#kit's writing snippets

[licnheartedd]

this is it. this scene sums up inertia jegulus perfectly

[chaotic-orphan]

Intoxicating Fear (XXVII)

Disoriented dazed

Read part one // masterpost // continued from

*~*~*~*~*

Kit woke with a sharp cough, his lungs bouncing against his ribs. He turned over as the cough tickled the back of his throat, and he tried to sit up but the world swam dizzying around his head and he wanted to throw up instead as he hacked out whatever was stuck in his chest.

He managed to eventually, a glob of red hitting a pale hand as Kit groaned. Hands were on his shoulders, pushing him back against the bed and Kit blinked, groaning against the touch.

Who was touching him didn’t matter, he just wanted it to stop. “Kit, it’s okay. You’re safe. You’re fine.”

Kit passed out again before he could wonder why that voice was, at once, so familiar and yet something was wrong with it. Something off. He couldn’t remember why or what as the darkness claimed him again.

The next time he woke up he was more alert. He didn’t wake up coughing, he woke easily and without fuss. He blinked at the unfamiliar ceiling for a while, his mind moving too slowly to comprehend that he could be in danger. He had a bad headache, a dull aching throb, one that pulsed spikes of pain down his temple and into his cheeks with every beat of his heart.

His breath felt so loud in the silence of the room.

He couldn’t remember what was happening, where he was, but he was floating along, as if he were in a lazy river, just enjoying the flow of the water around him instead of focusing on why he was in the water in the first place.

A door opened in a far off place, indiscernible to him as he stared up at the arched ceiling of stone, tracing the wooden rafter beams that supported such a heavy roof with his eyes.

Then.

Black eyes.

Black concerned eyes, blinking fervidly down at him, and speaking but Kit couldn’t really make out the sounds at first.

Then, Kit?

And Kit grunted in pain. Don’t, he thought, but even that sent spikes of pain down his face and through his skull. Hurts.

“Kit?” Ambrose tried again. Kit moaned. What did Ambrose do to him this time? Everything hurt but was also, somehow, numb? Did he overuse his charm speak on Kit again? No… this feeling was similar but different somehow. “Thank god you’re conscious.”

Kit blinked tiredly up at the black eyes, studying Ambrose’s marble like skin. The shadows of his cheeks and eye sockets, his lips that were slightly crooked to the left, not centred properly. Something imperfect on his face. He never noticed these details about Ambrose before. He felt he should remember them, like they might be something he could use against Ambrose later, but the thought melted into the swirl of the lazy river in his mind and bobbed along out of reach of Kit’s grip.

Kit blinked and his eyes shuttered closed, watching black eyes grow wide with worry before the darkness took hold of him again.

The next time he woke, he lurched straight up, gasping as his entire body burned and he screamed and writhed, twisting away from the hand clamped down tightly on his chest.

In the distance he could hear Ambrose say: “Kit! Kit! It’s okay! It’s okay! You’re fine, you’re safe!”

Kit thrashed in the bed, trying to dislodge the source of the unnatural heat and then as suddenly as it began, the burning stopped and Kit gasped, falling back against the mattress, bleary eyes only seeing the grey stones and brown wood of the ceiling.

A hand pinched his cheeks and turned his head to face two slithering, silver eyes like gleaming molten metal, swirling like mercury. Kit recoiled away, trying to dislodge the hand from his face. He pulled his hands, trying to get them to get this guy’s hand off of him, but he heard two clicks of metal.

As if he had just been slammed down from space into his body, Kit went cold as he realised that he was cuffed to a bed, his hands above his head. Memories flashed back to him, snippets of the last thing he was conscious for and Kit remembered Ambrose and he remembered those silver eyes and his stomach churned.

“Ah, look at that. You do remember.”

Kit didn’t answer but he didn’t dare move his eyes from Supervillain’s face. His maskless face. Ambrose had come in with him, Kit couldn’t remember his name, but he remembered the helpless fear he had around him and—

“Where’s Sawyer and Tides?” Kit asked, his voice hollow even to his own ears. Why did he ask that? What if they were dead? What if Kit was next? Was this Ambrose’s plan all along? To kill him?

Black eyes appeared over Nathan, who was sitting in a chair next to Kit’s bed. “They’re safe, Kit.”

“Where are they?” Ambrose opened his mouth to reply, but Supervillain hummed, his silver eyes forming half moons, gleaming, and Ambrose shut his mouth again. Kit looked at Ambrose. “You— you, Ambrose, let us out, please. Let us go. Tides and Sawyer didn’t do anything!”

“I’m afraid Oskar doesn’t get to decide whether you’re freed or not, Kit.” Silver eyes said. Kit glared at him. “Was it you who smashed all my windows?”

“Yeah, and I’ll do the same to your face if you don’t—” Kit cut himself off screaming, a sudden burning in his chest until he heard Ambrose say Nathan, enough and the pain stopped and Kit fell back against the bed.

Silver eyed Nathan smirked down at Kit. “The youth of today, huh? Breaks a man’s windows and has the gall to threaten him in his own house.”

“You’re a piece of shit!” Kit hissed, scrambling back on the bed, rotating his arms so he could sit up and keep his arms awkwardly cuffed, his right arm stretched over waist but at least he was sitting up, facing the two bastards. At least he could kick at Nathan if he tried anything.

What a stupid name. What kind of Supervillain is called Nathan? Why isn’t he called something better? Grander? And why was Ambrose staring at him like he was trying to tell him something?

Shut up, Kit thought loud enough for Ambrose to hear. I’m mad at you too.

How interesting.

Kit’s wide eyes snapped to Nathan, his heart pounding against his chest. Then his gaze shot back to Ambrose, questioningly.

“What… how does he have your power?”

Nathan answered, leaning forward and grabbing Kit’s wrist. Kit was about to pull back when a burst of blinding white shot behind his eyes and he gasped.

Just as quickly as it began, when Nathan lifted his hand the strange wash of sensation left him and he was left a little drained.

“Bitch…” Kit muttered, suddenly breathless.

Nathan smirked, lifting his fingers in front of his face, humming as he rubbed the pads of his thumb and forefinger together almost thoughtfully. A spark of blue and Kit flinched back.

His eyes went to Ambrose’s black as he scrambled back away from Nathan, fear gripping him in the same way it would a gazelle at seeing a lion crouching in the grass.

“Kit, it’s okay—” Ambrose began but Kit cut him off, his voice wavering in pitch, in strength, in breath.

“No it’s fucking not! What the fuck is wrong with you? Don’t— don’t fucking touch me!”

“Kit,” Ambrose said again, but Nathan was staring at him with his cold, dead eyes and Kit just wanted to flee. Kit’s desperate eyes turned back to Ambrose, his chest heaving but getting no oxygen into his ribs, into his lungs because Nathan was—

“Please,” he whispered, tears coming to his eyes as he stared into black. “Please, Ambrose. Help me. Please. Let me go, please, I can’t—”

He couldn’t explain the raw, primal fear that was coursing through, racking his body with cold shivers as the cuffs jangled off the headboard violently.

“P-please,” Kit whimpered. Ambrose swallowed, his eyes darting between Kit and Nathan and he did the one thing he knew would stop Nathan. He stepped in front of him, blocking Nathan’s sight of Kit and before Nathan could berate him for it, he wrapped his hands around his neck and straddled Nate.

Nathan smirked up at Ambrose, silver irises swirling darker with interest as Ambrose leaned down and kissed him to stop him from saying something.

Kit stared, jaw dropped as he heard the wet sounds of kissing coming from his two tormentors. Jesus, fucking—

Don’t say a word, Ambrose warned, low and quiet. Let me handle this. Don’t even think anything back because he’ll hear you.

Kit swallowed the lump in his throat and looked away, closing his eyes to the sight and tried to calm his fucking nerves that spiked hard around Nathan’s exposure of his power. He must be able to absorb other people’s powers which would explain why he had Mentor’s… and Ambrose’s and now, Kit’s.

Fuck.

Fuck.

Shit! He really needed to get out of here, or else Nathan would fucking kill him and he wouldn’t be able to do a thing to stop him. What if he— what if he made Kit do things, like Ambrose did in the beginning. Kit glanced down at his arms and prayed.

Nathan pulled his head back, breaking the kiss. He smiled up at Ambrose. “You’re so transparent, Oskar,” he hummed fondly.

