#i can’t even fully blame the meal kit

[allalrightagain]

I’m trying so hard on my “you have a meal kit for a reason, stop ordering takeout” plan but two packages I’ve opened tonight in a row have been spoiled and I’m really at the end of my rope

[thomaslightwood]

Blackthorn Detective Agency - Part 2

Part 1 || Ao3 || Masterlist

This is the KitTy Sherlock AU! (Just changed its name with something more like a fic's title)

It’s set in 1930s, slow burn & will have a few parts!

Words: 3 024

Ty rubbed his fingertips on the frame. It was old, its angels were soft. 

“Peru, 1890,” he read at the bottom of the photo. “This photograph is from more than 40 years ago.”

Which wasn’t unusual for a warlock - they lived for centuries. To keep photos from 40 years ago was logical. But why was this the only thing in this flat that was actually… personal? 

“It's the only personal piece here,” Kit said. Ty almost smiled - they had the exact same thought. “Probably in the whole flat, except the Spanish books.”

“You have a point,” Ty agreed. Between the pages of that book were papers with conjugated verbs in Spanish. Someone had written them there and Ragnor had copied them. That’s why Ty knew this wasn’t Ragnor’s handwriting on the photo. “But this is not his-”

A sharp sound interrupted him. It was the front door. Someone was trying to break it. Not as good at it as Kit, Ty noticed.

They had no time to worry too much. Ty grabbed Kit by the hand, opened the wood door with the other that was still holding the frame and dragged them both inside.

Ty was conscious he overstepped in Kit's personal space but a moment later they heard how the stranger broke the lock and their steps as they came inside.

The room was small and extremely dark. Ty couldn't see anything and he didn't have the space to draw a rune on himself about it. And he actually didn't have his stele in him. The bigger problem - the room was unknown to them. He was worried if they moved too much they'd make noise and would be exposed.

He heard or rather felt how Kit's breath fastened. Was he claustrophobic? Was it a bad idea to bring them in this small room?

Ty heard the slow steps as they were wandering around the room. They were coming dangerously close to the bedroom.

This was probably inappropriate and Ty didn't know if it would help at all but he must try. He carefully raised a hand and hurried it in Kit's hair. He dragged him closer to Ty until Kit's head was in Ty's neck.

He squeezed a little and Kit pressed against Ty. They both hold into each other in the sea of darkness, trying not to lose balance.

Ty was hearing the stranger's step in the room. They murmured something angrily. Ty was barely breathing. If they heard him and Kit in the closet…

A loud shatter interrupted his thoughts. Ty recognized it was a man's voice by the angry murmur. 

For a few more minutes he walked around the apartment, like he… he was searching for something. And he couldn't find it. Eventually the man breathed out heavily and opened the door, not bothering to shut it quietly after himself.

They waited a few more minutes, just to be safe. Then Ty carefully let go of Kit and opened the door. The sudden light hurt his eyes so he squinted for a while to get used to it.

The bed was untouched but Ty couldn't say the same about the living room. There were books on the floor, the table was inverted.

“He was searching for something,” Kit quietly said as he carefully grabbed a book from the floor. Was Ty imagining it or his face was a little flushed?

“Yes,” Ty agreed. He was still holding the frame with the photo. “But what? Could it possibly be this?” He handed the frame to Kit.

Kit took it and shrugged. “Maybe. But why is one old photo important?”

More questions. Even though they were in the very beginning and everything was unclear, Ty felt the thrill every new case evoked in him. The burning curiosity that tickled his insides, the thirst to know everything about the subject.

“I think we should go,” Kit said. He took the photo off the frame and put it in the pocket of his coat. “They may return or a neighbor heard the noise.”

Kit had a point, Ty thought but there was something that made him feel uneasy.

Kit was heading for the door but Ty slowed down before leaving the flat. He looked around once more. The books on the floor, the almost empty shelves and the open door to the bedroom. Ty grabbed one list with Spanish verbs and closed the door after himself.

      After this they went to the train station. It was surprisingly hard to find the schedule for the trains from a few days ago.

The guy they talked with wasn't happy about it. Kit could see he just wanted to enjoy his lunch. And probably was tempted to call the security to throw them out. 

But then Ty pulled out cash and the man was suddenly more friendly.

Ty didn't talk much nor did he look man in the eyes. Kit was feeling like he just wanted to get the information as fast as possible.

After the man was gone for a few minutes he returned with paper with what they asked for.

“Thank you very much,” Kit said as Ty put the list in the inside of his coat. “We appreciate your help.”

The man murmured something and sat heavily on his chair, finally able to eat.

“That was smart,” Ty said as they came out on the street, waiting to catch a taxi. 

“What?” Kit asked.

“To ask for the people who worked on the train that day. I didn't think about it.”

“It's nothing, really. I was just thinking about what I can do to help yesterday.”

The truth was Kit just wanted to be useful. Part of him was afraid if Ty noticed Kit wasn't doing anything he would fire him. He probably wasn't as good as Sherlock but he could understand how a criminal thinks. What they may have missed.

“I assume you already know because you're good at what you do, but,” Kit said. “People are important. They witness, tell, see and do crimes. They... they are the driving machine. Evidence is important but a person is the key. So I just thought about what people we can talk with.”

There was something thoughtful in Ty's expression as he watched Kit's cheek. “I'm not quite sure I agree.”

Before Kit could answer, a taxi stopped in front of them. 

As soon as Ty told the driver the direction, Kit said “Why?”

“Why what?”

“Why don't you agree with me?”

“Well,” Ty said and the thoughtful look returned on his face. “It's true a person is the subject that commits the crime. But people… they are not what they appear to be. They're often hard to understand and you can't be sure who they are. They lie. And have inaccurate memories and sometimes are too afraid to tell the truth and to help. What I'm trying to say is that they're too often an unreliable source. While evidence… it's unchangeable on its own. Oneself is true to the very end. It's up to you to interpret how it fits in the whole picture. If it's wrong, it's your mistake. You're the only one to blame. While a person's words… you can't control that. Or trust it enough to interpret it rightfully.“

Ty stopped for a second, looking outside the taxi's window.

“What I'm trying to say is that a person can mislead you. Evidence never does.”

Kit was silent. The taxi pulled over in front of a small cafe, nestled between two clothing shops. Taki's Diner .

Kit remembered this was the name of the place Katarina and Ragnor met.

“We are going to question the employees?”

“Not quite,” Ty said simply and headed towards the restaurant. Kit followed, curiously looking at the surroundings.

There weren't many people. It was still early and most of them seemed sleepy. There were Downworlders as well as mundanes. Kit spotted a warlock with fully orange eyes flirting with a pale girl, probably a vampire.

There was also a mundane man who was reading a newspaper and murmured something to himself.

Ty headed at one table on the back, a bit hidden from the rest. The tables around it were empty. From the radio quietly came a Louis Armstrong's song. Kit smiled at that. He loved jazz.

Ty and Kit sat on the table. Kit took off his coat and cap.

A faerie waitress appeared in front of them and smiled. She was a short blonde who had two many bracelets on her arms.

“Hello gentlemen,” she smiled at them. “Here are your menus - look at it, choose a meal and I'll come to take your order.”

“Thank you,” Kit smiled at her. She winked in return and headed towards another table.

He returned his eyes on Ty. He had taken off his coat. It was carefully placed on the third chair on the table. He was looking around the cafe, touching the corners of his menu.

“If we're not here to interview the staff,” Kit said. “What are we here for?”

“To watch,” Ty said simply. “Observe. Talk with the regular clients.”

Kit looked around again, looking for something else this time. A woman who Kit immediately recognized as faerie sat on a table, crossed her legs and took out a book from her bag.

The waitress returned after a few minutes.

“Are you ready?” She had a notebook and pencil in her hands.

Kit hesitated. He didn't want to spend too much money but nothing here was too expensive.

“Onion omelet for me.” 

“Chipped potatoes please.”

She hurriedly wrote their orders down and smiled again. “Is that all?”

“Yes, thank you,” Ty said.

“Actually,” Kit said suddenly. Ty quickly looked at him but didn't say anything. He looked at the waitress pin with her name. “Nancy, right? My friend and I were wondering about something and it would be amazing if you can help us.”

“Of course,” she said and curiosity burned in her eyes. They were very blue.

“We thought a friend of ours arrived in the city a few days ago. He tends to like this place and we were wondering if he was here a few days ago perhaps?”

“What is he like?” she asked.

Kit took out the photo from Peru of Ragnor and his friends. 

She took and Kit could see on her face she recognized someone in the photo. She nodded enthusiastically.

“I have seen two of these people! The man with the white hair. He was here around three days ago with the woman.”

“Can you tell us something… unusual you noticed about them?”

The waitress - Nancy - shrugged.

“The usual warlocks. They stayed for an hour or two and then left. At the end of my shift he returned though.”

“Really?” Kit said casually, like he was merely curious for a friend. “Was he alone?” Then he leaned forward a little and said more quietly with a playful smile. “We suspect he may hide a lover from us.”

The faerie chuckled. “I don't know sweetheart. When I was leaving he just sat on a table. I left before seeing anything. You can ask my friend Lizzy. She was the one who took his order.”

“Oh. When can we find her?” Kit asked. 

“She starts at 11 p.m. Earlier if it's cloudy.”

She must be a vampire , Kit thought.

“Thank you so much,” Kit smiled at her one more time. “We deeply appreciate it.”

“You're welcome,” she chuckled again and left them alone.

Kit turned to Ty and caught him watching him.

“You see?”

Ty looked confused. “See what?”

“People are useful. You need witnesses.”

Unexpectedly, Ty smiled. It warmed up something in Kit's chest.

“I have never said I don't.”

“But you hinted at it.”

“I did not,” Ty said. Without taking his eyes off Kit he reached to his coat and pulled off his notebook. “I stated that people are often misleading.”

“But when I said people are important for a case, you said you're not sure you agree.”

“You also said a person is the key. With which I'm not sure I agree. I didn't say a person can't or isn't important.”

Kit exhaled. Damn , he thought. He is good.

“Good. You win. This time.”

Ty shook his head with a smile. He started to write something on the open notebook in front of him. Probably the information the faerie told them.

After a few minutes their meals arrived. Onion omelet and chipped potatoes. Ty barely looked at his food. At some point he finished writing and took the fork for the potatoes.

“So,” Kit said after swallowing a bite from the omelet. “If you're Sherlock Holmes then who am I?”

“What do you mean?” Ty glanced at him.

“Well,” Kit slowly cut out another bite from his food. “You and Livvy are a team. And you're Sherlock. I can't be a Sherlock with you. I'm not her. So I probably need another name.” 

“Good point,” Ty said. He looked thoughtful while he chewed. “How do you wanna be called then?”

Kit was caught off guard a little. He expected Ty to dismiss it or leave it for later.

“I haven't thought about it,” Kit admitted and slowly moved an omelet piece from one side of the plate to the other.

“We can think about it later,” Ty said. “My sister can help us with that.”

“You mean Livvy?”

“No,” Ty said, looking around the restaurant. “My other sister, Dru.”

Kit blinked at him. “How many siblings do you have?”

“Three sisters and three brothers,” Ty said and took a potato piece in his mouth.

“Whoa,” Kit said, forgetting the food in front of him. “Big family.”

“Indeed.”

Kit wondered what it would be like to have so many relatives. So many brothers and sisters. People close to you, to thrust, to be sure they would have your back. 

His father's voice rang in his head. And more people to run away with. Harder to get away. Harder to live with.

The food's taste in Kit's mouth turned into ash. He lost his appetite. Carefully left on the fork and the knife in the plate. 

Ty didn't seem to notice Kit's inner thought for which he was glad.

“The woman,” Ty said quietly. “The one faerie that sat after we came. She's a regular.”

“How would you know?” unconsciously, Kit leaned forward to hear what Ty had to say.

“Nancy, the waitress, didn’t ask her for her order. She even didn’t give her a menu. She directly put a coffee and a muffin in front of her. And the woman called Nancy by name - they know each other.”

“Impressive,” Kit murmured inattentively. “So, you want to talk with her?”

“Well,” Ty shrugged. “A few minutes ago - yes. Now, when we know Ragnor was here at nighttime, at the end of Nancy’s shift, I’m not sure she’d be useful.”

Kit rose up. “Let's find out.”

After a few minutes in which Kit started a conversation with her about borrowing the salt, he returned to their table with a salt shaker. He signed, disappointed.

“Nothing,” Kit said. “She had no idea what I'm talking about. And thought I'm just flirting with her.” 

“Were you?”

“What?” Kit blinked.

“Flirting with her,” Ty said, not taking his eyes off the notebook in front of him.

“Well,” Kit felt a little uncomfortable. “Yes, I kind of did. But it was just for the sake of the case. I'm not… interested in her that way.” 

Ty glanced at Kit's face for a few seconds then returned to writing in his notebook. Kit didn't notice. He was suddenly anxious that Ty would think of him as a flirting careless man. 

“Sometimes,” Kit started, carefully picking his words. “I flirt with people to get what I want. When I was in my early teens - to get away with something.”

Ty curiously gave him a glance.

“Did you have to do it often?”

“Well,” Kit said thoughtfully. “No, no that often. But I did it anyway. I… I think I liked to give strangers pieces of me that are… safe to give. And gender doesn't matter to me anyway.” Nothing too personal. Nothing long. Only a flirt, a few minutes of other people's time. The only kind of relationship Kit could afford.

“I can see why people like you,” Ty said, rolling the pen in his hands. “You're a rather charming man.”

Kit couldn't help but laugh.

Ty frowned.

“Did I say something out of place?”

Kit shook his head. “No, no. It's just that I don't think I'm charming. Or that people like me . ”

"Charm" was an abstract idea for him. He may pass for good looking but he didn't think of himself as "charming". Charm meant power. It attracted people to you. It made them like you. 

Kit didn't make people like him. He let them make an idea for him in their heads and allowed them to believe it. This wasn't a charm. It was lying.

Ty arched an eyebrow.

“Well. I would say I like you,” then he returned his gaze back at his notebook, adding something to the already written text.

His words caught Kit completely off-guard. He was holding his fork and it just levitated in space. 

Kit didn't know how to react. No one before had said something like that to him. He knew Ty probably said it to make him feel better. But something made him think Ty Blackthorn didn't say things he doesn't mean.

“Anyway,” Ty said and closed his notebook. “We're done here.”

“Really? What about questioning the waitress Lizzy?”

“We will return here after sunset for this,” Ty said. “But now we can do something more useful with our time.”

Kit felt dread in his stomach. He couldn't stay after dark. Or could he? Would his father notice? He always did. 

Should he tell Ty? No, no, he was going to figure something out.

“What are we going to do now?” he asked, hoping Ty didn't notice anything strange.

He looked at the watch on his hand.

“We will meet my sister. Dru.”

To be continued...

