#i just have to stop being torched alive first

[ratcandy]

i have had to write so many emails and make so many phone calls this week . you guys can't even begin to perceive my amount of horrors

[the-modern-typewriter]

Weapon. They needed a weapon. Unfortunately, all they could come up with was an ancient torchstick that wasn't even on fire.

They hefted up the torch anyway, heart trapped somewhere in their throat, and backed up another step.

Three of the undead lurched towards them. They had the swords, the bastards. They were probably actual fighters too, once, not little idiots who should have died before ever being dragged to this nightmare place.

Maybe they'd get lucky. Maybe the torch would be sufficiently stake-like.

Given the terrible slurping noises the protagonist had heard behind them as they scrambled out of the ancient temple, the screaming that went quiet, they didn't think they'd get lucky. Maybe it was karma.

"Careful now," came a voice. Less raspy, more silken, more alive - but not one that the protagonist recognised. "If you back up any further, you're going to tumble right off the cliff. And wouldn't that be a waste?"

The protagonist didn't dare glance behind them to check if it was true, but they couldn't stop their attention from flicking up.

The beautiful stranger lounged a top of the great door, hastily locked again, watching. They waggled their fingers in a 'hi'.

Maybe falling off a cliff wouldn't be so bad, given the alternative. The protagonist still didn't want to die. Stupidly, they didn't want to die.

The undead lunged for the protagonist's throat.

The protagonist swung the torch wildly. It impacted. It just...didn't do anything. It would have at least winded and doubled over an actual person. But the undead...

The stranger leapt down, landing cat-like in the fray. They had none of the frantic movements of some of the lesser undead; ravenous and rabid.

They clicked their tongue and the undead all stopped, eyeing the two of them warily. They skittered back from the stranger.

The stranger pulled the sword from their own belt and offered it, hilt first, to the protagonist.

"Duel wield?" they offered. "Bit more of a fair fight."

It wasn't remotely, but the protagonist would still take it, with trembling fingers.

The stranger smiled at them. all sharp teeth and searing crimson eyes. They bowed their head. Then they stepped smartly out of the way again and the undead once more advanced.

It went a little better with an actual sword. The three undead were - if not dead - no longer capable of mauling the protagonist's throat. It wasn't good enough.

The protagonist crumbled to their knees, gasping in pain. They clutched the sword loosely in their hand. They touched a hand to their shoulder. Bloodied. Burdened with teeth marks. Their vision swam.

The stranger stopped in front of them, still smiling.

The great door rumbled with the force of bodies slamming against it, trying to get out. The protagonist very much doubted anyone in there was still alive in the traditional sense.

"This is fitting," the stranger said, gesturing at them. "I like this."

Dizzy, the protagonist lurched off their knees and lunged again, as clumsy as the undead had been. They certainly couldn't just wait to die.

The stranger merely stepped aside and let the protagonist stagger a step, before swiping their legs out from beneath them.

The protagonist hit the ground hard. The sword clattered out of their hand. The stranger plucked it up, tucking it neatly back into their holster.

"Who are you?" the protagonist managed. They began to push themselves up again.

"You woke me up. In the temple."

The protagonist swore quietly. "Yeah - about that -"

"-I thought the prophesied one would be a better fighter. Less willing to spill their magical blood. You are them, aren't you?"

"No."

The stranger laughed softly, delighted, and grabbed the back of the protagonist's neck, like scruffing a misbehaving kitten. "You're pathetic." They sounded entirely too endeared by this fact. "Come on." They dragged the protagonist bodily away from the cliff edge, past the bodies of the undead, back towards the terrible, terrible door.

The protagonist thrashed.

Predictably, it did no good. In fact, it did the precise opposite as they left blood in the dirt and the three bloody undead began to heal before their eyes.

The stranger deposited them with startling gentleness on their knees again. They stroked their fingers through the protagonist's hair, taking a moment to calm them, all soothing noises and shushing sounds. The other arm hooked around the protagonist's throat, cradling them securely against them. Trapped.

The two of them looked at the door.

The protagonist could still hear the undead behind it. They wailed and clawed - nothing like the figure behind them.

The other undead kneeled in a circle around them and the stranger. The protagonist didn't like the way they looked at the stranger - like they were everything, like they were god. It was far more lucid than they had been before. They looked less zombie-like too. More real.

"Don't do this," the protagonist said into the silence. "Please don't do this."

They already knew what would happen if they touched their blood to that door again.

"Our people are hungry," the stranger replied. "They have spent so long in the dark and the slumber, waiting for you. You can't abandon them now. We can't abandon them now."

The protagonist shook their head. They wanted to say something daring and clever, but there was a whimper caught in their windpipe.

"It's not so bad." The stranger held them a little tighter. "You're going to help them. They won't be quite so brain dead once they've had a bit of you. They won't slaughter everyone."

"Just most people?" It came out choked.

"Depends entirely on if most people are willing to accept my rule, my saviour."

"I'm not - I didn't - I didn't want any of this."

A week ago, they hadn't even known.

"I know," the stranger murmured. "I know you didn't. Children of fate rarely do. That's why their hands must be forced by destiny."

"My hands were forced by cultists."

The stranger shrugged. "Destiny takes many forms."

"You killed them. Let them-"

"-My people were very hungry. Who was I to deny them? Besides." The stranger bowed their head, so their lips brushed the top of the protagonist's head. "They hurt you."

"You hurt me. Your people-"

"I wouldn't have let them get too rough. I just wanted to see what you could do. I don't think anyone expected you to escape the temple and seal the doors again in the first place. Lucky I was around!"

Lucky was not the word that the protagonist would have used.

"Just reach out a hand," the stranger murmured. "And all this can be over. You will be a hero."

"To the undead."

"To what is yours. To what you belong to."

Maybe it made no difference in the grand scheme of apocalypse, but the protagonist didn't reach out a hand that time. They expected the stranger to bark out an order, for the undead to wrench their palm forward and bleed them like the cultists had. A lamb on an altar.

The silence stretched.

The stranger couldn't make them.

The realisation struck the protagonist heady, impossibly light-headed with hope. They didn't understand why, or how, or much of any of the horror. But if the stranger could make them, they would have already done so.

The protagonist laughed. Wild. Delirious. Their head tipped back against the stranger's chest.

"They suffer in there," the stranger said. Less amused. More quiet. "They are trapped. Help them."

"No."

"This is what you were made for. Promised for."

"Then maybe," the protagonist said, "destiny should have asked for my opinion first."

"Please," the stranger said, and the protagonist didn't know what to do with that. "Please."

It didn't make sense. None of it made sense. That begging wasn't how the story went, was it? Ancient evil didn't beg.

"No," the protagonist said, a little softer. "Sorry."

The stranger let go.

The protagonist crumbled, gasping, on the door stop.

"Then I suppose." The stranger stepped up to the door, pressing a longing hand against the stone. "We're doing this the hard way."

[doctorbunny]

The Jackalope Guide [spoilers for both novels]

I skimmed through the first manga, second novel, side S/W and my memories so hopefully I've not forgotten anything important [text version under cut]

Jackalopes of MILGRAM:

Novel 1

Female/described as having a "woman's voice"

Uses atashi/アタシ pronoun (pretty bog standard feminine pronoun)

Goes by "Jacka"

Requests Es call her a jackalope and not a rabbit [note: there is a Jp equivalent of the phrase "flying pig" 亀毛兎角 kimoutokaku "turtles with fur, rabbits with horns" referring to something impossible, this phrase may be linked to jackalopes]

Newer at her job (compared to other Jackalopes in the series)

Works from a branch office of MILGRAM HQ (reports back to her boss remotely via big TV)

Sadist who enjoys human bloodshed (at one point even giving a stressed out Nervous a box cutter to self harm with, just like the kind she used to use, so Sumi could see who )

Likes organising MILGRAMs with "aesthetic" (IE all of Sumi's prisoners being involved in her death)

In order to prevent information being spoiled too early uses powers to stop the prisoners breathing until they stop trying to talk

Accidentally allows Twoside to give away information too early, spoiling her own MILGRAM

Her and her MILGRAM considered failures (punishable by purging)

Her 'vessel' is chained up by another jackalope (probably youtube jackalope) at the end of the novel then purged but the person was able to escape (because she was in the Branch Office)

Current location/situation unknown (but said to be alive)

Novel 2

Male/described as having a "young man's voice"

Uses jibun/自分 pronoun (slightly unusual as a main pronoun feels kind of soldier-like)

Also goes by "Jacka"

Has run many successful MILGRAMs in the past (allowed to take risks like Torch being the Es of Novel 2)

Works at MILGRAM HQ

Takes smoke breaks after trials

Talks to boss during smoke breaks

Boss is probably Youtube Jackalope

Hates bloodshed and doesn't care about the aesthetics or drama of a MILGRAM

When Tatsumi tried to kill Torch, Jacka retaliates by using his powers to take control of Tatsumi's body and make him strangle himself

He stops when Tatsumi passes out/Torch says he doesn't want Tatsumi to die, but if not for Torch, Jacka would've killed him

Hates his job/boss

Relieved to hear that Jacka1 escaped purging

Despite working at milgram for many years, did not know there was a branch office

At the end of the novel he defects from MILGRAM, forming a collaboration with Torch and showing/taking him through the secret exit

Asks Torch how he'd feel if someone he loved was judged guilty by MILGRAM (possibly implied to be something that happened to him?)

Youtube

Male/"Speaks arrogantly"

Uses Ore-sama/オレ様 (comically self important)

Internal monologue in Side W/S uses watashi/私 (significantly less arrogant)

Only goes by Jackalope

Insulted if you call him a rabbit

Appears at the end of the first novel to punish Jacka/judge Sumi

Appears during second novel's post-trial smoke breaks (human form in milgram HQ)

Was the one to approve Torch being a guard even though he didn't think it was a good idea

Hates smoking and asks Jacka2 to not do it

Highly values the aesthetic/elegance of a MILGRAM

Wants a "pure" milgram with the fewest possible distractions in the judgement of sin

Used the same kind of memory erasure on Es that Jacka1 used on everyone

Believes Es needs to trust him for MILGRAM to work

Probably responsible for Es' barrier (the 'hypnosis' lines up with other jackalope's mind/body controlling)

Views end of 2nd novel as the worst event in milgram history

Cooks the food for the prisoners (sheds lots of fur)

[ganondoodle]

totk rewritten (for me, specifically)

since i dont have time to get to drawing it right away AND im worried people might take this the wrong way, i thought i could write out some bullet points about my rewrite of totk (meant as a fix FOR ME not saying its inherently better) to give you a better idea on what im going for:

the core structure largely remains the same, the biggest change is no time travel, thus making zelda your travel companion, and zonau tech being lagerly gone/broken with shiekah tech instead

it is not shown but said in dialog that shiekah tech, such as the ancient furnaces, shrines and towers are either turning off or have flickering power supply and purah having calculated that all their connections point towards beneath hyrule castle

game starts pretty much the same as real totk, most zonau ruins are so withered away that they are barely recognizable and the further you get down theres more and more shiekah tech pipes and occasional a miasma vein, some pipes are broken and spill miasma, others flicker

instead of the room with the wall carvings theres one with old ancient shiekah research remains, old broken tech and prototypes you dont what their purpose was, all documents are too withered to read but zelda finds one that was sealed in a container and takes it with her (she got a backpack now)

theres a structure similar to the bed thingy of the shrine of life from botw but its working in reverse; within it is sealed ganondorf (i gotta work out the details around it still)

(details still missing) it breaks and zelda takes the enigma stone but doesnt touch it directly and puts it within a sealed container (you know kinda like you should do with soemthing you have no idea of what it is and was alsO LOCATED ON A CORPSE)

ganondorf isnt the elegantly talking villain type in this version but more of a mess, talking in different languages both modern and ancient but you cant make out any clear sentences, struggeling with suddendly being awake and half alive after spending thousands of years in an agonizing limbo, having witnessed every second of the passage of time yet also it feeling like everything just happened all at the same time

the ground breaks as he recognizes zelda (bc of her fighting calamity ganon in botw) but also not really, still sees her as a threat (also bc of the enigma stone in the container she still has in her hand) attacks her, link deflects with the master sword, it breaks and damages his arm, zelda drops her torch and pulls link away towards where they came in from and both run as the caves fill up with miasma like a flood with arms starting to reach after them while they both run back through the tunnels (creepy chase sequence anyone?)

cataclysm happens (ground breaks, miasma bursts out of the ground, especially where shrines and towers where since they were still connected to the pipelines) ground shifts massively in some places giving alot of the map a whole new structure; all shiekah tech that was not independent stops working due to power loss

links arm is amputated since otherwise the miasma would spread to his whole body; purah, robbie and zelda work out a prosthetic arm prototype to give to link (protoype at first will be upgraded at halfway point of the game) that can switch between multiple modes, like a hand to hold normal items or a weapon that isnt crafted, and a fusing ability (though maybe limited in the prototype) that lets you make weapons similar to the weapon fusing in canon totk (potential upgrades including an extendable guardian arm that doesnt break, grapple hook anyone??, also the ability to build stuff out of shiekah tech parts, not glue needed you actually screw it together, maybe zelda even helps)

now you are given free roam of hyrule, the goal is to explore and find what has changed and check on people, see what the underground has, new monsters have spawned etc.