“You like it.”

“I do.”

Don’t think, don’t think, don’t think, don’t—

“Fine. We’ll leave him be. For now.”

Ambrose hesitated. “Can I—”

“No,” Nathan interjected with a smile and leaned up to kiss Ambrose again. Short, possessive, and then he lightly pushed Ambrose off him. Kit swallowed, watching the exchange with wary eyes darting between the pair.

Nathan walked closer to him and Kit shrunk back, his heart thumping against his chest as Nathan leaned down and grabbed Kit’s chin, pinching it between his thumb and index finger and tilted his head up to look into the emotionless silver eyes.

“Kit,” he said, and Kit could feel the coldness of Ambrose’s power in his voice. He tried to wrench his head back, but Nathan’s grip was too strong. “If Oskar tries to speak to you, I want you to scream pineapple at the top for your voice and I don’t want you to stop until you see me. That includes if he tries to speak through your minds, do you understand?”

Kit felt the command take root in his body, wiring his nerves and muscles to Nathan’s order. “Tell me you understand.”

“I understand,” Kit ground out through clenched teeth.

“Good,” Nathan said, patting his cheek before pulling away. He walked towards the door of the room. “Come on, Oskar. We have other matters to attend to.”

Ambrose took one last look at Kit, an apology and a stiffness winding him tightly, but he didn’t dare speak to Kit. Kit jerked forward when Ambrose turned away. “Wait!”

Ambrose stopped. Nathan let out a huff of a sigh at the door, glancing at Kit as if he were a fly that was buzzing around his food.

“Please, just… tell me where Sawyer and Tides are, please.” He didn’t mean for his voice to come out so broken. Ambrose looked at Nate, and Nate looked at Oskar. Silver eyes rolled to the ceiling and back again before he turned his body to Kit.

“I wiped their memories and sent them home packing. They’re safe, save some minor injuries, and well, Sawyer’s face,” Nathan said with a laugh. Kit glared, but it didn’t do anything to stifle Nathan’s cruelty. “But they don’t know you’re here, so don’t think you have a rescue party coming, Kit. They don’t even remember meeting Supervillain.”

He would have preferred if Nathan had just ripped his heart out and stomped on it rather than tell him that. He just wanted to know they were safe, and they were safe and Kit… Kit was probably going to die here and that was— he flinched when a hot tear splashed down on his cheeks.

Nathan smiled. “Come on, Oskar. Or I’ll have some fun with Kit while you watch.”

Ambrose’s little finger twitched, his body tight as he turned and followed Nathan out the door. His black eyes said I’m sorry, but Kit didn’t want an apology. Especially from someone who seemed to be just as much a prisoner here as Kit.

What was— how did Ambrose know Nathan? Not just know him but kiss him in the most un-Ambrose display of affection Kit has ever seen? And he was just going along with whatever Supervillain was saying?! Ambrose didn’t— there has to be something that Nathan was holding over him, something he cared about that Supervillain was threatening.

If Kit could talk to him one on one maybe he could find out what, and try and help him and they could get out of here together? Kit adjusted himself on the bed, not bothering to try and break free from the cuffs. He needed to sleep, he needed to keep his energy for later. Right now, right now he just needed to sleep. He settled himself and closed his eyes, getting into as comfortable position as possible. Sleep came like a warm blanket, comforting and warm.

He didn’t stir when the bed dipped around him. He barely realised there was a pressure on his chest until a large hand wad covering his mouth to silence his screams of panic. Kit’s eyes shot open, bleary from sleep to see wild green staring down at him. He shook, remembering those eyes from the basement with Supervillain, the one he knocked out to get Tides and Sawyer free.

Jude. Oh fuck. He forgot about him. Shit!

“Oh, so you remember me, you little shit?”

A black burn split Jude’s face like a tattoo, from his left temple down across his nose, splintering out down over his lip, his jaw and disappeared under the collar of his jumper.

Did… Did Kit do that?

Jude leaned in, sneering. “Supervillain got rid of your friends so you’re the only plaything I have left.”

Kit bucked against Jude, screaming against Jude’s hand, but his thumb was locked under Kit’s jaw, preventing him from getting any real volume into it. Jude laughed as Kit squirmed, another hand going to his throat. Kit bucked and yanked his hands down, trying to stop Jude before he knocked him unconscious.

“MMPH!” Kit cried, jerking his head left and right, trying to dislodge the psycho from him.

“Don’t worry, Kit. Supervillain said I can’t kill you, but that doesn’t mean we can’t have fun, hmm?”

Kit’s struggles lessened, his throat burning as he screamed and Jude squeezed, as if he was swallowing glass.

Ambrose! PLEASE! AMBROSE?!

Kit?

Kit’s mouth tried to force pineapple out of his lips but Jude’s grip was so tight it was shadowing his vision, his eyes growing heavy. Kit yanked at his cuffs one last time before the fight died in him and he went limp his world going dark.

And he sprung up gasping, screaming pineapple as loud as he could between coughs, and there was a flurry of movement and fists flying and then Nathan and Kit sat back, coughing, shuddering, gasping in air.

“Enough!” Nathan said, his voice low, but it still cut through Kit’s gasps and struggles, and even he quieted as much as he could. He grabbed Ambrose’s shoulders and dragged him off Jude, standing between them, silver eyes stern as he stared Ambrose down. “I said enough, Oskar.”

“You said you wouldn’t hurt him,” Ambrose spat, glaring up at Nathan. Nathan looked over his shoulder at Kit before looking back at Ambrose.

“You’re right. I said I wouldn’t hurt him. That was before I knew he did that to Jude’s face!”

“And what about what you did to Sawyer’s face!” Kit yelled. Nathan straightened, pinching the bridge of his nose. He tipped his head back and sighed theatrically.

“I forgot by agreeing to your terms I’d have to babysit an infant,” Nathan grumbled. Kit balked at the insult, about to retort when he paused, the rest of his words sinking in and he looked at Ambrose.

Ambrose’s expression was tight on his face. His hair uncharacteristically messy, he wasn’t even wearing business casual or any semblance of clothing that could be considered a suit. He was wearing an oversized crew neck and a pair of joggers and Kit blinked at him, barely recognising the man in front of him as Ambrose.

As Omen? He was even further from that, but… he looked like a man, and Kit knew he was more than that.

“What’re you talking about?” Kit demanded, yanking at the cuffs. “Don’t talk about me like I’m not here!”

Nathan turned his cold, metal eyes on Kit, but this time Kit didn’t wither. He refused. He didn’t understand what was going on right now, but he knew something was wrong! Very wrong.

“You could always let him go,” Ambrose said, his voice soft, gentle, tentative, his hand reaching for Nathan’s wrist. Nathan shook his head. “I’ll stay. You can wipe his memory—”

“No, I can’t, Osk. You ensured that.”

“What’re you talking about?” Ambrose asked. Kit could tell he was fighting to keep the exasperation from his voice as he spoke.

Nathan gestured at Jude. “We compelled them, the three of them that they couldn’t use their powers. The other two were docile, and powerless, you know, like good little obedient puppies.”

“And the moment I released him,” Jude said, glaring at Kit. “He could use his lightning again.”

“Yeah? Well maybe if you weren’t such a sadistic fuc—” Kit’s head slammed back against the wall and he cried out from the pain that blossomed from the blow.

“Nate!” Ambrose gasped, black eyes on Kit’s, and he stepped forward, but Nathan put his hand out keeping Ambrose back behind. “You said you wouldn’t hurt him!”

“I said I wouldn’t kill him, Oskar. Maybe you should listen better, but right now, Jude has to get in line because I want to kill the fucking child.”

“Call me a child again, see—”

“KIT!” Ambrose boomed and Kit blinked, startled, staring at Ambrose with wide eyes like a puppy that was caught disobeying it’s master.

“Pineap—” Kit began but when he looked at Nathan the urge died in his throat. Nathan waved him away and said: “you don’t have to do that anymore.” And the command washed over Kit.

Kit looked at Ambrose with his wide, kicked puppy eyes. Questioning.

Nathan turned to Ambrose and said quietly: “you calm him down, or else I’ll let Jude do what he wants and make you watch.” Nathan looked at Kit. “This doesn’t mean you get away with hurting Jude. You’ll still be punished.”

“Oh bite me, arsehole!”

