#lit: siren’s lament

[elliemarchetti]

Possibilities

Inspired by this comic and @microficmay’s prompt 29. You can picture this as part of Comfort in Times of Pain’s universe if you felt sorry for Marlene but are into Wolfstar (and sapphic monster romance, if you squint) OR as the prologue of a Sirius x Marlene x Remus story (I’m starting to get into throuples and I see the potential here, so if you’re interested DM me with ideas and I will write them!)

Prompt: Thrall

Words: 708

Marlene was walking on the shores of the Great Lake with a cigarette between her lips, one of her usual walks to clear her mind after an argument with Sirius, when she felt the water behind her move unnaturally, as if something big was shifting underneath the surface. A hissing voice called out to her, and as she turned, she met a pair of yellow eyes set like precious stones in a semi-human face with greyish skin, framed by long green hair similar to algae hanging from the reef. The mermaid had a long silver tail and sharp teeth, exactly like the Care of Magical Creatures book pictured them, but her interest didn’t seem to be direct on the fresh human flesh that made up Marlene’s body, but rather on the fag from which a thin line of smoke emerged and quickly mixed with the fog extending from the water to the land.

“Does it work with your gills?” she asked, waving the cig.

“Not exactly good for your lungs either,” the mermaid replied, making her laugh. Even though her accent was a little creepy, and the Headmaster has told them to stay away from mermaids and centaurs alike, Marlene saw no harm in bagging one with a favour that cost her nothing, so she gave her a cigarette and lit it for her.

“I thought the agreements prohibited you from coming to the shores,” Marlene commented, to fill the silence, as she sat down on the stony shore.

“They heavily suggest it,” responded the mermaid, pushing most of her torso out of the water, her elbow almost touching Marlene’s exposed knee. “But I like it around here: the people are nice and there’s some kids who give me some of their scampi on Friday night if I show them my tits.”

Marlene laughed again. That’s where Peter and Carter disappeared with all that food every Friday night, then. She wondered if they realized the mermaid had no real boobs. They should’ve asked her to blow the smoke out of her gills, like she was doing now. The show was definitely more interesting than whatever they thought they were getting.

“You don’t seem to be bothered by me,” stated the creature, the corners of her thin lips slightly raised, as if the fact amused her, or made her someway happy.

“I’m used to non-humans,” she retorted, thinking of Remus and his condition, how the moon affected his mood and his energies. Even though they thought they had kept the secret perfectly, the Marauders weren’t exactly the most cautious people in the world and it took Marlene very little to connect her classmate’s absences to the lunar cycle. The fact that Lupin was a werewolf in no way changed the respect and affection she had for him: he was her friend, regardless of what had happened to him when he was a child and which was probably also the cause of the long scars that crossed his face. She heard many girls call him disfigured and lament the uneven, white tissue as a waste of beauty, but Marlene still found him handsome, one of the few things she actually agreed on with Sirius.

“Would it be rude to ask if we could be… regular?” inquired the mermaid, hopeful. “I don’t get to see many girls often and I enjoy to chat.”

“Sure,” Marlene rejoined, surprised but flattered. “Just, don’t siren me.”

“I wouldn’t,” countered the mermaid. “Thralls make terrible conversation. Furthermore, it would be a pleasure to have a human friend I could borrow magazines from. I love to look at all your pretty clothes.”

“And I’d love to hear some underwater gossips,” added Marlene. “I bet some interesting shit happens in this lake all the time and us students are blissfully unaware.”

“This time tomorrow?” asked the mermaid, and it was the first time Marlene saw one of their kind so enthusiastic. “If I bring you some pearls, would you get us some food to share?”

“You don’t have to, it’s be my treat,” replied Marlene. “And I’ll leave some cigs and my lighter for you.”

“I can’t wait!” exclaimed the mermaid before diving back into the water, waving with one of her webbed hands. “See you tomorrow!”

[daredevil-rubin-blog]

Stranger Crying

Ajax, a figure of quiet authority in the mining community, found himself drawn away from his customary role as a supervisor. The dimly lit caverns of the mines beckoned to him, whispering secrets of the earth that only those who dared to venture deep could hear. Ignoring his duties, he followed an unspoken call, seeking solace in the embrace of the earth’s belly.