[redstainedsocks]

Just Kit

Here’s my last piece for @amonthofwhump‘s escape!week, I hit all seven prompts! Yay! This one is “relapse” and it hurts, but recovery whump just be like that sometimes. Set very soon after [this]. Masterlist [Here]

Warnings: box boy universe, pet whump, dehumanizing thoughts, conditioning, trauma recovery whump, past trauma, collars, panic attack, panic response, dis@ssociation, self blame, brief self harm (head banging/wall punching), cigarette mention

Word Count: 2k

Tag List: @haro-whumps, @theycomeinthrees, @whumpthisway, @samanddeaninpanties, @teachunks, @draganies, @pepperonyscience, @whump-it, @castielamigos-whump-side-blog, @untilthepainstarts, @galaxywhump, @kiretto-laorentze, @lonesome--hunter @slaintetowhump @just-a-raccoon-with-wifi​

It had been the strangest two days of his life. There had been nothing to do, and he felt rested. He'd watched five movies in two days and the T.V hadn't turned off on a timer, he'd seen the beginning and end, sitting on a soft seat and allowed to fully engage. He'd watched quiz shows and documentaries with Alfie, who liked to learn things and sat with a pen and paper writing down every answer and fact.

There had been chores, cooking and clearing up and laundry, but they had been household affairs filled with chatter and laughter, or at the very least the quiet contemplation of multiple people focusing on their tasks.

There was still a buzzing beneath his skin that told him he should be busy, and useful, and grovelling for the kind treatment he didn’t deserve, but it seemed to make everyone around him uncomfortable when he acted on it, so he was getting better at ignoring it. He was always good at doing what made everyone else happy.

Mateo called him over to sit at the kitchen table on his third afternoon in the house, a large jug of fresh squeezed juice on the worn table, and Mateo rolling the cigarettes that he smoked on the side.

“How are you? You seem calm?” Mateo asked, after pouring him a drink.

“Yes, I am alright, I think.” He bit back the urge to ask if he could, or should, do something. He was learning to believe that they’d ask if they wanted him to.

He wasn’t wrong.

“You’ve settled well.” Mateo threw him a long look. “Sleeping in the bed and joining us for meals and everything… some don’t make it to this point this soon. I’m proud of you.”

He swelled with relief, and something akin to happiness. He’d done well? “I’m trying, I want to be…” he gnawed on his lip. “I want to learn how to be what you say I am.” It seemed the best way to say it without saying he wanted to be good; they all looked worried and frustrated when he said that, no matter how they tried to hide it.

“Well then there's something I'd like to bring up with you. It’s, well it’ll seem like a big thing, and it is. It’s important. But it’s something we insist on, once someone new has found their feet.”

“Okay Mateo.”

The man watched him for several seconds and folded down another cigarette, gently pressing it into place.

“You tell me if this is too soon?”

He nodded, his palms sweaty. What would they ask of him, now they had gained a little bit of his trust?

“This is a no collar household. It can be difficult to see, for the folks who come by and don’t want that reminder, and it’s significant too, means you’re on the right path. If you feel ready, I’d like to take that collar from you, and throw it out.”

Kit went very still, his entire body frozen. Words failed, his thoughts churned, but nothing made it out of his mouth. It was a danger he hadn’t known existed, to be so low in the pecking order that he didn’t even deserve a collar. To be bare necked, with no obvious outward sign of what he was.

“Kit? How does that sound?”

His mouth caught up with his brain in a rush of words that tumbled out before he could hold them back. Tears too, that burned his skin and blurred his eyes. “I'm a good pet! Please! I can be good, please don't take that away from me. Please let me keep being good.” I’ll be so good you won’t even know I’m here, so good I’ll just slip into the background.

He slid from his chair and curled up at Mateo’s feet. Whispering his pleas into the floor under his shoes, dropping his tears onto the cold linoleum.

“Hey, hush now, hush Kit. Up you get.” Strong arms lifted him from the armpits, set him back against the cupboard doors and settled down next to him. He hung his head and clutched his knees, trying to drag oxygen into starved lungs and feed his pounding heart.

“We're not, I promise we’re not taking anything from you. Nothing can change how… how good you've been, how you survived and held it together. You have been amazing. But I want to explain that, now, you don't have to be good anymore, you just get to be.”

Kit looked up with burning eyes and tried to pull himself together. “I’m still good?”

Mateo looked tired, but smiled. “Yes, you’re plenty good enough. Just don’t need a collar to prove that around here.”

“And… it will make you all happy if you don’t have to look at me in it?”

“In a sense… but this is for you, when you’re ready. I thought you might be but…”

“I can do it,” he whispered.

“Only if you’re sure, we can wait, I just want you to think about it.”

But he was already slipping the buckle free, uncurling the worn material from his neck, and holding it out. He sobbed once more over it, and then drifted away. They wanted this from him, he could do nothing but give it.

  ~  ~  ~  ~

He was panicking, he knew that distantly. Curled up on his knees, forehead pressed to the wall, fists clenched at his sides. This was terror in his body, choking his breath, forcing him into stillness.

But knowing didn’t change it, he was still doing it.

“Hey, thank god, I called you as soon as I found him. He won’t respond to any of us.”

“It’s alright, sorry I took so long to get here, traffic was awful and the bus was late… where is he?” Libby’s voice reached the part of him that battered against the walls of his frozen body, he wanted her, needed her, but couldn’t reach for her.

He was trapped here, meditating, doing what he was always ordered to do before and he couldn’t pull free of it now. Sir demanded it and he’d disobeyed for so long— living with these people who made him misbehave. The longest two weeks of his life, pretending, playing along, being what they wanted, living collarless and treated all wrong. He’d slipped away, lost to autopilot, and no-one had noticed because he smiled just right and moved just so, and that was how it should be.

He was just a thing to be used and a tool to be wielded, he needed a purpose and his purpose here was to act a part in their play. He was failing because his old training didn’t line up, didn’t match the script and it was all crumbling now as he screamed inside his head and clenched his teeth and couldn’t move.

“Hiya Kit, having a bad day?”

He nodded, wouldn’t open his eyes but he nodded.

“Want to talk about it?”

He yelled, a strangled screech that was mostly trapped behind his teeth but devolved into sobbing that he had to open his mouth and let loose. He tapped his forehead hard against the wall to try and ground himself with the pain to make his mouth shut up.

“Are you meditating? Like Emile taught you?”

He cried harder and punched the wall with his fists. But he nodded again.

“That’s alright. I’ll sit with you until you’re done.” She didn't try and move him like the others had, just pushed at his closed fist and laced her fingers through his.

He waited, breathing raggedly and lost in the swirl and eddy of his thoughts—I am a pet, be good, I belong to no-one, to Emile, Emile isn’t here. Belong to Libby? Not good enough, try harder. I’m not a pet, not a pet, not an anything!— until he wore himself out and slumped sideways. His eyes opened on their own, and he looked at her hand cradled in his lap and whined.

“Back with us?” She asked, and her tone was playful when she said: “Missed you.” She squeezed his fingers and he twisted to look sidelong at her.

“Have to be good, I’m sorry.”

“It’s no trouble. You know you don’t need to do that here, right?”

“Sir said he’ll know if I don’t, and I’ve gone too long! Got to make up for it…”

“He’s just a man Kit, he doesn’t know shit about you that he can’t see with his own eyes. And even then, he missed an awful lot.”

“Wanna be good, please tell me how to be good,” he whined.

“You’re doing it, every day that you fight the training, and do what you want, you’re doing the best thing you can.” She tugged on his hand until he slipped off his knees onto his butt, sitting awkwardly as pins and needles surged through his legs. “Tell me what you know about yourself. That’s what meditation was for, right? So tell me your new truths.”

He took a deep breath, and his voice was monotone flat and devoid of feeling when he spoke. “Not wanted, have to please everyone by pretending to be a person, no collar—not good enough for it. Don’t belong to anyone, not trying hard enough.”

Her eyes welled up by the time had had he finished, and she did that strange aborted movement that he was beginning to think was her wanting to hug him but not being sure she should.

“I’m sorry, we’ve all moved too fast for you haven’t we? I forgot how well you pretend to be okay when you’re not. None of those things are true, I don’t think they are, neither does anyone here.”

“I just want to know that I’m doing the right thing, and no-one will say. And I don't know how to be anything else. I don't want to be a person. People are… they're mean, and they're bad and they hurt and they don't care. And… And I’m not allowed to be one of them, but I don’t know if I want to be either.”

“I've seen it with my own eyes, how awful the people who came into that store were. That the people you lived with were. But I'm not like that, am I?”

“No?”

“And the people here aren't like that either, are they?”

He shook his head again.

“There are good people too. And I want you to meet as many of them as possible, as many as it takes for you to learn that not everyone will treat you like you have been treated, and that you can be a person without being like the bad ones.”

“But I don't want this, I want it to be easy. This is so hard.” He slammed his shoulder into the wall again and yelled at how much it hurt.

She put her hand between his body and the wall, gently pulling him closer to her. “I know you don't, right now, and that's okay. There’s no easy way to be who you are now, and I’m so sorry, I hate that this is hard, and that it hurts.”

“I’m supposed to hurt, hurt means someone else is making me better.”

She smiled, and he knew that smile and knew she was about to use his own words against him. “So maybe the person making you better right now, is you.”

He rolled his eyes. “I don’t count!”

“You do if I say you do.” She smiled all soft and sincere. “It hurts because it’s new and scary and strange, it hurts because you’re teaching yourself how to be a person.”

He scowled and picked idly at a notch in the wall.

“How does it sound, just to be you? Can you put aside the idea of becoming… not a pet, not a person, but just you? The you without rules to hem you in, and horrible orders to work under. Just Kit.”

He met her eyes and scowled harder, but he bit this inside of his cheek and nodded. “I can try. I don’t know… what I am without—” he waved at his bare neck.

“Who you are,” she corrected. “And I guess that’s what we need to find out.”

She kissed him on the head and helped him to his feet. He put his palm flat against the wall, thinking. He’d always hated Emile’s meditating, and he’d never wanted to do it, it left him confused and frustrated every time. He tapped the wall twice, rubbed a hand over the space around his throat where his collar would sit and wrinkled his nose in disgust.

If he didn’t have to do anything he didn’t want, then what he didn’t want was part of who he was supposed to be trying to become.

“I am… someone who doesn’t like meditating.” The words came haltingly, fighting their way past the mindset of what you want isn’t important.

She grinned at him. “That is an awesome way to start. Hi, Kit-who-doesn’t-like-meditating, it’s very nice to finally meet you.”

[loveafterthefact]

Love After the Fact Chapter 61: In the Company of Blades

In which Keith has friends, Lance gets to show off, and Shiro wants Adam to step on him

First  Previous  Next

“Anyway, that’s where we are right now. One thing at a time, and I will come up with a meal plan, just in case,” Thace says. They’re rushing through hallways to get to the training yards.

“Thanks.” Keith twists his hair into a large knot on the back of his head, keeping it in place with a pin. “And thanks for the pin.”

“No problem. I just hope you don’t get impaled through your skull.”

“Hasn’t happened yet. Miraculously. We are very late.” Which means probing questions from one Altean, and a probing stare from another. One, Keith can’t say no to -because he’s soft- and the other, Keith is too scared to lie to.

“Fortunately, it’s easy to blame your health. So long as we can keep Lance’s mouth shut.”

“Right...” Keith is about to explain, but Thace's exasperated groan tells him he doesn't have to.

The training grounds are divided into a series of yards, with walls erected for privacy and so no one takes up too much space. Some are large, some small, some flat, some full of obstacles and ground cover, climbing walls, chasms, even stands of trees. There are even places to practice elk-riding, a means of preserving the ancient history of the mounted warriors of old. The Marmora have more respect for tradition than one might think.

When Thace and Keith arrive, they’re beholden to quite the spectacle. Adam, wielding a polearm, squaring off with one of Kolivan’s two kits, Antok. Regris, his other kit, is standing next to his father. Both are grown, but were raised by the Blades, and remain quite close to their sire.

Regris apparently got the good end of the stick, because Antok is getting his ass kicked by the smaller Altean. Adam’s polearm is indeed double-ended, this one equipped with glaives, which he’s currently using to repel Antok. The Altean is also wearing gauntlets with small blades attached, good for slashing throats if an enemy gets too close. Keith imagines that they also discourage grappling.

It’s strange, but Keith has never once in his life thought of Adam as a warrior. He’s always the behind-the-scenes man, and battle tends to be so upfront and personal. Seems Keith was wrong, because Adam is good. He’s fast, too, keeping up with Antok’s limbs, which includes an incredibly mobile tail.

Shiro seems to be enjoying the view, watching the fierce-eyed Altean swing his polearm like it’s a toothpick. A very long, dangerous toothpick. “That’s literally the hottest thing I’ve ever seen.”

“Gross.” Keith shoves his brother away.

“I want him to impale me,” the larger Galra sighs.

“You’re a pervert.”

“I concur with Keith,” Thace murmurs.

“Yeah? Well neither of you gets an opinion because you were both late.”

“Health thing,” Keith murmurs. “Where’s Lance?”

“Three yards down, showing off his marksmanship skills. Are you okay? Is something wrong?”

“Nothing at all,” Keith murmurs. “I just had a few questions.”

“Ah.” Shiro shifts awkwardly. They’re still a bit uncomfortable, despite putting their disagreement behind them, and being otherwise normal with each other. “Listen.”

The fact that Shiro bothers to turn away from Adam’s totally-not-an-exhibition is a contributing factor as to why Keith actually does choose to listen to his brother’s opinion.

“I’m here for you. No matter what. Know that.”

Keith smiles. That sounds like his brother. “ I know. Thanks. I’ll let you know if I need you. Or Lance will let you know because I refuse to ask you for help.”

“Yeah, I know.”

Adam finally manages to disarm Antok, spinning his polearm and holding it behind his back.

“Well, Remind me never to push Adam over the edge. I’m gonna go see what Lance is up to.”

“You do that,” Shiro murmurs. “I’m gonna go find a deserted hallway and bring your attendant with me.”

“Have fun. Pervert.”

“I will, thanks.”

Rolling his eyes, Keith trots over to the other field, curious to see what Lance has got up to. Thace hurries right behind him, scanning the facility. “Where the fuck is my mate?”

“Who cares about your mate? Where’s- mine…”

As it turns out, Keith’s mate is firing arrows from the back of a galloping elk. And every shot is perfect. He’s also shirtless, which is really great, but kind of gross because he’s doing that weird ‘sweating’ thing that Alteans do, where they get all wet and slippery. Why can’t they just pant to cool off like a normal species?

But whatever. It’s still incredibly impressive. Especially since the targets, little floating spheres, are both moving and firing at him. And it’s nice to see Lance in his element. He’s got a borrowed bow in one hand, a couple arrows between the fingers of the other, another between his grinning teeth.

“Good to know your chosen mate isn’t entirely useless,” a gruff voice murmurs from behind. Kolivan’s followed them from the other field. “Wasn’t sure about him when Shirogane came back with a report on his swordsmanship. He’s actually an incredible shot.”

“Yeah, he’s pretty great.”

The only thing better is the way Lance’s face brightens when they make eye contact. He removes the arrow from his mouth. “Hey, beloved! See something you like?”

“Hm. Not sure. You should go around again so I can decide.” Keith’s smirk morphs into a grin. “I take it you're enjoying yourself?”

“I am kicking ass! This is so much fun! Can’t believe I’ve never tried this before! Also, this is Bruna, and I love her.”

Keith smiles as Lance hangs his bow from the elk’s saddle, stroking the doe’s soft, red fur. “You know she’s carnivorous, right?”

“All close friends have their points of contention, and admittedly her terrifying teeth are… one of those things, but she’s also loyal, and fast, and very sweet.”

