#fright night 2: new blood

[bragascreenshot]

[xxsealitwithakissxx]

Ya'll… I found my old, 2014-2015 old, icons of Fright Night 2 (remake & original) and a banner on a buried alive usb and it's… not as bad as I thought? Well, for that era I guess lol. I made so many edits. Boredom, I suppose... why were random edits a thing back then omg… anyway, I'm uploading them for nostalgia sake. If anyone happens to find a use for them, all the better. Um, give credit if you want? Idc. Think of it as a freebie, it'd be funny to see ppl using them tbh. !!Trigger warning for blood!! Not a lot, but this is Fright Night we're talking about here. Off topic rant: I'll always be disappointed Jaime Murray didn't get much recognition for her portrayal as Gerri. Nor did Julie Carmen as Regine. I will die on this hill believing both were a notch above the original villains. That is all. :/

[stories-and-chaos]

Shrike pt 1

[Hazbin Hotel reader insert as Alastor’s “darling life and death partner” I did my best for an ace x ace relationship, based on personal experience. Both parties are moderately sex favorable since writing from my own experience is easiest, so I’m not sure if this counts as QPR. Written mostly in spite over all the Alastor smut. And overly innocent reader inserts. I don’t mind some smut but c’mon people.]

[Part 1/2 Word count 5506/12026]

[cw: blood, violence, mild gore, attempted sexual assault, fluff]

Behind every great man is a great woman? Well, behind every sophisticated murderer is an equally charming murderess. Maybe not as accurate a statement but that’s how you and your partner were. You met Alastor during prohibition. You weren’t the headline performer at the speakeasy he liked to frequent. You were attractive but other girls there were more stunning.

What caught his attention was the passion in your voice. You were deep and sultry as New Orlean’s summer nights. Your notes slipped into his core as inevitable as the Big Easy’s flow. Combined with your poise and aura of untouchability, he felt drawn to you. The lean radio host had never felt a pull like this to anyone.

But he noticed other men drawn to you. But they had no appreciation for you, just your flesh and the pleasure they might take from you. So he took to following you home. At a discreet distance; he hadn’t yet introduced himself. At least a dozen times he intercepted ruffians that moved to harm you. They weren’t nearly as cautious and thorough as him.

One night Alastor had just prevented another uncouth man from approaching you and was wiping off his hands when he heard your voice. Not how he normally did, trained and melodic. No this was harsh, panicked. Fuck! Another one?! There really was no end to the lowlifes.

You had screeched at your assailant, “Get your hands OFF ME!” You were shrill enough to make him wince, but only for a second. He was stronger and just gave you a dark grin with more teeth missing than not. “Let’s have some fun babycakes.” He started dragging you to an alley.

You managed to stomp on his foot with your heel. “Augh, you bitch!” He shoved you up against the brick wall. “You’re gonna pay for that,” he growled.

“I believe the lady has made her opinion clear,” came another voice in the foggy night. “Let her go.” The voice was vaguely familiar, something you heard regularly…

It distracted your assailant long enough that you could reach for your hat. It was a tad out of style but had it’s advantages. Namely, needing a nearly foot long hat pin to keep it in place. You pulled the pin out while he looked out at the other man.

“Fuck off before I kill yo-“ his words were cut off by the sharpened steel pin suddenly piercing his eye. You jammed it into his eye socket with all your strength. Maybe you could have hit what little brains he had but the other man ran up to slit the bastard’s throat.

The man gurgled desperately before falling to the ground. He twitched, blood flowing from his neck and eye. You leaned back against the wall, chest heaving.

The tall lean man seemed oddly calm. He cleaned his knife before pulling your hat pin out of the corpse’s head. Blood fountained out from the eye socket as he cleaned the gore off your pin. He turned, presenting you the slim steel by the decorative knob.

“Are you all right cher?” You took the pin back but didn’t replace it. You didn’t want any leftover gore in your hair.

“Alors pas! Give me a moment cher.” You took a few deep breaths and looked up to see a (thankfully dry) red tinged hand waiting for you. You placed your shaking one into it. The owner assisted you to your feet, guiding you away from the ever growing pool of blood.

“Quite a fright you’ve had my dear!” His crisp voice, with its transatlantic accent echoed as he escorted you away.

You shuddered slightly, realizing how bad things could have gotten. “At least it was just a fright. Thanks to you mister…?” You trailed off, still trying to place his voice.

“Alastor.”

Your eyes widened in sudden recognition. “Ah! You’re the radio host!”

“I’m flattered you remember me! I’m afraid I have you at a disadvantage. You are Y/N, correct?” Dazed, you nodded. “I’ve been enthralled by your performances for months now, I had to learn more about you cher.”

“Why thank you, I’m glad you’ve been enjoying them.” Suddenly you felt dizzy and stumbled along the path. Alastor swiftly caught you.

“I believe you’re a tad unsteady after being handled so roughly. May I?” Confused, you nodded and he immediately swept you into a bridal carry. “If you’ll permit me, I’d like to escort you home.” He paused and added, “I will need directions of course.”

The thought of a man you just met bringing you home made you flush all over. No matter how gallant he was, the radio host was a stranger. But you didn’t think your legs could support you long enough. “If…if you would please.” You glanced back at the alley. “What do we do about…”

“Hmmm,” Alastor hummed as he strolled away. He had no difficulty carrying you. “I suppose a dead man is an inconvenience but I believe getting you somewhere safe takes priority. Certainly over a lowlife’s corpse.”

It was hard to argue with that logic. You directed him to your apartment, amazed that he was able to carry you that long and with ease. Once there, you allowed him inside. Once inside with a lamp lit, you realized what a mess both were. Your coat was splattered with blood and grime. Your dress was stained wherever the coat hadn’t covered it and your hat was long gone. The hat pin in your hand was mostly clean, but you spotted some blood and gore by the finial. Your shoes weren’t worth mentioning.

Seeing the result of your ordeal made the bile rise in your throat. You barely made it to the sink before vomiting. Thankfully you hadn’t eaten before leaving work so it was just bile. You faintly heard clinking and water being poured. Alastor appeared with a glass of water for you. “Ma cher, you look like you need a wash up. If you like, I can stay in the main room or I can make my way home. I wouldn’t want you to feel unsafe.”

You found yourself asking him to stay as you cleaned up. Maybe you were being naive but he did just save you and you felt he didn’t have anything untoward in mind. When you asked about him, he merely chuckled and told you not to worry.

After you were cleaned and dressed in a nightgown and housecoat (and had added a torrent of tears to the bathwater) you emerged to find Alastor reading the newspaper in a chair. He’d made jambalaya for you both. “My mother’s recipe! So good it nearly killed her!” he quipped. Once you’d eaten you couldn’t keep your exhaustion at bay.

“You’re welcome to spend the night Alastor. I’d hate to send you home in the middle of the night.” The only problem was there was only one bed, yours.

“That is much appreciated Y/N. I can make myself comfortable in the front room for one night. I’ll leave you to rest while I clean up myself.” He pressed his lips to your knuckles and murmured “Bonne nuit, cher.”

Alastor left your sleeping form and made use of your washroom. He cleaned up methodically; it wasn’t the first time he’d had to wash up after a kill. His jacket was ruined, but at least the rest of his clothes were in decent enough shape. At least he wouldn’t scandalize anyone on the way home tomorrow.

Still, he was surprised that you had fought back as much as you had. Evidently that passion from your songs emerged elsewhere too. And the way you dispatched your attacker… he shivered at the beauty of it. The unexpected metal gleam in your hand, the furiously graceful arc as you swung and your perfect aim into the lowlife’s eye.

Alastor wasn’t much interested in pleasures of the flesh, he never had been and wasn’t still. He wanted to see more of you like that. Not scared and in need of rescue, but the hunter he recognized in your eyes.

“It seemed the songbird I’ve admired has talons.”

—————

The next morning you insisted on making breakfast; biscuits and gravy. Alastor seemed to enjoy it but he didn’t leave after eating. You thought he would need to get home before heading to the radio station. When you asked he said he was staying “just in case.”

Just before lunch there was a knock at your door. Alastor was closer so he answered it, almost like he was expecting it. Two policemen stood on the other side. “What can we help you with officers?” Alastor asked jovially.

“Is this the home of a Miss Y/N?” At your affirmative nod, the stockier of the two continued, “We’d like you to come down to the station Miss. We have some questions to ask you.”

“Ah, this must pertain to the dreadful ordeal my dear Y/N went through last night,” Alastor interjected. “Ma cher, why don’t you grab your things and I’ll accompany you.”

“And who might you be?” The lanky officer asked.

“Alastor, my good man. You may have tuned into my radio show!” He smiled thinly as the short one had a flicker of recognition. “I rendered some assistance to Y/N, so it’s probably best if I’m there as well. It would save you gentlemen a trip to my home to escort me in for questions, ha ha!”

By then you had your shoes and bag ready. “Dear you look lovely. Do you have your pin from last night, I’m sure these gentlemen will want to examine it.”

“Oh, that’s an excellent point Alastor.” You placed it in your bag, making sure the cover was on the tip.

Once at the station, you found out the trail from your attacker’s body to your apartment was fairly obvious. Some blood on the bottom of Alastor’s shoes led the way. As for what happened:

“The man accosted me on my way home. I tried to fight back, but he was ever so much stronger. It seems I was loud enough to grab Alastor’s attention. I’m so grateful he stepped in! The beast was distracted and I was able to get ahold of my hat pin. My mother always said not to leave without one and she was right! I meant to just scratch him but I’ve never had to do such a thing before; I hit his eye instead. Before I could do anything else Alastor was between us and then the ruffian was dead.”

“Indeed! I heard Y/N order the lout to release her and I ran up to assist. I had just been dealing with another lowlife who had also been following her. To think there are so many ne’er-do-wells on our streets! In any case, I dispatched the man and assisted Y/N home.” You hadn’t realized there had been another man following you. You shivered at the thought.

“And why were you in the area Mr. Alastor? Records show that neither your home or place of employment are in that area.”

Alastor’s eye twitched but his smile never faltered. “I’d had a lovely evening at the jazz club and felt a late night stroll was in order. I wasn’t even paying attention to where my feet were taking me! Perhaps it was providence guiding my way so I might save the lady’s virtue.”

“Why didn’t you report this to the police?”

“I could barely manage to walk, I was in such a state. Alastor had to carry me home; I was in no condition to report anything, officers.”

“The lady had been assaulted on her way home and forced to defend herself. I felt it would be unworthy of a gentleman to leave her alone in her time of need.”

After a barrage of questions and a thorough examination of your hatpin, Alastor’s knife and the minor injuries you had suffered while being manhandled, the officers let you both go. They would provide all the evidence to the district attorney. But it seemed unlikely that either of you would be charged. You had been defending yourself and Alastor had defended you.

The charming radio host escorted you back home. “Won’t you be late for work at this point?” His broadcast covered a good portion of the afternoon and early evening.

“Hmm, perhaps.” He patted your hand nestled into the crook of his arm. “I still feel your wellbeing is more important however, my dear.” You felt a blush warming your cheeks. “On that subject, I believe you’re due to perform again tonight?” You nodded, he really did enjoy your performances if he knew your schedule. “I believe I will go mad with worry cher, might I escort you there and back home?”

This man was insinuating himself into your life so easily. Perhaps killing a man together had that effect. “Please do Alastor. I don’t believe I will be able to go on my own after yesterday.” You had reached your apartment while talking. “Then I shall return after I complete my broadcast. Until tonight cher.” He kissed your knuckles and saw you through the door before leaving. You turned on your radio and tuned the dial to Alastor’s station. About ten minutes after his broadcast normally began you heard the crackle of his voice.

“Salutations listeners! Thank you for your patience ladies and gentlemen, I know everyone has been eagerly awaiting the show. I am Alastor, a pleasure to be sharing this time with you all.” You sighed in relief. You would have felt terrible if helping you jeopardized Alastor’s job.

You left the radio on, letting his voice fill the apartment while you took care of minor tasks. Eventually he signed off with his normal outro “Until next time dear listeners, thank you and goodnight!” You didn’t know how long it would take for him to get from his station to your apartment but you felt it best to finish getting ready.

So you were dressed for the evening when he arrived. That was the start of a new routine for you both. Alastor walked you to work and back, enjoying the illicit beverages and your voice. Sometimes he would stay the night in your front room but he mostly dropped you off before making his way home.

He was a lovely conversationalist and those walks were much more cheerful than they had been. You felt easy around him in a way that was foreign but fulfilling. Eventually your friends and coworkers at the speakeasy asked if you two were courting.

You honestly couldn’t answer. You’d never had a beau before. According to friends over the years, you had been asked out by a lot of fellows and turned them all down. Was that why none of those men talked to you again? Apparently you hadn’t realized their intentions.