It was within the labyrinthine passageways, where shadows danced and whispers seemed to linger, that he first heard it—a haunting cry that echoed through the very stone. The sound was not one of despair, but rather of a yearning that tugged at his heartstrings. He traced the sound, his boots echoing against the cold stone floor, as he ventured further into the heart of the mine.

As he walked, his fingers brushed against the rough walls, and the ground beneath him seemed to vibrate with a mysterious energy. With each step, the air grew heavier, charged with an anticipation that sent shivers down his spine. The spark of curiosity ignited within him, fueled by the unknown and the inexplicable. What could be the source of this ethereal lament that called out to him?

With a flick of his fingers, he conjured a soft radiance, a dance of luminescent sparks that cast an otherworldly glow upon the path ahead. The sparks swirled around him, illuminating his way, as he followed the siren’s call deeper into the darkness.

It was there, amidst the cold stone and echoing cries, that he discovered the source of the sound—a delicate creature unlike any he had encountered before. Its feathers shimmered with an otherworldly brilliance, each hue shifting and melding with the changing light. But it was the creature’s eyes that held him captive, eyes that glowed with a luminescence that seemed to transcend the boundaries of the cave itself.

The creature’s cries, a symphony of longing and vulnerability, resonated within him. Ajax knelt beside it, his hands trembling as he extended them towards the small being. In those moments, he felt a connection that defied explanation—a bond formed not from shared experiences, but from an understanding that reached beyond the confines of language.

The cavern’s history whispered to him, tales of creatures that had defied the odds to thrive in the darkest of places. The myths of Alicanto and Stymphalian Birds danced through his mind, stories his grandmother had shared as bedtime tales. The bird before him seemed to embody the essence of those ancient myths, a living testament to the resilience of life in the most unlikely of places.

As Ajax gazed upon the creature, questions flooded his mind. How could such a fragile being survive within the harsh embrace of the cave? Where was its mother, and what secrets did its presence hold? The threads of his grandmother’s stories intertwined with the reality before him, and for a moment, the boundaries between myth and reality blurred.

Despite the overwhelming sense of wonder, Ajax was not blind to the cave’s dangers. The walls groaned ominously, their protest a reminder of the instability that lay in wait. The creature’s cries persisted in a heartbreaking melody that held him captive.

In the depths of the cave, Aether’s father, Ajax, extended his yellowy magical hands toward the newborn bird, intending to lift it from the ground. As his hands drew near, an eerie silence enveloped the cave, broken only by the soft whimper of the bird. Suddenly, the bird’s cries transformed into a roar that resonated like a lion’s roar within the confines of the den. Ajax felt a shiver run down his spine, realizing that the bird’s fury had ignited.

The moment his magical hands attempted to grasp the bird, it evaded his grip with surprising agility, its wings fluttering frantically. Ajax watched as the bird escaped his hold, its form becoming a blur of movement. A sharp, metallic nettle surged forth from the bird’s beak, aiming directly for Ajax. Reacting instinctively, he conjured a protective magical shield that deflected the attack, narrowly avoiding the assault.

As the nettle crashed against his shield, Ajax seized the opportunity to distance himself from the bird’s relentless advance. He dodged to the side with fluid grace, escaping the projectile’s path. But the bird was unrelenting, its determination evident in the way it closed the distance between them in mere moments. Ajax’s heart raced as he comprehended the bird’s speed and ferocity.

Summoning his magical prowess, Ajax commanded the roots of the cave floor to rise and ensnare the bird, hoping to immobilize it. However, the bird’s velocity was unprecedented, its strength shattering the roots in its path as it careened toward Ajax. In a swift and sudden turn of events, the bird tumbled, its fall creating an unexpected opportunity for Ajax.

Yet, just as Ajax believed he had the upper hand, the bird vanished from his sight. Ajax’s senses heightened, but before he could react, a powerful impact struck him from behind. The bird reappeared with a burst of energy, its invisible ability granting it a tactical advantage. Ajax was knocked off balance, his magical defences momentarily faltering under the unexpected assault.