zelda is your companion the whole time, she can use the shiekah stone/purah pad to analyze enemies for you, she also carries at least a dagger for her own self defense but doesnt contribute much to the fight (subject to change maybe), you can talk to her anytime and she usually has something to comment on depending on where you are or what you just did, can give you tips and advice IF ASKED FOR IT, when you discover ancient ruins, whether zonau or shiekah, she can either decipher it for you or take photos for later to find out more about everything that has happend and what it means, she also takes part in conversations when you talk to someone, her outfit changes with yours (meaning when you wear the tingle set she wears it too, opens up alot of funny interactions njfkdk)

purah has built new towers but they function different (still working on the details) mainly that they function independent from the energy source in hyrule castle

there are floating islands but they are bigger and in more connected clusters, when reaching them its ancient withered ruins that the ancient shiekah built support around (like the platform used by monk miz kyoshia) to keep them afloat; there are building like observatories and research labs, but all very overgrown due to being up there for so long, theres a titan prototype on one of the islands, its shaped like a whale and zelda deciphers it was called vah narisha (reference to the whale deity in skyward sword) (i havent decided yet if its fully broken and just a big piece of enviroment to explore or half functioning floating around, or maybe first broken but later half repaired so it can fly around at least giving you an easier way to reach other island, you cant steer it tho) some of them are falling bc of energy loss but the bigger ones have independent energy sources (work in progress)

the underground has more diverse zones depending on which part of the map it is located on, there are old mines (for luminous stone) from the zonau but all is extremely withered, in each one its been mostly built over by the shiekah but there are construct remains that were clearly dissected and studied, half built shrines and towers, you can find collectibles and lore there (working on more details, but an idea was to include remains of ancient shiekah tha fled there when they were persecuted by that old king of hyrule, adding to the eery vibe)

some titans (maybe two, and the other are still on the sruface, like vah medoh) feel down during the cataclysm, broken apart or malfunctioning/ possibly being a boss as in they were used by a big cluster of miasma hands like a hermit crab uses its shell, the inside filled with eyes and different sized hands dragging itself towards you like a drowing man grabs after anything to save him)

dongos are your go to transportation here and a little different, when you call one they dig a path to you (not permanent, just so they can always spawn near you) they glow in the dark and can climb on walls (bc why not), and can point you towards the next objective/point of interest, likely where theres a high concentration of luminous stone since that is what they eat and its usually where old mining/construction sites are (still working on a replacement for light roots that are less invasive)

the rat from the trailer is a miniboss/boss you need to defeat in order to get the broken mastersword back into your possession

(im still working on how the sages work, but the idea is to incorporate their abilites for more efficient and reliable use into links shiekah prosthetic, so you can still use their abilities but only when you actually want)

(again still working on details) halfway point of the game is you trying to find out where ganondorf went, not intending to fight necessarily but just to find out more but it devolves into you fighting some sort of miasma monster (either him or some sort of manifestation he made) and you get a bunch of short memory flashes from him, all vague and a wild mess from both the time he was sealed and from the time afterwards, maybe even a perspective shift from when link was fighting dark beast ganon, but from ganons view, from zelda when she was keeping that manifestation in check, random views from the malice eyes from botw, from the blights, maybe even from the fight with the old and new champions, from the point when shiekah built their tech around him while he had to watch not able to do anything etc.)

links arm gets upgraded from prototype to a full prosthetic, opening up more fusing abilites and other things (like the grapple hook, again working on it, im open for ideas lol)

i will reblog this and add more over time if you want, but do let me know if you like it thus far, bc im still unsure if its worth the effort of working more on this QnQ

(also if you dont like just keep scrolling, i dont need to know that you hate it, it literally changes nothing but make me annoyed xD)

[k1ngdom-of-thieves]

Can I get a headcanon of the Pomefiore trio as vampires and Riddle as a Ghost Groom falling in love with y/n please? Gender neutral please and thank you!

I’m just gonna assume that the reader is human for this

Vampire!Pomefiore Trio and Ghost Groom!Riddle + falling in love with reader!

Vil Schoenhiet

Vil rarely goes out into the towns, there’s too many people and he would most definitely be noticed by someone. It’s fairly difficult being a famous vampire, either people flock to try to see you or people come for him with pitchforks and torches like it’s still the 18th century.

That doesn’t stop him from coming in from time to time. Which led to him bumping into you while you were taking care of a last minute errand.

At first, he was intrigued as to why you didn’t run away in fear when you saw who was in front of you. And when you looked directly into his eyes, he only grew more interested in learning more about you.

He started to come to the town more, and strangely enough he started to see you around more as well. Although his mind told him that you just happened to have a couple of errands to run, his heart hoped that you truly did want to see him.

“Oh hello there, I was hoping to run into you again. Would you allow me to walk with you to your next errand? I would love to talk with you a little more.”

Rook Hunt

Rook has always been one to watch and observe than immediately get involved right away. So when you catch his eye on a stormy night, he intended to do just that.

What he didn’t intend was for you to realize he was “observing” being a creep and started to ask him questions. Rook is a lot of things, but he isn’t a liar, he outright tells you that he’s a vampire when you ask.

He’ll be more surprised if you don’t run away screaming profanities and curses at him. Delighted, but still very surprised.

He’d love it if you’d walk with him during the nights, he rarely gets to speak with people other than vampires. He loves hearing what you think of life in the daylight.

“Oh mon ami, I adore it when you speak your mind! Please allow me to be in your presence once again soon.”

Epel Felmier

Epel never saw that many humans from where he lived. They often told stories of a “haunted farm” where the animals were fed and crops were grown without a person watching them.

These stories of course, were just ways to keep people from going to the Felmier farm. There was, as always, people who tried to get in for one reason or another.

One of those people was you. Usually Epel would just “take care” of any intruders but he was told to “have some more dignity and self-respect” by one of the older vampires so he’s been forced to trying to do that.

When he came up to try and scare you off, he noticed that you didn’t run or scream in terror. Instead you asked why he was alone on a farm. You were also petting one of his horses but he chose to ignore that.

“Oh y’know…just running the farm by myself. I could let you look around some more if you’d like.”

Riddle Rosehearts

Riddle never thought he’d be able to love again. You know, because of the whole “Being left at the altar and then forced to watch others get the happy ending that you’ve always wanted” thing.

That was until he saw you. He watched as you roamed the chapel that he is frequently spotted at.

He knew that he’d just be a creep to continue watching you without at least formally introducing himself. Unsurprisingly, you were terrified when he appeared a few feet beside you.

After that initial shock, you two became very well acquainted and the two of you started to see each other more often. Although he once detested the idea of falling in love again, he figures it won’t be so bad if it was with you.

“I haven’t felt this alive since- I can’t even remember when. I suppose it may have something to do with you.”

[wolfawaycamp]

Hello! I would like to request a realistic aftermath of the shotgun amputation ;)

🐰 Okay, so, this was discussed on Discord prior to Torch's request (thank you Torch!) and Cas really thought we should get to see Kaitlyn plucking buckshot out of Dylan's arm. You're not actually supposed to do that, but it IS realistic that a bunch of teens/young adults might not know that. This is another long one from me because I'm incapable of being brief, but so far I've I've gotten positive feedback on my 'ficlets' that are so long they're basically just one-shots. I started my Quarry fanfic writing career with chainsaw hurt/comfort, so of course I had to inject some of that here! Hope you enjoy! :3

*******

When Ryan shoots Dylan’s hand off with his shotgun on the floor of the radio hut, he really doesn’t have time to panic. Some kind of black venom is visibly spreading up Dylan’s arm and, at that moment, Ryan agrees that it needs to be stopped. So, he stops it. He doesn’t second guess that decision at the time, because something huge and ugly is stalking the two of them and their fellow counselors. The fact that he’s just blown the left hand off the boy he’s spent the better part of the evening casually flirting with, the one he kissed for the first time a few hours before, can barely sink in because he’s trying so hard to finish engineering the feedback loop and keep them all alive. But once he’s sounded that earsplitting noise and chased the immediate danger away, Ryan’s better able to take in the horror of the scene that remains.

Dylan lies in a pool of his own blood, and the unrecognizable lump of tissue that used to be a hand sits inches from the mutilated end of his wrist. There are holes in the floor where buckshot has passed through Dylan’s flesh and bone entirely and into the aged wood. Ryan, still fueled by adrenaline, tells him his plan worked. He is genuinely impressed with Dylan’s ingenuity.

“It did the trick,” he says, “Nice work, Dylan.”

The bloodied boy on the floor begins laughing in a way Ryan finds deeply concerning, as if he’s completely delirious, before the chaos in front of him seems to sober him up. “Oh fuck, my hand!” Dylan exclaims, like he’s just noticed it. “Why did you do that?!”

“You told me to!” Ryan bites back in disbelief.

Does he really not remember?

“That was a bad idea,” Dylan admits, still holding pressure to the bleeding stump of his left arm, “aw fuck.”

At that very moment, the door bursts open, scaring the absolute shit out of both the boys. It’s Kaitlyn, likely having heard the gunshot and certainly the sound that followed. She’s come to see what’s become of the two of them. 

Kaitlyn manages to get out the words, “You guys all right… in… here?” before she begins processing the gruesome scene in front of her. Ryan watches her take in the handless Dylan, the pool of blood, and the detached former hand in silence, her mouth hanging slightly open for a moment.

“‘Sup Kaitlyn?” Dylan drawls from the pool of blood he’s lying in. He gives her a slight nod as a greeting since his one remaining hand is busy holding back arterial spray from where his other hand was once attached.

“What the fuck?!” Kaitlyn says breathlessly, “what the fuck happened here?!” 

“I—he—that thing bit Dylan’s hand and I, uh…” Ryan struggles to explain the situation, struggles to even understand it himself. 

Kaitlyn looks from Dylan to Ryan and back again, over and over, finally clocking Ryan’s bloodied face and the shotgun in his hand. Her shock gives way to fury. “Oh—oh my god, Ryan, what the fuck have you done?!”

“He—” Ryan points at Dylan like a child tattling to an adult, “he told me to!”

“I would really like for the record to show,” Dylan says, entirely too steady for the state he’s in, “that I said ‘cut it off.’ Not shoot. Cut. There’s a perfectly good chainsaw right over there.” He jerks his head toward the workbench where the chainsaw sits along with the other power tools.

“Why?! Dylan, why on earth would you say that?!” Kaitlyn asks. She wheels around to face Ryan without giving Dylan a chance to answer, “and why would you listen to him?!”

Kaitlyn glares at Ryan like she might bite him. He thinks he would probably deserve that. He can’t seem to get a word out to explain why blasting a hand off with a shotgun seemed like a good idea at the time but, for better or worse, Dylan is still fairly talkative despite his devastating injury.

“Hey, it’s okay Kaitlyn,” Dylan says, trying his best to sound normal and not quite achieving it, “you kinda had to be here to get the full effect, I guess, but there was this black stuff going up my arm, and we had to stop it before it got any higher, and this did stop it! I’m okay, really… I mean, I’m not, but it doesn’t hurt. I don’t even feel it. Which is… weird, right? I feel like having your hand shot off should hurt more than this.”

“It’s probably the adrenaline,” Kaitlyn explains, “or else you’re going into shock. Either way you’re going to be in a world of hurt sooner or later. You’ve probably got a bunch of buckshot still in your arm. Jesus fucking Christ, I can’t leave the two of you alone for a minute.”

Ryan thinks this is a somewhat unfair assessment of what they’ve accomplished here, given that Dylan’s plan and Ryan’s execution of it saved Kaitlyn’s ass as well as theirs. Dylan, for his part, laughs at Kaitlyn, because he’s apparently gone insane and lost all fear of death. Kaitlyn looks like she’s considering snatching Ryan’s gun, blowing Dylan’s head off, and calling it a total loss instead of trying to patch him up. She inhales deeply and lets it back out, as if meditative breathing will repair the rift in reality they’re currently experiencing.

“Ryan get the first aid kit,” she says, her tone more measured now, “we have to stop the bleeding before we move him, but if we can get Dylan down to the poolhouse, we’ll at least have running water to rinse this wound off. That’s where I sent Abi and Nick when I headed up here.” Kaitlyn kneels next to Dylan, then she grabs his arm roughly and he cries out in pain. “Stop moving so much!” she snaps, though the boy with the shot-off hand has barely moved a muscle.

“Fucking hell, Kaitlyn, be careful!” Ryan barks at her, and Kaitlyn’s head whips to the side to face him with a challenging look.

“Oh, I’m sorry Ryan, should I be as careful as you were when you turned Dylan’s hand into raw fucking meatloaf?” The boys are speechless at her outburst.

Wow, Kaitlyn’s being a kind of a bitch, Ryan thinks, and then it clicks in Ryan’s head that she’s not actually angry, not at him or at Dylan, she’s afraid. This is what fear looks like on Kaitlyn Ka, who he’d mistakenly thought was fearless. It’s raw and ferocious. Other than Jacob, who she’s known most of her life, Dylan’s the person she’s closest to at camp. Kaitlyn expresses her concern like a mother bear and if Ryan isn’t careful he really might get mauled by her before whatever the fuck bit Dylan gets a chance to sink its teeth into him.