One night, a couple months after the attack, you mentioned this to Alastor. “Isn’t that strange, cher? They think we’re a couple!”

He stopped dead, his lips barely keeping their ever present smile as the rest of his features went blank. “Is…is this what courtship is?” He blinked down at the hand in the crook of his arm, the high heeled feet he had shortened his stride to keep in step with, the new gleaming hat pin he’d gifted you.

“I…am not really sure. I’ve never had a beau before.” You looked up at him, seeing the lips that gently kissed your knuckles every time you parted, the dark auburn hair you would stroke when he was stressed, the patterned bow tie you had given him the same day he gave you the pin. “Although, if this is what courting is, I’m glad it’s with you Alastor.”

“Hmm…” he resumed walking, this time humming one of the songs you sang that night. Once at your place, he finally replied. “I believe I agree with you my dear. Since we are a couple it seems, I’m glad it’s with you, Y/N.” He not only gave your hand a kiss, but leaned down to kiss your cheek as well. “I suppose you can tell your friends tomorrow they were correct. Bonne nuit, ma cher.”

Roughly a month later, Alastor was spending the night in your apartment when you felt the need to ask a question that had been lingering in the back of your mind. “Alastor, cher,” you sat next to him, pulling his attention from the book he was reading. “Had…have you killed other people before that night?”

He froze, which really was all the answer you needed. “Are you still?”

For a man so glib, it took him a moment to find his silver tongue. “And if I am?” He choked out. “What will you do, Y/N?”

You studied him, making sure not to move and not to touch him. “I would ask what sort of people they are. And if they are of the same mold as the men who attacked me…then I’d also ask you to be careful, cher.”

He relaxed slightly. “Unfortunately there are a great many like-minded men in the world, although a few less in this city in the past few years.” He paused. “I can’t help myself dear. I see them acting as they do and feel the need to remove them from this life.”

Gently, you placed a hand over his. “I can hardly blame you for that. Especially after you saved me.” Your other hand turned his head to look into your eyes. “Your secret is safe with me, Alastor.”

The man was usually so composed; it was kind of cute to see him so surprised. He then cupped your cheek and lightly kissed your lips. Your eyes fluttered closed as you leaned into the kiss.

It was one kiss and it didn’t last long. Pulling back from each other, he licked his lips while you pressed your fingertips to yours. “That was quite nice.” Despite singing so many songs about love, you had never been eager to try out all the steps of romance.

“Indeed it was. Shall we add that to our list of favorable courting actions?” You smiled and pulled out a paper, a fourth of the way filled with a list. You added “kisses on lips” to it.

Before too long, you were helping him with his activities. Initially you assisted in the clean up, but then you started taking part in the kills. Alastor admired your channeled fury and impeccable aim. You admired his precision and calculated execution. The two of you had to be sparing with your activities however. You didn’t want to draw suspicion. The kills were never closer than a week from each other.

Roughly a year after you met Alastor, the subject of marriage came up. It was while you two were disposing of another uncouth man; he made the mistake of trying to get you away from your beau and received knife stabs from both of you. You no longer had to rely solely on your hat pin; you had a stiletto blade of similar size now. Alastor finished covering the body in dirt; he refused to let you help with digging at all. Instead you kept an eye out as he did.

You provided him with a cloth to clean off the dirt. “Merci, ma cher.” Once he was ready you put it back into your bag and linked arms with him. As you walked together, satisfied, he asked, “Y/N, shall we get married?”

The question caught you off guard and you stumbled forward. Just like that first night, he caught you smoothly and lifted you into his arms. “ Alastor, darling, where is this coming from?”

“Some at the radio station inquired as to our relationship. I was informed that a successful courtship as ours generally results in a marriage.” He hummed as he carried you. “After some thought, I realized the prospect of wedding you is…very appealing.”

You nestled into his embrace. “I haven’t given it any thought. It would make life simpler, you wouldn’t have to dash around between our homes and work.” You mulled it over. You would like seeing him every morning instead of on occasion. The thought of your dresses next to his suits in the wardrobe, helping each other clean up after a kill, relaxing quietly on the couch while you both read… “Yes. Let’s get married Alastor. I’d like that.”

He smiled down at you, looking oddly tender considering what the two of you had been doing just half an hour ago. He leaned down to kiss you softly. “Let’s get you home and we’ll work out all the details tomorrow, my dear.”

Initially the two of you planned something simple. But once both your and his coworkers got wind of the nuptials, they insisted on a grand party. Apparently they all felt the two of you were adorably hopeless. Neither of you had realized how invested those around you were in your relationship. You and Alastor concluded that resisting your friends well-wishes was as pointless as resisting a hurricane.

So while the ceremony was a small affair, the party after was held at your club and lasted deep into the night. The proprietors had managed to get a bottle of champagne for you and Alastor. Despite it being your wedding reception, you couldn’t help performing one of Alastor’s favorite songs. He then kept you on the dance floor the majority of the evening. He danced as well as he talked. It was a good thing you’d had over a year as his primary dance partner.

You heard some ribald jokes about his stamina. At least that’s what they sounded like. You still couldn’t tell. Not that it mattered much to either of you. All you cared about was your husband was having a great time, out dancing everyone in the building. Once it was time to leave, he carried you into a cab, then carried you into his home.

Despite what the guests had suggested, he was tired after all that. Frankly you were too. So once divested of all the fancy clothing, he tucked you into the bed and climbed in next to you.

For the first time since you met him, he looked nervous in the faint starlight. Of course. This was so far beyond both of your experiences. You probably looked the same. “Alastor? May I?” You held out your arms to him. He gave you a nod and you embraced him, slowly nestling your body against his. “Let me know if it’s too much, cher,” you murmured as he wrapped his arms around you.

He started to relax with you. His breathing matched yours, your heartbeat synchronized with his. You felt his arms growing heavy, their grip softening. Alastor nuzzled your hair and kissed the crown of your head. “Thank you for marrying me, Y/N.”

You smiled. “Thank you as well Alastor,” you replied before drifting off to sleep.

The two of you did have sex eventually. The first time was a few weeks after the wedding. You were both back to work after a brief honeymoon; when you got back the other singers, the band, even the bartender were all curious about your bedroom activities. They surrounded you while Alastor was conversing with another patron. When all you talked about was how nice falling asleep with him was and the cute sight of him sleeping as the sun rose, they stared at you slack jawed.

Your coworkers consulted amongst themselves. You heard snippets of “do we need to explain this too, did no one tell them about that, they’re both such lookers too, I don’t wanna tell her, you do it, no you, I ain’t gonna tell her.”

After some discussion it seems Mimzy, another singer was appointed to talk to you. “Y/N, sweetie, doll, did your mama ever tell you about the birds and the bees?” She guided you to the bar and requested drinks for you both.

“Mimzy! I do know about sex. Gracious, I’m aware of adult urges and where babies come from.” You threw back your drink. The curvy blonde breathed a sigh of relief; at least she didn’t need to go over the basics.

“That is usually what a honeymoon is for dearie.” Mimzy tossed back her own drink. “Look cutie, what you and your mister do at home is your business, but your friends don’t want you missing out! You two are good together; I’ve never seen either of ya this happy before.” She downed another drink before hopping over to the stage.

Alastor came up to your side. “Looks like your friends are all in a tizzy dear.” You smiled up at him. “Did you have a strange conversation with your colleagues today too?”

“Ah yes,” he leaned on his new cane, a wedding gift. “Concerning my bedroom prowess and your presumed enjoyment thereof.” You couldn’t help but laugh huskily. “The station manager even told me to ‘remember my duties as a husband.’”

You gave him a peck on the cheek. “I believe you’re going above and beyond your duties cher.” He kissed your hand and held it while the two of you listened to Mimzy’s set. “I’d best get up there darling.” You gave his hand a squeeze before going to take the stage.

You sang a mix of familiar tunes and a couple new ones you’d picked up on the honeymoon. To finish the performance, you sang the same number from your wedding night, which you had come to think of as Alastor’s song. Many of the patrons were familiar with the two of you, so listening to you sing to your husband made a number of them go misty eyed.

Once back at home, Alastor cleared his throat while unbuttoning his shirt. “Do you want to, cher?”

You continued to remove your jewelry. “Perhaps one day.” You applied cold cream to remove your makeup. “And you cher? Do you want to?” You asked back as you wiped your face clean.

He was putting up his suit, more intent on making sure it lined up on the hanger than usual. “Perhaps one day,” he echoed. He stopped fiddling with the suit and stood there in his underclothes. Alastor’s ever present smile was still there but his eyes looked lost.

You finished your nightly routine and went to him, asking gently before taking both his hands in yours. “Ma cher, when have we ever been a normal couple? We already have almost a full page of physical affections we enjoy. If we want to see if sex will be on that list one day we can. But not unless we both want to try it.” His smile became more genuine and he pressed both of your hands to his lips. “Thank you my dear.”

You gave him a playful look and started humming the opening bars to his song. Alastor gave you a quizzical look back as you started singing it. Before the first verse was over you pulled him into an impromptu dance. In the privacy of your bedroom, you and your husband danced into the night to your voice. To your delight, he joined you in duets and sang a solo for you as you slow danced together.

“Ah, my sweet songbird. I am glad I married you.”

“I’ve never really seen myself as a songbird before. If anything…” your eye caught sight of your hat pins on your vanity, “more of a shrike.” He looked at you in surprise. “A butcher-bird,” you clarified.

“No no, I’m aware. I never thought of that comparison for you. It fits though, they’re pretty little killers that impale their victims.”

“I’m glad you agree darling. Now, we should get some rest.” You put out the light and pulled him into bed. There was a bit of hesitation on his part as he laid down. But he was soon settling into what was becoming your normal sleeping positions: you nestled against his side with his arms around you.

A few days after that, he asked if you’d like to give sex a try that night. You didn’t have any problems with the idea so almost a month after your wedding the two of you tried it.

Of course you were both terribly awkward; Alastor pulled your hair more than once and you elbowed him in the neck. But the two of you managed it. Multiple times that night in fact. Evidently that was what those stamina comments were about. Afterward, as he held you close Alastor mused. “Hmmm, that was rather enjoyable. I still don’t understand everyone’s fascination but I’m not opposed to the occasional romp as they say. What did you think darling?”

You thought back. “Once we figured things out it was fun. I agree though, I don’t understand why everyone is so obsessed about it. It’s rather messy in the end. And I think we can add it to our list, as an occasional activity.”

He chuckled. “You can add it tomorrow.”

The next day, you joined the other singers chatting before the sets started. One of them was gushing over her new beau and you realized this was a great opportunity to let them know. “Alastor and I had sex last night,” you stated, cheerful and straightforward. Again with the slack jawed looks. “Multiple times actually. I’m glad I’m in such good shape, it was more exertion than I expected.”

After a beat one of the girls asked “Well? How was it?”

“Hm? Oh! It was fun. My legs are pretty tired so I don’t think I’ll be dancing much tonight though. Alastor enjoyed it too, so we decided to do it again someday.” You heard the band warming up. “I’m up first tonight, best get up there.”

As you left the group they started talking rapidly to each other. “Do you think they actually did? Don’t see why not, they are the strangest couple I’ve ever met, at least they’re strange together, I thought for sure one of them would be more excited about doing it…”

Your lives settled into a comfortable routine together. You both continued with your jobs; his broadcast was quite popular and as you increased your skill and song repertoire, you became more successful in the nightlife scene. He accompanied you everywhere which was exactly how you liked it. Every so often the two of you would kill a ne’er-do-well or three. Occasionally you had intercourse. You often danced together, both at the club and at home.

This continued for a number of years. By now almost everyone around you was used to the idiosyncrasies in your marriage and just didn’t question it.

One night in late summer the pair of you were in the woods, hiding the latest kill. As you kept watch in the humid air, Alastor was dumping dirt over the corpse. “Are you sure you don’t need help cher?”

He grunted while lifting more dirt. “What kind of gentleman would I be if I made my darling wife fill a hole like this?” You could only shake your head in amusement. You shifted your feet but lost your footing in the process. Both legs swept out beneath you and you landed firmly on your rear. You did your best not to cry out in case your voice carried.

“Cher!” Alastor dropped the shovel to help you up. “Are you alright Y/N?” You nodded as you grabbed his outstretched hand. “Just slipped, I’ll be fine Alastor.”

You looked up at your husband and noticed that the branches of the nearby trees gave him the illusion of antlers. You were about to mention it when the sharp crack of a rifle rang out and suddenly his forehead blossomed into a spray of blood and brain matter. “ALASTOR!” His name ripped from your throat. He couldn’t hear it though; his smile was wiped away as his body dropped to the ground.