Gathering his determination and magical knowledge, Ajax erected a barrier that encompassed the entire tunnel. It shimmered with protective energy, forming a barrier against the bird’s advances. Determined to overcome the challenge, Ajax conjured a potent magical bomb, releasing it with precision toward the bird. To his astonishment, the bird’s metallic feathers repelled the magical assault with ease, reflecting the energy back toward Ajax.

For an agonizing moment, Ajax confronted the realization that he might be outmatched. Doubt and uncertainty swirled within him, overshadowing his usual confidence. As the bird’s assault seemed insurmountable, an idea sparked within Ajax. He teleported instantaneously behind the bird, catching it by surprise. With quick thinking, he wove an enchantment that infused the bird with a potent poison, causing it to falter and lose consciousness.

As the bird succumbed to the effects of the poison, the cave trembled, its walls echoing the sound of impending collapse. Ajax knew that time was running out. Without hesitation, he teleported himself and the unconscious bird to safety just as the cave began to crumble.

In the aftermath of the tumultuous clash, Ajax emerged from the cave’s remnants, holding the now-fainted bird in his arms. The moonlight cast a serene glow upon the scene, a stark contrast to the chaos that had unfolded within the depths. Ajax’s heart still raced from the encounter, but a newfound sense of understanding dawned upon him.

The bond between man and creature, forged through struggle and resilience, had set the stage for an extraordinary journey—one that would challenge both Ajax and the mysterious bird, weaving their destinies together in ways neither could have foreseen.

With determination in his heart, Ajax cradled the creature in his arms, his fingers brushing against its feathers. The sparks of light that had guided him now illuminated his retreat, casting an ephemeral glow upon the path ahead.

Finally emerging into the open air, his lungs filled with the freshness of freedom, Ajax clung to the creature he had rescued. Moonlight bathed them in its gentle radiance, revealing the intricate patterns of the creature’s feathers. The connection between them had deepened, forged in the crucible of danger and the unknown.

As the creature stirred in his arms, Ajax sensed a shift—a moment of unspoken understanding that transcended the boundaries of communication. In the stillness of the night, their thoughts intertwined, and he knew that their destinies were forever entwined.

And so, in the heart of a cave where the earth’s secrets whispered and ancient myths breathed life, a bond was formed that would set into motion a journey of discovery, transformation, and the exploration of a world that defied explanation.

[amortensie-moved]

nixie!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I have no one else to talk about Siren's Lament to, so hopefully you don't mind me coming into your askbox to scream but—

The way I have been sLEEPING on shon by not talking about him!!!!!!!!! Not mentioning him is actually a crime because he's so kind and sweet,,,,,, simply a beloved. He's honestly such a fun character and a really great example of the friends to lovers trope (which I simply adore). And I honestly really appreciate the depth he's still given, despite very easily fitting into the "best friends to lovers role".

Like!!! He has such a complicated relationship with his family that stems from loving them and wanting to be with and care for them, but also yearning for less responsibility from how overwhelming it is. He loves his brother and sister and is there for them despite having such a complex relationship with his mother (which I kind of wish was mentioned more but there's so much plot done so well so it's fine) and feeling both hurt and guilty over it and I just,,,,,,,, love complex family relationships in media, and shon!!!!!!!! He is certainly delivering <3 And just,,,,,,,,,, he works sO. HARD. for everyone around him and himself. He does so much and helps Lyra out with the flowershop despite it going against his initial dream of sailing away because he'd do anything for the one's he cares about, and his dream wouldn't be satisfying if they aren't happy,,,,,,, there's just so much to unpack with his theme of the thin line between selfless love and martyrdom..... shon is quietly delivering one of the most compelling stories and I adore that for him, actually. And I think his whole green heart business is so powerful, actually, because like,,,, ofc the whole theme of the strength of his love still tethering him to his memories, but also, the way he'll reject his love sometimes because it can be painful to hold onto! The responsibility of love! How it can be beautiful but also difficult! How it's work and sometimes it feels so thankless or beyond your means,,,,,,,, but how you hold on still because you want to and you CHOOSE to...... just,,,,,, SHON.

And lol, I also just love the dynamic he has with Ian. Them interacting is comedy at its finest, and I'm so glad it's still translating over, what with him still not having his memories where I'm currently reading (episode 154).