Kaitlyn fashions a tourniquet out of bandages and a screwdriver, warning Dylan that it’s going to hurt, and Dylan winces as she twists the metal tool over and over to tighten it around his forearm, just below his elbow. She hands him a bottle of what appears to be ibuprofen from the nurse’s station, saying it’s the last of the supply after she gave some to Nick. 

“Ooh, fun,” Dylan says, throwing back the pills and swallowing them dry, and Ryan can feel Kaitlyn rolling her eyes at him even if he can’t see it.

The bleeding appears to stop, though there’s so much blood already that it’s difficult to tell. It seems stable enough that the three of them can set out for the poolhouse. Dylan is a bit wobbly at first but once he gets a few steps in he seems steady on his feet. Kaitlyn and Ryan flank him with Kaitlyn on the left holding onto his injured arm. Ryan carries the first aid kit with him, even though there’s another one in the poolhouse. It can’t hurt to have more supplies.

On the way, they get into a minor argument about whether the pellets of buckshot from the shotgun shell should be removed from Dylan’s arm or left in. Ryan thinks they should come out, he’s seen that in a number of TV shows and movies and while he knows those aren’t always accurate, he doesn’t think it seems right to leave foreign bodies in a wound. Kaitlyn is more hesitant. She knows that doctors will remove pellets from wounds but if they’re deep they might do more damage trying to remove them. In the end, Dylan says it’s his arm and therefore they’re his buckshot pellets and he should get a say, and he thinks they should compromise and get the ones that seem close enough to the surface to grab with tweezers and leave the others.

When the three of them make it into the poolhouse, Abi has Nick laid out by the showers, resting on a stack of rolled towels. She turns to them, saying “I was wondering when you guys would…” and is cut off at the sight of Dylan’s bloody arm stump. She shrieks. “Oh my god, ohh my god Dylan, what happened?!” Abi is keeping her eyes off of Dylan’s arm. She looks like she might cry, or faint, and Ryan watches, stunned, as Dylan tries to comfort her instead of the other way around.

“It’s okay Abi,” he says, a little too jovially, “just a flesh wound.”

“It’s literally not,” Ryan corrects him, thinking of the bits of bright white bone he could see in the remains of Dylan’s obliterated hand, and Dylan shakes his head at him to keep him from saying anything else.

Kaitlyn explains the situation much more succinctly than either of the boys could, then she sends Abi to find the poolhouse first aid kit while she and Ryan drag Dylan over to the sinks to rinse his wound in warm water. Dylan flinches when they direct the flow of the water over the end of his wrist but he doesn’t pull away. As the coagulated blood is rinsed away, Ryan can see exposed bone at the end of Dylan’s arm and several perfectly round holes that, as Kaitlyn predicted, almost certainly contain pieces of buckshot. The sight of it makes his stomach clench with guilt and worry.

Kaitlyn sits on the floor, picking through the two first aid kits for what she needs. She assembles gauze, more bandages, a small set of forceps, only slightly larger than standard tweezers, that Ryan assumes were intended for pulling splinters out of campers, some rubbing alcohol, an empty glass bottle she’s found to corral the pellets in—Ryan thinks it likely once contained apple juice, though the label has been peeled off—and a lidocaine spray intended for sunburns. It’s the best they have, under the circumstances.

Kaitlyn tells Ryan to join her on the floor and instructs Dylan to essentially sit between Ryan’s legs. Dylan raises an eyebrow at this and Ryan sighs and gestures at him to hurry up. Dylan sits where he’s told.

“This is not going to be fun,” Kaitlyn warns Dylan, then she looks to Ryan and says, “you’re going to have to hold him down, hold his arm still so I don’t cause any more damage.” 

Ryan swallows and holds Dylan’s left arm down, pinning it between his own arm and his bent knee with his hand steadying the wounded forearm just below the wrist. He reaches over Dylan’s right shoulder with his right arm and presses his hand to the middle of the injured boy’s chest, encouraging Dylan to lean back against him. It’s already pretty intimate, with Dylan's head resting on Ryan’s shoulder, and then Dylan grabs Ryan’s hand with his and interlocks their fingers, needing something to hold onto.

“Okay,” Dylan tells Kaitlyn, “let’s get this over with.”

Kaitlyn dunks the forceps in the rubbing alcohol and sprays around the wound and all the pellet holes she can find with the lidocaine spray. It’s not very strong, and she tells Dylan it’s only going to numb the surface, everything below that he’s going to feel. He nods, worrying his bottom lip with his teeth, and Kaitlyn gets to work.

The first pellet is close to the surface and Ryan watches it pop out of Dylan’s skin easily with the fascination some people feel for those pimple extraction videos online. Kaitlyn drops it into the glass bottle where it makes a satisfying plinking sound.

“Oh!” says Dylan, that wasn’t so—OW!” He’s spoken too soon, and before Dylan can finish his statement, Kaitlyn has gone back in for another pellet. This one must be deeper, she has to fish around where the anesthetic spray hasn’t been able to reach before it comes out. Dylan has a vice-grip on Ryan’s hand by the time this one joins the other in the glass bottle.

“Two down,” Kaitlyn says, “only… six or so to go?”

“Awesome,” Dylan says sarcastically, and even in the dim light of the poolhouse, Ryan thinks he looks paler than usual.

Dylan is clearly in pain now as Kaitlyn digs for buckshot in his forearm and Ryan feels terrible about the choices he’s made. He’d thought the shotgun would be cleaner than the chainsaw, leave less chance for infection than a rusty tool Chris Hackett uses to carve up firewood, but Kaitlyn doesn’t seem to think it would’ve make that big a difference. She had warned him about the shotgun’s spread earlier, and though he’d taken the shot pretty close to his target, they certainly wouldn’t be playing this very advanced game of Operation right now if he’d gone for the chainsaw instead. On top of everything, the light from Abi’s phone flashlight keeps wavering, making it difficult for Kaitlyn to see what she’s doing.

“For fuck’s sake, Abi, can’t you hold that thing steady?!” Ryan snaps before he can stop himself.

“Ryan!” Kaitlyn chastises him as another pellet of buckshot clinks into the glass bottle.  

“I’m trying! You know the sight of blood makes me nauseous!” Abi nearly sobs the words and Ryan immediately feels bad, realizes he can, in fact, feel even worse than he had a moment ago. He’d forgotten how much she hates blood. She’d nearly fainted earlier in the summer when one of her campers had a nosebleed. It’s a rough night for all of them, certainly roughest for Dylan and Nick, but Ryan finds some sympathy for Abi—it’s a particularly bad night for anyone who hates the sight of blood.

“Sorry,” he mutters lamely.

“It’s all right,” Abi says, “I’ll try to do better.”

Ryan doesn’t think of himself as having a particularly comforting presence, but for Dylan he does his best, murmuring a steady stream of reassuring nonsense like he might if his little sister crawled in bed with him after having a nightmare back home. “It’s okay,” he says, “it’s okay, you’re okay. Just hang on, all right?This’ll be over soon. I’ve got you. Just stay with me, Dylan. I’m here. I’m right here and I’ve got you.” 

It’s bullshit, he knows it and Dylan probably knows it too—his wounded friend is in bad shape and Ryan hasn’t got shit, nothing is under control and nothing is okay, but Dylan squeezes his hand, his head turned so the right side of his face is pressed against Ryan’s shoulder, and Ryan can tell he’s trying very hard to be brave. Dylan holds back from crying out for the most part, expressing his pain through bitten off groans that he tries but can’t quite silence. Occasionally, he sucks air through his teeth and swears. Dylan’s trembling a little and sweating and he sniffles from time to time because he can’t keep the tears from streaming down his face, dampening the fabric of Ryan’s Cult Damage t-shirt.

Kaitlyn digs for a pellet at the very end of Dylan’s wrist, and he’s completely quiet for a moment, then he goes limp in Ryan’s arms.

“Oh, shit. Dylan?” Ryan hears the panic in his own voice when he speaks.

“Fuck, he passed out.” Kaitlyn pats at Dylan’s cheek, not all that gently but not quite hard enough to qualify as a smack. It does nothing to rouse him. Her fingers press into the side of his neck to feel his pulse, but she doesn’t seem overly concerned with whatever she finds there. Ryan can feel Dylan breathing, but he’s terrified by this development just the same.

“What? Why would that happen?!” He demands of Kaitlyn. “Why now?”

“I don’t know!” Kaitlyn says, “Pain, I guess. Shock? Maybe that last pellet was near a nerve? I barely scraped a B in anatomy.”

“Blood loss?” Abi offers, her expression grave. She looks over at Nick, who adjusts his position a little, and then turns her attention back to Dylan.

“Let’s just get this finished,” Kaitlyn says, “then we can get him cleaned up.” 

She plucks three more pellets from Dylan’s arm, dropping them into the bottle, and then declares that if there are any more, he’ll need an x-ray to find them and trying to dig for them blindly would do way more harm than good. She sends Abi to the sink for a couple of wet washcloths and Kaitlyn wipes down Dylan’s arm while Abi dabs at his face.

Dylan begins to stir, finally, as Kaitlyn is working to bandage his wound. Ryan watches his face intently as he comes around, his brows scrunching and relaxing, eyes moving behind his closed lids. He groans softly before his eyes flutter open and he blinks up at Ryan, seeming to search Ryan’s face for clues as to what the fuck is even happening right now. 

“Dylan,” Ryan says, relief washing over him, “hey! You’re awake.” 

“G’morning Hacketteers,” Dylan rasps weakly, his voice a pale imitation of the one that has boomed out over the PA all summer. “What’s for breakfast?”

“Cap’n Crunch,” Kaitlyn says, rattling the bottle of pellets, “it’s the ‘Oops! All Buckshot’ flavor, unfortunately.”

“Oh, no thanks,” Dylan snorts, “I’m full.” He looks down at the bandaged end of his left forearm. “Though… less full than I used to be, apparently.”

Dylan’s jokes are as obnoxious as ever and Ryan is thanking the cosmic space gods that he’s coherent enough to make them.

As Kaitlyn finishes taping up the bandages, Dylan looks down at his remaining hand and seems to realize it’s still loosely entwined with Ryan’s. He grips Ryan’s hand and Ryan squeezes his right back.

“Thanks you guys,” Dylan says, almost uncharacteristically earnest, and Ryan is reminded of their conversation about his blasé persona and ‘Dylan-Dylan,’ which feels like it happened weeks ago.

“Don’t mention it,” Kaitlyn says with a smile, “just, never do anything this stupid again if you can help it, please.”

Dylan nods. Ryan doesn’t really need to hold onto him anymore, but he is just the same.

“I’m just glad you’re still with me, buddy,” Ryan says in a half whisper.

“Oh, I’m not going anywhere, Ryan. You know how the old saying goes, ‘hand a man a gun, he shoots for a day, shoot a man’s hand off with your gun and you have to, um, let him hold your hand in the hand that he has left. Forever. Or at least for one date. But probably forever.’”

“Yeah,” Ryan deadpans, “I can see how that became a proverb for sure. Real snappy.”

Kaitlyn bursts out laughing. Even Abi giggles at this, putting a hand on Dylan’s shoulder before hurrying back over to check on Nick.

“What? He can shoot my hand off but I can’t shoot my shot? Seems unfair. I—”

Dylan’s words are cut off when Ryan leans down and kisses him on the mouth, his hands pressing to either side of Dylan’s face. It’s the only thing he can think to do to express his relief and concern and gratitude at that moment, to say that he’s sorry but also not. And another feeling is in the mix there, something soft but undeniable and deeply unfamiliar, something that, Ryan’s terrified to realize, might actually be love.

“Let’s save our strength with some quiet time, hm?” he says, still holding Dylan’s face in his hands.

Dylan looks back at him, awestruck. He nods, slowly, and then there’s a gunshot outside. A howl of inhuman agony follows and then a splash. 

Something big has just landed in the pool.

[writingkeepsmewhole]

Stay In The Light

This is part 9 of Snow In The Dark. I hope you like it :)

Fic Summary: Snow has never known who she was. Being raised in the streets made her strong but lonely. That changed when she met Jack them becoming as close as sisters. She thought she found her family. That all changes when she crashes on a planet with only one rule. Stay in the light.

Part Summary: Snow learns who her true friends are.

Riddick x OC Snow

Warnings: Language. Mention of deaths.

Let me know if you want to be tagged :P : @here4thespice @amarokofficial @backseat-serenade-dizzyhurricane @pinkcrystal44 @goblingirlsarah @shelbyteller @classyunknownlover @sparklingnightfox @murphy3691 @vvs-dlxodyd @goblingirlsarah

The next half an hour is spent rushing to get everything that makes light and putting it on a makeshift sled.

All of us join together only speaking when we have to. My heart pounded in my chest telling me how worried I was.

Of course I was. I was trapped on a planet with things that wanted to eat me and really no dependable way to defend myself.

I couldn’t help but worry about myself, worry about Jack. She was helping just as anyone else, her being brave and acting like she was fine.

I hate to admit she reminded me a lot of myself at that age. Always trying to fight to keep yourself alive. She was scared I was as well.

We were all scared. The only one of us that didn’t seem to be was Riddick. Him walking around the ship telling us all what to do like he knew exactly how this night was going to play out.

The thing is I knew he was right.

“I’ll be running about ten paces ahead.” He says, Carylon following behind him while I sat next to Paris making cocktails.

“I want light on my back but not on my eyes.” He says, holding his hand up to block the light as he walks past Paris holding the cutting torch.