Ambrose jumped between Nathan and Jude, and Kit, spreading his arms wide. “I’ll talk to him! Okay? I’ll talk to him. Please.”

Nathan smiled, his hand going to Ambrose’s cheek. He leaned down and kissed Ambrose. Kit and Jude both looking away in disgust.

“You’re lucky you’re so cute,” he said, kissing Ambrose again before he followed Jude out the door. Ambrose didn’t lower his arms until they heard footsteps on the stairs. Only then did his shoulders droop. He walked over and closed the door before sighing, resting his forehead against it.

Before Kit could demand answers, Ambrose’s shoulders shook, palms flat against the door. “I’m sorry, Kit,” he said, and Kit couldn’t do anything except gawk and stare, mouth open. Ambrose…

Ambrose was crying?

Oh shit. What did he say? Should he say something?

“I’m so sorry,” he whimpered, and the sound pulled at something in Kit’s gut.

“Hey, Ambrose… it’s—” the words died on his throat when Ambrose turned to face him and yep, he was crying. Tears streaming down his statue like cheeks, like crystal droplets that hung like icicles from his jaw.

“It’s not okay. None of this is okay. This is all my fault and you’re involved because of me.”

“No, I’m involved cause I’m a hero—”

“He let Sawyer and Tides go. He was telling the truth,” Ambrose said coming over to the bed and half falling into it. “He’s keeping you here to make sure I listen to him.”

Kit laughed nervously. Ambrose raised his black eyes, that looked a softer brown when he cried, and frowned. “Did you tell him you don’t give a shit about me? That you were torturing me to begin with? You could probably bond over that.”

Despite himself, Ambrose laughed. He sniffed, wiping his cheeks. “He’d probably bond too much over it, and it would become a couples activity.”

“Oh,” Kit said. “Maybe not then.”

“No,” and a silence fell over them. Kit stared at Ambrose as the man tried to compose himself. He looked so… normal. So regular. Kit wouldn’t remember him if Ambrose walked by him on the street like this.

Kit swallowed. “What did he do to you?”

Ambrose let out a humourless chuckle, running his hands through his midnight hair. He shrugged, eyes red rimmed and puffy. “What he’s always done.”

Kit didn’t know how to reply to that, but he didn’t have to because Ambrose continued, “we met in college. He was… he, well, I thought at the time that his ability was magic negation because he wasn’t affected by my friend’s fire, and I couldn’t command him to do anything or read his thoughts. It was so… he was so…” Ambrose said, gesturing, reaching for the word evading him.

“Magnetic.” He settled on eventually, his voice taking on a wistful quality to it. “I didn’t know what he was thinking. I couldn’t be repulsed or bored of his thoughts because I didn’t know… and it’s like, well, it sounds ridiculous but I felt normal around him.”

Kit scoffed, resting his head back against the wall. “You’re so humble, Rosey,” Kit said, sarcasm dripping from every word. Ambrose laughed, more tears jerking down his face.

“Yeah… I kind of got addicted to him, trying to figure out what he thought of me, and what he thought of everything full stop. My friend tried to tell me I was obsessed with him, but it didn’t feel like that. He— I—”

“Loved him?” Kit supplied. Ambrose’s head hung, lifeless.

“Yes.” He said. “I loved him.” He turned his body to face Kit, putting his sock-clad feet up on the bed. His expression earnest. “But I didn’t know anything about this, Kit. I didn’t know any of it, I swear to you—”

“I believe you.”

“This was as much of a shock to me as it—” Ambrose paused, tilting his head. “You believe me?”

“Yeah,” Kit said with a shrug. “You haven’t really lied to me before. So I believe you. It’s just—” Kit could see Ambrose brace himself for the but, “you look so unlike yourself. Like you’re not even Ambrose right now, but someone else. Is he forcing you to do this?” Kit asked, gesturing to Ambrose’s clothes and hair.

Ambrose swallowed his pride and looked away. “Yes,” he replied hollowly. “He wants me to be the same lost puppy who was following him around when we were together. He wants me to be… Oskar.”

A weighted silence fell over them after the confession. Ambrose had never told Kit his name, Kit learned from Mentor what his name was, but to hear him say it with such contempt, Kit finally knew why he abandoned it. It was because of Mentor, because of Nathan, he abandoned Oskar long ago, and Ambrose replaced him.

Kit didn’t know this other side of Ambrose. The side that Nathan knew, and he didn’t want to, he realised. Ambrose seemed a bit more human like this, flawed, lost, out of control. He didn’t want to know that part of Ambrose. A sudden, sharp anger jolted in him.

“You can’t just be Oskar, you’re not him anymore. If Nathan really loved you, he’d understand that.”

“Kit—”

“No, I am not letting you do that. Not for me, Heroes sacrifice themselves for others, not villains, Ambrose. You’re a villain!”

“I can’t compel him,” Ambrose said, dejected.

“Just let me out of these and I can electrocute the bastard and finish Jude off too.”

Ambrose shook his head. “You can’t.”

“I can—”

“No, he absorbs your ability, Kit. All of your ability. Which means he absorbed your resistances too.”

Kit stared. “Oh.”

“Yeah.”

“Oh shit.”

Ambrose sighed. “Yeah.”

“But…” Kit began, leaning forward until the cuffs pulled him taut. “You were inventive with me. You still hurt me! With my own electricity, despite the resistances I had to it. We can do that with him too!”

“We still have to deal with Jude.”

Kit’s expression darkened. “Let me deal with Jude.”

“You don’t understand,” Ambrose said, shaking his head and getting to his feet. He began pacing up and down the small room. Kit yanked against his cuffs, longing to stretch his legs too. “They can hurt you, Kit. They can— they could—”

“What do you care?” Kit asked, bewildered. “You’ve hurt me!”

“I know, but—”

“No, no, no. No buts, ands or ifs, Rosey, you hurt me. You psychologically destroyed me for months!” Kit said, blinking at Ambrose owlishly. “You expect me to believe you actually care about me now?”

Ambrose stiffened, turning on his heels and walked over to Kit, grabbing him by the wrists. His black eyes met Kit’s wide blue. “Yes. I do. And I care what happens to you. And Jude and Nathan? Nate will only hold Jude back for as long as I play this role of his puppy ex-boyfriend. Do you understand? If you weren’t here I would be gone, but he has you. And as long as he has you, he has me.”

Kit swallowed, his eyes flicking between Ambrose’s, his mouth suddenly dry. “I know him, and I am not leaving here without you. Do you understand me?”

Kit nodded stiffly. Ambrose nodded and let go of Kit’s arms, standing straight again. “I will try to get you out of here, Kit, but we have to play it smart, okay?”

Kit nodded again. Ambrose nodded again. He fixed his hair, making it more fluffy and unruly. Kit never noticed it was wavy because he just slicked it back all the time. It softened his edges. Kit didn’t like it.

“Okay. Just— don’t provoke them, okay? I’ll work something out.”

“Okay.”

Ambrose took a deep breath. “Right. Good. Stay put.”

“Dick,” Kit said. It slipped out before he could help it and he froze, but Ambrose looked over his shoulder at Kit and laughed. A warm laugh, shaking his head.

*~*~*~*~*

Continued here

Very unedited but c’est la vie!!