Keith eyes the elk skeptically, gaze lingering on her four sharpened antlers crowning her head and the filed horns protruding from her face. “This sharp, vicious creature is your friend?”

“Bruna will be loved and adored by yours truly all the days of her life.”

“Okay. Good luck convincing your father to let you bring her home.”

“Oh, I don’t have to convince either of my parents of anything. I just have to convince you.”

Keith stares down the hopeful look in his ridiculous elk-loving husband’s face. He’s thoroughly unmoved by those large, pleading, blue-and-pink eyes. Completely unswayed… Except… “If you’re getting one, I should get one too. It will give us an excuse to spend time together without being buried in tablets.”

“See, this is why I love you.”

“I love you too. Now shoot some more arrows so I can watch.”

“Okay, should I put my shirt back on, or-”

“No, it’s fine.” A sly smile. “You can keep it off if you like.”

Lance quirks an eyebrow before lifting his bow again -Does he have to show off that he can ride with no hands?- and preparing to continue his practice.

“When you’re done flirting,” Kolivan mutters. “Your mother is waiting to kick your ass.”

“Yeah, okay.” Keith looks around. “Where did Thace go?”

“I dunno. Probably to stick his tongue in Ulaz’ mouth.” Kolivan sighs, leading him to yet another training room. “I’d been counting on you to be the only one of these idiots to keep it in their pants.”

“What about your sons?”

“Pfft. Found mates while you were gone. They’re always… visiting.”

“Gross… Well, I promise never to visit you.”

The Galra chuckle. Kolivan never really has a lot to say, but what he does have to say is either incredibly serious or mildly amusing. He’s an acquired taste. One that Keith has acquired in order to survive. Kolivan’s also his mother’s closest companion, so he insists on their getting along, despite what one might call ‘creative differences’ when it comes to leadership roles.

Essentially, Kolivan’s an unapologetic, amazingly blunt asshole and Keith tries his best to be more… constructive.

“It’s about time you showed up.”

“Hey, Mom. Sorry. I stopped by the med ward.”

“Okay.” She goes easily, drawing her sword. “But don’t expect me to go easy on you.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it.”

That’s what Keith loves about his mother: the understanding. For only having known each other for two years, they share so much: a loss, a condition, a passion for the personal freedoms that their rulers restrict until they can barely breathe.

But Keith and his mother find a way. They dig their roots into unwelcoming ground. They learn to thrive. They draw breath.

And swords. Krolia has Keith panting in minutes, forcing him to the brink of his skills. He really is out of shape, but he’s missed this. He’s missed this challenge, this push, this direct, up-front, physical confrontation where no one is screaming, or complaining, and there’s no stack of work staring at him from behind another stack of work. Just him, trying his damndest to beat the crap out of someone who can actually match with him.

And, surprisingly, he’s doing well. His stamina and strength have taken a hit, but he’s picked up forms and techniques on Altea that give him an edge.

The Galra know how an Altean fights, but Keith knows how they think, why they make the choices they do. Their aim isn’t disarming or killing an enemy. A Galra's aim is to defeat the enemy, to beat them into submission until the ground beneath thier boots is painted red. An Altean’s aim is to make it past the enemy toward a larger goal, and do it as quickly and efficiently as possible.

Krolia isn’t his enemy. She’s just in the way. So, dodging a slash of Krolia’s sword, Keith slips past his mother, elbowing her in the kidney as he darts past. Krolia doesn’t flinch, even as she turns to stare at her son, but nobody can fully brush off a hit to the kidney, and she lowers her sword, panting her way through the pain since she has the option.

“What was that?” she asks.

“I applied a different philosophy. In a mission, you wouldn’t be my target, and I saw no reason to waste my time dispatching you.” Keith shrugs. “Why bother?”

“Because I could have gathered information on you-”

“You didn’t. In this scenario, you, an unnamed, random assailant, are not worth killing, and I have a different mission.”

“And what might that mission be?”

“I…” Keith pauses. “I hadn’t thought that far. I just wanted to show off.”

“Clearly.” Krolia looks her son up and down, amused. “I don’t understand, but you seem to think you’ve achieved something, so-”

“HA!!!”

“AHhhhhh!!!”

“-So what the fuck was that?” Krolia growls, adjusting her grip on her sword.

“I’m not sure, but that was Lance and Adam, so something’s probably being destroyed.” Keith sighs, heading back to Lance’s field. “Welcome to my life.”

Lance is indeed messing around with Adam, wielding a broadsword with an adequate amount of skill -a miracle, honestly, and one courtesy of Keith- while Adam comes at him with his polearm.

From behind the fighting idiots, Shiro grins at him, notching his head at Lance. Keith presses his lips together to hide his smile, ducking his head. He knows he’s doing a good job, but to have someone else say it means a lot.

“I thought you said he didn’t have any skills,” Krolia murmurs, watching the Alteans go back and forth.

“That’s what I thought.” Keith lifts his gaze back to his chosen mate, the glint in his eyes as he experiments with the sword in his hand, figuring out how to make it more effective against Adam’s chosen weapon. “But I was wrong. He just needed some more one-on-one coaching. He’s typically quite capable on his own, but always better when he’s working with others. He’s a people person.”

“That is one of the many, many reasons I don’t understand why you love that little creature,” Krolia murmurs.

“He’s a good buffer. He does all the talking, and I just stand there and look pretty.”

That’s not entirely true, less so as time goes on, but for some reason, Keith doesn’t want to share all that much about his life on Altea. It almost feels too personal, like he’s not ready to share his experiences with anyone yet.

“Hm, I’d think looking pretty would be his job,” Thace teases, clinging to Ulaz’ waist. Ulaz himself only nods, a more quiet kind of friendly than his mate, but friendly all the same. His fondness for Keith is indicated by a softened eyebrow, rather than a smile.

“No, but he does it exceptionally well.”

The corner of Ulaz’ mouth quirks. “Perhaps you can both come over to our place tomorrow and look pretty around our table. The kits want to see you, Mashan in particular. Besides, the hunting party returns tomorrow. A little lizard told me that they slew a pack of vakalt. Herdsmen are coming up, too. We can celebrate together, maybe put a few of them up at our den for the night. Get in a few good stories. Also, be forewarned, Lotor wants to speak to Lance outside the castle, so he may 'spontaneously decide to visit'.”

Keith nods. He watches Lance and Adam spar, glancing to his littermate across the yard. So far, his companions have been more than agreeable concerning the Galra way of life. Lance, at least, will enjoy the experience, and Adam will enjoy a chance to crawl all over Shiro. Maybe he’ll even be able to drag Pidge out of their closet. It’ll be nice.

“Sure. We’ll come.” Keith smiles. “Thanks for the invite.”

“Nonsense!” Thace claps him on the shoulder. “You’ll always be one of us, Keith, and you’re always welcome in our home. You, and that Altean of yours.”

“Thanks, guys. I really appreciate that.”

He does. He’s glad that he still has a place here, even if it’s no longer his only home.

[eddieeatsass]

bloody mary - yram ydoolb

Summary: Richie thinks knives can be fun, and Eddie is willing to play along, that is until things get a little more intense than he'd been expecting. Pairing: Reddie  Rating: E Warnings: Smut, explicit language, graphic violence

Read on AO3

(A few important notes: PLEASE heed the warnings. If you are triggered by topics relating to self harm or violence, or very mild dub-con, this may not be the fic for you.

Secondly, do not take this fic as an example of healthy BDSM. The key rules of BDSM are to keep it Safe, Sane, and Consensual. This fic does not adhere to those rules because this takes place in a dark verse.

The practices conducted here are not to be reproduced in real life.If you’re interested in bondage, knife play, blood play, or any other type of edge play, PLEASE do your own research. Do not engage in these kinks (or any) until both you and your partner are thoroughly versed on how to stay safe, and the necessary aftercare involved.)

“Dinner is on me tonight!” Richie burst through the door, projecting into his apartment to a very startled Eddie.

A small ‘fuck!’ could be heard from the kitchen, where Richie travelled after kicking off his boots, carrying two heavy bags of Chinese food.

He found Eddie huddled over their sink, abandoned vegetables to the right of him alongside a bloody knife.

“You made me cut myself, you dickhead!” Eddie shouted over his shoulder, brandishing his bleeding hand before putting it back under the cold water. He tried to get the blood to clear long enough to see how deep the cut was, but it was pooling up at a rate too quick for the water to wash away. With another mumbled curse he opened a drawer, pulling out a roll of gauze (of which they kept many in every room of the house) and began wrapping it around his hand.

“Don’t blame me for your shoddy knifesmanship.” Richie shrugged, placing his bags on the counter and beginning to unpack them.

“I thought tonight was my night for dinner. Did you really make me go through all of this for nothing?” Eddie asked exasperatedly.

“It was, but on the subway home I was sitting next to a man who was carrying the most delicious smelling food, which he so generously agreed to give me after some convincing.” Richie reached behind himself, pulling a gun out from his pants and letting it clatter to the counter as evidence.

“Richieee.” Eddie groaned, stomping towards the counter and snatching the gun up. “I told you not to take my gun anymore. You’ve got shitty aim.”

“I do not; I mean to miss when I’m shooting at you.”

“Mhm.” Eddie agrees sarcastically, unconvinced. He looks down at his injured hand, the gauze having already turned red in the short time since he applied it.

“I’m gonna have to re-wrap this before we eat.” Eddie complained.

“Let me do it.” Richie offered, to which Eddie eyed him suspiciously.

“…Why?” Eddie asked carefully, narrowing his eyes.

“Can’t a guy just want to help his boyfriend?” Richie batted his lashes innocently.

“A guy, yeah. You? No.”

“But you squirm so deliciously when I use the disinfectant.” Richie admitted, going from innocent to sultry in a moment flat.

Eddie glared at him before relenting, turning around without another word and starting down the hallway.

“Well? Come on then.” He shouted over his shoulder, hearing the excited footsteps pattering behind him.

After Richie had had his fun, and Eddie was re-bandaged, the two made their way back out to the kitchen and grabbed their food, flopping in front of the TV before laying things out on the coffee table.

“Gross, there’s shrimp in this.” Eddie complained, as he opened one of the mystery containers.

“I’m sorry Eds, I’ll be sure to ask the guy what he ordered next time before I rob him.” Richie drawled sarcastically.

Eddie chucked a piece of shrimp at him before continuing to open the rest of the containers.

They both took turns dumping contents on to their plates, choosing what appealed most to them and occasionally forcing each other to try the things the other didn’t want to try. By the end of it, Richie had loaded Eddie’s plate with shrimp, and Eddie had shoved enough tofu on to Richie’s to blanket the rest of his meal.

They ate in silence while they watched the news, chuckling at the criminals who’d been caught and discussing how they’d have pulled off the crime without ending up on national television. At one point, however, someone they recognized popped up on the screen, causing Eddie to choke on a noodle.

Richie leaned forward in his seat as Eddie coughed beside him.

“Well fuck, Denbrough…” Richie murmured, staring at the mugshot of their best friend.

“When did this happen?” Eddie asked through a hoarse throat once he’d recovered.

“If you’d shut up, I could find out.” Richie grabbed the remote control, turning up the volume until it drowned out all else.

“Earlier today police arrested long term suspect related to a series of murders, Bill Denbrough. Denbrough can be traced back to a murder as early as 2013 but had managed to stay off police suspects lists until earlier this year when he was linked to the murder of Tom Rogan. Detectives were able to connect him to six other un-solved murders after that. His suspected motivation for the crimes is his presumably unrequited love for one Beverly Marsh, as the victims having all been connected to her in one way or another. The most recent victim was Ms. Marsh’s ex-husband who had several charges himself: domestic violence, assault and battery, aggravated assault, and probation violation. Bill Denbrough has been put into custody and is awaiting a trial date.”

“Tomorrow we’ll start brainstorm how to break him out. I’ll text the rest of the losers and let them know.” Richie stated, muting the TV and setting the remote down.

“Fucking Bill, always getting us into this shit; he makes a mess and we’ve gotta clean it up.”

“Well it’s better than letting him rot in prison with Henry Bowers as a guard, right?”

Eddie winced at the mention of their lifelong enemy; a corrupt cop who stayed above the law because he worked for it. He could get away with anything, and had on several occasions.

“Fine, but I’m not holding back from laying into him once we’ve got him back.” Eddie grumbled.

“As if you ever hold back.” Richie snorted, sending off a quick text to their group chat and re-pocketing his phone. He looked over to Eddie who was just finishing up his meal, only to notice a trickle of blood dancing down the skin of his forearm.

Richie reached forward, collecting the blood on his index finger and smearing it. Eddie glanced down at Richie’s hand, a frustrated curse following the sight of his (once again) sullied bandage.

“God damn it, Richie get the suture kit.” Eddie ground out through clenched teeth, anger bubbling up at the knowledge that he’d have to sew himself up with his non-dominant hand. That would certainly make for an interesting scar.

“Get it yourself, I’m not your maid.” Richie said snarkily as he stood from the couch and began carrying his plate to the kitchen.

“Ugh fine, then can we at least get drunk first?” Eddie called out, eyeing the messy coffee table and choosing to leave cleaning up until later.

Richie reappeared at the end of the couch, looking down at Eddie with a wicked grin and his hands behind his back.

“I’m really hoping you’ve got a bottle of whiskey behind your back.” Eddie wished hopefully, knowing too well that probably wasn’t the case.

“I have a better idea.” Richie announced confidently, pulling his hands out from behind his back and brandishing a glistening knife. “More cutting.”

“And how does that solve my problem?” Eddie deadpanned.

“It doesn’t, but it solves mine.” Richie pointed to the tent in his jeans that Eddie hadn’t noticed until now. He should have expected this; Richie always got excited when Eddie bled.

Eddie sighed, pushing himself up from the couch and walking up to Richie until they were merely a breath away.

“If we’re doing this, you better make it worth my while.” Eddie punctuated his threat by running his index finger across the blade, pulling it back to inspect the bead of blood. Content with the sharpness of the knife, Eddie brought his finger up to Richie’s lips, smearing the blood across them like a lipstick.

Eddie sauntered towards their bedroom, leaving Richie to trail after him excitedly.

It took a few minutes for Richie to set Eddie up how he wanted him, but in the end, it left Eddie handcuffed to a chain hanging from their ceiling, kneeling above their bed with his knees barely reaching the mattress.

Eddie’s arms tensed with the strain of practically hanging by his wrists, and they looked so delicious Richie couldn’t help but get ahead of himself, leaving a little slice along Eddie’s bicep before they had even begun.

Richie unclothed himself, taking a few steps around the bed and assessing Eddie like an animal stalking its prey. When he was behind Eddie and fully out of sight he hopped up on the mattress, the sudden movement causing Eddie to startle. Richie chuckled darkly, tracing the knife along the back of Eddie’s neck.

“Are you going to get on with it or am I just going to hang here until the circulation in my wrists gets cut off?” Eddie asked tiredly.

“If you start to lose circulation, I’ll cut you down.” Richie said.

“You can’t cut through chains, idiot.”

“That’s not what I meant. But don’t worry, you’d still look pretty without hands.” Richie whispered into Eddie’s ear, grinning as he shivered in response.