“Aw shit! I thought he was a deer!” The man who killed your husband yelled out, realizing what he’d done. You screeched and ran in the direction of the voice, pulling your hat pin out as you did so. The hunter wasn’t far. You leapt at him, screaming and crying. He was bigger than you but he wasn’t expecting a furious murderess to launch herself at him at full speed. He fell to the ground with you straddling his chest and you plunged the hat pin, the one Alastor gave you for your last anniversary, into the man’s eyes and throat. Over and over you shoved the steel into his face. The blood spray and viscera didn’t scare you anymore.

You faintly heard, “Jesus Mary and Joseph crazy bitch!” through your own screaming. You whirled in that direction to see the second hunter aiming his own rifle at you. You started to move toward him when you felt an intense pain at your brow, followed by nothingness.

—————

Part 2

[housewarningparty]

Wait god can you imagine if I'd actually finished writing and posted this during tumblr's wh13 heyday? Someone would have made one of those creatively edited gifsets with Myka feat. Jaime Murray as her Fright Night 2 The New Blood character Geraldine "Gerri" Dandridge, the vampire professor/culprit behind the Hindenburg disaster

just went through your jaime murray tag (truly god has favourites. holy fuck) and uhhh btvs warehous 13 au?? my guy please tell me anything and everything you can

Okay this AU DID rip hard like ngl. I wrote it back when I was deep in an urban fantasy phase so it was just this hodgepodge of stuff I loved. The magic system was part Dragon Age, part Dresden Files. The vamps were part Buffy, part VTMB.

The setup was that Myka was the Slayer, going to college in Univille. Artie was her watcher, Claudia was a young witch (The Willow, if you will) and Pete was the unpowered best friend/Xander.

Artie and MacPherson were like co-watchers for Carol and in the course of that work (I think it was some kind of heroic sacrifice or something) he gets turned into a vampire and Carol can't bring herself to stake him. Artie's white whale.

HG's deal is that she was the Slayer back in the 1800s when Christina gets killed bc HG's role has her in the cross fire. HG then goes off the deep end, finds the powerful vampire responsible, forces him to turn her and then eats him (nakedly, shamelessly, joyfully ripping off the Tremere clan from VTMB). Cue a reign of terror that lasts years before she abruptly goes silent. Instead of being bronzed, she enters torpor and stays like that til MacPherson wakes her up. She is, of course, the Angel of the AU. A little more morally ambiguous though.

It was supposed to proceed from there - HG meets Myka in a bookstore and they have a little meetcute. There's flirting and feelings before it's revealed that HG is the mythic vampire the council is freaking out about.

Ultimately the project died MOSTLY bc I couldn't quite figure out how to translate the s2 plot for total world destruction quite satisfyingly enough to this universe. And I think I lacked a little confidence wrt character voice. But god it was fun to write. Tragic, sexy vampire Helena lives rent free in my head forever as does Slayer Who Should Know Better Myka.

Thanks for asking btw I love talking about this one lmao

[dionysianivy]

Songs that reminds me of Dionysus ⊹ ࣪ ˖

Hello everyone🍇 This is my playlist of songs that remind me of the time I started working with Dionysus, or the songs that make me feel most connected to him. Maybe some songs don't have any Dionysian vibes, but they are important to me because they make me feel free, wild, and confident. They allow me to show my true colors and not be afraid to reveal who I really am, which is really important for my soul and for my Sag moon! >ᴗ< hope you like it♡

🌿🐆🌿🐆🌿🐆🌿🐆🌿🐆🌿🐆🌿🐆🌿🐆🌿🐆

1. My Blood - Twenty One Pilots | 3:49

2. This Charming Man - The Smiths | 2:42

3. Touch of My Hand - Britney Spears | 4:19

4. Electric Feel - MGMT | 3:49

5. Tarzan Boy - Baltimora | 3:50

6.  (Von Dutch Remix) - Charli XCX, Addison Rae, a.g. cook | 2:37

7. Phonography - Britney Spears | 3:33

8. Kill the Lights - Britney Spears | 3:59

9. Big in Japan - Alphaville | 4:45

10. Follow Me Down - 3OH!3 | 3:23

11. Affection - Between Friends | 3:55

12. Sadeness - Enigma | 4:15

13. My Prerogative - Britney Spears | 3:33

14. Karma Chameleon - Culture Club | 4:12

15. New Flesh - Current Joys | 2:47

16. Get Naked (I Got a Plan) - Britney Spears | 4:44

17. All I Need - The Frights | 2:54

18. Hotter than Hell - Dua Lipa | 3:07

19. Can’t Wait - Doja Cat | 3:55

20. Evil - Melanie Martinez | 4:06

21. Everybody Wants to Rule the World - Tears for Fears | 4:11

22. Follow Your Fire - Kodaline | 3:58

23. Hands Up - 6arelyhuman 2:14

24. Overcompensate - Twenty One Pilots | 4:16

25. Fairly Local - Twenty One Pilots | 3:27

26. Breathe on Me - Britney Spears | 3:43

27. Don’t Let Me Go - RAIGN | 3:51

28. Sexual Healing - Marvin Gaye, kygo remix | 6:08

29. Little Dark Age - MGMT | 4:59

30. Metamorphosis - INTERWORLD | 2:23

31. If I Had You - Adam Lambert | 3:48

32. Break the Ice - Britney Spears | 3:16

33. Just Dance - Lady Gaga | 4:02

34. Drunk Together - Jai Waetford ft. Allday | 4:25

35. Wonderland - Natalia Kills | 3:32

36. Gimme What I Want - Miley Cyrus | 2:34

37. Night Crawling - Miley Cyrus feat. Billy Idol | 3:11

38. The Greatest - Sia | 3:33

39. National Anthem - Lana Del Rey | 3:51

40. Miami 82 (Kygo Remix) - Syn Cole | 5:42

41. Alejandro - Lady Gaga | 4:34

42. Poker Face - Lady Gaga | 3:57

43. The Business - Tiësto | 2:50

44. Brutus (Instrumental) - The Buttress | 3:13

45. I’m a Slave 4 U - Britney Spears | 3:23

46. Champagne Problems - Nick Jonas| 3:13

47. Ecstasy - SUICIDAL-IDOL | 2:00

48. Blackout Days - Phantogram | 3:47

49. Hungry Eyes - Eric Carmen | 4:10

50. What’s Love Got to Do with It - Tina Turner | 3:48

51. Touch of My Hand - Britney Spears | 4:19

52. One of Your Girls - Troye Sivan | 2:59

53. Get Back - Britney Spears | 3:46

54. In the Arms of a Stranger - Mike Posner | 3:28

55. Piece of Me - Britney Spears | 3:32

56. The Answer - Britney Spears | 3:55

57. Acknowledge Me - Doja Cat | 3:15

58. Brother Louie - Modern Talking | 3:41

59. Cheri Cheri Lady - Modern Talking | 3:45

60. At the Risk of Feeling Dumb - Between Friends | 3:25

61. Where Is My Mind? - Pixies | 3:53

62. Wildcard - Miley Cyrus | 3:14

63. Thousand Miles - Miley Cyrus | 3:51

64. Often - Doja Cat | 3:20

65. She's Like the Wind - Patrick Swayze | 3:52

66. Heavydirtysoul - Twenty One Pilots | 4:12

[yokichikun]

Fannibal x Hannibal’s char.

Requested.

Fem!reader x Hannibal’s characters.

TW:

Violence (such as murder, blood guts ecc. But if you are reading this fan fiction I don’t think it will be a problem.)

You went home. The only thing you remember, other than the fucking corpse at your feet, was the drive home. It was late, you didn’t really know what time it was, but you assumed it was late since the road was completely empty and dark, but not completely dark thanks to the street lamps that illuminated the night.

As you entered trough the door you immediately went to your room, got in your pajamas and went to bed. It felt like you were never sleeping, so you decided to try and drink some water to calm yourself down, and maybe close the window in your room because it was cold, even if you didn’t remember opening it. The bed was so uncomfortable, it almost felt like concrete, cold, wet and bone breaking concrete.

You opened your eyes and the first thing you saw was… lights? That wasn’t your stand light, those were… street lights? Slowly you decided to stand up. Your hands were bloody, your knees too, you almost didn’t notice that the blood wasn’t yours. The dead body next to you immediately woke you up and made you fall again for the fright. You wanted to scream, but the voice couldn’t exit from your throat. You almost chocked because of it.

First thing you did was immediately getting up and running away. Where the fuck were you?! The road was completely isolated in the woods, no cars, you where lucky enough there was light. You saw a car approaching, so scared by what could have happened you ran into the woods and continued running for what felt like an hour. You. Stopped when the oxygen wasn’t enough for how much effort your lungs were putting, you got down on your knees looking around. The only light you had now was the moonlight.

You tried to look for something to help you locate yourself. The first thing you saw was smoke. You immediately realized it was a chimney where there’s a chimney there’s a house. Maybe you could have been lucky enough to find some help… or not.

You thought for minutes, maybe half an hour, and decided to go anyway. You needed help. As you approached the house it started looking really similar in your mind. Where did you saw it before?

The house wasn’t that big, but it had two floors. As you were looking at the house a dog ran towards you and jumped on you to give you a warm greeting. You immediately fell not expecting a dog to jump on you. You looked at it. A mixed-breed of what looked like to be a golden retriever, or something like that. You recognized that dog.

“Winston?”- you said caressing the puppy, it barked at you happy to receive some attention from a new friend. “Who’s a good puppy? You’re a good puppy! And you look exactly just like… Will Graham’s…” the realization hit as you looked at the house again. Obviously you saw it before. How could you not remember his house. For how many times you saw that house on your pc screen and wished for it to be true.

“Winston! Come here!”- a male voice said interrupting your thoughts, a voice you immediately recognized. Steps approached you, you could hear the snow making sound under his shoes. “I am so sorry, I’m still training him.”

You got up and looked at the dog, some blood stained the blond fur of that cute puppy, he looked so happy.

“… I need help..” you said out of nowhere, your hands trembling, the moment of joy vanishing in the air as Will noticed the blood on you. “I don’t know where I am… please..” you said looking at the man in a desperate way.

I know it took me a lot. But the school was kidding me, so… pt 2?

[ghoul-slime]

Ghouls & Their Favorite Horror Movies (1980s edition)

In honor of Halloween being just a few days away (!!!) have some thoughts about the ghouls and their favorite horror movies. Narrowed down to the 1980s because that's probably my favorite decade for horror (shoutout to the 70s though).

Dew: City of the Living Dead, The Evil Dead, Pieces, Cannibal Holocaust

Resident horror snob and ultimate gorehound. The bloodier, sleazier, and more fucked up the better. Huge fan of the Italian horror directors, especially “Godfather of Gore” and king of onscreen eyeball trauma Lucio Fulci. City of the Living Dead (aka The Gates of Hell) is his favorite, it’s gory, blasphemous, and just obscure enough for him to feel smug when nobody else has heard of it. The biggest horror fan of the group, he’s seen it all and is always on the hunt for something weird and new that he hasn’t seen yet (a difficult task). Introduced pretty much all of the other ghouls to their favorite horror movies.

Aether: Return of the Living Dead, Re-Animator, Night of the Creeps, Killer Klowns from Outer Space

Lover of all the best 80s horror comedies. Silly and fun without being too intense or mean-spirited. The more over the top the better. Aether movie nights are always the most fun. Loves Return of the Living Dead because of the awesome punk rock soundtrack and 80s punk aesthetic. Secretly loves horror comedies the best because he gets to see Dew laughing the whole time. He and Dew are the most annoying about quoting movies back and forth to each other nonstop.

Mountain: The Thing, They Live, Aliens, From Beyond

Loves his horror with a side of sci-fi. Major John Carpenter and Stuart Gordon fan (who isn’t). Also a huge fan of sci-fi horror with amazing practical effects and The Thing is the king of them all (he loves the original too, for the plant-man monster of course). 

Swiss: Hellraiser, Videodrome, Society, Street Trash

Body horror enthusiast. If it's slimy, horny, and taboo then he’s all about it. Unsurprisingly the biggest Cronenberg fan of the bunch. Huge fan of the Hellraiser series, what with all the leather and the chains and the flesh. Will also sit you down and force you to watch Society if you’ve never seen it (you will thank him later).

Phantom: The Monster Squad, Fright Night, The Lost Boys, Near Dark

Of course it’s gotta be The Monster Squad. Phantom loves the classic Universal Monsters and Monster Squad has them all, wrapped up in a super fun 80s horror comedy with great writing and memorable characters. Will undoubtedly yell WOLFMAN’S GOT NARDS at the most inopportune times. Loves vampire movies the most and secretly thinks of his pack a little bit like the group of vampires in Near Dark.