@beatenbruisedandbloody @404lunar1216 @whumpyworld @nameless-beanie @andithewhumper @annablogsposts @whumpasaurus101 @0eggdealer @rejectedbytheempty @sleepy-pearl @n3rv0usn0v4 @whumpatize-me-captain @sunshiline-writes @burningkittypoet @honeyed-euphrates @sacredwrath @theonewithallthefixations @blood-enthusiast t @tippytappytyping @shinokoro @bedtimescenarios @whatwhump @acer-whumpstuff @fa1rie @jesterrinobutter tter @xxgalgurlxx @princess-bubble-blossom @steh-lar-uh-nuhs @dutifullykrispyland @memepsychowhowantsuperpower-blog @ehobep

[culiehua]

Imagine: our beloved shadowhunters in a vampire diaries S4x22/23 type of scenario where the veil between the living and the dead falls and chaos ensues

angry dead people are back for unifinished business with the mcs, you name it, they face it

(hint hint it's terrible)

magnus & co. are looking for a way to bring it back up but it's difficult enough without the now corporeal walking dead terrorists

the veil separates the living and the ghosts of those who are not ready to move on but also other supernatural whatnots

meaning that demons frequently infiltrate the other side bc it's a parallel dimensional death realm but usually rarely find weaknesses in the veil to cross over (and be killed by "stupid hot people")

but the whole thing is gone so demons are flooding everywhere and it is not that great

because the dead can now become tangible again (if they want to that is), they do that, e.g. Valentine and his posse go for Clary, and there are just so many

(we'll get back to them)

Meanwhile in London, Yanluo has crawled his way into Cirenworth because demons can hold grudges forever and he still has quite the bone to pick with Wenyu, Yiwen and Elias' blood (i.e. Jem holds the #1 spot in his deathnote (yes yanluo has a deathnote in canon myth even though it works a bit differently))

and why give up such ample opportunity for petty revenge?

nobody at the Carstairs home knows what is going on however (Tessa is with Magnus in New York)

so Mina is ripped out of her cradle in the middle of the night and held hostage until Jem hears her cry

listen. my chinese violin man has seen some shit

in his long (but not as long as it could have been) life he has spent more time flirting with his death than most and seems practically unflappable atp

but this is a nightmare he's never been able to completely get over (because watching your parents die while being tortured is traumatic™)

so jem is restrained and absolutely terrified to his core bc this cannot be happening again

fate has a really fucked up sense of humor, he thinks

history repeating itself was not on his bingo card and he is not sure if it's him or his sweet sweet baby girl that is going to croak. After all that effort to stay alive

and he prays to the angel it's him. Anyone but little love Mina, and he wonders, distantly, if his mother had felt the same way when she died

(The anguish and agony forever carved into his memory and onto her face tell him she would have)

Yanluo's ready to strike and poison him again but instead get's flung to the other side of the hall

(no minas were harmed in this scene)

things are moving too fast for him to see but in his injury induced haze he swears he hallucinates the image of his mother reaching for him before passing out

when he wakes up again it's to a destroyed foyer and his crying baby in his Kit's arms who looks a lot worse for wear

so the fight had been real. he definitely didn't imagine that

But he soon comes to the realization that he must have imagined his mother in someone else's stead, coming to protect him. How pathetic of him. He'd have to thank them later.

He hasn't spotted the unsheathed Jian coverd in ichor on the left side of the room yet.

For a couple of minutes he takes deep breaths. It was over.

He's as calm as he could get under his circumstamces

But it's Kit's disgruntled throwaway comment that shatters all semblance of peace he's found

"What the heck? Wenyu never told me she could fight like that!"

(amidst it all, young brown eyes and golden ones meet over Kit's shoulder)

Back in New York, a desperate redheaded girl was surprised to see another pair of green eyes joining the chaos and helping her fight off Valentine

and maybe, though she'll never admit it to anyone but herself, a long standing heavy weight was now off her shoulders after this day

(and if she felt lighter than she has in a long time, nobody had to know.)

[louis-ii-reyes-strand]

happy wednesday everyone! thanks @heartstringsduet @cold-blooded-jelly-doughnut @thisbuildinghasfeelings @carlos-in-glasses @lemonlyman-dotcom @bonheur-cafe for the tags 🖤 forced myself to write badly for tangled roots this week just so i could write something. so have some of my favourite best friends to celebrate 🫶🏻

Carlos frowned at the softness. He didn’t want it. 

Iris gently asked, “Are you okay?” 

“I’m fine,” he gritted out in response. He was fine, he was always fine because he had no other choice. 

“You can’t lie to me, Carlos. You’re bad at it.” 

He was good enough that his family never asked him about it.

“I’m angry. I’m so fucking angry and I— I’m exhausted. I’m tired of feeling angry, I’m tired of hoping they’ll change, and— am I stupid for not just giving up right now?” 

He clenched his jaw against the prickle behind his eyes. Felt it pass over his temples, down his neck and all the way down his arms until one hand was curling into a fist around the beer bottle and the other so tight his knuckles turned white. As much as he hated the anger, he couldn’t let go of it either.

“I don’t think you’re stupid,” Iris replied quietly. “I think it’s normal to want your family to be interested in your life.”

open tag! + no pressure tags for @carlos-tk @reyesstrand @theghostofashton @liminalmemories21

[prince-liest]

OMG im so so excited just from the next snippet of the 666 series of works! The subtle character analysis through it all is so good an im so hyped to see whats next (but also more than happy to wait too :) i know personally that over-writing puts me in burnout haha)! thank you for writing!

I am easily bribed by mutual excitement, so please have another snippet!!

This escalates significantly beyond where you think it will escalate.

Thank YOU very much for such a lovely message, I'm really happy that you're enjoying the characterizations in particular! I took a violent left-turn into writing a Lucifer gen fic first, but I'm a solid way into the next installment! ^_^

[coldercreation]

(--)

“That will be rough on your knees, pet,” Kit said quietly, reaching out a hand to bury in Nathan’s unruly hair. The office had the same hardwood floors as the rest of the flat, and the small rug in the room didn’t reach under the chair and the desk. “The pillows are on the sofa…”

Nathan leaned his head against Kit’s palm, nose finding the secondary scent gland on his wrist. The silently puffing breaths felt ticklish on Kit’s skin, but the sensation disappeared when Nathan firmly rubbed his cheek over the scent-source in clear mine - mine - want.   

“‘s okay, I like it… like this, I mean,” Nathan said then, looking away from Kit’s eyes just to mouth over his wrist a little, nibbling before a soft bite.

Kit’s chest rumbled. 

Nathan’s omega responded with an airy, barely there whimper.

“Y’like it when it hurts a little?” Kit asked, voice roughened by the growl. His fingers twisted into Nathan’s hair as if they had a mind of their own, but he didn’t take it further from there, just left it as a hint of a suggestion.

(--)

KIT-NAT | Rating: E | Current word count: 3729

[lightspren]

anyway though with edits my book is now at almost 151k. 👉🏻😎👉🏻

went back and started editing the older chapters bc I feel kinda blah still and didn’t feel up to writing the entirely new chapter that I need to in the later half of the book. I think the first 7 chapters are really solid now though, got some things added in that needed and dealt with almost all of the [come back later] brackets lol

maybe I will still make my goal of “have a readable finished draft by the end of June.” I’m really hopeful

[cacklefrendly]

*gently holds ‘-Of the Silver Lining’ title and weeps*

[beneathtreemomo]

Hey hey, I've also written out the scene! Not sure if I'll add it to the full fic but I still thought it'd be fun to post, so have this as well!

Rosinante liked to believe he was rather observant; his job as a spy relied on him to be, after all. But there was something going on with the Hearts' latest crew member that he couldn’t quite figure out.

Admittedly, he didn't spend his every wandering hour at Kit's feet the way that Leif and Lavi did; he spent most of his time following Law. It was much more preferable to watch as the younger man went about his day, reading his medical texts or snuggling up against Bepo as the mink finally got him to rest, than it was to follow after the stranger who could see Rosinante, after all. He could never tire of watching Law.

So he could admit that he wasn't going to be the best judge when it came to Kit's habits and lifestyle.

It didn't change the fact that he was noticing an almost worrying uptick in Kit scratching at his face and hands.

He's not sure who else on the crew noticed; Law certainly didn’t seem fazed by it in the slightest, even though Kit had glued himself to Law's side seventy percent of the time, and Leif and Lavi weren't concerned past their usual levels of sympathy.

At first, Rosinante figured he was imagining things. He was still learning about Kit, after all, and if the two who had been with Kit the longest were unconcerned, then it shouldn't have been an issue. Maybe it was a coincidence he was frequently catching Kit rub at his nose, or scratch at his cheek or jaw. Maybe flyaways from his bangs were tickling his skin. Maybe Kit had an issue with dry hands and that was why he would scratch at his palms or the side of his hands.

Or, maybe, he was trying not to admit that everyone was being stupid about something-- himself included, if he still couldn't parse out what the issue was by this point.

Rosinante had joined the three of them a little early this morning, wanting company while Law slept through his latest insomnia crash. Kit had only finished getting ready for the day a few hours ago, make-up relatively fresh and the little fox-head shape bright under his eye.

The scratching started within the hour; at first, it was just a simple press of his fingers along the apple of his cheek. Over the course of the morning, he'd been absentmindedly scratching at his jaw, or cheek, or brushing against his nose.