In one quick succession, Richie slipped the blade around to the front of Eddie’s neck and under the collar of his shirt, flicking it away and pulling down as it cut through the fabric with terrifying ease. Eddie’s tan skin was flushed pink, the colors intermingling under his flesh and shining out like a light. It was an unblemished canvas for Richie to paint on, his knife a brush and Eddie’s blood his paint.

Before he could create his masterpiece though, he needed to rid Eddie of the rest of his clothes. It only took Richie a few flicks of his wrist to expertly cut away all of Eddie’s garments, leaving them in a pile of scraps surrounding them. Richie rounded Eddie, kneeling in front of him and gazing down the length of his body appreciatingly.

Eddie’s cock was already straining, curving slightly to the left as if seeking out Richie’s attention. Richie used the flat edge of his knife to hold it up, smirking as a pearl of pre-cum bubbled to the surface and on to the polished metal.

Richie made eye contact with Eddie as he brought the knife up to his face and made a show of licking the cum off it.

“Richie-” Eddie whined, tugging on his chains impatiently. He’d never been one to wait for good things, always wanting them done fast so he could reap the benefits sooner. Richie acceded, bringing the knife to Eddie’s chest, just under his peck, and leaving a thin red line it its wake.

Eddie hissed, more out of pleasure than pain. The knife was sharp enough that it didn’t really hurt, just stung slightly in the aftermath. Eddie let his head hang, examining Richie’s work, and was disappointed to see only a few droplets of blood had come to the surface.

He couldn’t help but compare it to his hand, which had been unbandaged and left to bleed freely down his arm, exacerbated by the pressure from the handcuffs. He wanted more like that; more intensity, more depth, more blood.

“Why the long face? Not good enough for my little slut?” Richie asked condescendingly, tipping Eddie’s chin up with the knife so he was forced to look him in the eyes.

“Not enough…” Eddie echoed bashfully.

“What was that?” Richie goaded, pressing against Eddie’s chin a little harder, the edge of the knife threatening to break skin.

“I said it’s not enough.” Eddie ground out, fighting the blush on his cheeks.

“Oh, well, why didn’t you just say so?” Richie responded cheerfully, a flicker of madness fliting across his eyes before he skilfully swiped his arm out, grazing Eddie’s flesh with the knife and leaving a slash across his stomach.

The shock made Eddie’s jaw drop. When he peered down at his skin he saw rivulets streaming down his abs towards his groin, which twitched with excitement at the view.

After that Richie didn’t hold back. He marred up Eddie’s torso, front and back, with varying sizes and depths of cuts. Eddie’s entire body stung, vibrating with the pulse he could feel in every vein that had been sliced open. His skin was puffed up and irritated, a mixture of smeared and fresh blood coating warm beige skin.

Richie had just finished a clean cut along Eddie’s hip bone when the man in question shuttered above him. Richie looked up, a nasty, knowing smirk on his face.

“You getting close, you little whore? Just from this?” Richie mocked.

Eddie squeezed his eyes shut, shaking his head back and forth but not trusting his voice to cooperate.

Richie laughed, turning his attention to Eddie’s cock, which was coated in blood and pre-cum. It was a beautiful sight, but not quite worthy of attention yet.

“One last finishing touch before I take care of you. Think you can hold out?” Richie sneered.

Eddie glared through his lashes, wanting nothing more than to spit in Richie’s condescending face. But he knew that wouldn’t bode well for him when he was chained up like this. So instead, he gritted his teeth and nodded minutely.

Richie leaned forward, bringing his knife to the top of Eddie’s peck, which he’d kept untouched with this exact intention in mind. With more grace than one should ever have with a knife, he carved out five little lines, pulling back to admire his work as it wept red.

“Now you’ll never forget who you belong to.” Richie stated, wiping a finger over the fresh cuts to smear the blood out of the way. Left behind were the letters “R” and “T”, only hesitating long enough to let Richie read them aloud before they were overflowing once again.

Eddie’s cock responded to the possessiveness, twitching out another thread of pre-cum. As much as Eddie would fight it, argue against it, would rather die before admitting it, at the end of the day he took comfort in the fact that he was Richie’s.

Satisfied with his work, Richie shuffled off the bed and towards their walk-in closet.

They had refurbished the walk-in to act as a vault of sorts, holding all their most important possessions. It’s where they kept their money, their weapons, and some of their more intricate or high-end sex toys.

Richie disappeared for a moment before returning with a cocky grin and a pair of silver gloves on his hands. He slapped his palms together, a muffled metallic sound ringing through the room.

They’d only made use of those gloves on one other occasion. They were cut-resistant gloves made from stainless-steel mesh, designed so the wearer couldn’t injure themselves when using sharp blades.

Eddie’s brain tried to connect the dots, figure out what Richie’s plan was, but his head was swimming from arousal and blood loss.

“Richie, what are you…” Eddie trailed off when Richie recollected the knife from where he’d left it on the bed, this time grasping it by its blade. He seemed to be inspecting the handle, devious thoughts flitting across his eyes that Eddie couldn’t discern.

It all clicked once Richie leaned over their bedside table, grabbing their bottle of lube and uncapping it.

“Richie, no.” Eddie tried to sound stern, his heartbeat suddenly hammering in his chest. He tried to wiggle around, a frivolous attempt at getting free. He knew it wouldn’t work, he was the one who rigged up the chains after all, and he did a damn good job at making sure whoever was hooked up wouldn’t be able to get down.

Richie ignored his objections completely, moving closer to Eddie on the bed and staring him down.

“I swear to fucking god, I will slit your throat where you sleep if you go anywhere near my ass with that.”

“Is that a threat or a promise?” Richie purred lowly.

Once they were only a breath away, Richie poured some lube out over the handle of the knife, holding it in front of Eddie’s face so he was forced to watch.

Eddie’s eyes kept darting between the knife and Richie’s face, struggling to decide whether swallowing his pride and pleading was worth it. On the one hand, he wasn’t a little bitch. But on the other… he didn’t need one slip of the hand connecting his asshole to his urethra.

As Richie’s hand disappeared behind Eddie’s back, the decision was made for him.

“Richie no- don’t you dare- I’ll fucking-” He was promptly cut off as the blunt curve was pressed up against his hole. The lube made it cold and uninviting, and Eddie clenched unintentionally in response.

“The more you fight it the more it’s going to hurt.” Richie tutted.

Eddie eyed the distance between himself and Richie, trying to calculate if he could make the lunge for Richie’s throat without his restraints pulling him back. It was too late though; any sudden movement now could result in a deep slice where he didn’t want one.

“Fine.” Eddie growled. “Just get on with it then.”

Richie didn’t hesitate to follow Eddie’s words, pressing the handle up within him with little warning.

It wasn’t particularly large, probably about the size of some of their smaller dildos, but with zero prep it still stung.

“Agh fuck!” Eddie hissed, arching his back away from the sensation. The sudden jerk made his limbs burn, bringing movement to his body which had been straining in a stationary position for 20 minutes. It sent new waves of agony to the slices in his skin, and bile threatened to rise at the combination of so much pain so suddenly.

Eddie forced himself to close his eyes, focusing on his breathing. Steady inhale, hold… 2… 3… 4… exhale. The key to getting through these situations was keeping his cool. The second he began to panic, or focused too much on the pain, his senses became overwhelmed and tried to shut down.

As Eddie focused on calming down and re-centering himself, he could feel Richie’s breath against his neck. He was mumbling things into Eddie’s skin that he didn’t pay much attention to, but the steady sound of Richie’s voice helped to calm his nerves.

The stimulation in his ass was starting to feel good. The handle of the knife was long enough to reach his prostate whenever Richie hit the right angle, causing a slow build of pleasure that was beginning to overshadow the pain. Without meaning to, Eddie let a little moan slip.

"Is someone finally beginning to enjoy themselves?” Richie teased. “Look how much precum you're leaking now that your slut hole finally has something to clench around.”

Eddie looked down to see that Richie was right, his cock was dripping wet and red at its head, twitching in excitement every time Eddie felt a new sting of pain. His brain and his body were in a warn for dominance over his pain tolerance.

Richie repositioned himself so he was lower, his face level with Eddie’s chest. Through hooded lids, Richie looked up at Eddie, locking on to eye contact before leaning in and taking a nipple into his mouth.

Eddie moaned immediately; the sensation too good to hold it in. His nipples had always been one of his most sensitive erogenous zones, and Richie so often forgot to pay attention to them, too wrapped up in his own pleasure. But in that moment, Richie was making up for every single time he’d neglected them.

He pinched the pink nub between his teeth, pulling back until Eddie’s skin was stretched as far as it’d go. It was so intense it felt like Eddie was hooked up to nipple clamps, but he had the added bonus of Richie’s warm, soft tongue teasing his peak. Richie let go, watching as Eddie’s skin snapped back against itself, mottled and wet.

He moved on to Eddie’s other nipple as he increased the pace of the knife, thrusting it deeper into Eddie’s hole. Eddie’s breath was becoming shaky, along with his legs.

Richie began lapping along the slices he’d made, biting at the flesh and teasing out more blood from the cuts that had dried up. He caught the dribbles on his tongue, savoring the bitter taste of iron. When he lifted his head back up to regard Eddie with a smirk, he had blood smeared around his mouth.

Eddie wanted to snort, absently thinking it looked like a badly done last minute Halloween makeup job, but his lungs couldn’t manage a laugh, his breath already shallow and weak.

He knew he was going to cum soon. Richie had been consistently hitting his prostate for a few minutes, the pressure and tempo solid and steady enough to make Eddie’s toes curl.

“Richie, I- I’m-” Eddie tried to stutter out a warning, his throat dry and a haze beginning to surround his vision.

“What, are you gonna cum? Already?” Richie patronized.

Eddie’s anger mixed with his desperation, watering it down enough to let him sacrifice his ego.

“Yes, yes please- I need to- please Richie-”

“So pathetic.” Richie scoffed. But despite his words, he still relented, bringing his free hand to Eddie’s cock and stroking a few times.

Eddie came with a shrill cry, the sound cracking and fizzling out at the end. He felt the pulse in his cock and the throb in his ass, and then everything went black.

Eddie’s not sure how long he was out, but when he awoke, he was resting against his pillow. He looked down at the sheets, still stained red with his blood and wet to the touch, so he couldn’t have black out for long. The next thing he registered was Richie laying beside him, his finger lazily tracing along Eddie’s stomach, where there was a small pool of blood tinted semen.

“Ew, Richie!”

Richie seemed to have been unaware of Eddie’s regained consciousness until then, startling momentarily as he looked up at him like a kid who’d been caught doing something wrong.

“Good morning, Sleeping Beauty.” Richie crooned, removing his hand from the mess on Eddie’s belly and wiping it on the sheets.

“How long was I out for?” Eddie asked, noticing his voice was coarse and attempting to clear it.

“About two minutes, give or take.”

“And you thought instead of trying to wake me up, you’d finish on me instead?” Eddie cocked an eyebrow, pointing at the cum that covered his stomach.

“Well, I took you down first.” Richie rolled his eyes, as if Eddie was missing the bigger picture.

“Thanks for not letting me hang lifelessly from our ceiling, I guess?” Eddie responded sarcastically.

“You are so welcome.” Richie sent Eddie an annoyingly charming wink before bouncing off the bed, disappearing into their hallway.

Eddie closed his eyes, noticing the way his head was pounding and his body ached. He wiggled his wrists experimentally, wincing immediately at the feeling. He peeked one eye open, hesitantly bringing an arm into view and gasping when he saw the bruising that was leftover from the handcuffs. It was atrocious, but also… mesmerizing. Eddie was tracing the galaxies under his skin when Richie walked back into the room.

“Drink this.” Richie gave little warning before he chucked a water bottle at Eddie, which he surprisingly caught with little effort.

Eddie blinked at it like he’d never seen water in his life. Really, what he’d never seen in his life was Richie taking care of him. It’s true that things didn’t usually get as intense as they had that day, but Eddie was used to always doing the aftercare himself.

“What, are you allergic to water suddenly?” Richie asked as he climbed back into bed.

“Is it drugged?” Eddie asked skeptically.

“Oh my god, you fucking baby.” Richie grabbed the water bottle from Eddie, cracking open the sealed cap and taking a swig before offering it back to him.

“Now drink. I don’t need you passing out on me again.”

Eddie eyed Richie, his chest feeling uncomfortably aflutter; a sensation he was only used to associating with a new kill or a shiny weapon.

He took the bottle wordlessly and chugged it, ignoring the tiny streams of water that escaped out the corners of his mouth and trickled down his chin. He pulled away from the lip of the bottle with a gratified sigh, not having realized how much he’d needed that.

“Thanks.” Eddie mumbled.

“Don’t go soft on me, Eddie boy.” Richie warned, a lilt of tenderness in his voice.

They held eye contact for a moment before Richie cleared his throat, rolling on to his back and propping his arms up behind his head.

“So, who’s turn is it to do laundry?” He asked, nodding towards the bedsheets.

“Well, technically yours since it was my night for dinner.” Eddie drawled.

“But since I brought home food…” Richie let the end of his sentence trail off, the insinuation evident.

“Fuck off, asshole. Look at the state you left me in.” Eddie gestured to his body, his weakened arm protesting the movement.

“I can’t. If I look at you any longer, I’ll have to jump you for round two.”

“Richie, no-”

“How do you feel about spoons?”

“We’re not doing this-”

“Forks? Or maybe a ladle is more your style? A spatula-”

“I fucking hate you.”

“So it’s a decided, spork it is!”

[solivar]

WIP Ghost Stories On Route 66

In which there is an unexpected and troubling revelation.

“Team Tokki, report.”

“On station, sorry for the delay.” Hana replied a nerve-wracking ten minutes later. “Took us a minute to get all our cables in order but Kozy Kot Motor Inn Basecamp is now online.”

The topographic holomap hanging over the dining room table rippled gently as she proved it, pulsing their location in the scrubby desert flatlands between Mesa Prieta and the ruins of Albuquerque, turning their basecamp icon electric pink-and-green.

“In an amusing sidenote,” Hana continued on breezily, “You know those MiBs -- the TALON guys? Their base may be in Albuquerque Sunport but they’ve got mobile units all over the place in the immediate vicinity and some kind of stationary observation post up on the mesa itself. So yes this is me formally blaming my tardiness on avoiding the notice of scary goons who may or may not be employees of the federal government.”

“Mesa Prieta is an archaeological preserve -- it has been for decades, the petroglyphs there are thousands of years old.” Ana, seated at the opposite end of the table with stacks of airtight herb containers, a mortar and pestle, and a digital scale, observed carefully, pausing in her work. “Ownership yielded back to the Federated Southwest Tribal Government after the Crisis.”

“Meaning?” Hanzo asked, inclining a questioning brow.

“Meaning,” Ana gave the contents of her pestle another thoughtful turn, “that either the FST is acting in direct cooperation with TALON or else their actual employers kissed considerable quantities of ass to access that site for reasons other than advancing the cause of cultural preservation.”

Hanzo blinked at her. “That feels extraordinarily bad.”

“It is what it is, my young friend. Until we have better intel, we can only take matters as they come.” She spooned the contents of her pestle into a little tin container.

“I’m not so sure I like Team Tokki’s proximity to a potentially hostile unknown quantity,” Hot Vampire Jack’s tone was significantly less philosophical. “Maybe you should relocate?”

