I would do more than slice the back of his heel.

I watched as my uncle traced abstract shapes in the glass of my window. On the other side, my alarm clock rode on a wave of shadows and pressed against the glass.

11:35, August 17.

“Your birthday brings me here. You will be a man soon. Your father sends me new souls every day in his grief.”

The shadows of my bedroom twirled and took the shape of a weeping man. All around him dozens of tiny people pleaded for their life only to be swept away by a wave of his hand.

“You will be 15 tomorrow, making you a year closer to being the prophecy child. To preserve or raze, Olympus will live on or fall by your hand nephew.”

I tried not to let my Uncle's words get to me, I already knew all this, the fate of the world sat on my shoulders and somehow it was heavier than the sky itself.

“So what? Did you come here to kill me? Give you guys some more time to plan before Kronos regains his powers. Well, news flash, but your brother has already tried that. Like twice!”

I tried to create some distance between us but all that seemed to do was bring us closer. And what did he mean I’ll, ‘ be a man soon’, with the way things are going I’ll never be a man, it was a miracle that I even lived long enough to become a tween.

Hades laughed and despite our rocky past, I could feel myself blush at the feel of his breath on me.

“Yes. I suppose my, fool, of a younger brother has tried to kill you, ‘like twice’, already and it can be argued that I have done the same, which is why I am here.”

I watched in wonder as the god of the underworld got on his knees and clasped my hands in his.

“My dear Persephone left me for the surface months ago. My days and nights grow lonely without her, for years I've suffered from withdrawals, but you can help me Perseus, and I can help you.”

I felt the air get knocked out of me once I started to become aware of just how badly things were turning. I tried to pull my hands from his but he pulled me back into him.

“Asked me for sanctuary. I’ll protect you.”

The sky split apart with thunder lighting up the alley. Hades looked at me with crazed eyes. Here he was offering me ‘sanctuary’ from the war at the cost of…

“Stay with me Perseus. You are a child of summer, stay with me when my wife is away, become a god, and avoid this war tucked beneath the earth. Allow someone else to take this burden.”

“Nico is next in line Uncle, if I don't do this, he will have to.”

Hades squinted at me, seeing something that I wasn't. He opened his mouth as though he was going to say something but another flash of lightning came around.

“Nico is training to become stronger. By the time he is 16, he will be ready.”

I had a hard time believing him. It was hard to look at Nico and not envision the once naive and hopeful ten-year-old boy that he once was.

“I swear to you, so long as you seek my protection it will be given. All you need to do is indulge in my sacred fruit.”

From the shadows at my feet, Hades pulled out half a pomegranate, the juice was still running down its skin staining his bone-white hands a rusted purple. Some of the seeds were smashed and busted open like the fruit had been violently ripped apart. I imagined myself as the pomegranate, ripped in half and dripping in the palm of Kronos.

I allowed my Uncle to pull out six of the nicest seeds and press them to my lip.

“Eat nephew before it is too late.”

He had risen from his kneeling position and licked on the juices that dripped down my chin. His sticky hands clung to the fabric of my pajama shirt. Tilting my head back I opened my mouth to let the seeds roll down my tongue.

My mouth watered from the tart taste of the fruit and the crunch of the pits. I’ve never eaten a pomegranate before. I hadn't expected it to be so messy.

“Slow down nephew, I'd hate for you to choke.”

I felt even more like a child when Hades began to clean my face with a handkerchief.

“There, all done. I'm so very proud of you Perseus.”

My bedroom window began to violently shake against the elements surrounding us. If Mom hadn't been woken up earlier she would be now.

Hades opened my window and ushered me inside the safety of my bedroom.

“Go to sleep, Perseus enjoy this time with your family while you have it, come next spring you will be mine and the marriage will be official.”

Just as quietly as he came he left without so much as a shake on the fire escape.

“Percy? Are you alright honey?”

I watched my mom through the window reflection as she pulled her robe tight over her shoulders.

“I'm fine. The storm woke me up, I wonder what Uncle's mad about now.”

My mom looked around my room anxiously like she expected Zues to jump out of my closet and strike us down.

“Go to bed honey I'm sure everything is fine.”

Mom kissed me on the forehead and tucked me in ‘extra tight’ as suggested by Paul and closed the door just enough to leave a crack.

When I turned to face the blinking numbers on my clock I could almost feel the pomegranate seeds rise back up.

11:59, August 17.

Forever 14.

________

“Happy birthday to you, happy birthday to you, happy birthday, dear Percy…”

Percy watched the candles with a blank face robotically blowing out the candles once the song ended and accepting the first slice of cake from his mother. He didn’t feel any different but his uncle made it sound like it would be a year-long process.

Looking around the room Percy imagined what his life would be like. Sally and Grover were sharing some of their favorite memories with Percy to Paul(most were embarrassing) but they looked tense. There was a shift in the atmosphere and they could feel it.

“There's the birthday boy.”

“Big Brother!”

Percy managed to push his piece of cake far enough to not have it squished in between his and Tyson's body when pulled into a bear hug.

“Tyson, you made it!”

From behind the counter, Percy can see Paul waving his hand at Tyson and his mom trying to explain that he didn’t come out of her too.

Percy watched as Posideon rounded the corner and froze when he saw Percy. The floor in the kitchen rumbled before his dad grabbed a hold of himself and walked the rest of the way in.

“Percy! I'm afraid I can't stay long. I just needed to drop off Tyson and your birthday gift.”

Before Percy could get up on his own Posideon snatched Percy out of his chair and dragged him to his bedroom.

“Percy I don’t know what it is that you've done, but it’s thrown our world out of line,” Poseidon grabbed Percy’s shoulders and brought him to face level. His eyes were manic. Percy saw years of storms, sailors' mangled bodies being broken against cliffs, and monsters waking from their slumber to feast on the unfortunate. Percy saw the description in his father's eyes. “Percy, what did you do?”

“...I’m sorry Dad.”

Percy broke out of his father's arms with strength that before last night he did not have. Returning to the party he told his mom and stepdad that his father had left through the fire escape. Digging into his flavorless cake Percy asked his mom if Tyson could stay the night, smiling when Tyson ran to the linen closet and began to pull out blankets and plans for a pillow fort.

__

I lay facing Tyson watching as he shook the picture on the wall with his snoring. It was a good thing that I wasn’t planning on sleeping tonight or I would never find peace.

“It’s a wondrous thing that the Cyclops has yet to eat you. I hear that the babies are the hungriest.”