Kit scratched at his face again, frowning as they made their way to the stairs leading to the Tang's deck. A few seconds later, he growled and scratched at it again, harder this time.

"Roars?" Lavi asked, raising an eyebrow. "You good?"

"No." Kit huffed, a bit petulant. He wiped at his cheek with the back of his hand, though very little of the makeup came off with the action. He paused, hopeful, then resumed scratching as a whine left his throat. "Ugh, why is it so itchy today?!"

That's when it hit. The missing piece of the puzzle Rosinante couldn’t figure out, as obvious as the sun.

He blinked, staring at their resident prince as his brother rubbed soothing circles into his back, his uncle's lips twisted into grim resignation where he was watching. He felt like a fool.

It couldn't be. There were countries in the North Blue that prided themselves on their makeup production no matter the price, and Rosinante knew the royal families didn't mess around when it came to comfort.

Sure, Kit's family didn't seem to care one way or another about things as insignificant as "high-end branding", or sticking only to the best quality of goods (outside of their furs and leathers-- you'd have to kill them to wear anything other than Valstasian trade), but even they must have known what brands of products they used during events. They could have easily found any number of replacements after leaving their homeland, if not the very same one.

But with the way Kit was currently trying to scratch off his face....

"Hey," Rosinante said, wincing slightly when Kit left visible red marks; any harder and the kid might end up drawing blood. "You know your makeup isn't supposed to be itchy, right?"

Kit froze.

To Rosinante's utter disbelief and steadily growing horror, so did Lavi and Leif.

Oh no.

Oh no, no, no.

"Kit."

The other two ghosts exchanged a glance; Kit still hadn't moved.

Sheepish, his voice small, he asked, "It.... It isn't?"

Even though he'd expected this response, it still managed to throw Rosinante. Concern wrapped itself into a neat little bow around how purely flabbergasted he was, disappointment at its center; he knew it was the pot calling the kettle black, but not for the first time since meeting this kid six months ago, he wondered, how?

Rosinante took a deep breath, pushing down the desire to either laugh or cry or both.

"Rori." His voice was tight; keeping his voice as calm as he could manage beneath the growing hysterics as Kit gave him a lop-sided, embarrassed grin that screamed, 'oops.'

"Your Highness. Please tell me you haven't been using makeup you are allergic to since leaving Valstasia."

Kit's response was a nervous laugh. Out of the corner of his eye, Rosinante saw Leif smack his forehead with his hand.

All Rosinante could do was stare.

Once again, the question came to mind, 'How?'

"...Do you know a brand that--"

"Yes, I know a brand!" Rosinante cut off, throwing his hands up in the air. "Seas, Kit, I've been watching you claw at your face for months now! How has your face never gotten a rash, if it's that bad?!"

Tension loosening from his shoulders, Kit shrugged with his hands raise up towards his shoulders. "Pure luck, I guess?"

Rosinante pinched the bridge of his nose, taking a moment to gather himself, then ran his hand down his face; it really was like having another Shachi and Penguin, sometimes.

"C'mon," he sighed, taking Kit's hand in his. He began leading him towards the mess, assuming Law had finally woken up and was getting his dose of much needed caffeine. "Let's go get Law to stop at an island. We're stopping this now before you claw your face off."

"It's not that bad!"

Laughing had started in the background as Lavi proudly declared that he and his family were idiots. It was shortly cut off by Leif smacking the back of Lavi's head.

Rosinante pinched the bridge of his nose, wishing he could have some coffee of his own; even though ghosts didn't need to sleep, he was not awake enough to deal with this.

I commissioned the wonderful, amazing @sakura-rose12 to do a silly little comic of Kit and his fam collectively realizing that they are, in fact, Royal Idiots. Poor Cora has only known this kid for six months and he's already wondering how he's survived this long without realizing something so simple 😂

I'm so happy Lavi finally has a face to his name and that Leif looks as lovely as I'd pictured him in my head but couldn't properly get when I tried to draw him myself, lol. Sakura's a magician, I swear!

Anyways, go give Sakura lots of love!!! She makes amazing art about the Heart Pirates and CoraLaw and even has her own webcomic called Dame Daffodil! Also her Oc/self-insert x Sabo art is ADORABLE so give that love, too, please!

[cassandraclare]

Do you think Kit Herondale has ADHD? and do you think that because Ty is autistic, his POV is very different when he writes?

I guess I'd say that if you as someone with ADHD relates to Kit, that is cool. Like I said, there's not a wrong way to relate to a character. But I didn't write him consciously as someone with ADHD because if I had I would have done what I did writing Ty — months of research and not writing the character without consulting with sensitivity readers who themselves were people with autism. I wouldn't have felt I was doing a character with ADHD justice without doing all those things.

I do think Ty's neurodivergence would impact his narration of a story, yes, so I won't be (and am not currently) going to be writing any parts about Ty (whether he narrates them directly or not) without multiple sensitivity readers consulting before they're edited. That is why you have not seen much from Ty snippet wise from TWP. I would not even want to post a first draft publicly without consultation, given the possibility of hurting or upsetting someone with representation that doesn't feel right.

[licnheartedd]

fluffy little snippet from a fic you guys will not get to see for a while 🤭

[chaotic-orphan]

Intoxicating Fear (XXVIII)

Part one // MASTERPOST // continued from here

Haha— this part is shit and all over the place, but it is published today!!! So there ya go🙂‍↕️ some whumpy stuff, the end is crap— yeah, idk, it will be edited at some point 🤷🤷‍♀️🤷‍♂️

*~*~*~*~*

Kit really needed to pee. Like he really needed to go, but here he was, still handcuffed to the headboard of the bed, and every possible position he tried to get into to unbutton his pants didn’t work out so he was sitting on the bed like a bold child and trying not to think about how much he really needed to pee.

Because it was verging on the edge of painful.

The sun had fallen since Jude had tried to strangle him and get his revenge. Ambrose must have left a few hours ago, and Kit was hungry and tired, but not tired enough to sleep.

And fuck… he really needed the toilet.

So eventually his organs overclouded by his better judgement and he reached out for Ambrose.

Psssttt… Dickhead.

Nothing. Kit stared at the wall ahead of him and shifted his position a little on the bed.

Psssst… Omenbitch.

Still nothing. Was Ambrose ignoring him? The fucking nerve of this guy!

HEY! Kit thought louder. YOU PIECE OF SH—

WHAT?!

Kit physically recoiled at the anger and deafening reply Ambrose shot him.

Kit… Ambrose said, and Kit could picture him sighing. Sorry, what do you want?

I need to piss.

Then piss.

On the floor?

Why not?

I’m not a fucking untrained dog for one, arsehole!

Well that is debatable.

You are such a dickhead.

For fuck’s sake, Nathan boomed in Kit’s mind and Kit’s ears rang from the sheer intensity of his voice. Nathan didn’t master the same control Ambrose did. He didn’t grow up with the gift, just appropriated it. What are you two arguing about?

I need to piss, Kit said at the same time that Ambrose said, he needs to piss.

Then piss.

Kit let out a frustrated sigh and stomped his foot on the ground.

Actually… Nathan continued. Hmm, Kit, perhaps you can piss and join us for dinner. I’ll have Jude fetch you.

Wait— Kit thought but winced as an invisible hand grabbed his head and slammed it back against the wall to cut him off. Kit hissed, his brain fogging over as the heat from the impact blossomed along his skull. Fucking dickhead with his stupid fucking powers. Maybe he should find someone with the power to not be a dickhead and he would be palatable then.

Don’t resist, Kit, Ambrose said in his mind. Kit knew not to reply because Nathan would hear him, but still. What would he say to that? His muscles were stiff from being cooped up on the bed for so long, unable to leave the room. And he was fucking starving. Dinner sounded great right about now.

A few minutes later and Kit heard footsteps coming up the stairs towards his room. He sat up on the edge of the bed as much as possible, eager to stand up finally. His eyes found cruel green when the door opened. Jude smiled at him as he walked in.

Kit swallowed the riling remark on the tip of his tongue, Ambrose told him not to resist so he would be good.

“Look at you, sitting and waiting like a good puppy. Well come on, everyone’s waiting,” Jude said and Kit frowned. He pulled on his cuffs as to remind him that Kit was stuck on the bed. Jude tilted his head. “Well?”

“I—” Kit began but cut himself off. “I can’t.”