“Their base doesn’t directly overlook ours -- it’s on the far northern point of the mesa, closer to the Chamisa Wilderness Area than to us.” Jesse replied, calm and even. “We can set a drone on stealth observation if you want, but hauling off and moving again might get us seen by one of their mobile units. They’re putting up those pylon things they’ve got on the UNM campus all over out here.”

“I tried getting a look at one of those the other day but campus security waved me off.” Hana added, aggrieved.

“Whatever else they are, they’ve got a pretty hefty sensor and communications package on them -- I can see their output on our own passive monitors.” Lucio added, and the map rippled as he pushed data, added clusters of red-white-black pinpricks representing the pylons’ locations, easily a few dozen spread across the desert basin between Albuquerque and the mesa, many of them concentrated just above the Red Line along old Route 40. “I can try hacking one of their transceiver modules and skimming the data to see what they’re monitoring but that might attract some attention if they’ve got any kind of intrusion detection capabilities onboard.”

“No unnecessary risks. The pylons likely aren’t going anywhere and they’re extraneous to our own mission.” Terrifying Smoke Gabe rasped, his voice on the comms a weirdly metallic echo. “We can always try that if we can’t get intelligence from other sources.”

“Speaking of which,” Zenyatta interjected smoothly, “Team Tattoo reporting perimeter secure at Four Daughters Basecamp -- we are about to begin deploying our sensor and visual observation drones and begin transmitting.”

“El Malpais Basecamp likewise secure and ready to begin deployment.” Jamie added. “Team Helicopter Parents on perimeter patrol.”

“God, I hate that name,” Jack muttered.

“Who gave the lecture about appropriate comm discipline last night?” Gabe asked sweetly.

“Oh, shut up.”

Actual comm discipline immediately dissolved in jokes and back-and-forth smacktalk, a release of tension that even Jack recognized as necessary before any real work could get done, especially since they were waiting for Team Tokki to get up to speed. Hanzo, recognizing at as well, went and fetched tea and cakes and fussy little finger sandwiches for himself and Ana and, eventually, Reinhardt when he came in off his own perimeter patrol with the members of the pack left on guard duty. She accepted the cup he poured and the plate he delivered with a gracious smile, setting aside her work for the moment, while in the background nearly everyone they loved pretended not to be afraid.

Four days they’d been in the field -- four days of hunting the monster haunting him, four nights of sleeping rough, fanning out from Cerrillos in a gradually expanding search pattern enabled by Jesse’s practical maintenance of multiple gasoline-powered vehicles and Jamie’s purpose-built technology. Hana had dropped her presentation and then bagged the rest of her classes to assist in the physical construction of the drones, displaying a level of mechanical skill that Hanzo at least had never suspected. (“When I was a kid, my cousins and my friend Dae-hyun and I built hovertech for competition before I got into gaming -- seriously, aniki, it’s like falling off a bike, you never really forget once you know how to do it.”) Genji and Lucio had done likewise with the programming, following Jamie and Roadie’s careful instructions, working late into the night on stress-testing up until the day before their departure. Hanzo, relegated to a support role, had helped prepare the supplies and the vehicles for departure, packing MATILDA and the largest of Jesse’s off-road capable Jeeps with military surplus rations and bottled water, three fully stocked first aid kits, the heavily warded four-season tents and camping gear going with Team Helicopter Parents and Team Tokki, and extra warm clothing for everyone. He forced cardigans and sweatshirts on all of them at breakfast the morning they departed, a meal he crawled out of Jesse’s warm embrace to make for them and to which he returned before he allowed them to leave.

Jesse had taken his face between his hands, his kiss sweet and soft, and Hanzo had exercised enormous restraint by making only a few rude gestures at his brother and friends as they whistled and shouted suggestions and encouragements ranging from the mildly obscene to the outright pornographic. Jesse’s husky laughter had warmed him almost more than the kiss as he drew them together and murmured against his ear, “I’ll bring Hana and Lu back safe and sound, I promise, and Roadie won’t let anything happen to Genji and Zen.”

“I know.” Hanzo replied, soft and low against his shoulder. “I just wish...I wish I could do more.”

“You’ll have plenty to do when we find this thing. For now, you’re our lifeline. Don’t forget that.” Jesse pressed a last kiss to his forehead. “We’ll be back before you know it, darlin’. Never fear.”

But fear he did, despite Jesse’s assurances, despite his knowledge of all their skill and ability and competence, because he also knew the cruelty and viciousness and above all else cunning of the thing that they hunted, a cunning that had concealed what he had become from their entire clan, from the sister raised at his side, from the Dragon of the South Wind himself. That concealed him now, still, even as they found the telltale traces of his passage through the world, marked on the holomap in a particularly vile shade of bilious yellow, twisting tracks that appeared and disappeared without apparent pattern, growing gradually denser as the search teams moved west. Fear moved him to carry an inflatable camping mattress down to the dining room, where the communications nerve center was set up by virtue of adequate work-and-table space, and built a nest where he slept, light and restless, alert to the slightest twitch of sound on the comms, the tiniest hint of distress, which mostly came in the form of bodies shifting in their sleep and a terrifyingly vast assortment of snores.

“Drones airborne and headed to optimal scan radius,” Hana reported. “You want me to send one of our spares up to keep an eye on the MiBs?”

“Couldn’t hurt to gather a little intel at this stage of the proceedings.” Jesse opined.

“It could if your drone is detected.” Terrifying Smoke Gabe pointed out. “If you send one up, I recommend passive visual observation only.”

“Doable. Lu, you wanna handle that while I get these puppies where they need to go?” A clattering of equipment on the line as Hana and Lucio moved about in their working shelter.

“Gotcha. Temporarily disabling the drone’s sensor package just to be on the safe side.” Lucio came on the line for the first time that day. “You want me to stream footage back to HQ?”

Hanzo glanced at Ana who nodded slightly and murmured, “If they can detect our drone sensor data streams, a video stream will hardly make matters worse, and if they cannot, we will have fresh information of our own.”

“True.” Hanzo replied as his stomach tried gamely to twist itself into a Lemarchand cube of pure dread. “Go ahead, Lucio.” He clicked his own comm off and looked back to Ana, meditatively sipping her tea. “If they -- if TALON -- detects our data streams, could they trace them here, to Cerrillos?”

“Theoretically? Yes. In practice, Jack and Gabriel and Jesse have all exerted considerable effort to make this place as difficult to find as possible for outsiders.” Ana smiled dryly. “And, in any case, they may be the least of our concerns at this juncture.”

“Point.” Hanzo muttered and clicked the comm back on, applying himself to his own tea in an effort to wring some calm out of his digestive tract.

“Team Tokki’s drones on station, optimal positioning.” Hana sang.

“Team Helicopter Parents, ready to begin scanning.” Jamie replied.

“Team Tattoo, likewise prepared.” Zen added tranquilly.

All three Basecamp icons flashed and Hanzo set the countdown timer. “Ten second timer.”

At ten, the holomap blossomed as the drones’ sensor packages and associated data streams came online, populating it with a picture of local reality that overlaid and intertwined with the topography in ways that would make a cartographer’s eyes bleed. In the corner, a secondary pane opened with Lucio’s camera drone feed as it climbed out of basecamp, view panning out across the remains of the Kozy Kot Motor Inn and its eight identical “log cabin” cottages plus the motel office, set around an inner courtyard that had once contained picnic tables and grills and now held two four-season tents linked by a vestibule, a camp sanitary structure, and a warmed, weatherproof work tent, where they also ate their meals. As Hanzo watched, Jesse made is way between two of the cottages and looked up, waved for the camera as Lucio panned and zoomed away, over the cracked and crumbling remnants of a paved road, through the remains of the little tourist town that had sprung up around the motel, as fully abandoned as it was, and into the desert beyond.

There the ground was rucked up and rugged, split by arroyos and tumbled spits of dark, jagged stone, blanketed in tough, autumn-browned grasses and scrubby, wind-tortured trees and shrubs, elevation rising steadily until the drone was climbing vertically along the wall of the mesa. The top of the mesa itself was so flat the TALON installation was clearly visible miles off, a crescent of four dun-colored prefab structures clustered together, their communications uplink arrays pointed skyward, the rest of their camp’s perimeter delineated in those pylons, spaced neatly exact distances apart. Lucio dropped the drone to a few inches above the mesa hardpack and brought it in behind the largest of the structures, up the back avoiding the windows, and settled it into place on the edge of structure’s roof, cameras trained down into the camp itself.

Ana moved to join Hanzo, teacup in hand, and settled to watch. Within the relatively compact confines of the camp, technicians in khaki jumpsuits were working with obvious care among the basalt-black rocks, scanning the petroglyphs with handheld devices, taking photographs and video, neither moving nor touching anything if they could avoid it.

“I’ll be damned,” Lucio muttered. “Maybe they are doing archaeological preservation work?”

“You have to admit, we’ve seen stranger things.” Genji remarked dryly.

“But if that’s the case, why are they crawling all over the school? And why’d they interrogate Hanzo about Professor Flakes-a-Lot? And what’s the deal with those pylons? And --” Hana’s stream of questions was cut off by the sound of smashing crockery and Hanzo’s involuntary yelp of pain as Ana gripped his arm with unexpectedly fierce strength.

“Pan back,” Ana snapped over his comm.

Lucio did so and Ana’s grip tightened another degree. “Jack, Gabriel...are you seeing this?”

The pair standing together before one of the largest single petroglyph displays in the camp were not dressed like technicians. One, scrawny and unshaven and bespectacled, dark hair going gray at the temples, wore an honest-to-gods white lab coat over his cable knit sweater and gray cargo pants, hands doing as much talking as his mouth as he conversed with his companion. That companion was a solid two, maybe as much as three, heads shorter, clad in rust red coveralls and heavy hiking boots and more toolbelts and their associated attachments than seemed possible, his hugely muscled  and heavily tattooed shoulders uncovered and most of his face obscured by a genuinely impressive mass of thick blonde beard and mustaches.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Jack breathed over the comm, his quiet carrying the relative force of an explosion.

“Torbjörn?” Terrifying Smoke Gabe sounded frankly stunned. “But...he and Ingrid retired years ago.”

“Apparently not,” Jack replied, grimly.

“This...changes the complexion of many things.” Reinhardt said, heavily, from the door and came to lay an enormous hand on his wife’s shoulder.

“It does?” Hanzo asked. “How? Why? What does this mean?”

“Too soon to tell on some of those, kid.” Jack said into the silence that followed. “But as to what it means? That little Viking wrench-slinger there is Torbjörn Lindholm and, once upon a time, he was a member of the same UN-sponsored special ops unit as Gabe and I -- Rein and Ana, Yanaba and Nate, too. Helped us save the world a time or six. And, if he’s involved with this bunch, TALON? That likely means nothing good and we should probably figure out what it is sooner rather than later.”

[pathofshadowsdiscord]

CEDARCLAN

└> 🌲🌿 ❜ 𝚌𝚎𝚍𝚊𝚛𝚌𝚕𝚊𝚗 𝚒𝚜 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚜𝚙𝚒𝚛𝚒𝚝 𝚘𝚏 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚏𝚘𝚛𝚎𝚜𝚝 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚢𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗 𝚒𝚝. 𝚠𝚎 𝚐𝚛𝚘𝚠 𝚕𝚒𝚔𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚏𝚎𝚛𝚗𝚜 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚏𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝 𝚕𝚒𝚔𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚏𝚘𝚡𝚎𝚜. 𝚠𝚎 𝚊𝚛𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚜𝚘𝚞𝚕 𝚘𝚏 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚠𝚘𝚘𝚍𝚕𝚊𝚗𝚍... ❜ 🌲🌿

. . . 🌱 : cedarclan quick introduction .

╰┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┐

︿︿｡꒰ note ; not all CC cats have these exact traits. it’s just a summary. ꒱ ┈ ❞

· · · · · · · · ·

cedarclan. a clan name spoken like a whisper. a clan name that is hissed by tired queens in an attempt to scare their kits away from ever staying out at night. such a clan that seems cursed. scourged. sure, every clan has a ‘reputation’. But is there really an eminence that could surpass cedarclan..?

and are they as bad as every cat says?

well, let’s take a further look at them. cedarclan inhabit a huge, rough and wild forest. it’s untameable and seems like a different dimension entirely. no twolegs have been here for years, and the place is completely overrun with towering and fallen trees alike, twisting thorn bushes crowding the deer paths, small streams, cliff faces that loom out of nowhere and ravines that carve and shape the land like etchings in clay. this land can hardly be inhabited. the ones who do roam this land are just as wild as it; they have to be.

‘cedarclan are bloodthirsty’, the other clans say. ‘cedarclan cats are all dangerous, they’ve stolen kits in the past! their leader is conspiring against us other clans.’ **is that so?** we may have done bad things in the past, but so have your leaders, your leader’s fathers and your leader’s grandfathers. don’t paint us as the bad guys. don’t deflect your wrongdoings onto us because you can’t handle your own, and because we’re better at surviving than you are-, that’s right, the other clans are as soft as kittypets compared to cedar.

it’s true that cedarclan are the wild clan.

we have a reputation for being bloodthirsty, and are feared by all. we wear the pelts of the animals they we killed, and the skulls. it’s common that a cedarclan cat has a dark and secretive past.

we turn away from the code, much like riseclan. however, riseclan do this with good intentions, cedarclan usually act this way out of malice, or other such reasons.

the medicine cats are more interested in poisons than other types of herbs. some even grow these herbs in their dens.

not all cedarclan cats are ‘bad’, they’re just more intense than the other clans. in fact, the majority of us cedar warriors joke about our bad reputation at gatherings, acting ‘evil’ in front of the softer cats and then bursting out in laughter.

who can blame us for being a little.. hot blooded. we live amongst wolves, in a forest full of mystery. of course we’ve all learnt to pretend not to hear the crack of a twig behind them as we hunt. when a shadow that seems just a bit too tall to be a cat passes over our dens, we just turn over. some cats dissapear. one day they’re there, and the next day they’re gone, seemingly stolen away into the mist. the clan mourns quietly, and some feel eyes on their pelts. they never say anything, though.

the other clans think cedarclan are scary, but the clan know there’s something worse than them within the woods.

cedarclan cats, below the mask, are fiercely and dangerously loyal. each and every one of us would do more than fight for their clan. loyalty here is unquestionable; it has to be. you won’t see us slack off like ruinclan or mess around like coastclan; we’re hardworking, and it shows. see our camp? it’s crafted so carefully that it hasn’t been destroyed in years, despite the floods that often come rushing down due to us being situated on a mountain. we’re tough to the point it could be considered aggressive. this is likely where our bad reputation comes in as well, surely we could be a little nicer to the other clans- and,, we- alright. we could drop our cold remarks, cool gazes and scathing expressions. i’ll admit it. we’re not great at being honest, and most of us will lie for our benefit, but please don’t assume that’s all of us.

honestly though..? we aren’t too bad. every cat has their flaws. every cat has their pros. at the end of the day, we’re not *evil*.

hopefully you join us someday. the forest isn’t that bad and neither are we; maybe due to our reputation you’ll be first surprised when you see our clan joking around together, apprentices tussling and yelling and laughing on the ground, kittens sprinting around camp as queens chuckle, ect; but you’ll get used to the closeness of our group in no time.