Aurora: Night of the Comet, Slumber Party Massacre, Phenomena, Sleepaway Camp 2

GIRLS GIRLS GIRLS. Loves seeing pretty women absolutely kick ass onscreen. And any horror movie with a female villain will almost always become a favorite. Loves Night of the Comet because why shouldn’t a couple of valley girl cheerleaders get to enjoy a mall shopping spree while also mowing down hordes of comet zombies with machine guns?

Cirrus: Possession, Altered States, The Shining, the Ninth Configuration

Queen of psychological horror. Her picks usually toe the line between horror and other genres. Cirrus movie nights almost always have to come with a “palate cleanser” movie right after (usually a Cumulus or Aether pick). Dew secretly thinks she has the coolest taste of the bunch.

Cumulus: Hollywood Chainsaw Hookers, Sorority Babes in the Slimeball Bowl-O-Rama, Blood Diner, TerrorVision

80s horror comedies (horny version). Like Aether, Cumulus loves horror comedies. But for her, the sexier and more ridiculous the better. Always thinks a movie would do better with more boobs and full-frontal. Vocal advocate for more male nudity in movies. Linnea Quigley is her horror idol.

Sunshine: Slumber Party Massacre 2, Black Roses, Trick or Treat, Slaughterhouse Rock

Number one champion of the rock & roll horror subgenre. Horror and rock music were both public enemy number one during the Satanic Panic of the 80s, and Sunny loves movies that lean into it. Slumber Party Massacre 2 is the most fun with the leather-clad rockabilly slasher facing off against members of an all-girl rock group with his massive (unmistakably phallic) electric guitar-drill.

Rain: Jaws 3, Humanoids from the Deep, The Fog, The Abyss

Absolutely nobody is shocked to discover Rain is a fan of underwater/nautical horror. He doesn’t even care if a movie is “good” as long as it’s wet and full of weird monsters or creatures. Avid defender of Jaws 3 (it has dolphins, hello). His taste is all over the place quality-wise, from b-movie creature features like Humanoids, to the cozy coastal ambiance of the Fog. As the only ghoul who can breathe underwater, he loves to watch others squirm during the breathing fluid scene in the Abyss.

[stiles-o-dylan24]

|| Jason x Aubree Marin || PLL Rewrite || TAGLIST ||  • AUBSON🎶 • SHIPS OF TGWP •

Season One

Chapter 1 - I'm Still Here

Chapter 2 - The Jenna Thing

Chapter 3 - To Kill a Mocking Girl

Chapter 4 - Can You Hear Me Now?

Chapter 5 - Reality Bites Me

Chapter 6 - There's No Place Like Homecoming

Chapter 7 - The Homecoming Hangover

Chapter 8 - Please, Do Talk About Me When I'm Gone

Chapter 9 - The Perfect Storm

Chapter 10 - Keep Your Friends Close

Chapter 11 - Moments Later

Chapter 12 - Salt Meets Wound

Chapter 13 - Know Your Frenemies

Chapter 14 - Careful What U Wish 4

Chapter 15 - If at First You Don't, Succeed, Lie, Lie Again

Chapter 16 - Je Suis Une Amie

Chapter 17 - The New Normal

Chapter 18 - The Badass Seed

Chapter 19 - A Person of Interest

Chapter 20 - Someone to Watch Over Me

Chapter 21 - Monsters in the End

Chapter 22 - For Whom the Bell Tolls

Season Two

Chapter 23 - It's Alive

Chapter 24 - The Goodbye Look

Chapter 25 - My Name Is Trouble

Chapter 26 - Blind Dates

Chapter 27 - The Devil You Know

Chapter 28 - Never Letting Go

Chapter 29 - Surface Tension

Chapter 30 - Save the Date

Chapter 31 - Surface Tension

Chapter 32 - Save the Date

Chapter 33 - Picture This

Chapter 34 - Touched by an 'A'-ngel

Chapter 35 - I Must Confess

Chapter 36 - Over My Dead Body

Chapter 37 - The First Secret

Chapter 38 - Through Many Dangers, Toils, and Snares

Chapter 39 - A Hot Piece of A

Chapter 40 - Let the Water Hold Me Down

Chapter 41 - Blond Leading the Blind

Chapter 42 - A Kiss Before Lying

Chapter 43 - The Naked Truth

Chapter 44 - CTRL:A

Chapter 45 - Breaking the Code

Chapter 46 - Father Knows Best

Chapter 47 - Eye of the Beholder

Chapter 48 - If These Dolls Could Talk

Chapter 49 - unmAsked

Season Three

Chapter 50 - It Happened 'That Night'

Chapter 51 - Blood Is the New Black

Chapter 52 - Kingdom of the Blind

Chapter 53 - Birds of a Feather

Chapter 54 - That Girl Is Poison

Chapter 55 - The Remains of the 'A'

Chapter 56 - Crazy

Chapter 57 - Stolen Kisses

Chapter 58 - The Kahn Game

Chapter 59 - What Lies Beneath

Chapter 60 - Single Fright Female

Chapter 61 - The Lady Killer

Chapter 62 - This Is a Dark Ride

Chapter 63 - She's Better Now

Chapter 64 - Mona-Mania

Chapter 65 - Misery Loves Company

Chapter 66 - Out of the Frying Pan, Into the Inferno

Chapter 67 - Dead to Me

Chapter 68 - What Becomes of the Broken-Hearted

Chapter 69 - Hot Water

Chapter 70 - Out of Sight, Out of Mind

Chapter 71 - Will the Circle Be Unbroken?

Chapter 72 - I'm Your Puppet

Chapter 73 - A Dangerous gAme

Season Four

Chapter 74 - A Is for A-l-i-v-e

Chapter 75 - Turn of the Shoe

Chapter 76 - Cat's Cradle

Chapter 77 - Face Time

Chapter 78 - Gamma Zeta Die!

Chapter 79 - Under the Gun

Chapter 80 - Crash and Burn, Girl!

Chapter 81 - The Guilty Girl's Handbook

Chapter 82 - Into the Deep

Chapter 83 - The Mirror Has Three Faces

Chapter 84 - Bring Down the Hoe

Chapter 85 - Now You See Me, Now You Don't

Chapter 86 - Grave New World

Chapter 87 - Who's in the Box?

Chapter 88 - Love ShAck, Baby

Chapter 89 - Close Encounters

Chapter 90 - Bite Your Tongue

Chapter 91 - Hot for Teacher

Chapter 92 - Shadow Play

Chapter 93 - Free Fall

Chapter 94 - She's Come Undone

Chapter 95 - Cover for Me

Chapter 96 - Unbridled

Chapter 97 - 'A' Is for Answers

Season Five

Chapter 98 - EscApe from New York

Chapter 99 - Whirly Girly

Chapter 100 - Surfing the Aftershocks

Chapter 101 - Thrown from the Ride

Chapter 102 - Miss Me x100

Chapter 103 - Run, Ali, Run

Chapter 104 - The Silence of E. Lamb

Chapter 105 - Scream for Me

Chapter 106 - March of Crimes

Chapter 107 - A Dark Ali

Chapter 108 - No One Here Can Love or Understand Me

Chapter 109 - Taking This One to the Grave

Chapter 110 - How the 'A' Stole Christmas

Chapter 111 - Through a Glass, Darkly

Chapter 112 - Fresh Meat

Chapter 113 - Over a Barrel

Chapter 114 - The Bin of Sin

Chapter 115 - Oh What Hard Luck Stories They All Hand Me

Chapter 116 - Out Damned Spot

Chapter 117 - Pretty Isn't the Point

Chapter 118 - Bloody Hell

Chapter 119 - To Plea or Not to Plea

Chapter 120 - The Melody Lingers On

Chapter 121 - I'm a Good Girl, I Am

Chapter 122 - Welcome to the Dollhouse

Season Six

Chapter 123 - Game On, Charles

Chapter 124 - Songs of Innocence

Chapter 125 - Songs of Experience

Chapter 126 - Don't Look Now

Chapter 127 - She's No Angel

Chapter 128 - No Stone Unturned

Chapter 129 - O Brother, Where Art Thou

Chapter 130 - FrAmed

Chapter 131 - Last Dance

Chapter 132 - Game Over, Charles

Chapter 133 - Of Late I Think of Rosewood

Chapter 134 - Charlotte's Web

Chapter 135 - The Gloves Are On

Chapter 136 - New Guys, New Lies

Chapter 137 - Do Not Disturb

Chapter 138 - Where Somebody Waits for Me

Chapter 139 - We've All Got Baggage

Chapter 140 - Burn This

Chapter 141 - Did You Miss Me?

Chapter 142 - Hush, Hush, Sweet Liars

Season Seven

Chapter 143 - Tick-Tock, Bitches

Chapter 144 - Bedlam

Chapter 145 - The Talented Mr. Rollins

Chapter 146 - Hit and Run, Run, Run

Chapter 147 - Along Comes Mary

Chapter 148 - Wanted: Dead or Alive

Chapter 149 - Original G'A'ngsters

Chapter 150 - Exes and OMGs

Chapter 151 - The Wrath of Kahn

Chapter 152 - The DArkest Knight

Chapter 153 - Playtime

Chapter 154 - These Boots Were Made for Stalking

Chapter 155 - Hold Your Piece

Chapter 156 - Power Play

Chapter 157 - In the Eye Abides the Heart

Chapter 158 - The Gloves That Rocks the Cradle

Chapter 159 - Driving Miss Crazy

Chapter 160 - Choose or Lose

Chapter 161 - Farewell, My Lovely

Chapter 162 - Till DeAth Do Us Part

[bragascreenshot]

[staycalmandhugaclone]

If you're new, this all starts with Touch Starved - Echo! You can read this little chunk as a standalone, or head back to the beginning for the full experience!

Sequel to Flinching.

Is this the softest Echo fic I've ever written? Yes. Did I cry while writing it? There is no video evidence. @actuallybarb thanks for requesting a second chapter!

Febuwhump Day 2 Ch 2

Flinching – Med OC&Echo

Warnings: Reference to attempted SA, reference to physical assault, some cursing, wound care, energy crash from excessive bacta use, non-intimate undressing, some self-deprecating thoughts

WC: 2,583

The painful control mediating his intentionally even breaths did little to hide the violent tension pulsing through Echo’s taut body with each thrumming beat of his heart. I could feel it in the rush of blood surging through the pulse point of his inner arm, watched it in the ball of muscle locking around his jaw, and I loathed the knowledge that I was the cause of it. Numb to the ache shooting through the abused lip caught between my teeth, I found myself straining for silence in my every tentative movement, struck beneath the weight of fearing my very existence in that moment was enough to further fuel his anger, and I loathed my own timidness just as violently as I loathed the cause of that rage.

“We’re not going to let something like this happen again.” The deep quiet in his whispered promise was so displaced against that frightful anger that I couldn’t help but look up to see the perfect stillness in those amber eyes; the conviction burning through his every word as the man I’d come to treasure for his gentleness suddenly embodied the powerful visage of the GAR’s most elite soldiers. It was easy to forget the simple fact that he’d earned his title of arc trooper; that the exceptional strength of his towering form was merely a small part in what made him such a dangerous force, but, in that moment, I could see a determination in those eyes that only a fool would doubt, and, for the first time in days, I felt safe.

My gaze fell away at the hiss of the medbay door sliding open. Stepping away from him, I ambled numbly about the room to gather my supplies, dreading the crash I knew would hit me mercilessly after smearing that blue gel over my wounds. At the first hitch of breath from abused muscles balking beneath the weight of a tube of bacta, Echo quickly stepped forward to take it from me, hand only just whispering against mine to ease the thick container from my grasp.

“Just tell me what else you need.” He said softly. Maker, I hated this… I’d sprinted through waves of enemy fire carrying over half my body weight in gear to reach wounded soldiers, but, in that moment, I couldn’t manage even retrieving my own damn bacta… Motioning vaguely toward the handful of supplies I’d already gathered, I managed a small shrug.

“That’s probably it, I think.” The words felt so small, and I found myself cringing at the mere sound of them. Tomorrow… Tomorrow I would force that bouncing smile back in place. Tomorrow I would remember every horror I’d faced and conquered. Tomorrow I would remember that I was strong, and I’d find a way to draw back my shoulders and plant my feet beneath me so I could stand tall beside these amazing soldiers – these amazing men… but, as I felt his hand settle gently against my back, I had to grant myself permission to be weak, if only for that night, and, amidst the quiet concern and utter lack of judgement from the man beside me, I found some way to forgive myself for it.

“I’m guessing most of the bruises aren’t just on your face.” He started tentatively, and a small huff left me at the quiet apology in his hinted words, head just shifting in a brief nod. “Are you okay with me helping you? I could get you a blanket – something to help keep you covered.” There was that gentleness I so loved him for; somehow finding a way to draw a small smile to my lips even through the haze of emotion that had robbed me of my strength and left me so deathly tired.