“Can’t or won’t?”

“Can’t,” Kit said through clenched teeth, rattling the cuffs again. Jude hummed and walked over to Kit. His green eyes lazily went over Kit’s arms locked behind his back to the bed, clearly seeing the handcuffs before he looked Kit in the eyes again, his smile sharp.

“Looks like you’re not trying hard enough,” Jude said with a shrug. Before Kit could ask if this guy was fucking mentally deficient, Jude’s hand shot out and he grabbed Kit’s cheeks, squeezing them hard until Kit couldn’t close his mouth or do anything except try and shake Jude’s hand off.

“Ah, ah, ah,” Jude said, wrenching Kit’s head up so he was staring Jude in the eyes. Kit struggled in the cuffs, metal clanging dully against wood, trying to dislodge Jude’s hand but it was all in vain. Jude’s eyes seemed to get darker and Kit froze.

“No!” Kit protested, but with his mouth half open it just sounded like oh. As in, I know what you’re about to do, kind of oh.

“Kit, I think you’re not putting any effort into following me downstairs like a good boy. So how about you get out of your cuffs,” — even before he finished Kit could feel the fog settling over his mind, his struggles seizing momentarily, — “and follow me downstairs.”

Jude let go of Kit’s face and Kit’s expression turned blank as he began to pull at the cuffs. Yanking his wrists free, trying to twist and turn and pull them out of the cuffs, hut the cuffs were on too tight, locked with no wiggle room. All his struggles earned him was pain and he cried out as he yanked and tugged and pulled.

Kit?! Ambrose asked but Kit couldn’t answer. He had to get out of the cuffs. Jude stepped back and grinned, watching as the hero struggled and writhed in pain, trying to free himself from his restraints. There was always something so beautiful about overriding someone’s self-preservation and watching them destroy themselves.

“Fuck!” Kit screamed as he felt warm blood trickle from his wrists as he yanked violently at the cuffs on the bed. “Please, please— AGH!”

“It’s not difficult, Kit. Come on now, chop chop. Everyone’s waiting for you.”

Kit ripped and tore, his shoulder slammed violently forward as he squirmed, using one foot on the floor and the other on the bed to try and pull his hands free as the stench of iron filled the room. Jude chuckled behind him, his cat-like amusement palpable as Kit changed position again.

He turned his body, his arms twisting around and he pulled with a horrific scream until a loud crack echoed around the room and Kit cried out in pain, falling to the floor. He let out a loud, pained grunt as he cradled his broken hand and brought it to his chest.

“KIT!” Ambrose screamed up the stairs, but Kit barely heard it, the world swimming in front of him as blood poured from his wrists. A hand grabbed him by the scruff of his neck and yanked him to his feet. Kit stumbled into a standing, his feet stumbling and fumbling over each other as he was pushed forward.

They stopped just before the stairs and a door was opened in front of him. All he saw was white before he was shoved in and Kit went sprawling, his hands out to catch him and he screamed.

“JUDE YOU FUCKING— I SWEAR TO GOD, NO GET OFF ME, NATE!”

“You have sixty seconds,” Jude said sweetly. “I’ll even close the door for you.”

Kit blinked, pain vignetting his vision. His blood coated the tiles with a putrid crimson, oh, he was in a bathroom. Right.

He had needed to pee…

Kit grabbed the edge of something white with his good hand and started to pull himself up, blinking away the pain, his body numbed to feeling. His teeth chattered as he looked around, searching for the toilet. Just in front of him… he would— he could make that.

Bloody handprints smeared the walls as Kit made his way over, the handcuffs still locked around his good wrist. It was an effort to unbutton his pants, but he felt so much better after peeing. Like his hand wasn’t mangled right now.

When he saw his face in the mirror over the sink he recoiled, disgusted. He wasn’t pale, he was white. White as the bathroom tiles, almost see through, his skin translucent and stretched taut over the bones in his face. His skin was breaking out in red sores and his eyes were veined with that luminous red lightning stretching like branches across his face.

He looked like a monster.

Like something from a ghost story.

He washed his good hand and glanced down at his mangled one, a heavy, warm feeling turning in his stomach that he swallowed as he grabbed his bad arm and forced it under the cold water. He cried out, biting his cheek and lips to dampen the sound but he abandoned that all together when the water hit his thumb and he cried out.

“Times up, drama queen,” Jude said, opening the door. Kit looked at him with wet eyes, a shivering, pale mess, like a cancer patient or a terminally sick man. Was he going to die with this red lightning? Was that his future? He didn’t…

All of sudden Jude was in front of him, turning off the tap and grabbing Kit by the hair, yanking him out behind him. “Fuck, ow! Let me go! Stop! Let me—”

“Go?” Jude asked, coming to a sudden stop. “Gladly.”

With a strong swing, Jude dragged Kit in front of him and then kicked Kit in the hip and Kit fell. Only he didn’t stop. His elbow hit one stairs, his head following, his feet going over his head, hitting his knee, his ankle, his bad hand and he gasped as he rolled and bounced and tumbled until he stopped and he whimpered at the bottom, coughing, trying to get some air back in his lungs.

“I’LL FUCKING KILL YOU!” Ambrose seethed and Kit was vaguely aware of a struggle but his brain wasn’t cooperating enough help him fill in the gaps. He wheezed as he put his good hand under him, still wet from the water and it slid across the floor and he fell again. Pathetic.

Weak.

He can’t even lift his head, god, what would Mentor think of him like this? If he saw him now? His second chance? His strong legacy? Would he turn away like he did to Ambrose? Would he throw him out and tell him to never come knocking again?

“Kit, hey,” a pair of black eyes met Kit’s, but even holding a gaze seemed too monumental a task. “It’s okay. You’re fine. I’m going to get you up, okay?”

Kit hummed in pain. Ambrose took it as assent. He hooked an arm around Kit’s waist and grabbed his bad arm at the elbow, putting Kit’s arm over his shoulder. Kit moaned wetly as his hand bounced off Ambrose’s shoulder as the villain stood the two of them up. Kit put weight on his leg and one of his ankles folded and he gasped as he crumbled, but Ambrose kept him up.

“It’s okay. Hey, it’s okay. I got you. Come on, it’s okay,” Ambrose said as he walked Kit to a chair at the dining table. “You’re fine. Come on. It’s okay.”

Kit was openly crying but he didn’t care. He was exhausted and starving and humiliated and in pain, he wanted someone to be nice to him. Even if Ambrose did torture him before, he needed, no he craved the kindness now and he would take it from anybody. His life has been too hard lately, he just wants something nice, something soft.

“There,” Ambrose said, gently depositing Kit in a chair. Kit shivered as Ambrose let go of him. Before Ambrose could step away, Kit’s good hand shot across his body and grabbed Ambrose’s sleeve. Ambrose stiffened beside him. “Hey, Kit— it’s—”

“Oskar.” Nathan said, his voice commanding, and Kit whimpered. He tightened his fingers in Ambrose’s sleeve, begging without speaking for Ambrose not to leave him. Silver eyes cut into Kit’s face. He trembled and shut his eyes, turning his head into Ambrose’s arm. “Come here, now.”

“Nate, please, he’s—”

“Do you want me to let Jude come and break you up?”

Kit tightened his grip and whimpered again. “Please,” he whispered. “Please, please, please,” he said as Ambrose took his hand and plucked it off his sleeve. “Ambrose please, don’t leave.”

“I’m not leaving, I’m just sitting over here, okay. I won’t let anything happen to you.”

Anything else happen to me, Kit corrected silently.

Ambrose’s shoulders wound tight at that, but he continued walking past Nate to a seat at the opposite end of the table. It wasn’t a big table, but in Kit’s current state, it would take him years to cross it or reach safety. All he could do was shake in his chair like a fucking chihuahua.

Kit’s eyes slid to Nathan’s silver that were fixed on him, swirling slowly like mercury. It made Kit motion sick. “I’m guessing we don’t have to restrain you, do we?”

“F-f-fuck you.” Kit spat. The effort pulled a cough from his chest, he doubled over the table and gasped. He could feel the beginnings of a nosebleed trickle down his nose, warm and sticky on his face as it ran over his lips.

“Mmm, I’m terrified, little hero.” Nathan said as he turned away and walked to the other end of the table, pulling out the seat directly opposite Kit. He sat down in his chair and reached his hand out to grab Ambrose’s hand in his.