· · · · · · · · ·

CedarClan’s territory is uncontrollable. Some could say it has a literal will of it’s own. The forest certainly seems that way. Both Clan and woodland are alike in the fact they’ll do anything to survive, and it’s clear in how the woodland has developed here.

See, the whole forest is so detailed. Some may compare it to the work of an artist, or a sculptor. Dense cedar woodlands overflow while intricate details are carved into the land, as if delicate claw marks had been slowly pressed into the earth, forming creeks and rivers. It’s truly a work of art.

However, the forest isn’t all sunshine, artwork and beauty.

The further you get from the outskirts, the mistier the woodland gets. It’s a gradual change. One moment you could be joking around with a friend, walking through the forest and quietly minding your own business when you stop and realise.. **something feels wrong.**

The thorns that twist and writhe around you seem to press in on you, as if they’re *really* moving, and it looks like they are through the thick sheet of mist. You realise the forest is silent, completely silent. No birds, no crickets or katydids- surely that’s impossible?! How can there be no prey or insects in such a thick forest?

A fern rustles against your side as you start, throwing a worried glance at your friend. Your pawsteps take you swiftly through the woods, pressing into the damp, leaf covered floor that you can barely see through the thick fog. Without warning, more pawsteps join you. The sound reverberates through your ears, as well as the frantic beating of your heart- **StarClan, are you about to be caught?!**

Your friend lags behind, but you press on further, fuelled by terror and a primal instinct that drives you to run through the thorn tunnels, leap up ledges and skirt around trees that look like they’ve been here since the dawn of time. You yelp as a pinecone drops, almost colliding with you; and in turn you almost collide with a cliff wall, which completely looms out of the mist as if it was some trap set up by the terrifying things that are following you. You stare around for any escape. **Upon realising there’s no way out and that a dozen eyes are surrounding you, your claws press into the ground in fear.**

A laugh sounds from the bushes,- and a huge, black tom steps out. You take a few steps back, pressing against the cliff wall. Is this the end of you?

CedarClan have caught you.

The black tom laughs and the other cats come out of their hiding spots. You gape as some even drop from the trees— you had no idea any were stalking you from way up there! You relax a little seeing the way they act together. The smaller cats are praised, maybe with a friendly cuff over the ear from the fully grown warriors.

They all chat together, throwing glances at you every now and again, but.. their eyes are shining? You can’t trust them completely, yet, obviously, but mayb-

The black tom beckons you over, and they start to lead you away from the cliff. Your claws retract as you start a quick pace through the forest, apprentices on either side of you laughing and giggling.

This isn’t so bad, you think.

The cats lead you on a seemingly dangerous path. Your eyes widen as you pass by a *huge* ravine, and leap as far away from the edge as possible. After the ravine, there’s a waterfall. You admire it for a little while, but then realise the cats are heading inside of it- STARCLAN, are they crazy? But you can’t protest or even move a paw before you get shoved inside, the water soaking you to the bone. To your surprise, the cave is lit up with glowing blue worms and crystals.

It was worth walking through the water.

Suddenly, you’re on a hillside. It’s sprinkled with towering redwoods and the scent of pine seeps over you. You breath in. This place is beautiful. A hawk soars the sky above you, and three apprentices begin leaping through the trees. You hold your breath- what are they doing?! Before you can even register that they’re back on the ground, the jovial cats are hauling the hawk itself over to you, yanking off feathers and sitting down to share.

**I didn’t think CedarClan would be like this.** You think after the meal, and after you thank the apprentices for it, you break from the crowd and decide to take a little walk for yourself.

It’s dusk, and your paws take you to a field. Crickets chirp lowly around the field, and there’s a cold chill, but you need to think things over.

In ten minutes or so, a soft glowing starts to light up the entire field. The sun has set, leaving only a few dusky colours in the clouds above. The fireflies fill the sky. It’s a euphoric moment, and you can’t help sprinting through the field like a kit on it’s first day out of the nursery.

Hours later, you’re in the CedarClan camp, reunited with your friend. As you lean tiredly against eachother in the corner of the camp, they whisper into your ear. “I don’t think I want to leave.”

You don’t want to leave, either.

[sebbenzakaryah92]

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[prettyguardiankore-blog]

Sweet Bread

CHAPTER TWO OF LOVE IN LITERACY

LEVI X READER

“Marla!” you shout at her, “Marla I’m right over here!” 

She cannot hear you.

You step in front of her.

She cannot see you.

You embrace her deeply, stroking her skin gently.

She cannot feel you.

Can the man even see you from up there? She grabs her paints and begins painting your face with a deep shade of blue. She got it right again. You laugh, and so does the man. Oh, the sky was dark, it wasn’t before... she hated the dark. Oh, now she's biting away at her skin. Oh, how you hated when she did that. She knew you hated it, but every night, there she goes again, biting away. As if it were her last meal. You scream. You sob. It was light again. Oh dear, you’ve split your paint, now you’ve done it…

Your eyes snapped open. You swallowed heavily as you jerked your head up from your desk in a cold sweat. You gave yourself a moment to adjust to your surroundings, eyes flicking back and forth to take it all in. You sighed, still in the library...of course, because where the hell else would you be? You rubbed your watery eyes. Your breathing was still erratic, so you slumped back into your chair, taking slow breaths until it returned to its original rhythm. You glimpsed at the small clock on your desk. It was just past one in the morning. You must’ve fallen asleep while you were reading. You took one last shaky breath before sitting up from your slouched position, straightening your back in your chair.  Another nightmare?  You shut your eyes tightly, desperately trying to recall the events of your dream, but you couldn’t. 

 Often, when you had nightmares, you had this gut wrenching feeling of fear in your stomach when you awoke, but today was different. You were a little frightened, sure, but the core of the feeling wasn’t in your stomach, instead, it was in your chest. You had felt so painstakingly sad when you awoke. Was it a memory of an old friend?...  Who was it?  Almost immediately, a face came to mind. Involuntarily, your mind began to trail off into old memories. But you were not going to allow it to continue. You smacked the sides of your face with your hands, leaving a stinging pain on them as you slowly them.  Best not to get into that now. Otherwise, you didn’t think you'd be able to sleep once you returned to your room. 

 You forced a small smile onto your face, before pushing your palms against your desk, forcing yourself up. You stretched your arms behind your back, and letting out an obnoxious yawn. You grabbed your glasses, tenderly placing them into your dress pocket, and headed to the library doors, and back to your room.

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After you had returned to your room, you fell asleep pretty quickly, and when you woke up the next morning, you didn’t have any night terrors to note, which was of great relief. 

 Today Hange had some time off, which meant that your highly anticipated get together had finally arrived. You scurried around your room, preparing for the day. Today you guys had planned on going to get breakfast at a bakery in the city. Although you didn’t usually put much thought into your appearance, today, you wanted to look nice. You hadn’t gone out in months. You styled your hair more neatly than you normally might, and moved into the bathroom. You stood awkwardly in front of your mirror, tightly grasping the small makeup kit that your mother had gifted you some time ago. It was a small furnished wooden box, with a floral pattern carved into it. In it held a small tub of mascara and its brush, some facial powder, blush, a lip tint, and various make-up brushes, with carved metal handles.

 When you were younger, you had watched your mother put on make-up nearly every day before she went to work, peeking at her through the doorway.  When will I be able to do that?  You’d thought. You snickered at the memory. Now here you were, the long awaited day, and you had no idea what the hell to do. You gingerly picked up the biggest brush and dipped it into the powder, and began lightly dabbing it over your face. It didn't look anywhere near your color, but maybe it would make your face appear less oily if you only put a little bit on. When you were finished, you looked up into the mirror.  Pasty.  It made you look like a ghost. You scrubbed it off with some hot water. Next you dipped a smaller brush into the creamy lip tint, painting your bottom lip, and pressing your lips together to spread it to the top, leaving your lips looking rosy. It looked cute, you decided, so you moved on to the mascara, only brushing a little on to avoid it being too noticeable. Lastly, you put on the blush, lightly pressing the powder against your upper cheeks.  “Too much and you’ll look like a clown.”  That's what your mother had always said.  You gave yourself one last hard look in the mirror, evaluating yourself, and your face softened at the sight.  Pretty. 

You gave yourself a satisfied nod and left the bathroom, moving to your wardrobe. You had done some laundry yesterday, so today, you had more options. You picked out a white button up blouse with flowy sleeves, and a large ruffled forest green skirt to wear over it. After you put both on, you felt out around in the pocket of the skirt, and pulled out a matching bow that went with it, tying it around your collar. With that, you were ready, and you headed to your door. But right before you entered the hallway, you stopped, and turned around to look at your desk. On it was a small glass vial of rose water. You turned back and grabbed it from your desk, and rubbed a little on your wrists and neck. Now you were ready.

If your intuition was correct, Hange was probably still knocked out cold in their bed. The maniac insisted on staying up until ungodly hours of the night with their research, so they usually slept in when they had the opportunity. Because of this, you headed over to give them a little wake up call. They took about two seconds to get ready, so you wouldn’t be late if you woke them up right now. You walked across the now empty training field to the scouts barracks. It was much warmer than yesterday, which you were appreciative of. The sun shone brightly through the piecing white clouds, and there was a light breeze in the air. It truly was a lovely day to go out. Soon you had reached the barracks, coming to a halt.  What was their barrack number again...? You squeezed your eyes tightly shut as you tried to remember, rubbing your temples. After a while, you let out a heavy exhale. You couldn't remember, but at the very least, you thought it was on the right hand side, so you walked over, scanning the area, looking for anyone you could ask for help. After a while you settled on the only solution you could think of. You had a very general idea of where they might be, so you were just going to give every room in that area a little peeksie until you found them. Reluctantly, you headed to the first door.

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At this point, you had checked about five rooms, and you already felt drained socially from the few, short but awkward interactions you’d had. You stopped walking for a moment to gather yourself. You reached up to rub your eyes, but stopped yourself when you remembered you had mascara on. Ugh . Okay, there were only two doors left, and you were sure that it was between these two. If not, you would go back to your room, that crack pot could come get you instead. You inhaled deeply before grabbing the handle of the thin wooden door and pushing it open, and your eyes widened in surprise. Three heads immediately turned to face you. It was Isabel, Furlan, and Levi. They were standing in a circle, and they wore stoic expressions over their faces, even Isabel, who usually wore a bright smile. The atmosphere seemed tense. You made a dumb face (‘3’) as you inched backwards towards the exit.

 “Ah, sorry,” You said in a hushed tone, putting a hand up, “Well I’ll just excuse myself right no- ”

“OH IT’S YOU” Isabel exclaimed, tearing herself away from the group, running over to you. She grasped your hands tightly. Just like that, the stiff feeling from before was non existent. But you couldn’t help but wonder what they had been talking about before you had barged in. It made you uneasy.

“Good morning Isabel. I hope you slept well.”

“I did, I did! How are ya? Why are ya here?”

“Ah, I was looking for my friend, but I couldn’t remember what barrack number they were in.” You paused. ”Perhaps you could help me with that…?”

“Oh! Well maybe! What’s their na-”

“Well you just look lovely today” Furlan interrupted as he sauntered over to where you and Isabel stood, “What, do you have a date today? ”

“No I don- well,” You looked up for a moment “Well I guess I kind of do.” His face immediately dropped. A short silence fell over the room.

“Wait, really?” He asked, quietly.

“No, just messing around. Anyways,” You said, turning back to Isabel, who was giggling at your joke, “Could you help me out? I’m looking for someone named Hange.”

“Hange? Hange Zoe?” Levi asked from the back. 

You blinked, surprised that he had spoken out on his own accord. You looked at his face, and saw that it was painted with distaste.  Ah, I see how it is, you thought, smiling to yourself. Hange had that effect on people sometimes.

“Yes, Hange Zoe, we’ve been good friends for about 5 years now.” You replied. He scoffed.

“I don’t know who in their right mind would willingly spend time with that titan lunatic.” To his surprise, you let out a laugh at this.

“I honestly can’t blame you for thinking that” You said with a grin. Just imagining Levi and Hange interacting was a funny thought. He probably couldn’t stand them. He clicked his tongue before looking away from you.

“So you've been friends for a while?” Furlan interjected, now fully recovered from your jab earlier. “How long have you worked in the library?” He asked. You hummed.

“Maybe a little less than a year?” You guessed. He looked confused.

“Wait, so how have you-” Before he finished, you predicted his question.

“I used to serve as a Scout… but for obvious reasons, I can no longer continue on expeditions.”

“So it was an accident.” Isabel whispered, before quickly returning to her normal volume. “I was thinkin’ about that! What happened?” You shifted uncomfortably, but she didn’t seem to notice.

“I promise I’ll tell you another time Isabel, but I really need to get going now, could you please tell me where Hange is?” You said sweetly. You felt a twinge of guilt for having to brush her off.

“Oh! I’m sorry! I forgot” She said, sheepishly. "They should be two doors down.” You gave her a smile, before turning to the door.

“Thank you Isabel! I’ll be at the library later, so we can talk more there if you have the time!” She nodded vibrantly as you exited the room.

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“HANGE!” You shook their shoulders rapidly, jerking their head back and forth. They were drooling.  How lovely. You frowned. How could someone be such a deep sleeper? You sighed.

“Just know that I didn’t want to do this.” You whispered, as you pulled your hand back, and gave them a hard smack in the face. Their eyes flickered open.

“OW” They yelped, shooting up in their bed. “WHAT THE-” They looked up at your annoyed face, and their eyes lit up.

“Oh! It’s just you.” They said. You looked down at them defeatedly.

“Hange, we were supposed to go out today.” You whined. They had now slipped out of their bed, and were stretching their back, yawning. 

“There, there,” They said lovingly, patting your head. “I’ll be ready in a second.” You gave them a tired smile as they walked into their bathroom, closing the door behind them. While you waited, you sat yourself at their desk, looking through their research notes. Hange was pretty open with their research, so you knew that they wouldn’t mind. How do a titan vocal cords work? Was written sloppily at the top of the page. Soon enough, you were immersed in their work, eyes flicking back and forth over the pages. They were theorizing really fascinating stuff. Suddenly, Hange was standing behind you, and you turned your head in their direction.

“Ready?”

“Damn it!” They said, crossing their arms. “How did you know I was there? I know for a fact you can’t hear me,” You rolled your eyes. “And I was tip-toeing so you couldn’t feel my footsteps.”

You put their notes down, taking a breath.

“Would you like me to be honest?” You asked, cocking an eyebrow.

“Of course!”

“You smell.” You said flatly, getting up from the seat.

“Oh? Like what?” They asked excitedly. You thought for a moment before answering. 

“Dirt.” You replied. They frowned.

“Well that’s no good, is it?” They pouted, as you both headed towards the door.

“Perhaps if you showered more often.” 

“I don’t have time for that!” You let out a loud snort.

“Figured as much.”

Hange followed you out the door, and you guys walked back to the castle, chattering away as you made your way to the city.

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The walk though the city was fun. The King’s birthday was two days ago, and the high spirits from the festivities hadn’t completely died out yet. But unfortunately, you couldn’t enjoy it entirely. You found yourself getting tired quickly, taking heaving breaths as you kept up with Hange’s long legs.

“You really are out of shape aren't you? ” Hange teased, with a coy grin. You responded back with a deathly glare. 