I watched as my uncle's silhouette circled Tyson’s fort before stopping at the ‘doorway’ which consisted of pillows tied together by the case corners. His shiny Italian loafers poked past the fabric and tapped at me impatiently.

I rose to my knees and took one last look at my and Tyson’s latest creation. I leaned over and pulled as much of him as I could into a hug. The night was beginning to feel like a final goodbye.

“You said that come next spring I would be staying with you.”

“Yes I did say that, but your father came to me today with some strongly choice words. I figured it would be best to speed some things up,” Hades raised his hand when I stepped forward to argue. “I’m not taking you home with me now, but it would be best to consummate the marriage while we still can, yes?”

“Consummate?”

The shadows in the living room rose to ceiling height before crashing on us like deadly waves. Just before I was washed in darkness I spotted the time flash on the microwave.

2:13.

August 18th.

______

FIRST FIC DONE🎉🥳

@hadesxpercy-events

[csprslvt]

you and i, and her. pt 3

Chapter two (see rest of the chapters for context)

Summary: Ellie comforts (or tries to) reader who is in misery from the loss of her past and her life before. Joel and Tommy go missing and Ellie watches her father figures life fall away. (Joels death)

Warnings: GRAPHIC DESCRIPTION OF JOELS DEATH, obvious spoilers, reader is depressed, TORTURE, THE GOLF CLUB SCENE, MAJOR CHARACTER DEATH, traumatized Ellie.

Overtime, routine took place, Ellie would come get you in the mornings when she wasn't patrolling, you'd visit the horses and didn't run into Dina again after the incident weeks prior. But still despite the fact that you had a friend again. Your heart ached with every thought of Abby.

You would lay in bed at night disconnected from reality, trying so hard to remember where she would be, how you came about to be bloody and lost in the woods, and why she hadn't come looking for you yet.

It was better for your aching chest to assume she had passed on rather than thinking she had truly left you behind and would never come back. And in the darkness of the night, all you wanted was to mourn but you couldn't seem to cry. It left bubbled up emotion in your chest that would take your mood for days at a time. Pretending to be okay was not reliable anymore. And one morning you had ignored Ellies calls. Figuring she would walk away.

But Ellie was oh so persistent.

Laying in bed, you seemed a mess, holding onto your locket and rubbing the cool metal. 

Ellie stormed in, kicking open the door with a hurried frenzy. 

You jumped.

“Ellie! What the fuck!”

“You asshole, you've been ignoring me! I've been knocking for like five minutes, I thought you died!” Ellie looked at you, clearly displeased. But upon seeing your empty, woeful eyes she softened and sat beside you.

“You gonna tell me what's up?”

“Nothing is up.”

“Nuh uh, don't lie to me. You haven't gotten up at all. You ignored me which, you never do, and you haven't been… yourself”

You sighed, pulling the covers over your head.

“ I can't tell you.”

“What? Why not? I'm a good listener!”

“ I know you are Ellie but there are certain things I'm not even sure about.”

“ You're worried about how you got here again.”

“Ellie-”

“y/n, I dont know what happened to you but I knew from the look on your face that it was bad. You were covered in blood and tired, I could've killed you and you didn't even seem fazed…but whatever happened, you're safe now. That's what matters”

You removed the covers and looked at Ellie, making eye contact.

“ I feel like…like I left something behind. Something important, and I can't shake it off! Every night im having these dreams and-”

“What dreams?”

You flushed,

Your nights were filled with Abby. Her hands, her touches, her words, her whispered ‘I love yous’ . But they were also filled with blood, fear and the smell of putrid death. They were filled with the intense feeling of abandonment, shame and loss.

“I just feel so empty.”

At this Ellie looked extremely concerned, she placed a hand on your back rubbing circles and she tried to comfort you as best as she knew how.

“Is there…are you empty because you're depressed or are you empty because you miss somebody?” Ellie questioned, she knew the feeling well, especially after Dina.

“I just, I remember being so happy despite everything, I remember little bits and pieces of the life I had and then at the same time, I left it behind and I can't figure out why and I hate myself for ruining it all.”

Ellie moves and goes to hold your hand.

“y/n, you must've left for a reason, you were covered in blood for god's sake, clearly you just need to rest and let yourself feel rather than hiding it all. I promise you, here you'll be safe and you can start another chance to be happy again. I understand things are hard, but you won't feel this way forever…It'll be okay.”

You held Ellies hand tightly as if she was your life line. Needing something to keep you grounded.

“I know”

Ellie signed, “I know I'm not the best at communicating but I'm so glad I have a friend around again. And I want you to be happy, I care about you. And you can always talk to me about what's on your mind.”

The thing is, I can't. I can't talk about Abby, I can't talk about the people I've killed and the nightmares I have about it.It's just too much.

“Okay.”

Ellie gazed at you one last time, clearly noticing you can't be soothed. You needed something she couldn't provide and what exactly that thing was, she was unsure. 

Ellie got up, letting go of your hand. “I’ll bring you something to eat”

You smiled a little. She was just trying to help you.

“Okay Ellie”

As she opened the door you spoke again,

“Ellie?”

“Yea?”

“Thank you.”

“Dont worry about it.” 

The girl then left your sight, closing the door behind her.

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

To say Ellie was worried was an understatement.

The moment she left your cabin, her face showed pure panic.

What if y/n leaves jackson? What if you look for whoever it was that you'd abandoned and never returned? What if, what if, what if….

Her mind was racing, sure, you being sad was concerning because she cared, she wanted your happiness, you were her only real friend. But it was also a concern of you leaving her alone. She couldn't.

For the better (or for the worst) Her thoughts were interrupted by Dina approaching her right as she stepped out of your cabin.

Fuck.

“Hey Ellie, I see you've gotten comfy with y/n, crawling out of her cabin like that”

“Dina, it's not like that. She's my friend, and we were just talking…” Ellie spoke with a high, nervous pitch

God Dammit now I seem suspicious 

“Sure, let me see her, I need to talk with her”

Ellies face changed with a confused stare.

“With y/n?”

“Yes. With y/n, that's whose house you're sneaking out of isn't it?”

“Oh my god Dina it isn't like that. Listen, she's having a hard time, leave her alone.”

“Why so hostile Ellie?”

Ellie tensed up.

“You know why.”

Dina sighed, her eyes softened, she reached out to grasp Ellies shoulder but the girl flinched away.