“It’s fine, Echo.” I breathed, shooting him a ragged shadow of a smirk. “Not like I don’t have a breastband on. Plus, medic school has a way of stripping people of that kind of shame.” He let out a knowing chuckle, and I couldn’t help but wonder if he had similar experiences from his arc training. Still, when I reached up to undo the clasp at my neck, he turned away in some instinctual offer for privacy.

My fond smile lasted just until I’d begun rolling the skin-tight material up my chest, muscles seizing at the movement. Gritting my teeth against the unavoidable hurt, my hand tightened around the black fabric, scowling with the effort to push through the sharp pain tearing through my back and shoulder as I strained to silence the tiny hitches in my breath, the whimper I only just managed to choke back until finally caving, body trembling against the exhaustion and pain and blinding frustration.

“Echo,” his name left my lips in a quiet plea, “um… could you… I seem to be struggling a bit with this damn skinsuit.” He hesitated only a moment before turning back to me, brows just tensing above the darkness that filled those gorgeous eyes.

“Yeah,” he sighed softly, “turn around.” With a slow breath, I turned my back to him, absently reaching out to steady myself against the ledge of the counter. Still, I couldn’t fight back the way my body tensed at the first brush of his hand over the strip of exposed skin at my waist. “Sorry – hand’s probably cold.” He murmured, pausing only briefly in a silent offer for me to pull away.

“Actually, cold sounds pretty nice right now.” I whispered despite the way my body already shook, but the thought of that cold touch against the swollen and bruised skin just hidden by the thin layer of cloth promised a comfort I couldn’t help but crave; a balm to sooth the heat collected in mistreated flesh. Reassured I hadn’t changed my mind, Echo carefully slipped his thumb between the sensitive skin and the bottom hem of my shirt, movements impossibly gentle as he wedged the fabric up an inch at a time, shifting smoothly from side to side.

I knew exactly what he saw that made him suddenly freeze, heard the screaming absence of breath as the air staled in his lungs; felt the way his eyes burred into the mass of dark purple just beneath my rib. Without a word, his touch dragged across my back to push the shirt up just that much more, and he released a tense, shaking exhale. Movements softening into something that threatened to break me, he continued so slowly, I barely felt him until his fingers only just whispered against my neck to grip the bundle as he stepped quietly around me. I fought to hide the grimace twisting over my lips as I tried to move my arms enough to help him slip the garment over my head, but his quiet words quickly stilled that futile effort.

“I’ve got it.” Even that brief attempt to force such a simple movement left me struggling beneath gritted teeth and too-quick breaths, but that didn’t matter when I saw the ice in Echo’s carefully blank expression, eyes studying each mark of that man’s fury marring my chest, the vivid outlines of his hands clearly defined in nearly black shades of purple along my arms and across my throat just beneath where the neckline of my shirt had been, before finally settling on the ruin of my face.

The horrified rage that kept fighting to wrench his expression into a scowl left me frozen, guilt twisting through my chest. I should have just done this myself – should have taken care of it days ago so they never found out to begin with. The tiny tremor in his hand as he reached for me broke my heart, and I couldn’t bring myself to even breathe as his fingers fluttered across my ruined cheek almost too softly for me to feel before carefully slipping around the back of my neck. With such painstaking care, he lowered his forehead to just settle against mine, and I felt the way he shook beneath each purposefully regulated breath, eyes clenching shut against some fleeting struggle for control, and I couldn’t stay silent in the wake of his hurt.

“Hey… I’m okay.” I don’t think I believed those words until I found myself needing to breathe them into the shuddering air trapped between us. “I’m okay, Echo.” My hands moved on their own to whisper softly over the trembling muscle straining against his jaw. “I’m okay.” Only after several more strained breaths did he finally pull back, hand lingering on my neck for just a moment longer as his eyes locked onto mine with a sorrow and guilt that sent tears clawing up my throat. With a final, sharp sigh, he tore his gaze away, stepping back to reach for the tube of bacta.

He couldn’t seem to bring himself to meet my eyes again as he began meticulously covering each discolored patch of skin with that cool gel, touch such a gentle caress, I couldn’t help but find myself leaning into it. The few areas struck hard enough to split the skin, he carefully bandaged with textbook precision. After he tended to my back, I could have thanked him, relieved him of any obligation driving him to address each exposed patch of dark bruises in turn, but I knew that look in those haunted eyes. There was nothing he could do about what had happened, but, this, working to lessen the damage already done, this was with within his power, and it offered as much comfort to him as it did to me. So I stayed quiet, eyes watching the tender movements of his hand as he worked to remove even the memory of that man’s touch.

When he finally turned his ministrations to my face, that tension stole threw him anew. Lips just twitching into something that wanted to be a smile, I let my fingers brush over his wrist.

“It’s alright, Echo,” I promised gently, “you don’t have to-” but before I could finish, he silently raised his hand to the hard lump on the side of my jaw, guiding the clear blue gel carefully along the bruised skin of my cheek, over the painful gash on my lower lip, fingertips just tracing the swollen bridge of my nose. I let my eyes close as he circled the dark flesh surrounding my left eye, and didn’t notice the way my head began to sink forward until my name whispered gently over his lips.

Chest swelling with a nearly forgotten breath, I belated pushed myself back up, eyes reluctantly opening just enough to search for him. The worry pulling his pale face into the beginnings of a frown sent a flush of heat up my neck.

“I’m fine.” I assured him, though even I could hear the slight mumble in my words. “Side effect of using so much bacta.” A hum caught in my throat as I tried to blink away the haze of exhaustion. “And I haven’t… hmm… been a few days since I’ve been able to get much sleep.” His hand slipped carefully around my arm to steady me against the way my body had begun to sway, and I just noticed that tension steal back over him. Forcing some bit of alertness back into my faltering mind, I looked up at him; saw the way his attention had locked onto my hip, and I didn’t need to look to know he could see the outline of a thumb, that he knew the rest of the handprint wrapped around my waist just beneath the fabric.

“Unless you’re terribly eager to get me out of my pants, I think I can take care of the rest.” I whispered, pleased to hear that teasing lilt playing once more with my voice, and even the weak huff of a chuckle it drew from him was a balm to the terrible weight lingering between us. He glanced away from me a moment, jaw working over words he hadn’t yet managed to form before letting his gaze shift tentatively back to mine.

“Why don’t you take Hunter’s cot tonight?” He asked quietly, and I couldn’t hide my surprise at the offer. “He’s on watch for a while and…” The way his words stumbled over his tongue left me frozen, “I’d honestly just feel better if we can keep an eye on you.” A flush of color crept up his neck, silent plea screaming through those eyes. I didn’t answer for a moment, trying to come to terms with the idea, but I was too tired to grasp the thought for long. I just wanted to sleep; to be free of the wretched memory of that night. I didn’t realize how much I truly didn’t want to be alone until hearing the simple need in his words.

“If he doesn’t mind…” I replied hesitantly, failing to fully stifle the whisper of hope in my voice. A relieved smile flashed across his lips, shoulders straightening as he drew in a deep breath.

“I’ll talk to him to make sure. Finish up, and I’ll be back in a minute, okay?” I gave a small nod, hands already reaching for the waistline of my pants as he turned to leave.

I barely remembered the automated motions of lathering those last few bruises hidden around my hips in bacta before stumbling to my personal locker, the way my hands fumbled with the far more forgiving fabric of my sleepwear; the moment my body tried to collapse, falling heavily against the wall as my balance failed me in a strained attempt to step into my shorts.

The distant call of my name sounded more like a memory than a voice, and it wasn’t until hearing the tap at the door that a hum caught in my throat in some useless attempt at a response, only catching a brief glimpse of Echo as the door hissed open before that merciless weight dragged against my eyelids, body slumping sideways. I didn’t hear the quick flurry of words as Echo darted across the room, but the flush of recognition was all I needed to melt into his touch as he quickly pulled me against him.

“Hey-hey; you still with me, Doc?” The warmth of his breath tickled across my scalp, mind begrudgingly working to find some meaning in his voice.

“Mhmm.” The grumble barely made it past my lips, feet belatedly shifting to find purchase beneath me.

“Alright, let’s get you to bed, huh?” The warmth that touched his quiet murmur only further robbed me of any will to move, eagerly pressing further into him. “I know; that stuff can really take it out of you… Come on – just hold onto me, okay?” The world seemed to dance for a moment, wrenching some fleeting whisper of awareness back just enough to find the gentle concern in Echo’s eyes, and then nothing else mattered because I realized he was holding me.

“Echo.” His name stumbled over my lips, head wilting to rest thoughtlessly against his shoulder. “’m so tired.” I could feel his thumb brush softly over my arm as he started slowly through the ship.

“I know,” he breathed. “That’s good. You need to rest. We’ll keep watch.”

Body already rocking beneath the leisurely ebb and flow of exhaustion-dulled breaths, I managed a final hum in some fleeting recognition of his words and readily let the steady rhythm of his strides lull me into a blissfully empty sleep.

Next Chapter

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Click here for my Masterlist.

Taglist: @arctrooper69 @ct-0113 @padawancat97 @eclec-tech

[hazard-symbols-that-fuck-hard]

I need you to know that your post about fnaf motifs genuinely has fed my brain more than like. Anything has in months. It’s so interesting. There’s something so specifically horrific about Chica’s filth to me, and the idea of seeing a dirty, oily pan with some blood in it is just…terrifying? I’m not sure. Really, it’s kept me up. And your ideas about Bonnie too…a cleaning/chemical motif is SO INTERESTING!! Aghhh I can just imagine the chemical burns on his suit and potentially just corrosion on an older Bonnie animatronic due to so much chemical exposure from cleaning…the cleanliness/filth opposition is just. Ugh. So good.

I was wondering if you had any other ideas for the other animatronics? When you mentioned you knew Chica was coming when you saw the cockroaches, it made me wonder for the potential of some of the other characters. It’s personally very inspiring to read as a video game writer/artist. I’m not sure why your post was so horrific to me, I can’t place why the specific kind of filth you described is so scary.

Of course!

Now, I really wanted to focus on the core four, because half of the fun of FNaF (at least for me) is seeing the same guys over and over again in new, weird ways.

So naturally, the different versions should focus on different aspects of those motifs, right?

Have one Chica be really focused on oil specifically. One focused on rotted food.

I can see a version of nightmare Chica that takes on some cockroach-like aspects of her design.

(I also want to point out Post Shift 2’s rendition of Chica, because it’s just *chef’s kiss*)

(hell. a hazmat suit motif would work for a cleanliness-focused Bonnie, too.)

Other than the core four, though, I feel that the rest of the animatronics have either appeared too few times, or they’re too story-heavy to really stick anything on. But there are definitely some motifs in the series as a whole.

Namely, people getting stuffed into robots, and robots getting stuffed into people.

In FNaF 1 and 2, the main threat is the night guard getting stuffed inside an electronic-filled suit. In 3, you face off against a guy trapped inside a robot. And Sister Location dares to ask “what if the robots got stuffed into you?” with plenty of kids getting traditionally stuffed for good measure.

The “Fazbear Frights” books go completely off the walls with this, coming up with more and more ways for people to get trapped in the insides (and outsides) of automatons. Sometimes, they forgo animatronics completely in favor pure, raw machinery, but you can tell it’s still FNaF because some poor kid is still being jammed full of servos.

Another one of FNaF’s motifs is fire as a cleansing force— it’s a bit of a running joke that Freddy’s just has a predisposition to burning down. And I really do believe that this is a reflection of Scott’s faith.

Fire can be seen as a symbol of God’s presence— what better thing to wipe away such hellish abominations?

Now, if only we could get a flood after the fire… Imagine some charred, submerged automatons coming out to get you, barely holding on to their own lives!

And back to Chica and Bonnie— think about how much water speeds up decay. Think about how many chemicals shouldn’t be mixed with water.

So yeah. There’s some more FNaF brainrot for ya.

[vestigialpersonality]

6 Songs - Garrett

I was tagged a few days ago by @dandelion-bride for the 6 Song Ask Game.

So meet Garrett, a human(?) sorlock. I don't typically write about him directly, he's more of a figure who haunts my Durge's past and present. I typically associate him with folkpunk. He'd hate my choices and be mad that I didn't pick out Wagner or Debussy.

Picrew here (the picrew isnt part of the game, I just don't want to keep reusing the same terrible screenshot)

I've also done these for The Inevitable Pre-Tadpole (Keres) and Post Tadpole (Rune).