“Oh my! How scary you are!”

“You sure are annoying, and I’m not out of shape, I’m just tired from yesterday.”

“Late night?” You nodded in response.

“Well it doesn’t matter, because we're here!” They spread their arms widely, presenting you with the bakery as if they’d built it from the ground up themselves. It looked really congested today, small crowds of people frantically moving in and out of the small door, the little bell at the top ringing over and over again. Suddenly, the scent of freshly baked bread wafted up your nose. You almost drooled. You quickly wiped your mouth before turning back to Hange. 

“It looks pretty busy today, so I’ll go in and order, just tell me what you want.” You told them, eyes flicking anxiously to the large crowd in front of you.

“Ah thanks! Well if that's the case could you get me two cheese rolls?” They chirped. You gave them a hard nod, and headed to the door, weaving your way through the mass. 

 You made your way the the counter, and ordered Hange’s cheese rolls, plus your own sweetbreads. You didn’t like to admit it, but you had a massive sweet tooth. You and the cashier exchanged polite smiles before you carried the stuffed paper bag out the door, which you had to kick open with your foot. You scanned the crowd, but you couldn’t see where Hange had wandered off to. You sighed, you didn’t want to do what you were about to do, but it’s not like you would be able to hear them if they called out to you. You sharply inhaled-

“HANGE! WHERE ARE YOU.” You shouted, voice cracking slightly. You felt your cheeks heat up as you saw people shooting you odd looks. Soon you saw a pair of hands waving above the crowd frantically, and the top of a brown head bobbing up and down, and you rushed over.

“There you are!” you breathed.

“Hey! Sorry, I got a little lost, but we can head over to sit now.”

You gave them a wide grin as the two of you headed over to a grassy area to sit and enjoy your bread.

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The sky was beginning to get dark. You and Hange had been talking for hours, the two of you had so much to catch up on, and even if you didn’t, you didn’t doubt that Hange would have had something to talk about. You were mostly listening to them chatter away, but you didn’t mind, you were more of a listener anyways, maybe that’s why you guys clicked so well. Eventually, the conversation wound up being about the new recruits.

“Have you met them yet?”

“Ah, yeah I did, Erwin sent them over to me so that I could put some information down for their records” They perked up at this, eyes wide.

“Did you find out anything cool out about them?” You shook your head.

“Jackshit.” They wilted a bit. 

“Why do you ask?” After you asked them this, you saw their face shift into a more serious one, one that you didn’t often see on them.

“Isabel and Furlan are insanely talented with their ODM, and they're both very physically fit, I can hardly believe that they were self taught.” They paused, before continuing, and lowered their voice.

 “That being said, Levi... he’s a monster. I have no idea how he can move the way that he does. When someone is using ODM, if you watch carefully, you can see the learned movements attained through years of training... but with him, it seems innate.” You stared at them. The way they talked about him, the look in their eyes as they did, it was nearly identical to how Erwin had a week ago. Was he really that extraordinary? You both went silent, laying together on the grass, until Hange let out a shriek and began rolling around, in a fit of giggles, causing you to gasp loudly.

“JEEZ WHAT’S  YOUR PROBLEM?” You shouted.

“AHH I JUST NEED TO KNOW MORE ABOUT HIM, I HAVE TO KNOW MORE ABOUT HIM, I NEED TO KNOW HOW HE TICKS, I'M SO CURIOUS IT’S KILLING ME.” They yelled. They were clutching their hair in their hands, and kicking up in the air. You rolled your eyes.

“Jeez, you’re such a creep!” you groaned. You stood yourself up and offered them your hand. They grabbed it and hoisted themselves up.

“We should get back to headquarters… it’s getting dark.” You said, and Hange nodded with a goofy looking smile on their face, and the two of you walked back to the castle.

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 When you returned to the castle, it was about seven thirty. You said your farewells to Hange, and the two of you headed in opposite directions. You were headed back to the library, but before you did, you wanted to go into the kitchen and grab yourself a cup of tea. You gushed silently to yourself as you walked through the dark castle, thinking about where you would be in about half an hour, in the library, cuddled up on a couch against a soft blanket, reading a good book, with your hot tea and mouthwatering sweet bread placed on the small table next to you. Quietly, you pushed open the doors to the kitchen, and set some water to boil. You moved over to the wooden cupboard, and held two tea cans up, debating with yourself over which one you wanted.  Green or Black? … Black today, and green tomorrow. You hummed, and placed the green tea back into the cupboard. Soon, your water was boiling, and you carefully poured it into the mug, and placed the tea bag in. You paced around in the dark kitchen while you waited for it to steep. When it was done, you slowly picked it up from the tea plate, and steadily walked back to the library so as to not spill it.

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Soon enough, you were exactly where you had imagined being half an hour ago, in the library, cuddled up on a couch against a soft blanket, reading a good book, with your hot tea and mouthwatering sweet bread placed on the small table next to you. You hummed happily to yourself as you turned the page. The story you were reading was about this mother and son who lived alone together. One day she picks up a missing person flier, and her son’s face is on the page. She goes to the Military Police, insisting that she has lived with her son for seven years, and that he’s perfectly safe, but everyone calls her crazy. It was a really gripping mystery... but you already knew how it ended. You’d read this book before. Rereading books gave you peace of mind, it felt like a sense of control, because you already knew how the story unfolded, nothing could surprise you.

 You put the book down, and you remembered that you still had some leftover sweet bread. You giggled happily to yourself as you pulled out a second piece of sweet bread from the crumpled paper bag. When was the last time you had a sweet treat like this? You took a large bite, and you got a taste of the tart strawberry jelly on the inside. In the process, some powdered sugar landed on your face.  Darn.  You got up to grab a napkin from your desk, and as you stood up, you finally noticed that Levi was standing in the library, staring at you. You stared back at him for a second before shooting your hand up at him, as if to tell him “Wait.” You looked down as you walked over to your desk, so that he wouldn’t see the probably stupid looking expression you were making.  Oh Lady of the Walls just kill me now.  His lips moved, but you didn’t focus in on time to catch what he’d said. You quickly wiped the sugar off your face with your handkerchief, flattened your skirt down, tucked your hair in behind your ears, and turned to face him, gluing a polite smile to your face, as if he hadn’t just witnessed you giggling over a pastry like a child. For the first time since you’d noticed him, you mustered up the courage to look him in the face. If he thought it was funny, he didn’t show it. If he thought you were disgusting, he didn’t show that, either. The indifferent expression he wore in his face that usually annoyed you now brought you comfort in the awkward situation. You cleared your throat, your face still feeling warm.

“So sorry I didn’t notice you before, Levi.” You hesitated. That was the first time you addressed him with his name. “Or would you prefer Mr.Ackerman?” 

“Levi is fine.”

”Very good, very good,” You said, chuckling nervously, “Well, what can I help you with?”

“Furlan wanted me to grab him a book...”

“Oh! Is there a reason Furlan couldn’t come himself?” Levi didn’t strike you as the type who would do Furlan a solid out of the kindness of his heart. Levi looked at you for a brief moment, as if he were analyzing you. He let out an exasperated sigh before continuing.

“The idiot was fucking around with the ODM gear and he busted himself up pretty bad.” Your brow furrowed with concern.

“Is he alright?”

“Yeah he's fine, he just needs to rest tomorrow.” He replied shortly.

“Oh, well that’s very good to hear! Now what type of book was he looking for?”

“He said he wanted one called ‘The Dead Man's Tree ’.” Your eyes brightened.

“Oh! I know that one! It’s a lovely horror...but I’m not entirely sure that we have it here... but I can check the catalog.” You said as you scurried over to your desk, pulling out a large binder, and dropping it on your desk with a thump. You sat back down.  Section D…. Da..De…Ah, there’s Dead. Dead Eye...

Dead in the Crossfire, Oh there it is, Dead Man’s Tree!  

 “Turns out we do have it! If you go to the fourth bookshelf on the right side, that would be the mystery section, and then, it would be under the ‘D’ section.” You told him, not looking up from the binder. Now that you were looking at it, it was seriously outdated.  Shit.  You needed to update it. You grabbed a pen, and reluctantly began going through the titles, crossing out things that you knew didn’t exist on the shelves. Suddenly, a bony finger lightly tapped on the page you were working on, and you looked up to see Levi standing over you, your heart stopped.  He smells good...Oh please shut up. Although you were used to people getting close to you to capture your attention, this felt awkward. You looked up at him, offering a stiff smile.

“S-sorry, did you say something?”

“Even if you are deaf, you need to pay more attention to your surroundings, this is getting annoying.” He said in a low voice, and your face flushed again.  Ass.

“Duly noted.” You said quietly. “But did you need something?”

His face shifted slightly, and he looked a little...apprehensive?

“Where did you say the book was again?”

“Ah, sorry if you didn't hear me, It would be on the fourth shelf, in the ‘D’ section.” You answered, while pointing to the general direction of it with your finger. He turned his face to the side and said something. You frowned.

“If you said something to me right now, I do need to be able to see your lips when you speak.”

He gave you a hard stare. How frightening.

“I asked if you could show me where this book is.”

“Oh… well do you wanna go check for yourself first?”

“No.” The polite smile on your mouth twitched faintly. Can your stubby little legs not carry you that far?  

“Well I suppose I could go grab it for you.” You said, feigning kindness. “Just follow me.” He nodded.

You guided him over to the mystery section, trailing your finger along the book spines as you walked, until you reached the ‘D’ section.

“Should be here.” You said, as you turned back around to face him. And there it was again, that look of sullen apprehension as he gazed at the books. You peeked at the area he was looking at, and you saw it, 'The Dead Man’s Tree' . You were about to point it out to him, but you stopped yourself. It was right there, so why wasn’t he grabbing it? He was looking straight at it, but his eyes seemed to glaze right over it. Then, something clicked in your brain. Suddenly, a question came to mind. Something that you probably shouldn’t ask out loud.

“Levi… Do you know how to read?”  Shit.

He shot daggers at you with his glare. Before you knew it, he'd snatched a random book off the shelf and was walking briskly to the door. You hastily grabbed ' The Dead Man’s Tree' from the shelf and began to follow him.

“W-wait! That’s the wrong book, I-it’s fine if you-”

He shot you one last nasty glare. A shiver ran up your spine.  He's really pissed.

“Shut the hell up!” He snapped back, and he slammed the large door behind him. An eerie silence filled the library after he left.

Did I fuck up?

author note: heres the link to my ao3 if u wanna read more ! 

https://archiveofourown.org/works/30083745

[aidenssanctuary-blog]

What Happened To Me Labor-day Weekend 2017

I was baby sitting the animals while my mother, step father and brother went to the camp grounds to enjoy the possible last bit of warm weather we were gonna have the rest of the season. This was fine, even though I much rather go camping I chose to stay home. Upon doing this I made the worst mistake of my life…

I am married. I am in a open-marriage, it’s something we both wanted. We love each other, and we have fun with other people as a couple. Like…swingers, only we develop a relationship or caring for our partners. We don’t just fuck around. If that’s how you live, you do you. I am not here to judge. But this is an important part of my story, so keep this in mind the more you read. I am also trans. Male pronouns preferred, though I am more of a gender fluent person, but 95% I am masculine AF. I’m a beef cake! …Okay, more of a pound cake. BUT STILL. 

This also plays an importance in my story.

So, most of our friends know we like making a connection with other people and cuddle, kiss, sex, you get the picture. So this wasn’t anything new to them. On Saturday I was talking to my (ex) friend about how badly I wanted Taco Bell. Like I would let him rub his knob on my feet (Because that’s what he liked) for soft tacos. He asked if I was serious, and I shrugged and said “Yeah, sure.” Because I just got off my period. And because of that I was craving foods like that, but was broke at the time.

I would have asked to borrow money from my husband if he called me that Saturday like he usually does. My husband was in Basic Training for the army when this happened. I get a call every Saturday, but since he was given the chance to call Sunday instead he chose to work out. I am in no way putting blame on him. This was my fault. Well, it wasn’t. But in a way it was.

I get my soft tacos, and I hang out with him, and two other friends at my house and we were all having a fun time. I got my fur babies, two ferrets named Frits and Apollo out and we played with them. My cat, Milo, came and joined us too. It was all great! Which is why…what happened next was so shocking and disturbing to me…

Trigger Warning: If you cannot handle rape situations please skip the next paragraph.

Our friends left, and he was gonna get his rocks off and go home. He knew we were open, but we had to make a connection. Since I knew this person for so long since we were young teens I didn’t see the harm, and we’ve allowed him to use my feet before to get his jolly’s off. I was laying on my stomach texting my friends before our two friends left my house. That was fine. No big deal. He does his thing, and I am texting away like nothings happening. He wanted my tights off. They were getting in the way. I told him they were staying on. But he tried pulling my shorts off to remove them. I told him the answer was no, so he kinda huffed, even if he didn’t mean to I heard the huff as he went back to his thing. I went back to texting. Not even five minutes later I feel my shorts being tugged off again. Now I am very insecure about my body. I have dysphoria  with almost every part of me… My butt, my chest, my face, everything. So I got very defensive. Quickly I turned my head back and told him NO. Very firmly. He said he just wanted to “look”. I told him not even my husband gets to look. That’s how uncomfortable I was getting. But I have a hard time telling people to leave me alone, or go away. My anxiety flares up and I feel bad for making them feel bad. Looking back at what he did now though I wish I made him leave, because I shouldn’t have felt bad for being uncomfortable… I pull them up again, couple seconds later they go down a smidge. I am annoyed by this point and a little worried. I told him no again, and he said he wanted to just grind against my ass. I didn’t..know what to say. I didn’t want it. How many times did I have to tell him no and pull up my shirts? I paniced. I felt anxiety flood me. I was shaking and frozen at the same time. I blacked out a little bit. Next thing I know… Next thing I know he’s…inside me… violating me.. Just.. inside my special place where he didn’t belong! I think it lasted no more than 2 minutes. He couldn’t keep it in or get it in fully I guess? So he tried pulling my hips up in a downward doggy style? “Face down, ass up”? I don’t know the actual name. But when he did this I finally snapped out of it. I said NO. I pulled up my shorts. I got up off the floor, and I sat myself in my computer chair and told him. “You can’t do that. I am with Allen. I am getting married. You can’t do this.” I didn’t make eye contact. I was holding back tears. After that I faked being tired and needing a shower so he’d leave… He did after about 15 minutes of hearing him ask me. “Was I big enough?” I was disgusted. How could you ask me that?

After he left I balled my house out and called my husband… I knew he didn’t have his phone, not until the next day but he needed to know everything. I left a 6 minute long message on his cell of mostly me crying. Telling him I was sorry. Telling him I felt dirty and didn’t deserve him. How I was violated. How I froze up. How I didn’t know what to do. How he didn’t wear a condom. I was so scared of everything! The next day he called me, and didn’t get the voicemail. Or at least he didn’t listen to it yet… He noticed something was wrong so I asked him if he checked his phone before calling me? He said no. So I told him what happened. He was so shocked. He asked if I was kidding, or if he misheard me.