“Ellie, I'm sorry, it was for the better.”

“Don't give me that bullshit, we could've made it work”

Dina pinched the bridge of her nose.

“I don't have time for this.”

“What do you want to talk to y/n for”

“Listen, I've been patrolling and there's someone-”

“Ellie! Ellie!”

A frantic voice yells, running to Ellie pausing the conversation,

“Jesse? What's wrong”

“It's Joel and Tommy, they haven't come back.”

“What?” a cold sweat presperates across Ellie's brow. The hair on the back of her neck stood up with a deathly chill going up her spine.

Something in Jesse’s face led Ellie to believe something sinister had happened and without thinking, she ran to the stables and grabbed her gear.

She had been riding for a while, until she heard a scream. A loud, terrifying, blood curdling scream. 

“Joel.”

It repeated over and over again, until Ellie wanted to bash her head in to stop the noises but she continued, trying to find him. A crazed look on her face, she was hyperventilating, her chest tight and her heart crushing with only the worst thoughts coming to her, filling her mind, body and soul.

Please no.

She eventually stopped at a house and her stomach felt like it would drop at any second. 

She wandered into the building and the screams got louder. She knew it was him, she would recognize that voice anywhere.

The pained noises lead her to an ominous hallway. The shouting became gurgling almost as if someone was being waterboarded. Or drowning in their own blood.

Readying her weapon and slammed open the door. Joel was on the floor, beaten and bloody. A woman stood above him with a golf club in her hands.

A bloody golf club.

No. Please no.

She held up her gun but before she was given time to react her body fell to the floor, being attacked from the side. 

“Get off of me!”

“Tie her hands!”

“Get the fuck off of me!”

Ellie struggled against her attacker's hold. 

“Bitch.”

Two, maybe three kicks hit her stomach, hard, it felt like a deep intense pressure, strangling her insides in the worst way possible.The force of steel toe boots on her guts made her feel like she would vomit.

Another man came, restraining the person beating her relentlessly.

“You got her okay? You got her”

“Let go!”

Ellies throat filled with blood and she tasted its metallic drip falling from her nose.

“Youre gonna fucking die!”

“What's going on?” A tall built male walked towards Joel's abuser. Ellie is still struggling for release of the hold on her.

“Let him go!”

“Who is that?” a woman questioned obviously

“She snuck in…”

They spoke amongst themselves, and Ellie stared at them, wildly moving, trying, pleading, hoping she would muster up the strength to make them all pay.

“Why aren't you posted outside?”

“We didn't think anyone would show up”

“The hell did you expect?”

“We gotta get out of here before the whole town is on top of us”

The man turned to the woman, she was built like an Ox, tall, with a blond braid down her back.

“You're done.”

“You want what I want, right?”

“End it .Now”

The women turned towards Joel, a crumpled mess on the floor.

“Joel, get up”

He did nothing but blink.

“Joel, fucking get up.” Ellie begged, she felt like her world was ending with his life fading away. 

“Please stop!” Ellie was never one to say please but she was filled with desperation.

“Please don't do this..” The golf club raised

“Joel please get up!”

A sickening crunch played in Ellie's ears as the golf club bashed into Joel's head, at full strength.

“No!”

Sobs wracked through Ellies body. Her lungs filled with blood and her nose drenched in it. Snot ran down her lips.

“Burn in hell, pendejo” a kick.

Rage made its way to Ellie’s spine, the burning, crippling need for vengeance rang through her entirely. Beginning to consume her.

The man had taken a gun and pointed it to her.

All she could say was no

“Ill fucking kill you” she spoke, before the voices became muffled noises and consciousness left her. Unable to fight back.

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Eventually, she awoke, and there you were, by her side. 

“I'm sorry Ellie.”

“Jesse, they're down here!”

Somehow you had ended up looking for Ellie when you started getting anxious about how you left off, Jesse had told you she had gone looking for Joel. And you being you, followed her.

You had heard screams but didn't make it in time. You only discovered the area had been evacuated with Ellies body on the floor. You gasped when your eyes fell on Joel. He was without a pulse.

He was gone.

“Oh Ellie I'm so sorry” you had whispered again and again, trying to wake her up.

Eventually she came too, weak and trembling, 

“No, no no no” She cried.

You'd taken her back, while Jesse carried the body of Joel, still warm but his heart had stopped.

You shielded her eyes from her body, trying to not traumatize her further with the site but she wouldn't stop staring. She was a shell. She would never be the same.

[mothguillotine]

Chapter 4:  Never Trust Elevators, Ever.

Main Masterlist

cw: swearing and violence

word count: 4.8k

Summary: After you gain a fear of elevators, you explore a basement from Hell.

You weren’t entirely sure when the elevator stopped. It felt like it went forever and with everyone screaming it was hard to ask anyone else so you screamed along with them. Not really out of terror, well actually yes, you are terrified, but you are also frustrated with yourself. You knew that something didn’t feel right and what did you do? Go inside the dangerous Russian elevator that is most likely only supposed to be used for transporting whatever the hell is in that container. 

“Shit!” Dustin yells and tries smashing the buttons once again, “Shit!” 

“We’re going down!” Steve yells hysterically and in any other situation you would have laughed but you get it.

“Yeah, no shit, Harrington!” Robin yells at him.

All of you are bracing onto the shelving or anything else to hold yourselves upright, “Fuck!” you yell as you slip off the shelf you were holding only to be caught by Robin who helps you stand back up.

“Why won’t these buttons work?!” Dustin screeches.

Erica runs over to him, “Press the button!”

“What do you think I’m doing?!” Dustin asks.

“Come on, press something!” Steve yells at him, “Just press the button!”

“Push it!” Erica yells at him but before he has the chance the elevator stops making you all slam into whatever you were holding onto. And in your case that happens to be Robin, who also falls, which makes you both land on the ground. The boxes that were sitting on the table fall off in the lurch and onto Steve. 

You hear him groan, “My groin. It fell on my groin.”

Robin moans in pain behind you so you stand up and help her stand as well.

“Stop talking about your di- groin.” you correct yourself remembering that Erica and Dustin are present.

“Dustin!” Steve yells, “Get this off of me!”

Dustin lifts the box off of Steve and places it back on the table, “I can’t move,” Steve says.

“Is everyone okay?” Robin asks.

“Yeah,” Steve says sarcastically, “I’m great, now that I know that Russians can’t design elevators!”