“And check your cuts. These bad boys know our blood now.” He says, his eyes meeting mine.

I had a busted lip. Is that what he meant?

Looking over at Jack I see her frozen looking up at him with fear on her face. My stomach drops, oh no running through my head.

Standing up I ignore Paris asking me where I’m going. Dusting my hands off I walk over to her and crouch down in front of her, her snapping back to work.

“Everything okay?” I whisper, helping her roll up the cord of light.

Her worried eyes meet mine, her shaking her head.

“It’s that time?” I whisper again, not wanting anyone to hear us.

She nods, not looking at me.

“I’ll find something.” I say standing up once more.

Using a flash light I found, I ease back into the ship half remembering seeing a first aid kit back there. 

I stop hearing footsteps looking over to see Johns standing there.

“Where do you think you're going?” He asks, his gun pointed in my direction.

“To go pee, you wanna watch?” I ask glaring at him.

He flushed with embarrassment, and took a step back.

“Thought so.” I say, moving away from him.

Taking a breath I shine the light around in the darkness almost jumping out of my skin when the shine of eyes flash for just a second.

Without thinking I move closer to him, encasing us in darkness besides my flashlight. Keeping it aimed at the floor, I stop when I reach him.

The primal smell of him wrapping around me makes my stomach tighten. I take a breath, feeling his fingertips brush over my hand as he clicks the light off.

I open my mouth to say something, Riddick’s large hand coming up to cover it stopping me.

I try to ignore my racing heart or the urge to throw myself at him. I clench my fist as best I can, feeling Riddick bend down so our noses almost touch. I could feel his eyes looking deep in mine.

His arm wraps around my waist pulling me closer to him, making me bend into him as he leans over me.

If I could bite my lip I would, all thoughts of what I was doing back here are out the window. The only thing present is the bubble me and Riddick has created. Despite the darkness around us my eyes flutter close. The heat and pressure of him wrapped around me making me want to melt.

Dropping his hand from my mouth he places it on my back. Him dipping himself lower to run his nose over my neck makes me shiver.

My eyes snap open when I hear a sound, expecting a monster to come flying our way. I blush when I realize it came from me. 

A low rumble leaving my chest or was it my throat it sounded almost like a purr. Blushing, I pull away from him and shake my head.

“I need to go.” I say, stepping back.

Feeling my foot hit something I don’t have time to react before I trip over whatever it was. My arms are flying out to grab anything to stop myself. Strong arms wrapping around me once again. Riddick kept me from falling.

“Sorry.” I say pushing my hair behind my ear from being nervous.

“I really should go. We don’t have a lot of time.” I say, not moving, Riddick’s arms comfortable around me.

I hear a familiar rumble of him humming an agreement, him letting go of me and taking a step back.

“Thank you.” I say, starting to turn around. Stopping when I realize I dropped my flashlight.

“It’s broken.” Riddick says, him seeing what I was doing.

“Great. I was looking for something.” I say more to myself than him.

“I’ll never find it now.”

I blush when I feel his large hand wrap around my wrist. Him pulling me behind him as he walks back towards the others. Back towards the light. 

As soon as we reach the glow of the light both of us are still half covered in shadows Riddick’s touch leaves mine.

Him lifting a box in the air. It is clearly a first aid kit.

“Can you read minds?” I ask, taking it gently from him, a smirk dancing along his lips but quickly disappearing.

“We need to get going.”

“I’ll be ready in five.” I say, earning a slow nod. 

Slipping on his goggles he heads back towards the others, I right behind him.

After we get everything ready. Including me helping Jack with her problem we head towards the door ready to face the beasts outside. Riddick pushing it open the weird sounds of them filling the air.

“Are we actually going to do this?” Paris asks, holding the cutting torch up.

“Did you have any better plans?” I ask, ignoring the glares I get from the others.

“We stay together, we keep the light burning.” Carolyn says sternly.

“That’s all we gotta do to live through this thing.” She says looking around at all of us. Her leaving us to go get Johns.

I stand by the door, next to Riddick, anxiously ready to get off this planet.

I don’t bother saying anything hearing Johns talk just over our heads.

“You give him the cells and the ship and he’ll leave you all out there to die.” Johns says, making me clench my jaw.

Johns seemed like he was only looking out for himself.

“He’ll leave all of you.” He says.

Seeing Riddick’s jaw jump I look over at him, him looking dead ahead.

“And they call you the criminal.” I say, him not answering me.

“Just so we’re clear, if he doesn't make it I won’t be sad about it.” I say, hearing them come down the steps not caring if they heard me. The rest gather at the door of the ship.

“Here.” Johns says, handing me some of the glowing cord to wrap around me.

“I’m not putting that on me and being tied to you, no thanks.”

“Everyone needs to pull their weight.”

“And I will, I'll help drag the thing but I’m not being tied to anyone."

“Even if it was him?” He says, jerking his head towards Riddick.

“Knock it off. Just stay close to the sled.” She says, everyone shutting up when Riddick walks up to us handing me a giant glow stick.

Kinda confused. I take it from him and crack it, shaking it up making the bright neon green lighting up the space around me.

“Let's move.” He says 

I take a breath and get into position as we all take off jogging out into the darkness.

I try not to think about the sounds around me, just keep my eyes focused on Riddick. On the lights on his back. I kept telling myself follow that and you’ll be fine.

Just had to keep up.

It wasn’t long before the cutting torch used its last bit of fuel. The sounds of the wild animals around us grew louder, as the space around us grew darker.

“Stay close.” Imam says. Paris starts to get antsy. I look at him, looking around, Jack mimicking his panic.

“Just breathe, Jack.” I tell her, her looking at me.

We start walking again pulling the sled with us. My stomach drops when I hear something fall off it.

“Wait.” Jack says, taking the lights off her and starting to grab it.

“Don’t.” I say, going to stop her before it was too late.

In a blink, everything erupts into chaos. The sounds of creatures growing closer, as Johns starts shooting his gun blindly.

I go to get Jack back into the light when Johns spins towards me and fires, a strong rough hand pulling me out of the way before the bullet lands in my face.

I don’t get surprised when I feel myself pressed into a hard chest.

“Shh.” He whispers to me, bringing me to the ground as he squats.

I realize he’s just watching them, to see what’s going to happen. My muscles jerk wanting to get Jack but his hold on me keeps me from moving.

I feel the cool of a blade, him pressing it into his own cheek as he thinks, the back of the makeshift knife touching my neck. 

I watch as the whole thing we spent rigging up is ripped from the sled, the glowing blue lights going out.

The only light around me is the green glow stick I tied around my neck with some string and the lights on Riddick’s back.

It didn’t take a genius to realize we were in a bubble of light the others now didn’t have.

I jump as a flash of flames a few feet away goes off, Paris blowing on a lighter, showing at least twenty creatures around him. As soon as the light is gone you hear the whaling of them along with his screams.

With the distraction I watch Carolyn light a flare, the green light brightening the darkness as she lights the few molotovs we have.

I stand up with Riddick, walking over to the group slowly.

“Well it’s good to see you're okay.” Johns says, looking at him.

I rush over to Jack and check on her, her looking up at me with fear. I hug her tightly and kiss her head.

I watch Riddick look out in the distance, where Paris was last seen.

“Do I even wanna know?” Carolyn asks, standing behind him.

“I don’t.” I mumble, holding onto Jack rubbing her arm.

Riddick looks at me then jerks his head to start walking.

I do as he commands us walking after him, us holding bottles of fire.

“Are we getting close?” Jack asks.

“Can we pick up the pace?” Carolyn calls out to Riddick ahead of us.

Johns gets mad as he throws down the strap he was using to pull the sled.

Not wanting to start yelling at him, I speed walk up to Riddick catching up with him.

“They want to go faster.” I say softly to him.

Him grunting in recognition he heard me.

“You wanna tell me what the hell is going on?” Johns asks, walking up to us, standing there.

“We crossed our own tracks.” Carolyn says, making me roll my eyes. Of course we didn't take that long to walk here in the day.

“Why have we circled? Are we lost?” Imam asks.

“Listen.” Riddick says softly.

I do just that, the faint roar of bodies and creatures around us, and even more in our path.

“Canyon ahead. I circled once to buy some time to think.” Riddick says calmly.

“I think we should go now.” Imam

“Oh I don’t know about that.” Riddick says, smirking, cocking his head to the side.

I clench my jaw, catching why he was being sarcastic now. We wouldn’t make it across the Canyon.

“That’s death row up there.” He says speaking my thoughts.

Without thinking I moved closer to him. Needing whatever power that radiated off him to soak into me.

I was brave, or rather stupid enough to get myself into danger but I wasn’t smart enough or rather had the gift of darkvision to get myself out of this mess.

“Especially with the girl bleeding.” He says, making my gut drop.

“Crap.” I say, softly to myself. Johns looking at me, fury lighting up in him.

“Where?” He snaps at me, making my own fury go through me.

“Not her.” Riddick says, calmly getting Johns attention.

“Her.” He says looking at Jack.

Everyone turns to look at Jack, her looking around scared and alone. I quickly move over to her, everyone having a light bulb moment.

I’m stopped by a tight grip.

“Why didn’t you tell us?” Johns and Carlyn say in different voices to different people.

Her to Jack comforting her as Jack sinks to the ground.

Johns to me, glaring at me like everything that happened was my fault.

“Did the same thing at her age. It’s not easy being a girl on the streets.” I say glaring up at him.

He yells and jerks away from me storming as far off as he safely could.

“They’ve been nose opened for her since we left.”

“In case you haven’t noticed, they go off blood.”

“Of course they do.” I mumble to myself moving to roll my trying to hold back the part of me that wanted to snap and do anything it took to get out of here alive.

That part of me held down by protecting Jack but she was currently with Carolyn and the presence of Riddick seemed to make the part of me want to unfurl and bloom.

“Look, this is not gonna work.” Carolyn says standing up.

“We’re gonna have to go back.” She says, making me turn to look at her in shock.

“What’d you say?” Johns says.

“You're the one that got us out here in the first place.” He says pointing at her.

I watch them once again turn on each other, I can’t help but wrinkle my brow and cock my head to the side wondering when did people get so weak minded.

It made sense to stick together, keep moving. Do something.

With that thought in mind I turn around, seeing Riddick slowly walking to the ridge of the cannon I go up to stand next to him. Him turning to look at me.

“They're all losing it.”

“Not you?” He asks, softly. His low rumbling voice settled me in a way I needed.

“Not yet.”

He smirks looking down at me. He reaches to pick up my glow stick and look at it.

“Should keep you safe till we get to the ship.”

“We?” I ask, lifting an eyebrow.

He smirks once again and starts to walk.

I wait for a moment to follow, falling between him and the group.

When Johns joined Riddick I knew something was up. I was just outta ear, shot but close enough to catch a few words.

Sacrifice was the word I picked up on, that and when Riddick turned to look at us, his eyes met mine.

Something in them puts my body on alert. Told me to slow down, wait for him. So I did. I slowed my pace a few steps.

When I watched the green flare fly out of John's hands and a shot pop off I knew what was about to happen.

Despite the warning and the yelling of the others behind me, I race forward. I suddenly worried for Riddick so strongly I had to make sure he was alright.

I skid to a stop to watch the two men trying to kill each other. I get there just in time to see Riddick slice Johns’ back open, him falling to the ground groaning.

“You should’ve never taken the chains off Johns.” Riddick yells standing up, just as the flare gose out.

I was thankful for the light around my neck, the sounds of monsters hissing around me, them to dstreacted by the blood to really notice me.

“You were Billy Bad-Ass.” Riddick says from the darkness.

“The chains. The gauge. The badge.” He draws out as Johns stands up him trying to see with the light on the end of his gun.

“I told you to ghost me.” Riddick whispers taunting him.

I swallow the shiver of that act. It's like watching a cat play with a mouse. Johns was done for he just didn’t know it yet.

I jump but don’t scream when I’m spun around by strong arms and pinned to a rock behind me.

The crunching sound of bones behind me is forgotten as I feel the heat and hardness of Riddick being pressed into me.

“Did you enjoy watching?” He asks, his breath fanning my ear.

“Let’s find the others.” I pant out, knowing this wasn’t the time or place despite the want.

He hums but pulls away from me and starts to walk into the darkness. I stick close by keeping up with him, us finding the group quickly them barely moving,

Carolyn screams when she spins to face Riddick standing there.

“Back to the ship huh?” He asks, smiling.

“Just huddle together until the light burns out.”

“Get away from us.” She says backing up, I watch her eyes jump to me then back.

I couldn’t tell if she was scared of me or if she wanted me to come with her.

“Till you can’t see what’s eating you. That the big plan?” He asks them.

“Where's Johns?” Imam asks.

“Which half?” He asks, smirking, the rest of them gasping in shock.

“WHere gonna lose everyone out here.” Jack says.

“Not if we leave. Now before we run out of light.” 

“We should have stayed at that ship.” Jack says tuning to look back the direction we came.

“He died fast.” Riddick says, walking past them.

“If we have any choice about it, that's the way we should all go out.” He says stopping to stand next to Jack.

Since I was following him I saw the tears in her eyes.

“Don’t you cry for Johns, don’t you dare.” Riddick says walking past her.

“How are we going to make it?” Jack asks, whimpering up at me.

“We are going to listen to Riddick, we are going to make it to that ship and I’ll find you someplace safe.” I say smiling at her.