Tagging @vialae @theameba1436 @picathartidae @pantsbutfancy @magmethius and anyone else who is interested

1) An event that defines your character's past

Haunting by The Pogues

For weeks and weeks after, with nerves a disaster Nowhere near that road would I go And from dusk through the night, I would shake with the fright Of the tree that had haunted me so

Flamerule 1477. The lyrics themselves aren't directly correlated to the events themselves, its more about the way that it's written like someone telling a story in a bar about a single terrifying moment that irrevocably changed them as a person. The exact same events when viewed from another perspective would be encapsulated by Mitternacht by E Nomine and is a fic I'm slowly writing.

2) How your character sees themselves

Wonderlust King by Gogol Bordello

I traveled the world Looking for understanding Of the times that we live in Hunting and gathering first-hand information Challenging definitions of sin

Always moving, never staying in one place. Question everything. Find the answers to lost questions. Another apt one would be Michael Martin Murphy's version of Streets of Laredo, if you view him as both the dying cowboy and the man listening to the cowboy's story.

3) How others view them

Selfish Man by Flogging Molly

Walk around me, not before me I'll pretend not to ignore you But I'll compromise if I realize You can do something for me

Admittedly, he probably views himself this way too. He's very self aware.

4) Their closest relationship (platonic or romantic)

Fairytail of New York by The Pogues

Anyone familiar with this song: "Ooooooh. 😐"

Garrett is married, but estranged is putting it politely. Posting a lyrics version of the song instead of just a snippet because the transformation of sentiments is why I picked a Christmas song to define his marriage. The lyrics take a drastic shift at 2:14.

5) A major fight scene I'm choosing to interpret this as his personal boss fight music.

Rose Tattoo by The Dropkick Murphys

A ship that always stays the course An anchor for my every choice A rose that shines down from above I signed and sealed these words in blood

I'm taking a more ominous interpretation of the lyrics. Instead of reminders about treasured memories, when in relation to Garrett it's more of a threat that he will not forget and he will not forgive.

6) End credits song

The Hand You Reach Out Is Empty (As Is Mine) by Ramshackle Glory

We're egalitarians with empty hands Is it justice to split up the dust? We are damned and we'll never earn trust And so we'll betray everything that we can

This was the first song I added to his playlist. Everything about this song encapsulates him perfectly.

[literatemisfit]

A Comprehensive List of David Tennant Whump

(to be made more specific in terms of episodes and plot points with time) ***SPOILERS on PLOT POINTS***

Chronologically:

Takin' Over the Asylum (1994)

Manhandling and intimidation, abuse of power by authority, forced confinement and treatment, given blame for having a mental health disorder, unsupportive family, death of a friend

The Bill (1995)

Short moment of physical violence and intimidation, arrest, manhandling

LA Without a Map (1998)

Short stint of imprisonment, physical violence, fish out of water vibes, intimidation

Casanova (2005)

Violence and grievous injury, imprisonment, emotional anguish, disturbing sexualized environment

Doctor Who (2006-2010)

2x0 The Christmas Invasion

Regeneration sickness, manhandling, pain and fainting, nursed back to health

2x1 New Earth

Loss of consciousness by poison, imprisonment, loss of control and ownership over one's body

2x7 The Idiot's Lantern

Alien TV face sucking, loss of consciousness

2x8 The Impossible Planet &

2x9 The Satan Pit

Fall into an abyss and regaining consciousness at the bottom, religious and moral dilemmas

2x13 Doomsday

Emotional anguish, loss of loved one, inability to communicate feelings in time

3x1 Smith & Jones

Manhandling, forced to have blood sucked through straw against his will, loss of consciousness, lack of oxygen for everyone

3x2 The Shakespeare Code

Voodoo attack, loss of consciousness, one heart stops, threat of execution

3x7 42

Intense pain and panic, screaming, freezing, burning up from the inside, admitting to fear

3x9 The Family of Blood

Human innocence when faced with danger, tantrum at not wanting to die, fear of not being John Smith, taken prisoner, hunted by killers

3x12 The Sound of Drums

3x13 Last of the Time Lords

4x2 The Fires of Pompei

4x6 The Doctor's Daughter

4x9 Forest of the Dead

4x10 Midnight

4x12 The Stolen Earth

4x13 Journey's End

0x3 The Waters of Mars

0x4 The End of Time Part 1

0x5 The End of Time Part 2

Recovery (2007)

Brain injury, mental anguish

Hamlet (2009)

Grief, arrest with light bondage, insanity, tantrums, death

Single Father (2010)

Manhandling, grief, anger

United* (2011)

Fright Night (2011)

Past trauma and fear, vampire attack, trapped and helpless, injury, thrown

Spies of Warsaw* (2013)

The Politician's Husband* (2013)

Richard II (2013)

Broadchurch (2013-2017)

Heart problems, dizziness, fainting, collapsing, surgery, grief, trauma, flashbacks, violent crime, sexual crime

Camping (2018)

Jessica Jones (2016-2019)

Criminal UK (2019)

Good Omens (2019-2023)

Deadwater Fell (2020)

Around the World In 80 Days (2021)

Inside Man (2022)

Litvinenko* (2022)

* these I have not seen nor do I have confirmation that whump-like drama occurs but I include them in case they apply.

If you have any insider information or suggestions for what might be added in terms of listed works or details about the plot points and triggers to include, let me know. I will begin working on this as I gather information and research and rewatch certain shows and movies.

Enjoy 🌈

[1skittler1]

Jaime Murray - Fright Night 2: New Blood (2013)

[namesisfortombstones]

HALLOWEEN-A-THON 2024

New viewings with an asterisk. 1. Dead of Night (1977)* 2. Halloween: The Curse of Michael Myers (theatrical version) 3. An American Werewolf in London (theatrically) 4. The Wolf Man (1941) 5. The Curse of Frankenstein 6. A Nightmare on Elm Street 4: The Dream Master 7. The Legend of Hell House 8. A Nightmare on Elm Street 5: The Dream Child 9. Son of Frankenstein 10. Snowbeast (1977) 11. Inferno (1980) 12. The Beyond 13. The Terror (1963) 14. Phantasm: RaVager (The For Rory Edition) 15. Halloween: Resurrection 16. Abbott & Costello Meet Frankenstein 17. Fright Night (1985) 18. Friday the 13th (1980) 19. Friday the 13th, Part 2 20. Hellraiser (1987) 21. Poltergeist (1982) 22. The Haunting (1963) 23. Spirits of the Dead 24. The House That Dripped Blood 25. The Predator 26. Silver Bullet 27. The Face of Fu Manchu 28. Halloween 5: The Revenge of Michael Myers 29. Phantasm: OblIVion 30. Sleepaway Camp 31. Wes Craven's New Nightmare 32. Witch Hunt* 33. Evil Eye* 34. Ninja Dragon Sword Legend OVA* 35. Halloween Kills (The This Is How Halloween Ends Edition) 36. White Zombie 37. Hello Mary Lou: Prom Night II 38. The Reptile 39. The Plague of the Zombies 40. The Wicker Man (1973) 41. The Lair of the White Worm 42. The Shining (1980) 43. The Gorgon 44. Dracula's Daughter 45. Dracula, Prisoner of Frankenstein* 46. The Monster Squad 47. Halloween (2018; The Back in Shape Edition) 48. Son of Dracula 49. Amityville: The Awakening* 50. Gremlins 2: The New Batch 51. Hellraiser: Inferno* 52. Mr. Sardonicus 53. Dracula, Prince of Darkness 54. Creepshow (104-minute TV edition) 55. Halloween 4: The Return of Michael Myers 56. Halloween III: Season of the Witch 57. Prince of Darkness (theatrical version) 58. Prince of Darkness (TV Version) 59. The Abominable Snowman of the Himalayas 60. Fangs of the Living Dead 61. They Live 62. Jason Lives: Friday the 13th, Part VI 63. Late Night with the Devil* 64. Bram Stoker's Count Dracula (1970) 65. Dracula Has Risen from the Grave 66. The Werewolf vs. the Vampire Woman 67. Goke, Body Snatcher from Hell 68. The City of the Dead 69. House of Frankenstein (1944) 70. The Masque of the Red Death (1964) 71. Black Sunday (1960) 72. The Devil Rides Out 73. The Keep 74. Beetlejuice 75. Hellraiser: Hellseeker 76. Trap* 77. Friday the 13th, Part V: A New Beginning (TV Version) 78. Phantasm 79. Freddy vs. Jason 80. Halloween II (1981; TV Version) 81. Horror of Dracula (uncut version) 82. The Seventh Victim 83. Halloween 6: The Curse of Michael Myers (Producer's Cut) 84. The Mummy (1959) 85. Bride of Frankenstein 86. Taste the Blood of Dracula 87. Halloween (1978) 88. Halloween II (1981; theatrical version) 89. Frankenstein Meets the Wolf Man

[a-world-with0ut-dr34ms]

Obedear

From Control - Full Story in Progress on AO3!

Graves x Shadow!Reader

You see a new side of Graves and the Shadows that's much darker than what you were used to, as a bad situation during your mission only grows worse...

TW: Torture, Blood, Somewhat Explicit Violence, Swearing, Dark, Bone-Breaking

Tags: Action, Drama, Thriller(?), Partly Pre-Canon, Swearing, Violence, Torture, Dark, Graves and Shadow Company are villains, Angst, somewhat villain Reader, Character Study, a little edgy, slight melodrama, it's just a somewhat tense situation

Word Count: 5.6k

A/N: A little different than what I type normally: no romance, more action-oriented drama. Might be dumb. I just wanted to type a little villainy action stuff for Graves and Shadow Company because I'm brain dead and like writing about bad people sometimes. Let a villain be a villain, I say. (Not that I'm condoning!)

Definitely a chapter meant to demonstrate only some of the measures I feel Graves would take for the sake of covering up a fuck up. He just seems like a guy who likes to dabble in a little torture, but that's just what I think. I also like making the Y/N character person go through it. ┐( ˘_˘)┌

ԅ (≖◡≖ԅ) anyway...

Masterlist

Chapter Thirteen - Obedear

Death.

That’s what runs through your enemies minds when they see your coat of arms -- the Rook insignia of Shadow Company -- the certainty that the end has come.

The Shadows were nothing more than a frightful whisper in the night to those unfortunate enough to be on the wrong side of things. The rumored name their enemies traded after discovering yet another bloodbath left out for display.

It takes a special type of depravity to earn a title like that one; the kind of rep' that runs your blood cold. Under Phillip Graves' command, they were the hideous embodiment of the big, dark shadow in your closet. Boogeymen within the PMC ring. Beastly, merciless, and unforgiving.

Death.

Tonight, you would be the bringer of that destined death, as your target remains oblivious to the impending doom heading his way now.

"…Three, two, one. Execute!"

A small charge blows the handle off a large, metal door, breaking it from its hinges, as it sways open with an eerie creak. The noise attracts the attention of a barking dog in the distance; none from any humans however, nor passing vehicles.

You, Percy and Jeremy stand in a cramped alleyway between two neighboring apartment complexes. The lack of street lamps and available moonlight peaking over the tall, stone buildings, made the alley near pitch black in the night.

This part of Kavala wasn't as populated as the other tourists-filled spots in the city, allowing for you and your men to move in the night with little fear of attracting attention and tipping off your target. With any luck, you could be in and out with Onyx in a matter of minutes.

You flip your night vision goggles on, a hazy green hue overtaking your senses, as you take a peek into the room you'd just broken and entering into -- the back stairwell to the apartments.

Whoever runs this place didn't bother having any of the lights running in this part. You weren't likely to run into anyone this way, at least. Not without you having the upper hand.

"Shadow-1, this is Canary," you say in your comms. "We've breached the building. Entering now. How copy?"

"Good copy," Graves radios in. "Onyx's room is on the fourth floor, room 213. Radio in once you're done. If you run into any "problems", go ahead and dump 'em. Just keep it quiet, yeah?"

"Roger that, Commander. Out here."

Jeremy begins to mutter beneath his breath, "Of course he's on the fourth floor."

The man stands at the foot of the stairwell, using his rifle's scope to look up ahead. He hasn't had much to say to you since you parted from the rest of the team. It's probably the quietest you've ever heard him, which was fine by you.

"You could use the exercise," you poke at him with a whisper, moving past Shadow 2-0 to start making your way up. "Let's move."

Percy follows close behind, silently covering you, as Jeremy follows with a huff.

The stairwell was a tight squeeze, given how far up it stretches, people leaving loose laundry to dry, and their belongings scattered about. You move up quietly, listening for every possible noise.

Dim lights from the small door windows beam in like thin rays, cutting through the dark, as you advance up another set of steps. You hear the faint noises of TVs and chatter echoing from other rooms down their respective halls, unaware of your team creeping by. Indeed, this building was actively being lived in.

The sounds grow less lively as you ascend the steps, before they're replaced by the creaking of the stairwell, and your increasing pulse.