(Also, don't TALK to me about his scenes with Coen. I adore sibling bonds where one is old enough and responsible enough to be like a parent (especially as they have no father) and just,,,,,,,, the scene where Coen asks if Shon remembers him in ep. 154 and shon's first instinct (even without his memories) is to say of course!!!!!! Kskgjdlsslgllal,,,,,,, I am having a mental breakdown. To lie and say of course to shield Coen from all of the worries Shon probably never wanted to feel! The fear of not knowing how to reach someone after they've lost their memories, even and perhaps most especially if person is yourself,,,,,,,,,, sTOP— I'm just a little unhinged when it comes to sibling relationships and shon,,,,,,,,,, he has the range.)

Anyway,,,,,,,,, heh,,,,,,,, who is your favorite character? Personally, there are too many good one's to choose from, and I could write essays on everyone, but so you have a preference? Also ‐ what about the love triangle? Who do you ship?

(I'm personally a Lyra x Shon shipper,,,, Ian has been second leading this story sO. HARD imo,,,,, but I still love him <3 sksksks.)

olive!!!!

do not worry my friend, your rambling will always be welcome in my inbox <3

you are so right about shon!!! honestly he deserves all the love in the entire world. i am an absolutely SUCKER for the friends to lovers trope but really him!!! he is so well crafted!!! i absolutely adore how the author creates her characters because they are all so dimensional and amazing 😭 honestly he is just a perfect execution of the trope because he is so sweet and such a wonderful person!! i love how despite the slow burns and pains of miscommunications usually found in the trope, he still respects lyra and so obviously cares for her ♥️

and his family!!! i love how got to see that side of him because it is so relevant and reveals so much about his growth. i had to mention it but the coen scene?!!??! 🥺🥺 the amount of times i curled myself into a ball because that scene was just so precious and soft and heartbreakingahdbjabdan. the sibling relationship is just AMAZINGzdbns

you articulate it so perfectly that i can’t help but sit back and listen because so true!! this webtoon is just <333

i dont know if i can choose a favorite character because they are all so amazing and wonderful 😭 i love ian’s playfulness and growth i love shon’s dedication i love lyra’s perseverance and tua and pele are just so phenomenal! perhaps tho i would say i have a soft spot for lyra because she is such a compelling character! i relate to her in some ways and i like how even though she fits with the typical female protagonist, she is still unique and so so strong. i’m a lyra x shon shipper too! i just love their affection for one another, and also!! i love this portrayal of this love triangle because despite the love conflicts, the three still care for each other and the banter is just so fun and engaging ( love triangle or not, they are an amazing trio )

[emma-frxst]

The Ex X-Man

Pairing: colossus x reader

Summary: @mystikalstalker asked “Hey! I love your blog and writings and if you are not too busy I have a story idea. Reader (Ex-x-man or just normal person) is dating Piotr, but has not told him about her prosthetic legs. Ps. I really love you, keep going!”

A/n - so sorry this took so long, I hope you like it. Ps. I love you too! pps. some tags didnt work. comments and reblogs help me out the most I hope you enjoy!

perm tags: (tag list is open! send me an ask if you want to be tagged, removed or only tagged for certain characters.) @chromecutie @xenomorphique @evelyn120700 @nightriver99 @iamwarrenspeace @this-that-and-every-thing-else @hsk-puma @bungeewabbit @pianomad @lesbianstarkx @hazilyimagine-blog  @super-darkcloudstudent @thehuntress26 @siren-lamented-vampire @mooleche @rovvboat @leo-writer @dandyqueen @nitemaremotionless @thewintersoldierswife

You plopped yourself down on the couch, letting out a big sigh. You had just finished deep cleaning your apartment. As you wiped the sweat from your brow, you caught a whiff of yourself, you definitely needed a shower before Piotr came over for the first time tonight. You hadn’t been dating the metal man long, so you still wanted to make a good impression.

You propped your feet up on the coffee table, the sun from the window reflecting off the metal in your prosthetics. You stared at them, wondering what Piotr would think when you showed him tonight.

Would he treat you different? Would he be disappointed you haven’t told him sooner? Your thoughts were interrupted by your phone buzzing.