She nods hugging me as we start to follow once again.

“Why do you trust him?” Carolyn asks, walking next to me.

“I’m good at reading people. He won’t kill us. We’re not a threat to him.” I say honestly, they look around scared every time something makes a noise.

I keep my eyes ahead focusing on walking.

“He killed Johns.” She says in a way I can’t tell if its a question or a statement, so I shrug hoping that gives her my answer.

“Can you talk to him?”

“About what?” I ask, looking at her.

“I…I don’t know. He’s…”

“Scary?” I offer her a suggestion.

“He doesn't scare you?”

“No.” I say leaving it at that. Quite the opposite I keep thinking about everything but being scared of him. Well maybe I was a little but not in the way everyone else was. My fear stimmed more from if I could survive a night with him.

Riddick was not a beast I was trying to tame. Oh no I knew if we made it off this rock and if something did happen between me and Riddick. I would never be able to turn back.

[theflagscene]

Wait! How!? When!? Where!? How is White suddenly there!? How did Tee meet White!? You can’t just play upbeat music and have the boys running around to show the passage of time and not explain how the fucking villain of the story got the most adorably innocent lil princess boyfriend on the planet!

Phee, bringing Jin on a date to the same place you and Non liked to go is just weird. I hate people who use the same ‘date’ spots for their new partners that they used with their past partners and no, this isn’t me projecting, why do you ask!? Lmao 😂 shut up it’s still tacky af

‘Friend’ the dreaded word.

What is with the ass slapping and window sex!? I mean, I get that they’re supposed to 18 year old boys, who are by definition perverted, but that was some porn level shit. Also, again, no prep. Phee wasn’t even the one blown so it’s not like they were even using spit for lube, or an already lubed condom. What is this, another ABO show? Just having the dudes slick and sliding all over one another apparently.

Ta’s got a decent ass at least, good for him.

“Did you cheat on my brother?” Nah, pretty sure they broke up when Phee saw him being raw dogged by the teacher and then told him to go die, but whatever helps you sleep at night Tan.

“Don’t fall in love with him.” Yeah, I think it’s too late for that.

Oh, mom is not looking so great. Hmm, something tells me that video isn’t real. Mom knows what’s up, it’s finally hit her, her baby’s dead. The actress did a fantastic job of a mother realizing the truth of the death of her child, it’s a startling realization that does take your legs out from under you. Your mind blanks, you can’t think about anything but the last time you saw them, the last terrible thing you said, all you can do is try not to scream. - That got a little too dark and real, sorry.

news.boc.com Cute BoC, very cute.

How long were Phee and Jin supposed to have been fucking by now? Weeks? Months? Because Jin has gotten very emotionally invested very quickly, which is appropriate for teenagers I suppose.

Two years, so they’d be in their what, second year of uni? Tan has gone full mad scientist I see.

Wait, he called to tell Tan that his mom was dead and it was her funeral that day and he just showed tf up! When his dad thought he was still in England!? Lmao, that’s fricking hilarious. I know, I know, wrong reaction to this scene but I’m weird, what can I say.

Oops, bye bye daddy. No wonder Tan is so fucking nuts! That would drive anyone insane. He literally needs Non to be alive otherwise he’s lost everything for nothing.

Is Tan his own guinea pig for his drugs!? Jesus dude, get some help.

Question, were Phee and Jin fucking during their time at university too? Or are you telling me all this ‘I love him’ crap was from one night of decent dick and a few ‘best friend dates’? Like the math ain’t mathing, establish a better timeline here for me when it comes to their relationship because in the first episode it made it seem like they were screwing around for a really long time, months at the very least. But now it seems like they fucked around a couple times in one 12 hour period, Jin decided that was enough to wanna date, caught Phee in a mood because of the fake news report and then they just… what? Kept fucking? Stopped? Jin carried a torch for him for over two years after one night together? Acted like a scorned lover for years because of a single teenaged tryst? Not to be that guy, but girl, you’re coming off a little desperate. I need a more accurate timeline!!!

“This won’t kill them.” Tan, could you try and be a tad more convincing when saying that?

That was a fantastic look from Tan to end on, ngl. Although someone needs to save baby White!

Next episode, we’re back in the present for the most part it seems. Jin somehow still trusts Phee, Fluke somehow gets the gun back and oh look, he holds White hostage, poor bb did nothing, leave him alone! And Tee clearly does know what happened to both Non and Keng as he runs up onto the roof where his uncle is to see the pair… unconscious? Dead? One of each?

I want some backstory about how White fits into all of this next time as well, that would be great. Although considering how little the timeline of events during grade 12 are fully explained, I doubt knowing more about White would make very much sense at this point.

[artyandink]

we could be more | dean winchester | finale

Summary: Ivonne Rainer was practically a trained killing machine. Stripped to the bone then built back up by her father in order to become one of the best, like he was. She was forced into hunting when she was nineteen, having developed powers that couldn’t be explained. That is, until she was paid a visit by Azazel’s lackey. Her powers were gone, she needed help, and that’s when she found her father’s journal. Pointing to Sam and Dean Winchester.

SERIES MASTERLIST

ALL HELL BREAKS LOOSE: PART TWO

ᴺᴼᵂ ᴾᴸᴬᵞᴵᴺᴳ : DARKSIDE - NEONI 

“Mini-“ 

“I don’t want to hear it.” I whispered, staring out into the unknown from the front porch of the house we’d taken rest in. “I just don’t.”

Bobby sighed. “You can’t blame yourself for Sam.” 

“I can. I was there. I could’ve killed Jake seconds before it happened had I just let go for a second like I did with Ava. And now? Sam’s dead.”

”You’re deranged, mini. You’ve done the best you can and considering the circumstances, you did a damn good job of it.” 

“Everyone’s dead except that kid Jake who deserves to be ripped limb by limb.” I growled, standing up. “I know I’m gonna see him again. And when I do? Hell, I’m gonna kill him. And I’ll make sure he regrets living before he goes into the fire.” 

“Hey!” He frowned. “Don’t lose yourself in this.” 

“I lost myself in hell, Bobby, I’m long gone.” I seethed. “Every gash, the torture, the watching others being tortured- it eats away at you. Tears you a new one. A worse one, and I loathe how I turned out. I can’t look at my family the same after learning what kind of a man I was born from. What my sister became- heck, what my brother could’ve been. It’s pure pain. Sam was… an out. An amazing, kind, caring out. A way to think about what relationship I could have had with my siblings if they were alive. Now Sam’s dead. I’ve lost that too. That means I’ve lost my fight.” 

“I know you must be feeling helpless.” Bobby appeased, giving me a sympathetic look. “Feel it, feel it all if you can’t help it, but Dean in there? He needs you more than ever.” He started to walk off, but I held his shoulder. 

“Where’re you going?” 

“Dean doesn’t need me anymore. He told me to leave, but you know where I’ll be.” 

“C’mere.” I hugged him tightly, and he allowed me to, thumping my back. 

“You’re a strong kid, mini. It’s not your fault your dad was a coward.” 

“It never will be.” I smiled, then watch him leave. I walked into the house, finding Dean at Sam’s bed. 

“Don’t tell me to bury him.” Dean snapped, his voice breaking. “Don’t tell me to torch him either.”

“I won’t.” I shrugged, sitting down beside him. 

“Then? It was bad enough losing you at first, now Sammy? What are they gonna do, gank Bobby next?” 

“The kid won’t, but Yellow Eyes might.” 

“What d’you mean?” 

“He came to me.” I muttered. “Told me that this was a survival of the fittest deal. Then he said I wasn’t in it.” 

“Son of a… why weren’t you?” 

“He said that I’d rip each and every one of them apart if I wanted to. And god, I wish I’d ripped Jake limb from limb if I’d gotten the chance.” 

“Is that really Ivy talking?” He stood up, and so did I, holding my head. 

“It’s 100% me, Dean. I, cold blooded, shot Ava. I didn’t care about Lily and I was about to deliver a finishing blow to Jake with a metal pole but somehow I decided against it. Hell changed me. I don’t know what happened in there, but it changed me. Sam’s dead, I know, and all that’s replaying in my head is how Carter died and how I could’ve stopped that too but I was too damn weak to, and now Sam took a blow because of pure fate. Don’t let all this change you. Don’t do anything stupid, Dean, please just don’t.” 

“I won’t.” He agreed, and then he hugged me, detaching and leaning his forehead on mine, cupping my cheeks. “I won’t.” 

I walked in to find Dean prepping to go somewhere, and… Sam. 

Sam.

Alive. 

“Where we going, boys?” I asked, giving Dean a look. I know what you’ve done. 

“Bobby’s.” Sam smiled. 

“It’s great to have you up and about, Sam.” 

“Great to be up and about.” 

“To the Impala, then.” We went to the car, getting in and driving down to Bobby’s in silence. We went to the door, and Bobby opened it, his eyes widening a bit when he saw Sam. 

“Hey, Bobby.” Sam grinned.

“Sam. It's good to... see you up and around.” 

“Yeah ... thanks for patching me up.” 

“Don’t mention it.” Bobby then turned to me, patting me on the shoulder. “James knows you’re alive, but…” 

“I know.” I nodded. 

“Do what you’ve gotta do.” I took out my phone, dialling James. He picked up immediately on the other line, and I sighed. 

‘Ivy?’ 

“Yeah, it’s me.” 

‘You’re alive. Bobby was right. I-I thought that you…’ 

“I’m alive, yeah. My dad made a deal with a demon to save me.” I then bit my lip. “But now I’m involved in something big. End of the world big, and you need to be safe.” Bobby handed me a map of omens, and I spotted Southern Wyoming as a safe place. “Get to Southern Wyoming. Hide, take as much salt, holy water, iron, the works, as you can. Just get to safety.”

I could hear a sigh on another line. ‘We can’t see each other anymore, can we?’ 

“No, we can’t. At least, not until all this is over, which will take a hell of a long time.” 

‘I get it. At least I’ll know that my ex-girlfriend helped stop an apocalypse.’ 

“Stew in that, Lieutenant.” 

‘Gladly.’ He chuckled. ‘I’ll miss you, Ivonne Rainer.’ 

“As will I, James Rhodes.” I smiled. “Bye.”

’Bye.’ I then turned to Bobby. 

“What am I looking at?” 

“Omens are popping up everywhere.” He grimaced. “Everywhere but Southern Wyoming. It’s like demons are surrounding it or something. I need you and Sam to find out why while I chat with Dean.” 

“You better, before I give him an early ticket.” I gritted my teeth, then nodded. “I’ll do it. Figure something out.” 

I was mapping things out when Ellen came in with Dean and Bobby, and I breathed a sigh of relief. 

“Ellen.” I grinned, hugging her, and she returned it, trembling. “I’m glad you’re ok.” 

“I’m glad you’re alive.” She retorted. “I’m sorry about Mick.”

”He was better off dead.” I huffed before pulling up a chair. Ellen sat down, and Bobby poured her a shot of holy water. 

“Bobby, is this really necessary?” 

“Just holy water.” Bobby shrugged. “Shouldn’t hurt.” 

She swallowed the water, giving Bobby a look. “Whiskey now, if you don't mind.” 

I passed her a shot of whiskey, and Dean sat down, leaning forward. “Ellen, what happened?” 

“I wasn't supposed to get out. I was supposed to be in there with everybody else. But we ran out of pretzels, of all things. It was just dumb luck.” She sipped the whiskey with a scoff. “Anyway, that's when Ash called. Panic in his voice. He told me to look in the safe. Then the call cut out. By the time I got back, the flames were sky-high. And everybody was dead. I couldn't have been gone more than fifteen minutes.” 

“I’m sorry, Ellen.” Sam grimaced. 

“A lot of good people died in there. And I got to live.” She scoffed again. “Lucky me.” 

“Ellen, you mentioned a safe.” Bobby frowned. 

“Secret safe in the basement.” 

“Demons get what’s in it?” 

“No.” She put down a map, which had Xs on it. I picked it up, studied it for a second and then took a book out of my satchel, turning the pages. 

“Friggin’ hell.” I muttered, drawing a line connecting the Xs. 

“What?” Dean asked. 

“Each of these X's is an abandoned frontier church— all mid-19th century. And all of them built by Samuel Colt.” 

“Samuel Colt? Demon killing, gun making Samuel Colt?” 

“Yep. And from church to church, he built underground, hidden railway tracks, connecting every dot until…” I grinned, “he made a 100 mile Devil’s Trap.” 

“Beanie, you genius.”

”I've never heard of anything that massive.” Ellen breathed. 

“No one has.” Bobby shrugged. 

“And after all these years none of the lines are broken?” Dean asked. “I mean, it still works?”

”Looks like it.” I nodded. “Demon omens are circling this place. They’re trying to get in, but can’t.” 

“Why’re they trying to get in?” Ellen frowned. 

“Bang in the middle of this place, there’s an old, abandoned cowboy cemetery.” I pointed to it on the map, then looked up grimly. “I don’t think Colt was trying to keep anything out. I think he was trying to keep something in.” 

“Well, that’s comforting.” 

“Could they get in?” Dean asked. 

“No.” I shook my head. “They’d need something as powerful as an A-bomb, H-bomb, heck, even the Tsar Bomba could work.” 

“The Tsar What-A?” 