Now the thing about my attacker is I’ve known him since I was 17. I am turning 27 in the next few days… My husband signed for his release from the army. Begged me to get a rape kit done. I did. Even though I didn’t want to alone. I still have the hospital pictures… My medical forms. Everything. I even kept my hospital bracelet just so I can remember that it doesn’t matter how long or how well you’ve known someone they can still betray you. Three failed attempts at getting my blood drawn. A HIV Prevention shot in the ass, and multiple STD pills later, plus a pregnancy test and Plan B. I am finally released from the hospital with a clean bill of Health. I was offered therapists, but I couldn’t afford them… I kept the Day One pamphlet too… I am also in cripling debt with the hospital and get a reminder every month to pay off my hospital bill. But I can’t afford it with the current check I make. I make $700 a month. $200 goes to mom for rent. $300 is used on bills, like phone, monthly bus pass, pet food, hygienic supplies and so on. Leaving me with roughly $200 to give to the hospital. This doesn’t include feeling myself. I’ve been skipping meals since this happened. I still do to this day. 

My husband is finally getting released soon to help me through this, because of this ordeal and our mutual friends I lost everyone, but two people. My best friend Jae, and my husband. Everyone else “didn’t wanna choose sides” even though he admitted to them and me what he did. I still have the screen caps of him admitting what he did to me, and apologizing for being scum.

The day after it happened my mother came home. I avoided his phone calls, texts, and facebook messages all together. I was called about 34 times in one day. I told my mother not to let him in NO MATTER WHAT if he came over. I was so scared of him coming over, and she still doesn’t know why. I just told her we weren’t friends anymore. It really baffled her. I am still having a hard time telling my mother that the man who stood up for me against 20 kids watching 3 girls beat me up after school. How the same man who came over at 2 am to comfort me during a hard time in my relationship and then walked 3 hours home in the rain that same night, AND went to work the next day just to make sure I was okay, raped me. How do you tell your mother that? How do you tell your mom that one of your friends she liked so much, thought was amazing just like you did, and trusted as much as you did…just how do you tell your mom not everyone is as good as they seem?

I’ve been living with this secret for so long, and finally I get to let it off my chest. It’s been a long 3.5 months. A long, lonely, self loathing, apathetic, miserable time in my life… 

I let my hair grow out. I bleached my bangs. I thought I needed makeup to hide how ugly I felt because I was violated. I stopped drawing. I am…was.. a freelance artist part time to my security job. But since then I was unable to pick up my tablet and draw. I refunded almost everyone. I stopped eating and couldn’t sleep. I couldn’t even sketch vent art on lined paper. I was so lost and alone… I went through a gender identity crisis. Was I a man or a woman? Should I wear my hair long or short? Who am I? 

But then one of my favorite youtubers started posting speed paints again. It inspired me. I watched all their old videos again. It inspired me. I started role playing again with my friends. I socialized on social media more. I then started drawing on my sketchbook, and now finally after 3 long months I picked up my tablet and drew something for myself. It wasn’t great and I am still re-mastering a tablet again. But I feel better and it’s all thanks to him, and the support of my husband and best friend Jae.

I long so badly to tell my crush what they did for me. I am looking for nothing romantic between them. Yet my heart flutters when I see them post something, or when I see new art work on DA. But it’s nothing I want to act upon. I am still healing mentally and am not ready to open our relationship to other people after that. Maybe in the future but just not right now… For now I am still working on me. Thank you all for the support, and thank you for reading my story. I kept this in for so long and finally it’s time for me to stop thinking this is my fault and let it all out. During this whole Fiasco I was blaming myself. Protecting my attacker. Even though I refuse to talk to him and I'm no longer friends with him I tried to make it seem as if it was my fault somehow. Or that it was something I did. But looking back now I realize how stupid that was of me to think that way. This is not my fault. I said no more than once. I've been going through a vicious cycle of being strong than being completely weak when it comes to what happened. But now I'm strong enough to know that it was not my fault. That I did all that I could to stop it. Anyways that's all that I've got to say for now.

-Aiden S.

[consumatesurvivor]

Would You Recognize Domestic Abuse?

Helpguide.org has an article titled Domestic Violence and Abuse Recognizing the Signs of an Abusive Relationship and Getting Help.  I urge everyone to read it, or any like it, just to make sure you're aware of what is an abusive relationship.  I went through the questions and thought I'd share them and why I dismissed some and shouldn't have.  I wasn't naïve about abusive relationships, but I did compare mine with others who were in a much more physically violent relationships and that was wrong.  I'm sure there are others in similar situations that need to get out but they aren't fully there to accepting it.  Maybe this can help someone.

Do you feel afraid of your partner much of the time?  This was a no for me because I understood feeling afraid as being afraid of being hit.  In fact I was afraid of being yelled at and getting into a fight most of the time.  I was constantly afraid I'd do something to upset him.  So while I said no, the real answer was yes because I was walking on eggshells around him.

Do you avoid certain topics out of fear of angering your partner?  Big yes on this one.  I knew that unless something didn't pertain to exactly what he was doing right then and there he would scream at me if I spoke to him.  I knew any talk of the news would trigger a fight.  I knew any talk of anything I was interested would trigger a fight.  Most of the time I knew that by saying "Hi" it would trigger a fight.  Even in the beginning I knew of some things I needed to stay away from because of his reactions.  

Do you feel that you can't do anything right for your partner?  This was another big yes.  In the beginning it was small things a few weeks ago it was bigger things.  He yelled at me so much and got so nasty when I attempted to cook myself spaghetti that I stopped eating to avoid being yelled at.  I would only get one meal a day as it was, but I stopped eating after that huge fight over the time it took to cook spaghetti, the only food in the kitchen for me to have.  When I didn't eat he yelled at me for not eating.  When I said there was nothing easy to eat he screamed about going to the store, but he didn't go.  When I said I would go he yell at me.  Then he yelled at me for going to the store when he finally went.  When I said I'd order groceries for myself and have them delivered, he yelled at me and strictly prohibited it.  He gave excuses for everything.  But no matter what, I couldn't do right.  

Do you believe that you deserve to be hurt or mistreated?  No.  I never believed I should be treated that way.  He did however.  It was a reoccurring fight of ours.  I believed I deserved common courtesy and he believed I didn't deserve that or any effort into being nice to me.  He firmly believed I was only owed being treated like crap because anything else would mean he was a itch with the b or a doormat.

Do you wonder if you’re the one who is crazy?  Yes.  All the time.  He'd read psychology textbooks and twist what was said and try to use it against me.  I know I have my own issues and while some times he really missed the mark, other times he really made me doubt myself.  He tried to convince me that I was the one who was abusive to him.  He actually accused his last girlfriend of it and now I really wonder about all his accusations about her.

Do you feel emotionally numb or helpless?  Yes.  There was no way I could change the situation.  I would try to reason with him but just fail.  When I got through to him and he eased up the next morning he'd be mad again and accuse me of manipulating him.  I had no light at the end of the tunnel.  I had no way out.  I just lived each day as it was and hoped for the best for that day.  When I went to bed I didn't care if I even woke up the next morning.

Does your partner humiliate or yell at you?  The humiliation is a hard one.  He yelled at me more than anything else.  The humiliation didn't come until recently.  He would "tease" me and those things hurt.  I thought it was just part of his joking sense of humor.  But I think that was part of my blinders.  He makes fun of that which he doesn't like.  He's very anti-American.  At his core he hopes the whole country goes up in flames.  I didn't realize this at first.  He was always joking about America and if I got upset when he crossed a line he would blame me for being too sensitive (an American trait as he'd say).  It wasn't until I was into the marriage for a while that I realized his teases and jokes like that were only focused on that which he hated.  So I think I had blinders on when he made fun of me.  

Does your partner criticize you and put you down?  Yes.  Especially in the last year it's been more than anything nice he's ever done.  During our last few fights he said some of the worst things ever imaginable.  I remember a fight months and months ago where I told him he was crossing a huge line and he said he wasn't.  Even when I told him he was meaner and said things worse than the elementary school bullies ever did, he didn't care.  He loved to put me down.

Does your partner treat you so badly that you’re embarrassed for your friends or family to see?  Yes.  Not that they would see it.  But I remember calling my Mom and him throwing a fit.  We had one phone in the apartment and it was on his desk.  In order to call my Mom he would have to be displaced.  I rarely called her when he was home.  In fact I can count on one hand how many times I used the phone while he was here in the entire 5 years I was married to him and have fingers left over.  I would call my mom when he was gone in the evening with friends, which happened in the summers only.  The last time I tried when he was there was years ago and he was being so whiny about it that I had to explain to my mother his reaction.  I sugar coated it by saying he'd feel bad later and we'd laugh it off.  It was true, but only in the first two years did he feel bad and say it.  After that if he felt bad he'd take it out on me instead of admit he was wrong.  The laughing was to diffuse so he wouldn't turn angry.  I didn't find it funny.  I found it scary actually.  I knew then he was limiting my ability at communication with the outside world.

Does your partner ignore or put down your opinions or accomplishments?  Yes.  My degree is meaningless in his eyes because it doesn't compare to his.  Graduating with honors was meaningless because it was just a stupid fake US university.  My writing is meaningless because well… I did it and not him.  I could go on and on.  He would challenge every opinion I had and argue them even when they were the same as his.  My opinions were meaningless because I didn't read the same books as he did so he said.  He never cared what I thought unless he was testing me.  Then I'd always fail in his eyes.  Even when I got the proof to back it up it was still meaningless.

Does your partner blame you for their own abusive behavior?  Yes.  I was playing the victim.  I was manipulating him.  He wasn't stopping me from doing anything I was just being lazy and blaming it on him.  I was "a mental case."  I didn't deserve politeness because I once laughed at him or stole mail or insert other weird random thing he made up on the spot.  I was actually the abuser and he was afraid of me.

Does your partner see you as property or a sex object, rather than as a person?  He didn't view me as a person, that's for sure.  But I'm not sure it was as property.  It was more like the enemy.  He never cared about me during sex.  There was no emotion to it or tenderness at all.  It was all about getting him off and if it hurt me who cares.  I refused sex the last two times he asked.  This was something he threw in my face recently screaming about how he was in a sexless marriage.  Yeah so asking me twice in the last three years, once when I had a pulled muscle in my back or I probably would have said yes just to get him to leave me alone, was his reason he hated me.  He did say he liked porn better because it didn't require negotiation and communication.  (I'm going to add something here.  I'm rereading this and I realize he did treat me as property, but he did it in a joking way at first.  He actually used to joke about chaining me to the kitchen to prevent me from leaving.  It was a joke.  But it wasn't a joke because that's what he did only to the bedroom.  There was no chain, but I bet if he could have gotten away with it he would have done it.)

Does your partner have a bad and unpredictable temper?  Yes.  You never know when he will get angry.  He got so angry with me shortly after we were married because I suggested he get a starter fishing kit.  He used to fish and loved it.  His mother threw away his stuff because she was tired of it at her place.  Because I suggested getting new stuff he yelled at me and berated me for the idea because he was upset at his mother.  When his brother mentioned it then it was a great idea.  He had a very unpredictable temper and he could even resort to breaking or kicking things in his rages.

Does your partner hurt you, or threaten to hurt or kill you?  The last fight we had he screamed, "I'm going to kill you now."  It was after the second time he was physically abusive to me in the fight and he was preventing me from calling the police.  Until that fight I would have answered no to physically hurting me or threatening me.

Does your partner threaten to take your children away or harm them?  I have no kids.  So silver lining in that although I wouldn't have stayed with him if we had kids and I wouldn't have moved in with him if I had kids previously.

Does your partner threaten to commit suicide if you leave?  No.

Does your partner force you to have sex?  No.

Does your partner destroy your belongings?  Yes he has although he doesn't target them.  He just breaks anything in his path.  I've learned about his anger so I have tried to keep my things separate just in case and those that mean the most to me were packed away.

Does your partner act excessively jealous and possessive?  Yes, but he wasn't with me because I was trapped in the bedroom.  He broke up with his ex because she was cheating on him.  Well… he claims she was.  She called a friend of hers by a meme and he said that was proof she was cheating.  He just had no clue what a meme was or that the honey badger thing was a meme.  But he was always worried about it with her.  Since he was the only person she'd ever been with I doubt she was cheating.  He was cheating on her though with several people and many prostitutes.

Does your partner control where you go or what you do?  Yes.  Just, yes.

Does your partner keep you from seeing your friends or family?  Yes.

Does your partner limit your access to money, the phone, or the car?  Yes.  We didn't have a car, but I had no access to the home phone, no cell phone, he wouldn't allow me to spend my money, and he wouldn't spend his money on me.  It wasn't like that in the beginning with the money though.  It got worse over time to the point where he wouldn't allow me to buy my own groceries with my own money.

Does your partner constantly check up on you? Yes.  Even thought I was in the bedroom he'd come in and see what I was doing and yell at me if I wasn't writing.  Even if I was researching something I was writing about he'd yell at me for it.

There are a lot more yeses in there than I had originally thought there would be.  I would rationalize and diminish some of them because I was using his excuses to justify the behavior.  In fact that's a tactic of abusers, denial and blame.  I allowed him to treat me horribly in the beginning of our relationship because of this.  It was a huge red flag I didn't see and didn't know back then.  I knew what he was doing was wrong, but not how he handled it afterwards.  Maybe if I did I would have changed the course of my life.  

According to the article the tactics an abuser will use include, dominance, humiliation, isolation, threats, intimidation, and denial and blame.  My husband used so many of these over me.  I should have seen this from the start because he did start in on me in the beginning.  I couldn't see it and I don't know why.  No one else who I was close to at that time pointed it out to me either.  The closest I got was once my mother said she was worried I'd get hurt.  I had a friend who should have known all about this because of her degree, but she didn't say anything or she didn't recognize it.  If I didn't, why should she?  We should all know about abusive relationships even if it's to spot on our friend is in.  

People who are being abused may seem afraid or anxious to please their partner, may go along with everything their partner says and does, may check in often with their partner to report where they are and what they're doing, may receive frequent, harassing phone calls from their partner, and may talk about their partner's temper, jealousy, or possessiveness.

People who are being physically abused may have frequent injuries, with the excuse of “accidents,” frequently miss work, school, or social occasions, without explanation, dress in clothing designed to hide bruises or scars (e.g. wearing long sleeves in the summer or sunglasses indoors.)

People who are being isolated by their abuser may be restricted from seeing family and friends, rarely go out in public without their partner, have limited access to money, credit cards, or the car.

People who are being abused may have very low self-esteem, even if they used to be confident, show major personality changes (e.g. an outgoing person becomes withdrawn), be depressed, anxious, or suicidal.

I always felt I wouldn't put up with an abusive spouse.  But I did for years.  They don't start off completely controlling and abusive, it starts small and slow and they work you into a situation where you're stuck and you're fully enmeshed into this horribly abusive situation.  Your confidence and self-esteem are shattered.  You blame yourself.  You feel ashamed and embarrassed.  When you want out you can't find a way to go.  You feel completely and totally trapped.  What I needed more than anything was a way out.  If I knew I had people who would help me, I would have left years ago.  I didn't think I had that.  I didn't think I had that until my mother told me I needed to come home and live with her to get back on my feet.  

If you're in an abusive relationship, reach out to your friends and family even if you haven't spoken to them in years.  Call the domestic abuse hotlines and talk to someone about your situation and find out what you can do.  If you have a friend you think is in an abusive relationship, reach out and let them know that no matter what you'll be there for them and help them whenever or if ever they need it.