A text from Piotr.

Need me to bring anything tonight? No, just your handsome self, you replied.

Piotr only replied with blushing, smiling emojis. He’s such a dork and you really liked that about him.

‘Right. A shower’ you reminded yourself.

You wandered to the bathroom, admiring how clean your apartment was. 

You sat down in your shower chair and released the prosthetics from your legs. ahhh sweet relief. It was like taking off your bra after a long day, but better.

You lathered to your soap and began to wash, you felt the end of the amputation spot. You remembered the incident like it was yesterday. Memories of your time on Xavier’s team flooded your mind. Being a X-man was physically, emotionally, and mentally difficult. The mission when you lost your legs has left you with a particularly sour memory.

But there was no time for sour memories now. … You smoothed out your floor length dress and did some final touch ups before Piotr arrived. You had lit candles, bought wine, and even cooked a fancy meal for you and Piotr to share tonight. However, the one thing you hadn’t done was tell Piotr about your prosthetic legs, but that would change tonight...Hopefully 

Ding dong!  The doorbell sang out.

You opened the door to see a very well dressed Colossus holding a bouquet of flowers. Your heart flutters at the gesture.

you greet him with a hug and a kiss and he gladly returns your affections. “Please, come in.” You said, swinging the door open wide.

“Wow y/n, you’ve outdone yourself.” Piotr complimented. He took a deep breath, inhaling the scent of dinner. “This smells amazing!”

“We’ll then let’s eat some!” You replied, all the anxiety leaving your body with Piotr’s presence ..

The two of you had moved the couch after dinner to watch the show you’d been wanting to start together.

your focus was anywhere but the TV. You had put off telling Piotr long enough. Best to rip the Band-Aid off right?

“Piotr? Can we talk?” You questioned, your heart racing and your palms growing sweaty; nervous how he would react.

“Da. Of course.” He replied, pausing the show.

You fiddled with your dress, looking anywhere but Piotr.

After a painfully long moment, he took your hands in his, focusing your attention on only him.

“Piotr, I really like you. And I want to be with you, in an official capacity.”

“Oh y/n I-”

“Wait.” You interrupted. “Before you respond I need to show you something.”

He paused, eager to hear what you had to say.

“Remember how I told you I was on Xavier’s team back in the day?”

He nodded.

“Well, being on the team took a lot more from me than just my sanity.” You explained.

Slowly you reached for your dress, pulling it up to your thighs so Piotr could see.

Piotr’s eyes grew wide with surprise.

After a moment he spoke.

“о Господи, (my god) I am so sorry such things happened to you, y/n.”

Piotr leaned forward and pulled you into a hug. “Thank you for telling me.”

You let out a sigh of relief and wrapped your arms around Piotr, returning his hug.

It felt good to be liked for who you were, all of you.

- END.

[puckrph]

STARTERS TAKEN FROM POEMS I’VE WRITTEN - PART TWO

feel free to change pronouns!