“Nuclear bomb made by the Soviets. Still the most powerful nuclear weapon to exist. Only something roughly like that could rip this apart. Unless you make someone who’s not a demon cross the line.” 

Then it hit me. 

“Jake.”

“Howdy, Jake.” Sam seethed, all of us surrounding him as he approached the crypt. Jake looked stunned, and I knew why. 

“Wait... you were dead. I killed you.” He stammered, but Sam chuckled. 

“Yeah? Well next time, finish the job.” 

“I did! I cut clean through your spinal cord, man. You can’t be alive, you just can’t.” 

“Okay, just take it real easy there, son.” Bobby warned. 

“And if I don’t?” 

“Wait and see.” Sam smirked. 

“What, you a tough guy all of a sudden? What are you gonna do— kill me?” 

“It’s a thought.” 

“You had your chance. You couldn't.” 

“Alright, then.” Sam nodded tauntingly. “It isn’t my mojo. But it’s hers.” He inclined his head towards me, and Jake spun around, seeing my eyes glow blue. 

“You’re not gonna lift anything.” He smirked, then turned to Ellen. “Hey lady, do me a favour. Put that gun to your head.” Ellen shakily agreed, putting the gun to her head. “See, that Ava girl was right. Once you give in to it, there's all sorts of new Jedi mind tricks you can learn.” 

“Let her go.” I demanded. 

“Kill him.” Ellen whispered. 

“You'll be mopping up skull before you get a shot off.” Jake taunted. “Everybody, put your guns down. Except you, sweetheart.” Everyone but me and Ellen put their guns down, me because Jake most likely didn’t know I had one. “Okay. Thank you.” He turned around, pulling out the Colt and putting it into the crypt. I immediately pulled the gun away from Ellen’s head, my eyes turning red as I held out my hand, my powers dragging Jake to me so I could hold him by the neck, rage surging through me like it was addictive. 

“Which way do you wanna go, huh?” I sneered, tilting my head with a grin. “I could switch off your brain, rip your guts out, but no, that’s too quick for you. I have a better idea.” I reached out, putting my fingertips around his heart. He started twitching, graining is pain as I retracted my hand, red wisps of energy following and slowly feeding small tendrils into what formed into his heart, pulsing, still beating. 

“Please.” Jake whispered. “Don’t do this, please.”

“Do it.” Sam snarled. “Kill him.”

“You’d rip them apart.” 

And I want to. 

“Please-“ I snapped my fist shut, bursting the heart and killing Jake, his body going limp as his head lolled forwards. I threw him down onto the ground without a second thought, my eyes returning to their normal colour. 

“Beanie?” Dean spoke up. “That you?” 

“Who else?” I snapped, staring down at Jake’s body before stepping over it. The two runes on the crypt spun in different directions before stopping, and a sense of apprehension immediately took over me. 

“Oh, no.” Bobby whispered. 

“What is it?” Ellen asked. 

“Hell.” Dean pulled the Colt from the crypt, and we all stepped back as we heard a lock click. “Take cover— now!” We dived behind headstones right as a door burst open, clouds of black smoke flying everywhere. 

“What the hell just happened?!” Dean groaned, taking cover next to me. 

“That’s a Devil’s gate!” I yelled. “A damn door to hell!” 

“Come on! We gotta shut that gate!” Ellen cried out. 

“If the demon gave this to Jake…” Dean muttered, fiddling with the Colt, then maybe-“ The gun flew out of his hand and landed in Yellow Eyes’, who smirked. 

“Boys shouldn’t play with Daddy’s guns.” He sneered, throwing Dean aside. Then he turned to me, chuckling. “I knew putting you in the game would be unfair. Poor Jakey didn't stand a chance. And now his heart's gone." 

“Shut up.” 

“I’m gonna make you in the meantime.” He forced Sam and I against trees, shrugging at Sam. “I'll get to you in a minute, champ. But I'm proud of you— knew you had it in you.” Then he faced Dean, throwing him against a post. “Sit a spell. So, Dean... I gotta thank you. You see, demons can't resurrect people, unless a deal is made. I know, red tape- it'll make you nuts. But thanks to you, Sammy's back in rotation. Now, I wasn't counting on that, but I'm glad. I liked him better than Jake, anyhow. Tell me— have you ever heard the expression, ‘If a deal sounds too good to be true, it probably is?’” 

“You call that deal good?” Dean scoffed.

“Well, it's a better shake than your dad ever got. Michael never got a good one either. And you never wondered why? I'm surprised at you. I mean... you saw what your dear Ivy just did to Jake, right? That was pretty cold, wasn't it? How certain are you that what you brought back, is 100%, pure, Sam? After all, Beanie came back a changed badass, didn’t she?“ He chuckled. “You of all people should know, that's what's dead, should stay dead. Anyway... thanks a bunch. I knew I kept you alive for some reason. Until now, anyway. I couldn't have done it without your pathetic, self-loathing, self-destructive desire to sacrifice yourself for your family.” He pointed the Colt at Dean, but I saw the ghost of John Winchester creeping up behind him. And he wasn’t alone. 

Carter’s ghost was with him. 

They grabbed a hold of Yellow Eyes, making him drop the Colt. I broke free from his telekinesis with a burst of blue light, picking up the Colt and aiming it at him. 

“I shot the wrong guy with this when I first used it.” I seethed. “Not this time.” I fired, and it hit him right in the heart. I ignored the falling body, instead turning to Carter, who I realised I was walking towards. He gave me a smile and joyful salute, and I did the same, wiping a tear from my cheek as he disappeared with a white light. 

When we got to a motel, before we went inside, I took Dean by the arm, smiling at Sam like nothing was wrong. “You go in with the others, Sam, we’ll catch up.” 

“Ok.” Sam nodded awkwardly, then headed inside with Ellen and Bobby, both of whom nodded in a way that said ‘give him hell.’ 

And hell I gave him. 

The moment he was inside, I spun Dean to face me and decked him in the jaw, making him hold it with a groan. 

“Again?!” He hissed, but I didn’t care. 

“You did it, didn’t you?” I fumed, and he looked startled. 

“Wh-“ 

“Don’t you dare ‘what’ me, Dean, it’s a simple question, yes or no. You did it, didn’t you?” 

“Yes, I did!” Dean burst out, throwing his arms up in the air. “I put my profile in a box, buried it and sealed the deal.” 

“After I told you not to do anything stupid?!” I scoffed. “Dean, that goes beyond the laws of stupid! How much time do you even have left?” 

He remained silent, turning away. 

“Dean.” 

Still nothing. 

“Dean!” 

Why wasn’t he saying anything? 

“ANSWER ME, DAMNIT-“ 

“A YEAR!” He yelled, turning back around. “I have a year, ok? The damn demon wouldn’t settle for anything else!” He saw me just standing there and held out his hands, waiting for an answer. “Ivy?”

“YOU FRICKING IDIOT!” I screamed, pushing him. “Are you that desperate to limit your chances of living? Do you think that low of yourself? I know what your dad’s done to your protective instincts, Dean Winchester, but he seems to have done nothing for your own survival.” I pushed my finger against his chest, my eyes flickering red for a moment. “Because you feel it’s so necessary to protect Sam and I and blame yourself if we get hurt- just cut it! Because I’m done! Time and time again- I can’t stand it. I’m not going to sit here like your dad did and watch you throw away your life-“ 

“Then don’t.” He whispered, but it cut through my words like a yell. “Leave. Don’t watch me throw away my life.” 

I instantly deflated, setting my jaw. “You can’t be serious.” 

“Deadly.” He seethed, gritting his teeth. 

I shook my head, the winding coil in my head snapping suddenly. “Fine. Congratulations, though, you just killed yourself.” 

“I did it for a reason! Sam is my family, but you wouldn’t understand that, would you?” 

“You’re right, I wouldn’t.” I shrugged, biting back tears. “Even though I had two boys who I’d give my life for in a heartbeat. Or at least I did.” I turned on my heel, walking back into the motel. The first thing I did was grab my spare clothes from Jo, Sam’s eyebrows furrowing in confusion once he saw what I was doing. 

“What happened?” He asked. 

“Ask your brother.” I retorted, taking out the keys to my Mustang and getting in, flooring it. 

“Dean, what the hell?” Sam turned to Dean, gesturing in the direction of where I drove off. 

“I don’t know.” Dean whispered, breathing heavily and unable to take his eyes off where my car once was. 

“Seriously, man, what the hell?” 

“I don’t- I don’t know.” He gulped, running both hands through his hair. “What have I done?”

PREVIOUS

[acourtofthought]

Not Elucien related but do you think after HOFAS there's a chance that Nesta will in fact move away from the inner circle? The spoilers I've seen, it feels like she is unhappy with her life and I think there's a possibility we might see her moving away from NC altogether and getting involved in Autumn drama (helping Eris kill Baron).

I do think Nesta will move away from the Inner Circle, but not the Night Court.

At first thought, it seems like Feyre, Nesta, and Elain all working together as one big happy family within the Inner Circle would be picture perfect.

But, would it?

Because there will always be an imbalance in that scenario. Feyre is their High Lady and Rhys would be their High Lord, the sisters would be forced to listen to them when it came down to it.

And that does not give room for the sisters growth into individuals, into striking a healthy balance where they each respect their own strengths and independence outside one another.

Nesta's sister and Nesta's brother-in-law being able to tell her what to do does not create an environment where being sisters comes first.

I think the same will be said of Elain, she is mated to Lucien who is set up to become a High Lord and regardless of what side of the ship wars you fall on, mates are equals which means Elain should technically have it in her to be capable of ruling as well. Her ending up working for the IC would also create an unfair imbalance between her potential and her relationship with Feyre.

But in SF, everything we were told is that the Night Court is her home. The HOW is her home. There is nothing to indicate she would leave the Night Court for Autumn and honestly, there's nothing to suggest that Eris would be willing to work with Nesta after she screwed him over in SF. The Autumn Court drama involves Beron, Lucien, Eris and the LoA. Despite them working with Eris in SF, their interactions with him took place outside the NC because outsiders are not permitted within it's borders. So long as Beron is alive, nobody with NC ties is going to easily play a part there, not when Eris was aware of Az trying to spy.

This next part will contain HOFAS spoilers so if you're avoiding them, you might want to stop reading here.

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The ending of HOFAS has Bryce leaving her birthright (which is the Prison lands, the would be Dusk Court) to Nesta because of the 8 pointed star tattoo she had.

I'm not sure that the land itself is destined for Nesta to rule because she isn't a descendant of Theia and we're told that only her heirs have true claim to that land.

But Nesta is set up to become the general of the Valkyrie and she is most likely going to be responsible for setting the restoration of the lands into motion. Just as Bryce passed the torch to Nesta, it could be part of Nesta's destiny to pass the torch to whomever is meant to tie their magic into the land (maybe Mor?). The reason I say this is because whoever is tied to the land should probably remain there and since Valkryie territory is a group of female warriors, I can't see how Nesta would be it's "leader" (different from general) when she's mated to Cassian and they were left the HOW which Nesta says is her home. Since Mor's preference is that of females, she and a female love interest would make sense being the permanent presence, overseeing the Valkyrie while Nesta is their general.

But regardless of who oversees the Valkryie territory, we learned in SF that the Valkyrie were independent of the courts which is a way for Nesta to remain living in the Night Court while her job provides her a loophole to not report directly to Rhys.

[luneinary]

I have something silly and perhaps a little lame to say about v3

So after a good 7 months of ruminating and actually Sitting Down to give chapter 6 my full undivided attention and analysis (without operating on a flu-induced fever and not half-asleep from NyQuil) I have come to the conclusion that I love v3's ending , or at the very least its message

I was initially in the crowd that was like "wow I have never stopped caring about a narrative faster" and tuned out the remainder of the trail before the mantra of "it's all fiction" numbed me first and I indeed fell hard for the cameos that Tsumugi kept showing the audience . Normally I liked meta - commentary and media that challenged the status quo so I wasn't sure why v3's conclusion sat so wrong with me , so naturally I just kept chapter 6 at an arms length while I sat on what it was trying to tell me , as the player .

Nowadays , I absolutely still wish that it was better in its execution , but it did what it was set out to and is extremely effective when you lend it some patience.

  the mechanics of the trail are deliberate , subversive , and a really great method of storytelling . It's Shuichi's UI gradually shutting down just before entering K1B0's perspective -- a little nod to Kaede passing the torch to him in her trial; it's the back route (the "lie" mechanic essentially) being "despair" to counter hope , once again calling out the surface-level dualism between the two concepts; it's seeing the inner monologues of both Maki and Himiko while convincing them to abstain; it's the trial impeding on the player's ability to even interact with the game at times (i.e. Monokuma throwing a Hangman's Gambit or a Psych Taxi in your face in a way to coax you into playing, though you aren't meant to participate)  , and that's just a few of my favorites .

Your first instinct is to be upset that everything you learned up to this point was fabricated and being laughed at for caring-- I was upset , too . But the game isn't mad at you for liking its story . If anything I feel like it would not spend nearly as much time trying to get you to care about its narrative and characters if that really were the case . It swept the rug from under our feet to force us to look inward and ask: have we truly understood what we were consuming ? Do we emphasize with the grief and loss that these characters are experiencing , despite knowing that all we can really do is watch ?