He then pushes Dustin out of the way of the button panel and proceeds to press them all over and over.

“I think we’ve clearly established that those buttons don’t work,” Robin tells him.

“They’re buttons,” Steve retorts, “They have to do something.”

“Yeah,” Robin says and gestures to the panel, “If we had a keycard.”

“A what?” he asks.

“You don’t know what a keycard is?” you ask him, furrowing your eyebrows.

Steve stays silent so Robin explains, “It’s an electronic lock. Same as the loading dock door. If we don’t have a keycard, it won’t operate meaning-,”

“We’re stuck in here,” Dustin finishes.

“Yeah,” Robin agrees.

“Just so nerds are aware,” Erica tells you all, “I’m supposed to be spending the night at Tina’s, and Tina always covers for me. But if I’m not home for Uncle Jack’s party tomorrow, and my mom finds out you four are responsible, she’s gonna hunt you down, one by one, and slit your throat. Probably starting with you since she knows where you live.”

“I didn’t even wanna get you involved in the first place!” you tell her.

Steve is fed up and slams his hands down on the box in front of him, “I don’t care about Tina! Or Uncle Jack’s party!” he yells at her, “Your mom’s not gonna be able to find us if we’re dead in a Russian elevator!

“Hey,” Dustin says pointing up, “What if we climbed out?”

All of you look up at the ceiling and see the hatch he is pointing at. Steve pushes over the table and Dustin jumps on top. He pushes open the hatch and climbs up with Steve close behind him. You, Robin, and Erica all stay inside the elevator instead of going up.

“Are you okay?” Robin asks you.

“I mean, not really,” you tell her, “What are we going to do? There is a literal child with us.”

“Honestly?” she asks and you nod, “I have no idea.”

You put your hands over your eyes, “This was such a fucking bad idea.”

“I know,” she says, “I- I’m sorry.”

“Sorry?” you ask looking back at her, “Sorry for what?”

“For making you take this job and shit,” she says and sighs, “If you wouldn’t have ever come into Scoops that day we would have never met and you wouldn’t be in this situation, I just-”

“Let me stop you right there,” you tell her, grabbing her hand, “First of all you didn’t make me take the job, I wanted to work with you. And second of all, I would never wish I didn’t meet you. I l- I am lucky that I met you.”

You wish that you were alone right now, instead of Erica being in the same room. Maybe then you would have the balls to kiss her because as of this moment, it has moved up substantially on your list of things to do, all the way up to number one. Robin’s face is unreadable though, so you probably wouldn’t and won’t. Robin smiles in a way that doesn't quite reach her eyes and looks away.

Steve comes back down through the ceiling, “Yeah, there is no way to get out up there.”

“Damn it,” you say and lean back ready for a long night.

“What are we gonna do?” Erica asks.

“Nothing,” Steve says, jumping down from the ceiling.

“Nothing?” Erica asks.

“Nothing,” Steve reiterates.

“Why?” she asks.

“We have to wait until morning,” he tells her, “Then people will be awake.”

Dustin hops down after him and walks over to the button panel. Erica is sitting on the ground trying to rest the best she can.

“My mom is going to kill me,” you say out loud.

“Maybe she thinks you are at my house,” Robin offers.

“She wanted us all home tonight for a family dinner,” you tell her, “Tee has been gone the past few days and she wanted us all together.”

This catches Dustin's attention and he turns around, “Wait, your Tee’s sister?”

“Uh, yeah,” you tell him.

“I had no idea,” he says to you.

“Well, I mean I don’t just go around talking about my sister,” you tell him.

“Oh, she talks about you all the time,” he tells you, which you find hard to believe is true, “I only hung out with her for one day and she brought you up like ten times.”

“No, she did not,” you refute.

“Yes, she did,” he says, still focused on the panel, “Also why wouldn’t she? You are like super cool.”

“What?” you ask confused, “What exactly did she say?”

“I don’t know specifically,” Dustin tells you, “But the gist of it was that she thinks you are cool and after hanging out with you for a few days I agree.”

“Well, thanks,” you tell him.

“No problem,’ Dustin says.

“God that makes me feel like a bitch,” you say.

“What do you mean?” Robin asks you.

“It just puts mine and Tee’s argument in perspective,” you tell her, trying to hold back tears, “Like, if I die, then one of the last times I saw her was an argument.”

You look at the ceiling, willing the tears not to come out, and take a deep breath that sounds shaky. Everything feels like entirely too much all at once and you feel like curling up into a ball and crying your eyes out. Just when you are going to break down you feel Robin’s hand rest gently on your back. 

You let her pull you into a side hug, “I don’t wanna promise that everything is okay,” she tells you, “But at least you will go out of this world with Tee thinking you are a cool older sister, even though she never told you.”

You take a deep breath in, “Does anyone have a watch?” you ask.

“Yeah,” Dustin says.

“How much longer until the mall opens?” you ask him.

“Ah,” he says and looks down at his wrist, “About 12 hours.”

“Well, I’m going to sleep,” you tell them and walk to the side of the room. When you lay down and close your eyes you can only hope you sleep through the night.

Robin doesn’t know if she will survive this anymore. Sure she originally thought ‘What is the harm in trying to take down a bunch of Russian spies?’ but as she stepped onto the elevator, she knew she was in much deeper shit than that. Although at that point she didn’t know it was an elevator, just a room that was heavily guarded with guns.

As soon as she felt the ‘room’ move her only thought was making sure that you were okay and as much as she wanted to pretend that she was okay, she wasn’t. She was beyond terrified and looking between you and Erica it was a wonder that either of you were asleep. Robin has been surprised with how well Erica in particular has handled the situation, never crying even though she should have never been put in this situation.

All she kept trying to do before she went to sleep was try to provide solutions. Robin wanted to be like that, she is normally, but right now her mind is elsewhere. She couldn’t stop thinking about you, that was not uncommon, but no matter how much she tried she couldn't stop thinking about what you told her earlier. Repeating every word in her mind. You didn’t know how much she wanted you to say exactly that, but what Robin kept going back to was what you almost said, or what she thought you almost said. You love her? Robin just couldn’t believe it.

And you couldn’t believe that you almost said that to her, with Erica in the room, overhearing everything you say, that is a slippery slope. You tell her that you love her and then the next day half of Indiana would know. Although, in this case, it would be Russia eventually.

The floor is horribly uncomfortable to sleep on so you only get a few hours after that you just lay there hoping the hours will pass by quickly. At some point, Erica wakes up and starts talking to Robin, both of them talking about random shit. With them talking you decide to get up as well.