The stairwell eerily blocks out the sounds of the world outside itself, leaving you with the muted steps of your boots against the hard floor, and your low breathing.

The heavy burden of your task at hand grew more prominent.

The adrenaline rises slowly. It made your heart ring in your ears, and the hairs on the back of your neck stand up beneath your mask and clothing. You'd only remember the presence of yourself when you would unconsciously swallow.

You reach the fourth floor, removing your night vision so you could peek through the door window.

Taking a small gander of the hallway, you check for signs of roaming residents. This floor seemed to house more empty rooms than the ones below it, with little to no traffic; a deliberate choice by your target no doubt, and one Onyx would soon regret.

The coast looked clear enough.

You turn to your team and give them a small nod, before opening the door and piling into the hallway. As quick as you can, you begin skimming the room numbers, keeping your rifles lowered and your heads on the swivel.

209… 210 … 211 … 212…

Room 213. The last room down the hall.

The three of you huddle around the door, your backs pressed against the wall, and your ears locked in. There's laughter erupting from inside, along with some blaring rap music, too unidentifiable from where you stand to make any of it out.

With how loud it was, there was no way Onyx, nor his men, would hear your team closing in. The chatter grew more rambunctious, multiple men's voices picking up through the walls now.

Your team all share glances with one another, running by the next plan of action with a single lock of the gaze. You recall what was discussed in your briefing hours ago, and prepare yourself.

You lift your hand up and silently begin to count down from five. Four. Three. Two. One.

Percy shoots the door handle, his silencer making the shot a "Plink!" noise, as the door lightly swung ajar. The moment it opens, Jeremy lifts his boot and kicks it in, raising his rifle and rushing into the apartment. You and Percy follow suit, your guns aimed and ready, fingers hovering over the trigger.

In a few short seconds, you take in your surroundings: One exit, a single, curtainless window across from you, a kitchen to your left -- divided by an island counter, and a hallway to your right going towards the bedrooms.

It smelt of cigarettes and dust. The apartment was small and overstuffed with tacky, old furniture and décor. Immediately, you shift your sights to the occupants of the apartment. Your target.

A group of five men sat at a round dining room table off to the left of the entrance and living room. You immediately identify Onyx by his black tracksuit and gold chain, sitting at the table's center. The man's a lot more lanky up close, scrawny even. Though his brown eyes carried the look of a seasoned killer.

They're heads all snapped to the sound of the door crashing open, startled gazes quickly twisting with rage. They reach for their pistols on the table, ready to draw, only they're a few seconds too short.

Jeremy shoots the first shot, riddling one of the guards with bullets and planting him permanently in his seat. The flash from his gunfire lights the room at each pop, as Percy joins in shortly after, taking care of the man next to him who tried to reach for his gun. 

You shoot the last two men with swift precision, making a clean shot through both their skulls back to back, and leaving Onyx as the last man at the table.

"Ahhh!!"

There's an intense scream that comes from the kitchen to your left.

Instinctively, you turn both your body and rifle to the sound, prepared to shoot down this unknown assailant. However, you freeze at the sight of the culprit, your hands locking in place. You see a woman.

Her brown hair is long and curly, her makeup as put together as what she wore. She stands in the kitchen, staring at all the dead bodies, with her hands clasped tightly over her mouth in fear, the tears already streaming down her face.

Suddenly, you come face to face with your own humanity, having switched that part off the moment you stepped through the door. Only you hadn't noticed until now.

The woman screams again, and this time it attracts the attention of the others on your team. Jeremy's in particular.

Shadow 2-0 whips his rifle towards the woman's direction, and without much thought at all, pulls the trigger.

POP!

You watch the bullet slice over the woman's shoulder, just barely missing the major part of her arm, as her blood splatters against the white refrigerator behind her like a paintball pellet.

The woman cries out, grabbing at her arm hysterically. She begins to cower over in fear, suddenly attempting to grab at something near her knees, just below where you couldn't see over the kitchen counter.

You hear tiny footsteps begin to bolt, and to your absolute horror, you see the small shadow of someone bolt from around the counter.

A child.

The kid weaves through you and your team, making a beeline for the hallway, as the woman screams in Russian for him to come back. This sends Onyx in a tizzy.

With no regard for his own safety, the man stands from his seat and attempts to chase after the child, only to be stopped by a bullet to the calf from Jeremy.

Onyx crashes to the floor, only barely catching himself from face-planting onto the ground. Percy takes this opportunity to apprehend Onyx. He drops his knee down onto the man's back until it digs in his spine, swinging his fists down at him a few times before grabbing hold of both his arms.

Amidst the chaos, Jeremy turns his attention back to the belligerent woman, who was seconds away from going completely off the deep end.

"Hey!" Jeremy raises his rifle, threatening to swing it down on her, as though that would help things. "Quit your screamin'!"

She ignores him, crying more, and using her good arm to shield herself from him. It's very likely the poor woman didn't speak English.

The woman's sobbing pleas only seem to further erupt Onyx into a fit of rage. He squirms beneath Percy's knee, cursing and yelling in Russian, making a loud scene.

You step over to Jeremy, attempting to salvage what little Russian you did know to try and get the woman to calm herself. For her sake, she needed to; others in your company would not be as patient.

"Quiet," you tell her. "You need to be quiet."

The woman hears you, but struggles to manage her blubbering, just barely being able to keep from hyperventilating. You couldn't blame her either; Jeremy made this situation more difficult right from the jump. Not that you expected any less from him. Shadow 2-0 was as brutish and uncaring as mercenaries came, the kind of man who shouldn't be in this line of work, and yet thrived in it.

You quickly step back over to the entrance, peaking outside to make sure the commotion hadn't attracted any attention. The hallways remained as empty as you had left them, surprisingly enough. With the music inside still blaring like it was, most of this ordeal was probably drowned out and ignored by the neighbors. Hopefully.

You make sure to shut what remains of the front door behind you on your way back in.

"Shadow-1, we've apprehended the target," you call in. "Awaiting orders."

Radio silence.

You tap your foot impatiently, guessing at what it was that kept your commander from replying. Shepherd, most likely. He's been going out of his way to hound and micromanage you and your Company as of late, almost as though he did not trust you. Which was insulting, given what you knew of him.

After everything the Shadows have done already, trust felt more than owed.

"I told you to keep it down!" Jeremy yells at the woman.

"Screamin' at her's not gonna help any," you say.

Percy cuts in now. "She's probably cryin' for her fuckin' kid."

"Why don't you go get it then, Canary?" Jeremy turns his frustrations to you. "Since you're just standing there."

You would argue, though you couldn't find it in you to do that right now. Your mind felt a bit scattered suddenly.

"Copy that, Canary." Graves' voice brings you back into perspective. "Run into any trouble in there?"

You begin to take in more of the details around the apartment, catching the occasional child's toy on the ground, and family picture on the wall. Onyx's wife and child. The woman and that kid. It makes sense that he'd live with his family, though it's not what you anticipated on barging into when you came here. You hadn't put much thought into that at all, actually.

"Negative, Commander. No issues from us. But…" you're a bit hesitant to mention it to him, knowing what would come of this family if Graves knew. You eventually decide to speak however, some subliminal sense of duty pushing you to. "There are civilians in here, sir."

"Sounds nonessential," Graves says.

Nonessential. Just what you wanted to hear. You sigh in relief. However, it is short-lived.

"They look like they might be his wife and kid, sir," Jeremy radios in. A game changing piece of information in this event. One which quickly sank your heart at your Commander's sudden silence on the other end.

"They still breathin'?" he asks plainly. Quite a question to have on his mind, though it does not surprise you in the least.

"Yes, sir," you say. "Though, the wife's been wounded."

There's another long pause from Graves. You begin to think he may be relaying this back to Shepherd as you speak, seeing as the assignment was entirely dependent on what the General saw fit.

"Tie 'em up and meet us out back," said Graves. "Bring the whole family with ya while you're at it, and make it snappy. Shadow-1 out."

The comms shut off, and the silence which follows feels deafening.

Percy hoists Onyx up aggressively, as he quickly zip-ties the man's hands behind his back, placing a black sack over his head. The whole time, Shadow 3-1 made sure to keep the barrel of his rifle pressed to his back, reminding him not to try anything.

"I said on your fucking feet!"

You hear Jeremy yell at the woman again. He yanks at her wounded arm until she's standing, the poor lady crying out in pain from her injury. Not that he cared for her condition, just that he could quickly have her subdued and blindfolded.

"I'll go look for the kid," you decide.

You venture down the dark hallway, peering into each room you pass, trying to keep your mind at ease.

Any time you pause for even a short second, you feel your lungs shake in your chest. It was as though they were filling with some sort of fluid, drowning you from the inside out. It made it hard to swallow.

That kid is in here somewhere. Confused. Terrified. Your black silhouettes seared into their little eyes. To this child you search for, you were the boogeyman of the night. The shadowy figure come to haunt their dreams for the rest of their life. Death.

Suddenly it didn't feel as prestigious holding such a title.

You've widowed and orphaned your fair share of families; you're more than aware of that. In this line of work, you're so aware of that, in fact, that you no longer thought about it. The families involved were very much out of sight and out of mind. That's what made the job so doable, because it's easier to shoot bad men when that's all you see them for.

Coming face to face with that reality had you more shaken up than you'd wished. You thought you'd be more prepared for something like this to happen, it was bound to. Yet your hands won't stop shaking.

A few cynical lines of encouragement pop in to your head, as you try to rationalize things and put them into some kind of digestible perspective. It's all you really can do.

Bad people have families too, this is obvious. You have a job to do and a home to keep safe. Had the roles been flipped, you'd be shown the same treatment, if not worse. And you don't deserve to feel any type of way about this. You're the one holding the gun.

And it's not like you're doing this because any of you want to either.

So long as AQ is around and those missiles remain on the loose, your life is gone. You'd know no peace until this situation is resolved. Black Bag left you with no other option. If you want your life back, then this is what must be done.

That's what you keep telling yourself.

You reach the last room at the end of the hall, a child's bedroom. It's not the most lavishly decorated, but you could tell that whoever set it up put a lot of care into making it a suitable space for their kid.

You look around, checking the obvious hiding spots: the closet first, then behind the door. You then check underneath the bed. You admit, you jumped a little when you actually saw the kid hiding there.

The child is tiny, no older than maybe six or seven, with large eyes struck with fear from the sight of you. They don't scream however, too terrified to. Perhaps hoping you would not see them if they remained still.

With your mask on, you looked about as shadowy and hostile as the rest of your team. However, you keep your distance from the kid, looking back to see if the others could see you.

Not a soul stands in the doorway behind you.

It doesn't take you long to decide your next move.

You turn to the child, and simply bring your finger to your masked lips. "Shh."

You tell them to be quiet, praying they stay put, and wishing they had not been here to see this happen. It breaks your heart to see the child's eyes on you like this, and for you to be so helpless at remedying the pain you've caused.

"Shh," you tell them. "Stay."

The kid doesn't budge, though you get the sense they understand you.

You stand and slowly leave the room, shutting the door behind you. With any luck, the others wouldn't come to look themselves. You're sure you'll get chewed out for this, but you were prepared for it. It was needless to involve the man's family in this.

You re-emerge from the hallway, finding Percy and Jeremy standing by in the living room with the target and his wife. They're both apprehended, bags over their heads and arms tied tightly behind their backs. It appears they'd been yelled at enough times to remain quiet, for now. Though the woman still sobs quietly.

"You find the kid?" Jeremy asks abruptly.

Quickly, you run with the best argument you can come up with at the spur of the moment.

"They're hiding around here somewhere," you say. "But we've gotta move. Just make do with what we got."

"Stay here and I'll go look for the little fucker," Jeremy volunteers. "Since you can't do it."

"That's not necessary," you say.

"It ain't like this place is big," he retorts.

"We move out," you put more bass into your voice, standing up tall. What you were not about to do was debate with Shadow 2-0 on whether or not he can personally acknowledge you as his superior. You didn't need his acknowledgement, you are his superior. "That's an order."

Jeremy stands there for a moment, neither speaking nor moving. Almost attempting to intimidate you, seeing if you'd break composure before he did.

You matched his energy however, neither speaking nor moving yourself. Waiting to see if he'd openly disobey a direct order from you.

"We ain't got all night," you cut in. "Now let's move."

Jeremy grabs hold of the collar of the woman's shirt and starts bringing her around to the entrance. "Yup-yup."

Percy follows Jeremy out of the room, bringing Onyx with him, and leaving you in the apartment alone. Your eyes linger down the end of the hall, where that child's door remains shut.

You wondered how long they would wait before they open that door again.

…

You drive a ways out of Kavala, until your surroundings become a deep abyss, the only other vehicles on the road being miles away from where you are. When you've reached a small patch of woods, Graves has the van veer off road. You drive until the woods submerge you, parking off to the right someplace more open.