Questions that which lead me to the author;

Tsumugi is fascinating as a mastermind because she's so deeply entrenched in simply creating something consumable , that she forgets to care about her own story . If something as big as Danganronpa (in-universe anyway) went on for as long as it did , there had to be, once , a time when the franchise had the most integrity , only to be gradually diluted with each season until it became whatever for the sake of whatever-- it doesn't matter , it's just a show, everyone will tune in anyway, because the world needs it . It's silly and dramatized in the trial , but an example of consumerism all the same .

All of this, likened with the thematic constants, of truth and lies , belief and doubt -- our perception of them -- just kept changing and changing , to the point that even we couldn't make those distinctions, and it was like what are we even doing anymore ?? What even is this story ?

It only makes sense that the characters would outgrow a script that wasn't reliable to begin with, the death of their supposed author allowing them to finally reach an audience that had dismissed their experiences as "lies," in favor of keeping a collapsing franchise alive . The extent of what seemed real to her classmates , maybe even the audience , doesn't seem as such to her -- even if she participated in the killing game -- because of the lack of integrity she had in writing her own plot .

Whether you're an artist or an author or just someone who creates , it's important to remember that: Life imitates art and vice versa , and what we create doesn't exist in a vacuum . How common is it nowadays for people to share how much a game they grew up with has impacted them , or the friends they've made over a book that they've read , or see the time and energy and love people put into fanmade material for the world to see for free ? We are all human beings with so many feelings and thoughts to share, and our ever-evolving ability to express them through storytelling is a wonderful gift -- especially now, when people are connecting more to works of fiction and diverse media more than ever .

So even if it's just fiction , what these characters say , do , think , it matters -- just as much to them as it does us . Shuichi could have always been meek and unsure , but he has gone through something horrible  , seen people at their best and at their worst , met people he loved dearly , and now he isn't . And we were so proud of what he became . Nevermind if what he experienced was predetermined , because it felt real to us , and it mattered ! All of it !! It all matters !!

An author may die . But the memory of opening their book for the first time is timeless . The story isn't over because it lives on through us . Our care . And for that reason, our stories are eternal . Be honest and be real with what you create . People can tell .

[i-suc-at-art]

Day 6: immortal

Ik this isn’t exactly danny phantom but it’s my dp oc so id like to think it counts.. This also is something i’ve had in the google doc vault for like ages lol it takes place during beyond batman, i was eventually going to have danny join the story but this is only the first part so don’t come for me that danny isn’t in this.. I still think it’s good writing so take pitty on my and read it pretty please 🥺🥺

“We have a ghost problem in Gotham” Terry says

“I don’t think so.. I’ve seen everything, Zombies, vampires, only one ghost though..”

“A real ghost?” Terry asks while sitting on the desk, Bruce was repairing the Suit sitting down in a chair.

“She was a half ghost but yes. She was once the ward of Vlad masters, she came to Gotham when she was 17, the two of them weren’t on good terms.”

“Woah, rich kid huh?”

“Didn’t act like it, but she was dangerous, vindictive too. She didn’t love that i wasn’t willing to go the extra mile in stopping bad guys” Bruce continues working on the suit not looking up

“Freaky.. Wait, wouldn’t she be like 40 by now?”

Bruce looks up at Terry and sighs. He stands walking over to the bat computer “Computer bring up file on Clover Morte.”

“Clover Morte, previous identities unknown, alias: Reaper, Age:17, metahuman powers: increased strength, intangibility, invisibility, increased sight, flight, overshadowing, ghostly fire, immortality, other powers unknown.”

“Do you know where she is? or how to find her?”

“I have a few ideas, you worry about the bad guys, i’ll worry about finding the ghost who haunts Gotham.”

“Right.” Terry puts on his suit and heads out in the batmobile.

Bruce steps into the middle of the small graveyard in Park Row, his cane hitting an inground plaque he side steps to not stand on the grave.

“My eyes must be deceiving me! Is that the one and only Bruce Wayne? The living ghost?” A voice asks from the shadows

“I could say the same about you Reaper.” Bruce turns to where he heard the voice

“Ain’t nobody called me that, not in a long time..” Clover says landing silently in front of Bruce

“You still look good for 37..” He smirks down at the young ghost, her body still looking 17

“You look good too, for a dead guy.” A burst of fire lights from her hand as she passes Bruce patting him on the shoulder with her non burning hand “So, whatcha need? There’s no way you’d see me just to visit.”

“You ever talked to your Dad before he passed?” Bruce follows her and Clover slows her pace so they can walk side by side

“Vlad? Oh no he’s alive and well, he’s also a halfa, naturally created halfas age slower than humans, but they age.” She pauses and opens up a decently sized mausoleum to have a dry place for the two to talk.

“Ah.. That’s good to know that Mr. Masters is alive, still, that bastard’s probably going to live longer than Mcginnis.”

“You’re the one who's going to outlive us all Bruce..” She steps further in motioning for him to follow “So that’s your new ward? Or maybe the new Batman that I've been hearing whispers about?” Clover pulls up a chair for Bruce to sit, clearly she had made this some sort of home. A cot bed in the corner, a couple empty takeout containers sit in a trash bag, looking around Bruce is seriously considering offering Clover a room

“Perceptive as ever. You know you should really talk to Vlad before it’s too late.”

“I mean we’ve talked, he knows I'm alive.. well half alive, but still. He understands that my place is here. Though I haven’t seen him in about 3 or 4 years now, I'm really thinking about it..” She pauses and looks at Bruce, his eyes darting around inspecting the room

“I don’t need a room Bruce. This is my haunt, take me away from it and I won’t hesitate to bring your spirit here myself.” She glares at him and he can’t tell if she’s being serious or not.

“Wouldn’t dream of it.” He sighs, eyes focusing back on the ghost girl. She lights a couple of small torches on the walls with the fire from her hand. A bright green ring glows around her waist; it splits and starts to change her body, her hair falling from its fiery ponytail, to equally fiery red hair that reaches her shoulders, her bangs black and eyes a bright green. She now looks to be 17 or 18 but her face looks just as aged as someone in their late twenties. Her eyes suckin in, mouth positioned in a frown, she looks troubled. Bruce can tell she isn’t hiding it either.

“Ok, spit it out.. you didn’t just come here to pass along fatherly advice, and exchange pleasantries.”

“Mcginnis says we have a ghost problem. But i’m not so sure. It seems to..” Bruce pauses searching for the right words “high school to be a real ghost.”

“What do you want me to do? Play high school?” She crosses her arms and leans against one of the walls

“That might be a good idea.. Mcginnis does need someone out there who I trust helping him learn the ropes.”

Clover sighs “My guy.. I was joking, I'm not going back to school. Last time it was kinda a hellhole.”

“I’m sure it gets lonely here..” Bruce says

“One; that was out of pocket, two; Jason visits quite often ok?” she pauses “I know what you're doing.. I quite enjoy my simple life I've carved for myself so why don’t you stop trying to carve your dick into it.” She glares her green eyes turning a bright blue for a moment

“It would be good to get to know your peers.” He continues to push her buttons

“Oh yeah, like I'll be able to connect with a bunch of teens who were just sperm when I started my haunt.” She rolls her eyes

“It would be nice to have an inside man. Dont adult actors play teens all the time?” He questions.

She sighs, “If you stop nagging I’ll give you one week. When we get this figured out and I'm back in this graveyard. If you make me stay any longer I swear I will make good on my threat.”

Bruce just nods then sticks out his hand for a handshake, clover grasps it tightly “Death.. I can’t believe that worked..” She balls up her fist and hits it to her forehead.

[soapppp]

CW: MW3 spoilers

I really hate how they made the game, they rushed it and put little budget in, but I can’t pretend it hasn’t inspired me. So, based on the idea that soap is alive and starts again (possibly with memory loss, KingsMan style) here are some idea for a new call sign I’ve seen or thought of:

- Phoenix. This one’s obvious, he dies and roses again, it also is ironic considering the snow.

- Hawk. While I think he’d have to get rid of his iconic hairstyle, it could also hint to his impressive aim.

- Hyena. The Mohawk like hair, as well as the fact that Spotted Hyenas are some of the fiercest animals when it comes to staying alive and fighting to the death.

- Sorry. Maybe it’s his first word after getting back from his coma, maybe it’s what he’s told all the time when he wakes up when he begs to see Gaz and Ghost but is told he can’t. He takes the name out of spite, maybe. Maybe he’s saying it to Ghost, so if they ever get to meet again he’ll be able to say it even if the other doesn’t know it’s him.

- Demo. He’s a demolition expert. There’s also the idea that his life before hand was like a demo of a game and now he’s learnt everything and is ready for the whole thing.

- Torch. We already know Soap is dangerous and violent, but after this kind of heartbreak? He’s viscous, so he wants a new set of tools. He stops just using his explosives and starts to carry around a flamethrower or something similar. He torches every place he can after being there, with the added bonus of making sure no one knows he was there.

- Craze. Without a team for him to keep happy, to help distract from their grief and fear, he has no reason to stay positive and ‘sane’. So he stops, letting every rage filled and depraved thought come out, lashing out at friend and foe, punishing whoever just happens to be in his path. Price accidentally gives him the calls sign when he sees the crazed look in his former friends eyes.

[womanofwords]

Ghost Hunting

I’ve been wanting to write this for ages, and I’m sorry that I was too late for Halloween. All the characters belong to @shyticklemonster.

“Why are we doing this again? Irving Manor isn’t even haunted; it’s just old,” Keith replied, turning the torch over and over in his hands. “It’s not even Halloween anymore, so this ghost-hunting stuff feels out of season.”

“I was busy during Halloween!” Elliot whined. “And you said I just had to say the word and you’d be there!”

“I’m beginning to regret that I said that,” Keith muttered.

Elliott didn’t seem to have heard him. “I wonder what sort of ghost we’ll find here. Maybe it’s a wailing old lady, or a little kid!”

“Maybe it’s a ghost butler! And he’s just walking around with one of those large metal plate covers so he can serve ghostly food for someone that isn’t there!” Keith giggled.

The two laughed and chatted as they strolled up to the door to Irving Manor, completely unaware that they were being watched.

Sebastian watched the strange boys from the window of his mansion as they invited themselves in.

“Who are they? They have no right to be here! How dare they go into my illustrious home?” Sebastian hissed under his breath. Admittedly, his home wasn’t as illustrious and as polished as it was before, but it was still his home, and he had to defend it.

Nobody else could anymore.

“Where did you even get the ghost-hunting equipment? Is-is that a tiny radar thingy?” Keith asked, as he followed behind his friend.

“Yes, of course it is. I got it from Amazon,” Elliott replied serenely, as the screen flickered into life. “Now, let’s see what sort of horrible, ugly ghosts this little beauty picks up.”

Sebastian was incensed. Not only were these boys unwelcome in his home, one of them had even called him horrible and ugly! Now was the time for confrontation.

“Leave my home immediately!” he boomed, pointing at the door. Elliot dropped the ghost-finding radar, while Keith fumbled with the torch.

“This place is actually haunted?!” Keith yelped.

“Who are you, cursed spirit?” Elliott asked.

“Sebastian. Sebastian Irving,” Sebastian introduced, while glaring at the two intruders. Keith was still terrified, while Elliott was thrilled.

“My first ghost encounter! Oh, I have so many questions! First of all, is it possible to touch a ghost?” Elliott asked, sticking a hand through Sebastian’s side.

Sebastian squeaked and held still.

For just a few seconds, everything sat still.

Elliott looked at Sebastian.

Sebastian looked at Elliott.

Keith looked at Sebastian and Elliott.

“Are you ticklish, Sebastian?” Elliott asked, a curious smile on his face as he experimentally wiggled his fingers inside the ghost’s abdomen.

Sebastian fought to stop himself from giggling. How was this working on him? He wasn’t even alive anymore; why could he still feel things?

“This is actually pretty cute,” Keith mused, smiling. Sebastian would have glared at him if he could, but his face was forced into a wobbly smile. His hands gripped his sides uselessly as Keith got out his phone, one hand trying to get Elliott’s hand away from him, but his efforts were fruitless. Ghosts weren’t able to touch human bodies.

“This has got to be immortalized,” he grinned. “Also, I guess it counts a test to see if ghosts show up on camera.”

CAMERA?! SEBASTIAN WAS GOING TO BE ON CAMERA?!

Wait, what’s a camera? Sebastian thought, as laughter burst out of his mouth. It probably had something to do with the odd rectangle in the hands of the pale boy with the shapeless hat on his head. This sounded like a way of showing Sebastian off to the world, and he didn’t want that

“ENOUGH!” Sebastian yelled, forcing himself out of Elliott’s grip. Composing himself, he looked between the two boys that had broken into his home. Both seemed off, but Elliott was clearly the more mischievous one.

Well, Sebastian could also be mischievous. He’d spent decades haunting his old home, after all. And he knew he could possess people for about an hour.

An hour was all he needed.

Keith yelled as he was possessed, Elliott watching on in horror. Besides, what could he do about possession?

“Keith? Keith, listen to me. Keith, say something!” Elliott shook his friend frantically. Eventually, Keith looked up at him with wide, glowing, blank eyes.

That wasn’t Keith that Elliott was talking to.

Shrieks of laughter rang out again from Irving Manor.

But this time, the person laughing was alive.