Kit glanced at Ambrose who stiffened, but allowed Nathan to lift his hand and press a possessive kiss to his knuckles. “It’s so nice to get to know your new friend, Oskar. Tell me. How did you two meet?”

Kit steadied himself and sat back in the chair, resting his head against the soft cushion. The room was swirling in front of his eyes, everything hazy and a little too bright so he closed his eyes but that didn’t help the wooziness that followed and made him feel worse.

“Work,” is all Ambrose replied. Kit opened his eyes again at the answer.

Amused mercury eyes found Kit’s. Nathan rubbed his thumb over the back of Ambrose’s knuckles. “Did you try to stop the great Omen, Kit?”

Kit didn’t answer. He just stared. A small searing ring started to echo in the back of Kit’s mind as Ambrose lurched forward and wrapped two hands around Nathan’s. The ringing stopped as Nathan turned to Ambrose, smiling a little sadly at him.

“Don’t. He won’t be able to handle anymore pain!” Ambrose said, his voice pleading.

“So?” Nathan asked, reaching his free hand up to brush Ambrose’s dark curls away from his eyes. “What do I care if he dies?”

“If you kill him, I’ll leave.” Ambrose snapped. That seemed to suck all air from the room. If Kit wasn’t lightheaded before he certainly was now. Nathan’s expression was as calm as the eye of a storm, but even here Kit could feel his cold fury at Ambrose’s ultimatum.

Nathan sat back in his chair, pulling his hand from Ambrose’s. His eyes flickered to Kit, then to Ambrose and back to Kit before he smiled. “I see. That’s how it is, is it?”

“Yes,” Ambrose snapped. “That’s how it is.”

Nathan let out a small, humourless chuckle. His eyes glinted like gunmetal as he pushed back on the table, wood scraping against wood. Ambrose stood too.

“Nate—”

“Sit down, Ambrose.”

“Wait, what’re you—” the wind was knocked from Ambrose’s lungs as he was thrown heavily into his chair. The wood bent like liquid around his arms and hardened again as Nathan started towards Kit. “Nate! Stop, wait. I’m sorry— I won’t—”

“No, Oskar, you’re right.” Nathan said. Kit clicked his fingers below the table, but all he could generate was a measly spark with the cuffs still locked around one hand. He was too weak. “I don’t want to kill the boy, do I? But that’s okay. We can rough him up as much as we like. I can give him to Jude as a toy and tell him to bring him to the brink of death over and over and over again.”

“Nathan!” Ambrose cried, grunting as he struggled to break his wooden shackles.

Nathan grabbed Kit’s broken hand and squeezed. Kit screamed, crying out as he tried to escape or push Nathan off of him. Nathan turned to Ambrose.

“Nathan, stop! Please!”

“Hush, you worry too much. Look, I can do this.”

The sound of bones breaking echoed through Kit’s skull and he roared as his body repaired itself. He could feel his body stitch itself back together artificially, the heat of his cells and blood working overtime as he writhed under Nathan’s touch.

After what felt like an eternity Nathan released him and Kit’s eyes rolled to the back of his head. He slipped from the chair, boneless, his head slapped off the wooden floor and he woke again, moaning in pain. He reached a hand up to his temple and he shivered when he realised that was his broken hand. The hand Jude forced him to rip from the cuffs.

Kit turned, his body moving like molasses, sludge-like and slow, as he turned onto his back and scrambled back from Nathan who was advancing towards him again.

“Nathan! The trauma on his body will kill him! His heart—” Ambrose stammered, struggling in hushed wooden prison. “He can’t take another healing like that in such a short amount of time.”

“Oh don’t worry, Osk.” Nathan said, smiling shark-like down at Kit. Kit’s heart stuttered in his chest as he clicked his fingers but nothing. Fucking! STUPID CUFFS! FUCK!

“Don’t come near me,” Kit yelled. “You fucking psychopath! Let us go!”

Nathan stopped advancing as Kit’s back hit something solid. He froze, his chest rising and falling erratically. He didn’t recognise the solid thing behind him was a pair of legs until knees were bending into his shoulders and he jerked away. Kit threw himself to the side on his hands and knees and pushed himself up, running towards Ambrose’s chair and pulling at the wooden beams locking his arms down.

“Kit, I’ll be fine,” Ambrose said, his voice sounded strangely gentle and pleading. “Go! Just—”

“Kiiiiiiiiiiitttt,” and Kit swayed on his feet. Ambrose turned his head and said something but the words turned to water and slipped through his fingers like a sieve, unable to catch them or decipher them.

A hand grabbed his face and turned him to look into dark green eyes and Kit snapped out of his trance, smacking Jude’s hands away and grabbing the free cuff in his fist before sending a punch straight to Jude’s jaw. Then his nose.

The maniac stumbled back, blood dripping from his face but Kit didn’t give him an inch and stepped in again, clicking his fingers with one hand while he punched Jude in the eye this time and the villain screamed as something squelched. Lightning sparked in Kit’s fist and he channeled it into the hand with the cuff and grabbed Jude with his free hand, going for the final blow.

A hand caught his fist and Kit’s eyes shot to Nathan. The veins erupting from his silver eyes were electric purple, and the electricity consumed Kit’s until Kit’s grip on Jude let up. He jerked back, yanking his arm back but Nathan just crushed his hand around Kit’s until Kit’s wrist bent under the sheer strength.

“OKAY! Okay! Fuck!” Kit screamed, folding with his arm to his knees but Nathan didn’t relent.

“Nate! Nate, please! Stop!” Ambrose cried frantically. “Please! Leave him alone!”

“Just who is this kid to you, Oskar?!” Nathan demanded, kicking Kit onto his back and stomping on his chest. “Why do you care about him so much?!”

“Because he’s— he— fuck,” Ambrose yelled, slamming his head back on the chair. “He’s…”

“He’s?”

“I don’t know!” Ambrose snapped. Kit’s eyes went to Ambrose, brows coming over his eyes. What the fuck was Ambrose talking about? “Mentor adopted him when I left, Nate.”

Nathan froze above Kit. His head snapped to Ambrose and he got off of Kit. It wasn’t like Kit could move, he could feel a telekinetic energy rippling above him like a barrier, keeping him pinned but he could turn his head to Ambrose and Nathan.

Nathan’s eyes were hard, his brows lowered slightly and pinching together in something like concern. Nathan grabbed Ambrose’s chin and forced Ambrose to look at him. “What?” Nathan demanded, breathless.

“I didn’t know,” Ambrose said. “I didn’t know it when I met Kit, but— it’s true.”

For a long, tense moment, Nathan said nothing, just stared, his eyes searching Ambrose’s face for something, anything.

“Oh Oskar,” Nathan said with a sigh, leaning down and pressing a kiss to Ambrose’s forehead. Silver eyes glanced down to Kit. “We can kill him together if you like.”

“No!” Ambrose said quickly. Kit’s heart thundered against his ears, his blood rushing through his body quickly, preparing his muscles for a fight. “No. That’s not what I want.”

“Then what is it, Osk?” Nathan asked, leaning back and cupping Ambrose’s cheeks with both of his hands, forcing Ambrose to look at him. “What is it about this fucking kid that would make you sacrifice everything for him? This isn’t you. You’re not a hero.”

“This isn’t about being a hero!” Ambrose protested.

“Isn’t it?” Nathan challenged. “You think if you can save this kid that maybe it will change how your father looks at you?”

Ambrose didn’t hesitate. “No.”

“You’re lying, Oskar.”

“I already took everything from him, Nate!” Ambrose snapped. Kit flinched on the ground. Everything from him? How much did Kit have to offer? Not much, if everything meant that Kit’s life was already used and ruined by Omen.

Wasn’t it though?

Kit didn’t even struggle to fight the barrier holding him anymore. He was tired, he realised. Tired of fighting to try and not get hurt, to try and stop people hurting him. He didn’t want to be used as leverage against Ambrose anymore. He’d rather Ambrose just kill him.

He should have just killed him…

Kit…

Kit didn’t acknowledge Ambrose in his head. He just lay flat and stared at the ceiling. Had all his fighting been for nothing? Was he destined to die at the hands of a villain? A supervillain?