“Finally,” Robin says, “I thought you died or something.”

“Ha, ha,” you say sarcastically and then feel your stomach rumble, “God, I am so hungry.”

“I know right,” Robin says.

She is sitting at the edge of a table so you walk over and sit with her.

“I am gonna get like 55 burgers and 55 fries from the burger place,” you say dreamily, “With a whole bunch of mayo and ketchup.”

“Mm,” Robin says, “Stop, you are making me hungry.”

“I hope the slop is good in the gulag we are imprisoned in,” you say and Robin laughs.

“Oh god,” she says, “I hope they kill me on sight.”

“Well if you are going out,” you tell her, “Then I am going with you.”

Robin doesn’t know what to say, well actually she usually doesn't know what to say, especially to you. A million things she can think of to say right now but instead she elects to stay silent. Ever since the other night, you have been acting… different. Not in a bad way, actually the opposite which leaves Robin confused. 

Robin doesn’t know why exactly you are acting like this, she wonders if you do.

You hear a thumping noise behind you and when you turn around you see Dustin climbing on top of the table to get to the hatch again. Steve is quick to take notice and follow him.

“I’m just tired of waiting,” you tell her and then groan, “I wanna go home.”

You can both hear Dustin yelling into his radio, trying to get someone's attention.

“I can’t wait to get away from dingus one and two up there,” Robin tells you and you laugh.

“You’re not getting sick of me yet?” you ask her.

“I don’t think I could,” she tells you and puts her hand over yours on the table.

You can feel your cheeks start to warm up at the action and look away. Specifically at the wall and notice a patch of wall that is progressively getting wetter. Your face changes into disgust when you realize what it is.

Robin notices the change on your face, looks at the wall, and comes to the same realization that you have, “Can you redirect your stream, please?” she asks loudly and you both watch as the wall gets wet zig-zags across it.

“Ugh,” you and Robin both say at the same time.

Then you hear sharp banging coming from behind you, “Erica what are you doing?” you ask.

When you both turn you see her taking the tube of neon green substance and hitting it repeatedly on a metal barrel behind you.

“Hey, hey! Be careful,” Robin shouts, “We don't even know what that is.”

“Exactly,” Erica says to the both of you, “It could be useful.”

You and Robin both look at each other in bewilderment, “Useful how?” Robin asks her.

“We can survive a long time down here without food,” she explains, “But if the human body doesn’t get enough water, it will die.”

“I hate to break it to you,” Robin tells her, “But this is not water.”

“No,” Erica says, “But it’s a liquid, and if it comes down to drinking that shit or dying of thirst, I drink.”

Erica takes the container out of Robin’s hand and you watch as Robin goes over to the door, but your attention is still on Erica. 

“Erica, this literally looks like it will kill you,” you tell her and take it back from her.

“And?” she asks sarcastically, “So does Mountain Dew.”

“This isn’t Mountain Dew!” you tell her.

“Shh,” Robin tells you both and whispers, “They’re here.”

“Shit,” you say under your breath, “Let’s go up top.”

All three of you climb on top of the elevator and Robin carefully shuts the hatch behind her. You all gather around the ceiling grating and watch as two men open the door. They take some of the boxes and then hear them drive away in a vehicle.

Steve quickly hops down and props up the door with the container leaving only a foot of room to escape out of. Erica throws him her backpack and at the same time he is helping her under the door you go under the other side. Dustin crawls out right after you do then Robin rolls herself under closely followed by Steve. 

Right as he is passing under the door the canister starts to break and not a moment after he is through the door closes shattering it. You all watch as the liquid bubbles and then melts a hole through the floor.

“Jesus Christ,” Steve exclaims.

“Ooh!” Erica shouts.

You quickly turn to her and raise your finger to your lips, “Shh, we don’t know if anyone is around.”

“Look at it,” she tells you and walks closer.

You follow her to where the rest of them are investigating the hole in the floor, “Imagine if you drank that.”

“Yeah,” Robin adds, “You still wanna drink it?” 

Erica rolls her eyes at you both and leans in closer to look at the hole. You can’t help but join her out of curiosity leaning against Robin to peer into it.

“Holy mother of God,” you hear Dustin say from behind you.

When you turn around you see what looks like a never-ending hallway, “Oh, god.”

“Well,” Steve starts, “Hope you guys are in good shape.”

Then he walks past all of you into the hall. As he passes by Dustin he pats his chest, “Looking at you, roast beef.”

You all watch as Steve walks away, “Come on, let’s go,” Robin tells the three of you.

“Woah,” Dustin says, “Look at the supports, this place is awesome!”

You, Robin, and Erica watch as he runs to catch up with Steve who is further down the hall.

“Tell me why I think he is going to be annoying the entire time?” you ask them.

“When is he not?” Erica asks you.

“Probably,” Robin agrees with you, “But all I know is that me and him have very different definitions of awesome.”

“Well, he did just spend a whole month at a camp for science, so…” you say.

Robin yawns, “I should have slept last night instead like you guys,” she mumbles.

“Why didn’t you?” you ask her.

“She was up all night talking to Steve,” Erica teases her. 

Robin looks visibly uncomfortable, “Yeah, we were talking about how to open the door.”

“Uh huh,” Erica rolls her eyes and speeds up walking.

“We should have left the children up there,” Robin tells you.

“I know,” you say, “I grew up with my sister. I should have known not to get trapped with them.”

Both of you walk in silence for a minute until Robin breaks the silence.

“How long do you think this hallway is?” she asks you.

“I don’t know,” you tell her, “Forever?”

You were proven correct though, Dustin would not stop talking about the Russian basement that you all were currently trapped in.

“Look at all of the supports!” Dustin says enthusiastically.

“Yes, Dustin,” you tell him, “We’ve all seen the supports.”

“It’s just so cool,” he says to you.

“Ah, yes,” you say sarcastically, “So cool that we are trapped in a Russian secret base and no one knows where we are. And we don’t know how to get out.”

“I mean, you have to admit,” Dustin says, “That as a feat of engineering alone, this is impressive.”

“What are you talking about anyway?” Steve asks, “It’s a total fire hazard. There’s no stairs, there’s no exit, there’s just an elevator that drops you halfway to hell.”

“Their commies,” Erica says, “They don’t pay people, they cut corners.”