[incendio22]

FOR THE HOPE OF IT ALL

Chapter 15: Slytherins and Dungeons

Author's note

First of all, I want to thank each and every single one of you who have taken the time to read this story. I haven't written fanfiction in so many years and I honestly didn't expect anyone to read this story. I smile like a child whenever I see that someone left a like or a comment on a chapter. I appreciate you all so much and I'm glad to know I'm not the only one who is down bad for a video game character. Thank you ♡

With that said, I also want to leave a trigger warning on this chapter as the main theme is partying and there is alcohol being consumed in a potentially romanticizing way.

__________________________________________

I follow the crowd to a different dungeon close to our common room. I have never seen this entrance before and I ask Imelda about it.

''Oh, the 7th-years have enchanted it so no one can see it but them. Quite clever, if you ask me.'' She says as we walk down the stairs to a dark, humid dungeon. It has windows facing the Black Lake, some torches on the walls and the decor are Slytherin flags, as well as all the other houses. There are some other people in there, mostly Gryffindors and a handful of Ravenclaws.

Some Slytherin yells that it's time to get the party started. The other people in the dungeon stands up and raises their cups.

''If it isn't the hero of Slytherin herself.'' It's Garreth Weasley who's putting his arm around me and hands me a cup of butterbeer. I laugh at him.

''Oh yes.'' I say in a proud voice. ''Consider yourself lucky I even know your name. I'm getting famous after today's win.''

''Oh, I bet you are.'' He grins at me. ''And trust me, I am lucky. Meeting you in a dungeon like this on a Saturday evening? You don't get that everyday.''

We talk for a good moment and are interrupted by Imelda, who has fire whiskey in her hands. One for each of us. She grins at Garreth.

''It's your lucky day, Weasley. Getting a minute with Y/n and being here for a Slytherin party.'' She cheers and we sweep the whiskey together.

My throat is burning, but I feel more alive than ever. The alcohol is getting to my head and I feel as if I own the world. The music gets louder, the lights get darker and the dungeon is crowded. Some people are dancing, some people are making out on the couch and some people are chatting. I join Garreth again, who is dancing with Imelda and some other people. We are having the time of our lives, dancing as if there's no tomorrow and drinking as if it was our last night in the castle.

Garreth puts his hands on my hips and we move closer. His breath smells of whiskey, but I expect mine is the same since we did have a couple of more shots of whiskey together. I put my arms on his shoulders and we spin around. I am so dizzy and everything feels like a blur. He leans in closer as if he's trying to kiss me, but I pull away. Garreth is sweet, but I don't feel any attraction at all. He looks disappointed and lets go of my hips, we continue dancing but on our own.

As I keep letting loose, dancing as if there's no tomorrow I see someone in a corner of the dungeon. It's Sebastian. He must just have gotten here. Or I was too busy with Garreth and Imelda that I didn't notice sooner. I walk up to him with mixed feelings. Thrilled to see him, mad at him for not talking to me earlier today, excited about how he 'never stops talking about me'.

''When did you get here?'' I ask, having to lean against the window facing the lake in order not to lose my balance.

''Just now. I heard rumours about alcohol and a dungeon. And that you seemed to be the life of the party.'' He says, smirking. ''You couldn't pay me to miss an opportunity like this.''

I pour a shot of fire whiskey down his throat, he grunts and tells me he needs another one before he's ready to dance. I have never seen some look so elegant, yet handsome while taking a shot. It's something about the way his face twists after he swallows the strong liquor.

''Did I see you dancing with Garreth before?'' He asks curiously as he's pouring himself another shot. The look he gives me is intriguing.

My stomach  twists and drops to the floor. He saw us. Not that I have anything to hide from him, but because I feel as if I betrayed him by even letting Garreth think he had a chance at kissing me.

''Didn't I see you with a Ravenclaw hanging on your arm earlier today?'' I argue jokingly.

''You did. But she didn't try to kiss me.'' He replies while raising an eyebrow, burning his eyes into mine. ''I can't blame him. But when it comes to you I'm not really one for sharing.''

''She might as well have...'' I mutter.

''Are you jealous?'' He asks me with a grin on his face, looking incredibly satisfied.

''I'm not the jealous type.'' I lie whilst having flashbacks to him telling me he wasn't the 'jealous kind of guy'. Apparently jealousy runs in both of our personalities.

''Oh, Y/n.'' He tilts his head, burning his eyes into mine. ''We agreed not to lie to each other.''

I avoid answering and pull him to the centre of the dungeon where most people are dancing. It's absolutely crowded. The fire in the torches are getting weaker, making the room darker by the second. We lose ourselves in the music, in the dancing, in the atmosphere. Sebastian pulls me closer and in the darkness we are standing face to face. Lights getting even weaker, forehead to forehead. It feels so intimate. Naturally, I try to lean in for a kiss but his thumb stops me. That stupid thumb.

''Not here.'' He whispers. His warm breath on my ear causes a shiver to rum through my body. ''Trust me, there is not a single thing I want more. But now is not the right place or time.''

I feel rejected, but I stay with my arms around his neck dancing slowly. Accepting the fact that even if this is all I get from him, it's worth it.

''Wanna get out of here?'' He asks, giving me a daring smirk.

Without hesitation he leads me to the astronomy tower. It's cold and dark, but the night is exceptionally crystal clear. You can see every star that is possible with only the eye. We go to one of the small balconies and look out over the castle, the lake and the forest surrounding us. My heart is still beating from the alcohol, the dancing, the dungeon and from his touch.

''I didn't not want to kiss you. Just so you know.'' He says, holding me from behind as we're looking at the stars. Almost as if he feels the need to explain himself, even if there really is no need to.

Of course I was upset. But not because he didn't want to kiss me, but because I must have misread every signal he's given me. Maybe yesterday meant nothing to him, while it meant the world to me.

''It seemed as if you didn't want to.'' I tell him.

After all, he did reject my kiss. In front of everyone. But I understand and cannot blame him. Next to him I must look like a fool, I think to myself. He is the most gorgeous man I have ever laid my eyes on. Even just getting to spend time with him makes me feel like the most special girl in the world. In my head it's almost an honor to exist at the same time at him, even more getting to breathe the same air as him. Of course he doesn't want me. He could have anyone, so why would he choose me out of everyone?

''I just think love is best kept private.'' He says in a low voice, the warmth of his breath making the hairs in my neck stand. ''Not secret, but private. That way, no one can sabotage. No one can talk about it. That way, all that matters is what we're like to each other. How we make each other feel. Because nothing or no one else matters.''

His voice is soft and warming like a summer breeze, making me feel safe. I understand him, but I don't fully agree. I respect his wish to keep it private, and whilst his reasoning makes sense I won't deny that I still wanted to kiss in the dungeon. Not because I wanted to show him off, but because despite all the partying going on around us we would have given them the best spectacle of the evening to look at.

[fragilecapric0rnn]

the brainrot got me and now a fic inspired by this post is in the works. it'll take me a few weeks to finish it up, so for now, let me introduce you to Steve's older sister, JJ Harrington.

Shortly after the ground split open but before the word “earthquake” could fall onto the lips of anyone to explain the unexplainable. Hardly any time had passed, smoke still rising from the "fault lines", some residents still asleep, blissfully unaware of the destruction beneath their feet, the horrors on the brink of spilling out of them.

And yet, here comes JJ Harrington. The clearest image flashed in Steve's brain, gas pedal hitting the floor of her ugly yellow VW Golf, speeding directly into the fire. Passing the trail of cars already on their way out of town.

The adrenaline that had been pumping through his veins when he carried a barely-breathing Eddie through the gate as the Upside Down imploded under their feet, had worn off. As soon as he handed his limp body over to the medical staff, his brain and body finally caught up to one another. The roadrash on his back, every bite on his torso, every muscle in his body, every wound that went ignored, suddenly lit up in and on him like a forest fire, stealing his ability to speak, to ask for help, to walk. Paralyzed by the pain, the tightness in his chest, the ringing in his ears. Just unbearable, immovable, pain.

The squad of Suits approaching their group was an afterthought as his vision started to blur. Every blink made the weight of his eyelids heavier and heavier, only registering Robin’s yelp as his legs gave out under him. Then everything goes black.  

He forgot to ask how much time passed in between his fainting spell and waking up in a hospital bed. It looked like the sun was barely rising, so he would probably guess only a few hours, max. 

Max.  He sat up too quickly, Robin rushed to his side to calm him down as she shouted for the doctor, explaining what Steve had missed while he was out. 

It had only been a few hours since it all happened. He's almost positive Robin told the hospital staff not even to bother calling his parents. Hell, Steve didn't even know where they were these days. His parents were a blip in his racing mind, he didn't care about them. He needed to know everyone was alive, hearts were still beating and breaths still breathing.

Eddie is alive, in the ICU, but alive. Both of Max’s legs are broken, but she’s also alive. The doctor explains that he is being treated for his wounds and extreme dehydration and that he’d be released after a day or two. 

He felt his own breathing go back to normal, only relaxing for a moment until he saw them. The signs of the aftermath in the form of big men in black suits standing at the door of the room. He didn't realize how long his stare lingered, not until the doctor cleared his throat and snapped Steve's attention back toward him.

“Procedure,” the doctor says, like that’s supposed to mean something to him. “This floor is secure, which means no one is coming in without proper clearance.” Probably because there's an angry mob of Jesus Freaks outside, pitchforks and torches in tow.

He believed him. Until about an hour passed.

Not even an hour after that conversation, Robin started to nod off in a chair at the foot of the bed, the TV was on but muted near her. She was in a set of fresh clothes and for the first time in almost a week, they were bordering on comfortable.

Until they heard a small commotion happening just outside the door. Steve could only describe it as a scuffle, sneakers skidding on the linoleum floors, deep brooding voices on the brink of becoming yells, "I said, stand back."

He thinks the doctor might have missed another concussion when he hears a very distinct, very familiar voice call out a, “fuck you!” And then sneakered feet squeaking down the hallway. 

He shared a look with Robin, winced as he sat up to get a better look at the propped-open door. The sneakers skid to a stop at the same time as he fully craned his neck and all the air was pulled out of his lungs. 

He wasn’t imagining it. 

Because there she was, gripping onto the doorway, flinging herself into the room, big brown hair and long limbs flailing as she tripped over her own two feet, stumbling further inside. She had two different shoes on her feet, a white Ked on her left foot and a black Converse on the right. Her glasses sweatshirt was on inside out and backwards, but she still had the same look of determination on her face that had been permanently etched there for as long as Steve could remember.

A familiar sense of relief filled Steve’s chest, seeing her for the first time in years. If he hadn’t already fainted, he was sure this would have done it to him. 

JJ froze, stuck standing in the middle of the room and breathing hard, eyes glossing over Steve as she checked out the room. He watched her eyes immediately dart to the corner of the room where Robin was now standing. Robin stared at Steve's sister, bug-eyed, almost identical to the look she was giving her.

Except JJ's look was riddled in something else, something that made it clear to Steve that she didn't expect to find anyone in there with him. Like she expected him to be alone.

He doesn’t know how long they’re all stuck in place before he finds his voice.  

“Jesus, did you run here from Chicago?” Steve’s scratchy voice startled everyone in the room, himself included. She snapped her head in his direction, eyes already filled to the brim with tears and panic written all over her face. 

“Even in a hospital bed, you’re still acting like a little fucking punk.” Her voice watery as she wrapped up her little brother into a bone crushing hug. Steve didn’t care if she was reinjuring him. Didn’t care to explain to her how he got here. Didn't care if she just got put on a watchlist because she terrorized some federal agents in the hallway. He didn't care if Robin watched them cry and hold onto each other.

He didn’t care. Because JJ was here. JJ's there and he felt like he could finally breathe. He felt like the unbearable weight that had been sitting dead on his chest for the past three years, through the countless horrors, being lifted. All because his sister's hug felt the same as it did when he was 5 and she was 13, when he was 10 and she was 18, when he was 17 and she was 25. He didn’t know how much he’s been needing her. 

“Go!” He hears Robin whisper among scurrying feet and he picks his head up from JJ’s shoulder. He watched the tops of Dustin and Erica's heads get pushed to the other side of the door.

He meets Robin’s eyes, also watery. She mouths, “we’ll be back,” before darting out. He winced when her eyes reached his neck, knowing what it looked like. To someone who could only imagine what he went through. What they all had been through. How he could never tell her the full story, even if he wanted to.

JJ moved her hands to Steve’s shoulders, breaking the hug to get a better look at him. Her face crumpled as her eyes scanned over the bandages wrapped around his torso.

her eyes meeting his, something so unrecognizable in them. Steve had never seen such a look coming from his sister. No, she was the bravest person he’d ever known.

His sister, who threatened to punch his childhood bully in the mouth when she was 14. Who called him an idiot and threatened to punch him in the mouth when she found out the bully became his best friend when they got to high school.

His sister, who called their dad a dick to his face before swinging her arm back. Who put out the rest of her cigarette on their mom's ugly floral couch as she walked out of their lives, telling their dad to kiss my ass, as the door slammed shut behind her. Steve's heart racing for her as he watched her ugly lemon colored car peel out of the driveway from the guest room window.

Her eyes were filled to the brim with tears as they sat there, both adults now. Adults technically, and even if Steve felt like he'd grown a hundred times over in the last few years, he still felt like a little boy watching his sister watch him. The fear in her eyes more chilling than any of the monsters he's had to face.

If only she knew what he had been up to these last three years.