This far away, you and your company were granted with complete solitude, where no one would be able to hear the impending screaming and crying to come.

You all exit the vehicle in near unison, Jeremy pulling Onyx out from the back of the van. He struggles to stand properly, his leg having been bleeding from the bullet wound on his calf since you left the apartments.

Jeremy merely drags Onyx, bringing the man out in front of the van's headlights. He then throws him against a tree, watching his back slam into the hardwood sharply.

He pulls the sack from Onyx's head and his eyes squint from the bright lights. With his vision still adjusting, Graves and his company appeared as shadows in the black of night.

Graves makes his way over to the arms dealer, slinging his rifle over his shoulder. He observes as the man works himself up again, standing to his feet.

"What is this?" Onyx snarls. "You're American, right? Military? You can't do this to me!"

"Who said anything about us being military?" Graves says.

"If you're not military, then who?" Onyx demanded.

"How 'bout I ask the questions from here," Graves gets close to the man, clapping his hands together. "Alright?"

Onyx spits at the commander. "Fuck you, you dog!"

You slowly brace yourself for the inevitable now, remaining some distance from the scene, away from the headlights, within the dark. Graves always liked to give off this cavalier attitude to start things off, but you knew it only hid a man who held incredibly little patience for bullshit. 

Graves wipes the spit from himself and shakes his head, smacking his lips together disappointedly. He then proceeds to bring his fist down fast, his gloved knuckles colliding hard against the man's nose.

The man's head whips to the side violently. The sheer force causes him to lose his footing, as he crashes to the ground, only to then be brought back up to his feet by Shadow 2-0.

"Now," Graves says. "I've got a few questions, and you've got two options. You tell me what I want to hear, or I put the fear of God in you and then you tell me what I want to hear."

Onyx doesn't reply, his nose beginning to drip with blood. Graves takes his silence as an invitation to continue speaking.

"You did business with Ghorbrani, once upon a time," Graves says. "As one of his dealers. One of many, that is. Only he's kicked the bucket, and you're still trading with someone who's got ties with Ghorbrani's old friends. Someone I'm interested in gettin' to know."

Onyx really takes in Graves' question, and chuckles. "I see now," he says. "You're not military but you're with America. You contractors then? Mercenaries?"

"All you need to know is that I want the name of the man you're trading with. The asshole threatening my country. I've got good intel saying you know 'em. So you're gonna tell me."

"You'll see him soon enough," Onyx taunts. "As will your shit stain of a country, dog."

Graves' eyes travel down to the bullet hole in Onyx's calf, which has been steadily bleeding this entire time. The commander looks around at the rest of your team. "Who shot him?"

"I did, sir," Percy answers for himself.

Graves kneels down by it, Jeremy keeping his gun trained on Onyx so that he doesn't attempt to kick and fight his way out of this. The arms dealer helplessly looks down at the commander, fearful of what may come next. You share the sentiment.

"Good on you." Graves takes the tip of his index finger and sticks it into Onyx's bullet wound. The man jolts and squirms and yelps in pain, but Jeremy grabs hold of his arm, keeping him standing in his tight grip.

Onyx's cries echo throughout the woods. It makes you nauseous listening to it.

"Give me a name," Graves tells him.

Onyx can barely talk through the searing pain shooting up his leg "…I'm a dead man either way."

"That might be true," says Graves. "But I'd say you've still got about an hour left in you. Tell me what I want to hear. Who's supplying AQ?"

Onyx doesn't speak.

Graves gives him maybe five seconds before he's pushed his finger uncomfortably far into his wound again. A pained scream gurgles from Onyx's throat, filling the entire area with his mangled voice.

The Commander continues this vicious cycle of asking Onyx the same few questions, and causing him some variation of pain when he wouldn't answer.

Who have you been working with in AQ? Another finger in the wound. Who's trying to replace Ghorbrani? A small series of fists, boots, and knees rumble against Onyx's head and chest. A nose breaks, some ribs crack. His blood begins to stain the ground around him. Give me a name.

In the midst of this brutality, Onyx does let slip a few short answers, but nothing that wasn't obvious or too useful. Someone was trying to replace Ghorbrani, some new, wannabe despot. Whoever they are, that's who's been working with Russia and arming AQ. If they can get a name, that would already be enough for them to take back to Shepherd and Laswell.

Barely a half hour passes before Onyx looks like a pale comparison of himself. His face is littered with various lumps and discolored bruises, his eyes so swollen it was a wonder he could still see, let alone be conscious. If Graves keeps things up like this, there wouldn't be much of him left to work with.

Graves seemed to comment a lot about the way you work as of late, yet you've almost forgotten what it was like to watch him at work, in his prime element. The real him; and how second nature his cruelty could appear.

It comes as a cold reminder.

Graves eventually grew bored of picking at the man's open wounds or beating him, opting for Onyx's fingers instead. He starts with the pinky first, then the ring finger, and then his middle, taking each one and bending it back with a resounding snap. A sharp noise in these quiet woods, one which made you cringe at each break.

You could not understand how unphased and far removed Graves could be with another human. Yet, you know what must run through his mind right now -- the same thoughts you've been trying to remind yourself of all night. You have no choice. Only you see Graves now, and you know those words you've been trying to convince yourself of believing were true in his mind. He had no doubt about it.

To Graves, this is just what needed to be done. To Graves, this man deserved this. And to Graves, it was just another loose end. When that's all he sees you as, it no longer mattered what else you once were. That is simply what you will always be to him.

SNAP!

Another finger gets folded and crunched, sending Onyx into a screaming, rocking fit.

"We've still got plenty o' fingers to go here, bud'," Graves says. He leans in close to Onyx, until his face is only about an inch or so from him, masked and black goggles reflecting back to the man his tattered state. "Give. Me. A. Name."

Onyx's eyes dip, falling to the patch on Graves' arm. He has a realization to himself suddenly. "…That insignia… I recognize it from somewhere… the Rook piece, with the Ace of Spades… I've seen it before…"

"Is that right?" Graves backs away, allowing for him to keep speaking.

"…Back in Al Mazrah."

You see Graves freeze.

"…Konni never put a face to the bodies, but it was your company right? A month or so ago… Yeah, the Shadow Company… That's what those patches said on those corpses…"

The woods around you grow bone chillingly cold suddenly, as the silence screams at you. Onyx picks up on the sudden change in Grave's posture, taking this moment to breathe.

The others stand around silently, unsure of what it was Onyx was referencing, and exchanging small glances. You look to your Commander, who only looks back at you. You can’t see his eyes, but you know exactly what he's thinking.

Black Bag.

This changes everything.

Graves takes a step away from the man, though he doesn't turn his view from him. He reaches up and turns his comms on. "Gold Eagle Actual," he says. "You pick all that up?"

"I did…" Shepherd replies. "Find out what else he knows, get that name from him, and bury him some place deep."

"Copy that, Actual."

Onyx laughs more to himself. "Ah, so that was you from that night… I should thank you. AQ wouldn't be what it is now without your help."

"Shadow 2-0," Graves looks back towards the van. "Go 'head and bring the missus out for me, will ya?"

You watch Onyx's expression waver and drop, beginning to regret the last few things he had said now.

Jeremy drags the woman out to where everyone is standing, throwing her to the ground in front of Graves. She falls chest first, her hands still tied to her back and a sack no longer over her head. She shivers and cries there, feebly waiting.

Onyx begins to speak Russian to his wife, his voice broken and frantic; though you're not fluent in the language, you pick up a few small phrases. Attempts to comfort her.

The woman's voice sobs at Onyx, her words broken by her tears. She isn't allowed to finish before Graves' has grabbed a handful of her brown hair. He grabs her hair tightly and hoists her up to her feet, as she yelps in pain.

This makes Onyx jump up from his spot, mustering that last bit of strength he had in him. It's only cut down by Percy, who sends his foot into the back of Onyx's injured leg. The man falls back down to his knees.

"Leave her out of this!" Onyx demands.

"Or what?" Graves taunts. "I seem to recall my men not being given the same mercy back in Al Mazrah. Ain't that right? You know about it after all."

He pulls the woman closer, watching the way her mascara stains her cheeks, her knees buckling beneath her. She'd tumble over had he not had such a tight grip in her hair. She grits her teeth to mask the pain.

"Meeting you is about to be the worst decision she's made in her entire life," Graves states. "You think on that the next time you call me dog, you fucking scum. You brought this on yourself. Now give me a fucking name!"

Onyx shares a look with his wife, his expression sinking. You can see in him somewhere, he wants to speak up, if not just for the sake of his wife. But the powers above, whoever it was he worked with, the fear of their retribution was enough to keep him silent, even now.

Graves sighs, and brings the woman over so he could whisper in her ear. "Get on your knees for me, honey."

He uses his boot to press into the back of her leg, bringing her down to her knees as he  nonchalantly continues to grip a handful of her hair like a loose rope. His hold on her keeps the woman's head up and her eyes forward. He didn't want her to miss that frightened look on her husband's face.

"There you go," Graves coos. "Good girl."

And then, he pulled out his pistol and placed the barrel right at the back of the woman's skull. She feels the harsh coolness of the barrel, and begins to cry and pray silently in front of her husband.

Graves begins to count down. "Ten. Nine."

Onyx starts to argue with Graves as he counts down, unable to move or do anything without Percy seating him right back in his spot.

"Eight. Seven. Six."

The woman's sobbing grows louder the lower the countdown gets. At this point, you've memorized all the pitches her frantic voice could create, as for that twisted look on her face.

"FIVE. FOUR."

Onyx has turned to pleading with Graves now, but you knew that wouldn't work. There would be no begging with your Commander. He's told Onyx already what it is he wants, his wife is expendable.

"THREE. TWO-"

"Ghorbrani's second in command!" Onyx shouts out. "One of his former colleagues. They lead the charge."

"Their name."

"Hassan Zyani…"

Graves lowers the gun from the woman's head and immediately radios into Shepherd. "Now that wasn't so hard, was it?" he quipped. "Gold Eagle Actual, we've got a name. Ghorbrani's second in command, a Hassan Zyani. How copy?"

"Copy, Graves. Good hit,” Shepherd praises him. You watch Graves’ shoulders slack with relief, as though he’d been waiting to hear Shepherd say that to him. Which he most definitely had been. 

“I'll have Laswell look into this Hassan and see what she can find out about him,” the General continues. “He'll join the list of other names we've collected, but we'll keep a sharp eye on him ourselves. Sounds like he might be our next stop on the hunt."

"And hopefully the last," Graves says.

"Finish up there, we'll go over the next move when you get back. Nice work. Gold Eagle out."

"Rog'," Graves says. "It was a pleasure, as always, Gold Eagle. Shadow-1 out."

Graves shuts his comms off, and turns back to Onyx, who continues to kneel on the ground. "I told you what you wanted," Onyx says. "So where does-"

The commander cuts Onyx off with a bullet to the back of his wife's skull, as her body drops to the ground. Dead. You hear Onyx scream unlike anything he's let out the entire night.

Graves responds to this by putting a bullet in Onyx shortly after, shooting two more into his lifeless body as it slumped over, just for good measure.

And just like that, your mission was done.

"Whoo," Graves sighs. "Guy was really startin' to get on my fuckin' nerves."

"Him and his dumbass wife," Jeremy chimes in.

They all laugh, only you can't really bring yourself to join in. You're too focused on the two dead bodies lying a few feet from you, their lifeless forms lit by the headlights.

"Well, let's wrap this up here and get goin'," Graves says. "Canary, why don't you help Percy with this."

The sound of your callsign reminds you that you stood amongst these men at this moment. You stood there the entire time.

"Yes, sir."

You make your way over to the bodies, Percy grabbing hold of Onyx as you go for his wife. You take hold of her limp arms, trying not to look at her face too much. Though your eyes unintentionally drop to them from time to time.

Each time they did, you thought about her kid at home. Were they still hiding under that bed, you thought to yourself. Waiting and wondering. Wondering and waiting.

"Do you know what he was talking about?" Percy asks you suddenly. "About Al Mazrah? Was that a job or somethin'?"

You and Percy find a small lake, where you throw the bodies into it. If anyone finds them, it wouldn't matter at that point what was done about it. They would just be another death in the underbelly of some hidden crime ring drama, and your company but another whisper in the night. One more loose end taken care of.

"Ask Graves," you say.

"Yeah, 'cause I'll get an answer from him about it," Percy says sarcastically, before walking off. You watch the bodies submerge in the water, before they vanish deep into the black, liquid abyss below. Gone forever.

You thought of the kid once more. Scared under their bed. Thankful, despite other painful things stirring in you.

It would have been worse, had it not been you here. Both a blessing and a curse.

...Chapter Fourteen Here!