“To be fair to our Russian comrades,” Robin says, “I don’t think that this tunnel was designed for walking. Think about it, they designed the perfect system for transporting that cargo.”

“It all comes into the mall like any old delivery,” Dustin says.

“And then they load it up onto the trucks and nobody’s the wiser,” Robin says.

“Do you think that they built this whole mall so they could transport that green poison?” Steve asks.

“I mean it’s definitely possible,” you tell him, “But it’s just so weird to make it here, like, shouldn’t they be near the capital or something important.”

“I very seriously doubt that it’s something as boring as poison,” Dustin says, “It’s gotta be much more valuable, like promethium or something.”

“What the hell is promethium?” Steve asks.

“It’s what Victor Stone’s dad used to make Cyborg's bionic and cybernetic components,” Robin explains.

“You all are so nerdy,” Erica says and grabs her stomach, “It makes me physically ill.”

“No, no, no.” Steve denies, “Don’t lump me in with them. I’m not a nerd, all right?”

“Why so sensitive, Harrington?” Robin asks him, “Afraid of losing cool points to a ten-year-old child?”

“No, I’m just saying I don’t know jack shit about Prometheus,” he says.

“So what is it Steve?” you ask him, “Do her mean comments hurt your feelings that bad?”

“No,” Steve denies.

“Yeah, okay,” you tell him, rolling your eyes.

“All I’m saying is,” Dustin says, “It’s probably being used to make something.”

“Or power something,” Robin says.

“Like a nuclear weapon?” Dustin asks.

“Totally,” Robin says.

“Walking towards a nuclear weapon,” Steves says, “That’s great.”

“Do you wish you thought it was poison?” you ask him.

“If they are building something, why here?” Robin asks, “I mean, Hawkins. Seriously. Of all places.”

“That’s what I’m wondering,” you say, “Before I moved here I was not excited to be here.”

“Honestly, at the very best, we’re a toilet stop on your way to Disneyland,” Robin tells you, “Maybe that's it, we have the very best toilets.”

“What?” you ask her, “Robin, that makes zero goddamn sense.”

“I don’t know, maybe,” Robin says.

“Robin, be for real right now,” you say laughing and shaking your head, “No the fuck it's not.”

“You never know, they could-,” Robin stops talking and turns around, “I’m sorry, is there something you’d like to share with the class?”

When you turn you see Steve and Dustin both stop talking and then look at each other, obviously sharing a secret between the two of them. Unfortunately, before you can question them more you hear the radio pick up a signal, “Walkie,” they say in unison.

Erica kneels and puts her bag on the ground reaching in to grab the walkie. She hands it to Robin who pulls out the antenna all the way to better pick up the signal. The man speaks the same code you have listened to for the past few days.

“It’s the code,” Robin confirms with a smile.

“Wherever that broadcast is coming from-,” Dustin starts.

“It’s close,” Robin finishes, “And if there’s one thing we know about that signal…”

“It can reach the surface,” Dustin says.

“Let’s go,” Robin says and stands up to continue walking down the hall.

All of you stand up to follow after her down the hall, hopefully finding the long-awaited end. Unfortunately, as you draw closer you start to hear noise and at a certain point, you realize that the noises that you are hearing are the vehicles you saw earlier. As you turn a corner you see a few people in uniforms. Dustin and Erica run and hide behind a large metal crate, Robin pulls you into the small area followed closely by Steve.

All of you wait for a minute, listening for anyone who could have seen you. Steve peaks out and looks around making sure the coast is clear.

“Okay, clear,” Steve says and all of you follow him out, “Come on, let’s go.”

“Okay, that was close,” Robin says.

“Too close,” Dustin says.

“Relax,” Steve says, “All right? Relax, nobody saw…”

Steve stops in his tracks as he rounds a corner and when you see what he is looking at, you can’t help but have the same reaction. You see a whole bunch of people either in military uniforms or lab coats, and you even see radiation-proof gear. Which makes Robin’s idea of a nuclear bomb seem all that more real. More importantly, though, you see a mass amount of guns. All of you come to your senses and duck behind a wheeled cart. 

“Jesus!” Erica exclaims.

“Red Dawn,” Dustin says.

“I saw it,” Erica says, “First floor, northwest.”

“Saw what?” Steve asks.

“The comms room,” Erica tells him.

“You saw the comms room?” He asks.

“Correct,” Erica confirms.

“Are you sure?” Dustin asks.

“Positive,” Erica tells him, “The door was open for a second and I saw a bunch of lights and machines and shit in there.”

“That could be a hundred different things,” Steve tells her.

Robin looks back at you for a split second and then turns back to Steve, “I’ll take those odds.”

Steve sighs and shakes his head then looks in your direction, “And what about you?”

“I’m with her,” you tell him.

Steve shakes his head again and peers around the cart observing the Russians again which causes you all to look around the cart. The room, that Erica claims she knows is the comms room, is on the left of the hub probably 50 feet away. All of you move back behind the cart after a few moments.

“All right,” Steve says, “We’re gonna move fast, we’re gonna stay low. Okay?”

“Okay,” Robin says.

Steve crouches down and walks quickly to the crates a bit further down the hall, Robin follows closely after him with the children right behind her and you in the back. As soon as it’s clear Steve moves a bit further urging all of you to hurry. You all watch as one of the scientists opens the door and the five of you run into the room without alerting any of the Russians.

That is until you turn around and see a guard sitting in front of the comms table, who of course, notices you as soon as you all enter the room. He stands up and his face matches all of yours in the amount of surprise. 

Robin, in a moment of genius, or stupidity, starts speaking Russian to him and of course, you recognize the code right away. He reaches down slowly for his gun anyway and Robin steps forward with her hand out, trying presumably to calm him down. 

The man responds in Russian, which none of you are actually fluent in no matter how long of a week you had studying it. 

Robin, who must understand at least the basic idea of what he was trying to say, tells him in Russian, “Silver cat, silver cat.”

The man who still doesn’t look too convinced says something else which you don’t understand, Robin one last phrase which must make the guard realize that you guys really aren’t supposed to be there. But before he can aim his gun Steve lets out a bloodcurdling scream, rushes over, and tackles the man onto the panels. The Russian pushes Steve off of him onto another table and then swings at him, which Steve narrowly dodges. He then grabs Steve by his sailor's uniform and slams him onto a desk, Steve is able to get his bearings quickly, elbows him in the stomach, and then kicks him back. 