' i think the whole world is within you. ' ' trauma is insidious. it sticks like a shadow, like mortar; the only thing holding our disparate shards together in the shape of a person. ' ' what are we, if not the echoes of insults and disappointments, the ghosts of the people our parents used to be? ' ' what are we if not the space in the skyline where something used to stand? the afterimage of a flashbulb lit in the quiet moment before roaring tragedy? ' ' i watch you standing in the sunlight laughing, harsh and beautiful, something more than our parents or this nation could ever hope or deserve to behold. ' ' you're the one lucky creature in this world of ashes. ' ' i feel myself decaying with every wasted minute. ' ' i think if you took my chest and split me open, you'd find soft black rot where my ambition used to be. ' ' if i cannot be happy, let me be free. if i cannot be free, let me be mad. ' ' i think of nothing but poems, and all the poems come from you. ' ' i'd ask to run away with you, but i never learned how to drive. ' ' i'd apologize for staring at you, but you captivate me as the night sky. ' ' when i was a child, i'd tilt my head back far enough that the only thing i could see was that stretching firmament, thinking: i might fall into those galaxies. ' ' you are allowed to be angry at those who hurt you—you are allowed to feel rage over what was done to you—you are allowed— ' ‘ we burn, and our blaze tears away the veil of ignorance. ’ ‘ faith lies as charred or as changed as the city skyline. ’ ‘ we break out of rubble, claw our way to sunlight, wipe the dust from each other’s faces with hands sick of fighting and digging. ’ ‘ we will tear down their walls and build our homes atop the wreckage. ’ ' i marvel at how you might lament a life like this. ' ' you may whisper to yourself: do i dare disturb the universe? and i will twine my hand in yours and say: you have—you do— ' ' you are a fool, perhaps. but so are all—men, women, everyone. ' ‘ we measure our pride with watch-chains; measure our hearts with half-torn dancing-slippers worn on walks over rough streets, places they were never made to tread; measure ourselves with love-poems. ’ ‘ you are the might-have-been story of a boy grown into a man grown into the best mind of his generation. ’ ‘ you are the best mind of your generation which, coming upon the overwhelming question, turns it over like a diamond and, finding it unanswerable, sets it in a ring upon my finger. ’ ‘ perhaps it was not worth it, after all. or perhaps it is no great matter. ’ ‘ if i put my foot to the floor or take the turn just right, the horizon will swallow this ought-to-be-ghost town. ’ ‘ he prayed at the altar of machinery until the factory god gasped its dying breath. ’ ‘ i stand in the light of uncountable divinities and by them chart my westward course. ’ ‘ i was always more than the sacrificial lamb of the american dream. ’ ‘ in my memories you are gold-filigreed. ’ ‘ you became god when you breathed your first tale. ’ ‘ some things are best learned from the passenger’s seat. ’ ‘ amid the ache of beauty, and amid my wonder-love, i forgot i am a sinner. ’ ‘ i forgot that we ought to be bound for ruin, i forgot every cruel thing the world has ever flung our way, because the dawn made you holy in your sleep. ’ ‘ when i am bound for eternity, will you mourn for me? ’ ‘ i was only worth loving in your darkest hour, is that it? ’ ‘ i am a siren call, not sustenance: there is no meat left in me to feast on. ’ ‘ somewhere in me there is a living girl/boy/person, locked in the casket of my heart for safekeeping, buried beneath the silt of our solitude. it has been piled on for so long that i cannot find her/him/them when i try. i cannot even remember laying her/him/them to rest. ’ ‘ you told me you loved me and looked at me like i was holy. ’ ‘ you should have known i loved you when i asked you to take a road trip with me. ’ ‘ i love you, and because i love you i will put aside my relentless terror. ’ ‘ if i am your moon, do not take the sky from me. if i am your heart, do not take the cavity in which i beat ceaselessly, deaf and blind to all but you. ’ ‘ do not tear me from your chest while you still live in mine, so close that your breath is my breath and your words are my words. ’ ‘ who am i that you should love me? ’ ‘ i did not know with what words i spoke, what language, what voice; i knew only that i loved you, as soft and ever-present as breathing. ’ ‘ if you opened your mouth, the true name of god would spill from your lips. ’

[obae-me]

A Taste of His Own Medicine- Belphie

Word Count: 2708

The twins were sick, Lucifer was busier than he ever had been, and the rest of the brothers were avoiding their siblings like...well...like the plague. You never initially intended to become a nurse, but how could you sit by and do nothing while the demons around you that you had come to care for suffered? And, if you were being honest with yourself, you were thankful that there was something you could do to help around for once. It wasn’t often at all where you were put in a situation where you could be the protector, the helper, the one they relied on. However, as much as you liked that feeling, you hoped this spreading sickness would end with Beel and Belphie. The constant care you were dishing out was starting to leave you more exhausted than normal. 

Telling anyone about your state though would most likely end in immediate termination of your new career in demon caretaking. So you kept it to yourself. These brothers were now leaning on you harder than ever, including the ones who had already been sick. Just the thought of all their faces, pale and sick in bed, lighting up at the sight of you entering the room as you pet their heads sent tingles down your spine. You wanted to take care of them...all of them, forever. 

You violently shook your own head as you gripped the handle to your bedroom. What am I thinking? Is that Florence Nightingale trope really true? The door gently creaked open as you stepped inside. Atop the table in your room sat a candle holder, the lit flames were the only source of light in the room this time of night. With a sharp puff, you snuffed the light out, plunging the room into further darkness.