Maybe his golden years were the ones he spent with Mentor, and he already knew during that time, even that happiness would end. He wasn’t born to be happy. He wasn’t built for happiness. Some people just weren’t. That’s okay.

Kit, if I knew… If I could take it all back…

Kit just stared at the ceiling above him. It didn’t matter. None of it… he cast his eyes down to his forearm, looking at the scars there, Ambrose’s special ownership. Like a collar on a dog, something that would be there for a long time, longer than Kit would like.

What was he if not just a chew toy for stronger people to use and abuse however they wanted? Make him do whatever they wanted him to? Jude… Ambrose… Nathan.

They were all the same level of strong.

God. Kit was such an idiot. He didn’t realise he was crying until a hot drop dripped onto his cheek and he flinched.

He should have never joined the Academy. He should never have let his head be filled with ideals of being a hero, a fucking Hero?! Against villains like these? He couldn’t even fight back without being slapped into last week by one of them, or forcing himself to torture himself for their sick, sadistic pleasure.

Silver eyes leaned over Kit, staring down at him with a hard look on his face. Kit stared back, blinking blankly up at the villain. He straightened and snapped his fingers with a sigh. The sound of wood creaking snapped Kit out of his spiralling thoughts and then black eyes were above him.

“Kit, hey.” Ambrose said, slapping his face lightly. Kit turned his head away.

“Just take him to a room,” Nathan said. “A proper room. I’ll lock the door once you leave, Oskar.”

“Can I—?”

“Do what you like,” Nathan said with a sigh. Kit ignored the conversation as Ambrose pulled him to his feet. Ambrose glanced over his shoulder at Nathan.

“Thank you, Nate.”

Nathan turned away. “No problem, darling.”

“Really,” Ambrose said. “Thank you.”

Kit didn’t care about whatever moment the two bastards were sharing. He just wanted to be dead, to be killed. He wanted Ambrose to just join Nathan and team up against him already, make him regret ever being born.

Fuck… he…

“Kit, please,” Ambrose whispered quietly. Kit didn’t answer. He just kept walking.

*~*~*~*~*

Continued here

@beatenbruisedandbloody @404lunar1216 @whumpyworld @nameless-beanie @andithewhumper @annablogsposts @whumpasaurus101 @0eggdealer @rejectedbytheempty @sleepy-pearl @n3rv0usn0v4 @whumpatize-me-captain @sunshiline-writes @burningkittypoet @honeyed-euphrates @sacredwrath @theonewithallthefixations @blood-enthusiast t t @tippytappytyping @shinokoro @bedtimescenarios @whatwhump @acer-whumpstuff @fa1rie @jesterrinobutter @xxgalgurlxx @princess-bubble-blossom @steh-lar-uh-nuhs @dutifullykrispyland @memepsychowhowantsuperpower-blog @ehobep

[tennessoui]

sat down and wrote out an outline for a 5 + 1 fic and now it's a:

five things obi-wan kenobi swears up and down he did not teach anakin skywalker…and five things anakin skywalker knows that obi-wan kenobi wishes he could take credit for & five times anakin realizes he’s in love with the man of his dreams …and five ways loving obi-wan kenobi is actually a nightmare & five times someone sees something and has to say something …and five times someone sees something and decides not to say anything at all

so a typical kit fic where it's supposed to be (checks notes) 6 things in total and is now (checks notes again) 30

how have i never done a 5 + 1 fic ? ive been writing fic for 3 years and ive never done a 5 + 1 fic?? incredulous. shocked. horrified.

[louis-ii-reyes-strand]

thank you @thisbuildinghasfeelings @birdclowns @lemonlyman-dotcom @carlos-in-glasses @bonheur-cafe @cold-blooded-jelly-doughnut for the tags today 🖤 and shout out @birdclowns @lemonlyman-dotcom @reyesstrand for tagging me for out-of-context lines yesterday... i went to sleep early and missed them 💔

Learning to make tortillas was a rite of passage for any child learning to cook in the Delgado family. The first time Carlos got to make them– a sunny Sunday afternoon spent with his mom while his dad took Ana and Luisa to the ranch for riding lessons that Carlos wasn’t big enough for yet– it didn’t go as well as he hoped. He didn’t roll the dough thin enough so when it came time to cook them, parts burned while others remained doughy and tasting of flour; he was beside himself when he tried them. But his mom taught him a very valuable lesson that day of sticking to the recipe– flour and oil with a pinch of salt– and always trying again.

Now, Carlos enjoyed how simple it was more than anything. Sometimes he was allowed to experiment with adding herbs and spices to the dough, or the way he cooked them, but today he longed for simplicity; the ability to sink into routine and exercise the control he’d been grasping for all day. 

While he left the dough resting on the counter top with a tea towel covering it, Carlos methodically cleaned up after himself, rising the mixing bowl of the sticky dough before stacking it in the dishwasher, then cleaning up as much flour as he could without disturbing the resting dough. He didn’t start speaking again until Andrea had removed the ground beef mix from the pan to let him toast his tortillas in the leftover oils. 

“No one remembered my birthday.”

i think everyone i usually tag in these has already played the game today so open tag for anyone that wants to join in on the fun 🖤

[revelboo]

juhytfrdfghjhbv i saw your transformers figures and i love them, where did you get them and do they have a name or like a class?? also love the writing:) have a good day<3

The bigger ones are made by Flame Toys as model kits. Bigbadtoystore has them on their website. Hobby Lobby carries them, too. The tiny guys are made by Blokees. They’re also model kits, but sold as blind bags. You can buy them from Blokees’s website if you like blind bags and chance, or on Ebay already opened- there’s a rare figure in each set that folks buy entire cases of to find, then resell the rest.

Soundwave Headcanons- telepathy

• After so long, Soundwave has mastered the ability to shut out noise. Namely the thoughts of the other Cybertronians around him. Because as useful as his ability can be, it can also be overwhelming. It’s so easy to lose his sense of self, drowning in the minds of others. So he erects mental walls. Compartmentalizes things and emotions.

• Unfortunately, something about your messy, emotional human brain thwarts his every attempt to shut you out. You’re there in the back of his processor like a song he can’t stop humming. He can’t exactly hear your thoughts, but he gets snippets. Flashes of images and emotion. The stronger the emotion, the more he gets tangled in it. Everything so bright and visceral and alive it’s almost frightening.

• As unsettling as he finds you and your emotions, he’s fascinated, too. Figuring out he can use his cassettes as a way to keep you distracted whenever your emotions are out of control is a happy accident, but one he’s willing to use. It’s as much for his sake as yours. You’re hurting and now he’s hurting, being dragged along with you because he can’t block out your emotion. And it’s overwhelming him.

• It’s a bonus that having his cassettes keep an eye on you keeps them somewhat out of trouble. He’s not under any illusions that they’re being good, but they’re less likely to get into anything really dangerous if you’re about and they’re responsible for you. Hopefully.

[coldercreation]

So hi hello! Moving on! lmao

I opened the sad!Kitty snippet doc this morning for the first time since February and it's actually like... not so bad? And there were some scenes in Liam's chapter I genuinely do not remember writing at all!! but I thought they were especially good somehow?? Wish I would get possessed like that more often hahah!

I pretty much wrapped the first chapter's draft, which is Nathan's POV. It's quite simple and sweet, setting the scene. It's currently at 4223 but since it's only a draft it's still needing some fleshing out. (My Excessive Bish™️ side of the brain gets nervous seeing such a "low" word count for me personally, because that much mean It's Not Good Enough!!! Need Moar!! // But I decided not to stress about it, the chapters can come out as short or long as they feel like. If all of the chapters work well as a whole, the that matters in the end.)

Liam's chapter is currently at 6135 words and it's the one that's going to be the most challenging. Lot more worldbuildy/dynamicbuildy and exploration in this one, so it's not just vibes, I actually have to think for this one ew 😭 It has some sizeable chunks still missing but I managed to write a good amount today already so yay!

Kit's own chapter is only at 3223 words right now and the most WIP, but this one should be pretty chill. Not 100% sure what to have in this one but I'm sure something will start to shape up.

(Izzy doesn't get his own chapter for this because he's pretty heavily featured in Nathan's and Kit's POV. When I planned this snippet I had been writing a lot of Isac, so I figured it was time to write the others more. But now I feel like I've not written Izzy in a while so I'm sure I'll end up writing more of him sooner rather than later heh) xx