Steve moves over to the comms panel, picks up the receiver, then smashes the guard in the head which causes him to fall over and smash his forehead on the edge of the comms table, knocking him out. All of you are staring in shock at the events over the last 30 seconds all while Steve is still standing there as if he would wake back up at any second.

“Dude!” Dustin shouts, “You did it! You won a fight!”

Steve looks at him, then back down at the unconscious man, then back at Dustin and smiles. Dustin runs over to the guard and begins looting him. 

“What are you doing?” Erica asks him.

“Getting us our ticket out of here,” Dustin tells her.

“You want to walk all the way back?” Erica asks him.

“Well, Erica,” you say to her, “It’s either that or we wait here until the government comes and gets us. I’m gonna say it’s probably gonna be faster just to walk.”

“It took us hours to get down that hall,” she tells you.

“Yeah,” you say, “And the government isn’t exactly known for their response time,”

“While we are waiting why don’t we have a picnic, we can relax, and make nice with the Russians,” He tells her, “I’m sure they won’t just shoot us or torture us.”

“Have a picnic?” Erica says, ignoring the more concerning aspect of the conversation, “We came here for the radio.”

Behind the children bickering you see Robin climbing up a staircase, “Robin?” you call after her, “Where are you going?”

Instead of verbally answering you she reaches out her hand. You move to the stairs and take her hand in yours then make your way up the stairs. At the top, a faint blue light is emitted from beyond a glass door, as the two of you reach the top and look inside the room, you realize this is a lot more fucked than you could have possibly imagined. 

“Robin, what the fuck is that?” you ask her.

“I have no fucking clue,” she responds to you, gripping your hand a bit harder.

As the two of you descend the stairs you can hear Dustin and Erica arguing still, “Guys,” Robin says loud enough to get their attention and moves away from you, dropping your hand, “There’s something up there.”

“It’s, like, really freaky,” you tell them.

The three of them follow you up the stairs and go through the door into a room with glass windows. All of you look through the glass, astonished. Past the glass is a command room filled with scientists all working at a desk pressing various buttons or standing taking notes. Just past the last desk is a wall with floor-to-ceiling windows which reveal a large machine sitting in a cavern. 

The machine shoots out something that looks like lightning which is pointed at the cavern wall which is glowing orange with patterns that look almost like veins. But in the very center, a large crack is slowly growing. The likes of which you just don’t know how to describe. If you didn’t know any better you would almost say that the wall is coming to life.

Next Chapter

[hifirushimagines]

NSFW idea for yandere rekka! I remember you saying in the HC's of yandere rekka that she uses fly bots to keep watch, what if the reader took one and recorded themselves masturbating and moaning her name. I would love to have this be a story please.

⊱ ────────────── {.⋅ ♫ ⋅.} ───────────── ⊰

Yandere!Rekka watching Reader

TW; Reader uses they/them pronouns but is AFAB, Smut🔞, Voyeurism, Masturbation, Yandere, stalking (though Reader knows they're being stalked, but they're into it), fingering, toy use, size difference

Notes; Anon as soon as I saw this ask I almost died because my god, my lesbian ass can't 🥵

2nd note; God this took forever to post cause my Tumblr was acting up

⊱ ────────────── {.⋅ ♫ ⋅.} ───────────── ⊰

Rekka likes to believe that Y/n doesn't know her true intentions with them and always keeps watch on them by using her fly bots when they leave work, she wants to keep tabs on them at all times for their sake since they're much more weaker then she is - right now she's in her office watching on her tablet as Y/n walk down the street to your home listening to music though your headphones. Rekka fond of their relaxed state as they hum along to their music until the bot's lens is suddenly blackened out as the sound of it falling out of the sky, then onto the ground listening as someone picks up the bot and stuffs it into a bag.

"Damn it, Rekka gotta do something."

Before she could even get up from her seat she hears the muffling sounds of a door and a voice talking to themselves, deciding to wait for the moment to see whoever took the bot so that way she can identify and crush whoever took her way of watching her darling. The sounds of the bot being pulled out of the bag and being tinkered with as Rekka patiently waits for the right moment, several minutes went by hearing shuffling and shifting until something wipes across the lens blurring the image of the individual.

"Here we go."

Hearing the sweet voice of her darling as the lens as they wipe off the black substance first showing their face before they placed the bot down on their bed, Rekka's jaw drops as she sees Y/n standing in front of the cam dressed in a two piece crotchless lingerie.

"I know you're watching this right now Rekka and I know you've been stalking me through the flying bots for the past couple of weeks."

She swallows the large lump in her throat feeling the heat rise from her cheeks as she loosens her tie, watching as Y/n gets onto their bed as they place the cam near the bedposts sitting on their knees placing a red velvet box next to them

"And honestly it's too bad that you couldn't just come and stalk me yourself."

Watching as they slide their hand between thighs while the other plays with their own chest listening to their breath hitch as she undo her belts and slides her hand into her pants, spreading their legs as they play with their clit hearing them call her name under their breath. Sliding their fingers into their pussy as their wetness drips down their thighs chanting Rekka's name like a prayer, feeling herself coming to her end until they pull their fingers out - Rekka whining at her own lose of an orgasm. Rummaging through the red box as they pulled out a bottle of lube and a 10 inch red dildo. Applying lube to the large toy paying very close attention to the tip as Rekka slides her pants all the way down now, watching as they hover over the large object before slowly sinking onto it hearing them loudly moan.

"Fuck, Rekka! Wish you were here right now."

Slowly they sink down more on the toy stopping off halfway then slides off with only the tip still inside.

"And I know you want to be here, too."

Rekka's fingers quicken as Y/n s fastens her pace watching the cock disappear into them riding it like she was there, listening to them beg and pleads to themselves their hips moving faster as it goes deeper into them - suddenly they bury their face onto the bed blocking her view as their hands disappears under them hearing the sloppy sounds of their pussy playing with themselves again. Hearing them curse under their breath watching them slowly rise up with one hand still playing with themselves. Rekka's breath stopped for a moment and the view that she sees is like nothing she has seen before - the toy is now fully inside of them and creating a small but noticeable bulge in their stomach, their face contorted in pleasure and pain drool dripping down from the corners of their month. They move their hips slowly and carefully letting the colorful cock slide out of them then back in, Rekka now close to her end once again as Y/n starts to speed up their pace until their screaming in euphoria and her name all over again. Moaning out in pure ecstasy as they soak their sheets as Rekka soaks her chair watching as they fall over backwards onto their pillows, the dildo slips out of them covered in their cum as Y/n huffs and wipes off their brow before sitting right up staring into the lens. Grabbing something off screen for a minute for it to be a pen and notebook writing something down before showing a address, apartment number and a heart in the corner.

"I'll be waiting, Rekka."

[roseofithaca]

Trapped (Part 2)

More torment for Silver (my oc). Turns out I'm not done. Mention of @idiotwithanipad 's oc Amy.

Robin is midway through laughing his arse off at the stand-up when his ears pick up at the sound. Guy on stage hadn't said anything funny, but how he was making an idiot of himself trying to make old-fashioned jokes that even a caveman like himself knew were past their prime, was rather hilarious. The others had grown tired of him or could no longer bear to cringe and watch him fail, and had departed up to whatever free rooms they would be sleeping in tonight.

By the time the clock strikes at eleven, it's only himself and a living woman who remains in the audience. And she's asleep, possibly soon to be dead too. Part of the reason he was hanging around was to see if she did go, and find out if they would have another ghost to join them or he'd get to see her move on.

That curiosity is superceded by the vibrations of the scream that tremble against his earlobe.

His nostrils flare. There's a strong scent of a particular salt on the wind. Human sweat.

Fear.

It's carried along with the scream.

Moonah Girl?

Robin flees from the ballroom and passes through the wall, taking the easy way down as opposed to the stairs. He hadn't quite mastered landing with the 'superhero pose' as his little friend had, one knee down, hand on the floor. Had he known there was such a cool way to land from such a height, he'd have been practising for the past six hundred years since the house was built. Instead he lands as he usually does, in an embarrassing collapse of fur and skin, colliding face first into the ground.

At least no one saw that, except for Moonah.

Wait....

Pushing himself up, Robin turned his gaze towards the sky. The rain was easing off but the clouds remained, blanketing the stars. But no Moonah. Shit.

How could he have forgotten?! He never forgot. He had one fucking job this night, every month, for nearly thirty years now. Stupid, stupid, stupid!

Silver screams again. Louder now.

"Oh no, no..." If Mary were here, she'd kill him.

Never mind if he was already dead, she'd find a way to resurrect him, just to ensure he woke up on fire.

He jogs as quick as he can towards the woods. He's only a couple of hours late, it's not usually until midnight when the nightmares hit their peak. Must have began early. Maybe there was a greater disharmony between the earth and Moonah. Human science and understanding of time couldn't always be accurate.

Never before have her screams sounded this harrowing. More so than the night she died, when the growing seizures had silenced her as the pain intensified. It was as if there was something truly attacking her. Torturing her.

Not possible, he reminded himself with each pump of his foot as he picked up speed. He knew of no other ghost or entity in this land that could hurt her. He'd know, surely. That was his role, to protect and guard the tribe, forever. He'd know.

Just like he'd always remember to be with her on the night when Moonah was darkest?

"Me coming. Me coming." He promises with each breath. He'll wrap her up in his arms, he'll hold her, he'll sing the same lullaby as he had to his children when the demons came for them in their sleepy times.

As soon as he sets one fluffy boot in the woods, the screaming stops.

Robin holds his breath.

"Silver?" He calls, softly, ignoring that she shouldn't be able to answer.

Was she okay now? Had the terrors past?

He cautiously walks, briskly, through the dark woods, hearing nothing but the running of the shallow stream and the rustle of the leaves from the wind.

Then his eyes fall upon her bed.

Her empty bed.

Oh...

Gravity won the short battle, Robin collapsing forward onto his knees. He was too late. He'd been distracted by stupid unfunny man.

He'd missed the chance to say goodbye.

Just like with Mary. And Annie.

To be taken up on this night of all nights though...? People usually left at a moment of pure joy or peace or contementment, at least every time he'd been around to witness it. Silver had sounded as if a thousand wolves were tearing her limb from limb. Having heard one of his cousins die a similar fate, he could confirm that to be accurate.

Had the relief that had come once the terror had passed felt so euphoric that it allowed her to move on?

Sadness, regret, envy and happiness all swirled within him in an uneasy concoction. He should be glad for his Moonah girl. She was free now. Wherever she'd gone, hopefully she would no longer be bound by this sleeping curse. Moonah will it, she is now free to move and dance and speak without limitation, without the need to sleep unless desired.

He prays that she has found Mary, that the two are embracing among the stars. Hopefully she gets to meet some of the other awesome people he's known throughout the centuries. Maybe even his kids, she can tell them how dear old dad is getting on, how much he misses them.

She would do that, he believes. She was good and kind and brave and a little crazy but in the best way.

Robin sniffs, wiping the tears from his eyes as he looks over her bed again. Where once there had been only the blue of the cornflowers, they now mixed with violets and roses and lilies, all arranged by Alison, along with the mini statues of her Hellenic gods and (electric) black candles. And the plaque in the old oak tree at the head which read her name.

Louise Smith. 1985 - 2004

Known to her friends, who love her beyond life itself, as Silver Robyn Ravenstar.

May She party forever with the Goddesses and Gods. So mote it be.

Robin staggered to his feet. And bowed.

"Me will miss you. Sweet Moonah girl."

He'll have to tell the others.

Fuck. Kitty and Amy will be fast asleep. Should he wait until morning? Perhaps he'll tell everyone else, including Humphrey and Pat, and they can help break the news to the young women about their friend. He ignores the rapidly festering pain in his chest as he focuses on how this will devestate them, and the best things he can say or do to lessen that pain.

They can help him pick out her star. They can plan a memorial with Alison after she's told as well.

Move on. Carry on. Can't do this every time.

Shut out the pain, close the heart, onwards. Ever onwards, Rohr.

He should probably do a sweep of the grounds to make sure she's truly gone. Check every last nook and cranny. But he's sure that he would be able to smell her. That scent of sage and fungus that followed her every step. A lingering presence of it remained over her bed, but that was to be expected, given how often she laid there. Perhaps it would always smell of her. He hoped it would.

Straightening up, he took a deep breath, then turned his back to leave the wood.

From inside the tree, donned with the plaque which carried both her names, Silver watched her savior walk away.

Come back. Robin, please come back.

Can't call out. Can't cry. Can't move.

The creature's arms tighten around her, pungent drool falling from its fangs as its mouth lingers next to her ear. The saliva burns like acid as it hits her shoulder.

"Mine." It continues to taunt. Forever more, "Mine."