You were unaware what time it was, and the eternal moonlight never made things easier in that regard. Your day had been occupied fulfilling several requests from the many members of the household. The typically hungry demon would now only eat food you made for him, and so you spent hours upon hours today making hearty meals in the kitchen. You’d become the new mailman, bringing packages from the front door to the otaku with severe hypochondriac tendencies. There was the bookworm who was milking his symptoms for as long as he could, partially because he truly enjoyed your company, but also because he enjoyed his brother’s complaints as he kept you to himself. Asmo left you alone for the most part, in fact, he was doing his duty to stay out of the house for as long as Lucifer would let him. You’d never really known him to be such a germophobe, but to be fair, you were learning a lot of new things due to these recent events. Mammon was practically MIA as well, with Lucifer busy picking up the extra Student Council slack, the greedy second born was able to get away with his shenanigans cleanly. And as for Belphie...well, you hadn’t had the chance to focus on him yet. Beel always assured you he had his brother looked after. With as busy as you were, you hadn’t exactly had time to focus much on yourself either. 

You dragged tired feet across the floor of your bedroom as you made your way towards your bed. It called to you, a sleepy siren’s song. The blankets reminiscent of a sweet melody, the pillows the alluring notes. With the last of your energy, you swiftly kicked off your shoes, letting them roll and settle crookedly on the hardwood floor. You let yourself fall face first onto your bed, the springs bouncing you up and down gently from the sudden impact. A moan escaped your lips, one you never had the intention for, but your body betrayed you. Rain and wind outside started to kick up, the sound brushing and pouring against your window. It was like the night was comforting you, the weather speaking to you softly. It’s okay to get some rest.

Without bothering to change into pajamas, you crawled under your covers, pulling the blanket tightly near your face. Muscles and joints in your body started to ache, and you furrowed your brows as you shut your eyes. Had you really worked all that much? What exactly did you do that forced your body to feel this sore? You let out a sigh and brushed your cheek against your pillow. Already the back of your mind was buzzing with sleep, and even if you tried to come up with some answer to your discomfort, you wouldn’t be able to. It had probably been the fastest you fell asleep in a long time, conking out without a second thought. 

*   *   *

Fire haunted your dreams that night, the heat making you lightheaded. Your subconscious body found it hard to move and navigate through the burning hallways. The House of Lamentation was on fire, by reasons unknown, as dreams often do. You were frantically looking for the brothers, your mind thoroughly convinced they all still resided inside. You could’ve sworn you were screaming their names, but the roaring sounds of the flames muffled your voice. You felt yourself collapse to the ground, unable to move. You were hot. Too hot. You-

A low scraping noise shocked your body awake. It took you a moment to gather your thoughts back to reality, the dream drifting far behind you now. Another squeak of two hard surfaces grinding against each other struck your ears, and your mind pumped with adrenaline. You sat up in bed immediately, your nerves on high alert for danger. Being in the Devildom as long as you had rewired you to always be cautious. 

It was hard to see through all the black. Clouds had covered the moonlight, leaving little to no light to guide your way. The little bit of natural night vision you had only revealed to you a large shadow shifting around your room. They staggered as they walked, groaning deeply. Your fingers trembled as the sound echoed in your mind, it sounded like something of the undead. How had it gotten in the house? There were no distinct features you could make out, the creature didn’t have any limbs. It was one giant blob, dragging itself across the floor, moving and knocking over the chairs in your room as it did so. That must’ve been the cause of the sound that woke you up. 

You had a few options bubble up in your mind. Screaming for help wasn’t a smart option. There would be a good chance the monster would make a beeline for you. Besides, with the demon brothers sporadic schedule, you weren’t sure anyone would hear you anyway. You had half a mind to text someone to save you, but if you got caught in the light from your screen, that might also cause this thing to be alerted to you. Also the previous scheduling reason still stood to reason. Lucifer had tried to install some sort of listening device in your room for emergencies, but he described it like a baby monitor, and you had been vehemently opposed to the idea. Now look where it got you. 

The intruder seemed distracted and confused, so if you timed it right, you could flee your bedroom and seek for someone to help you. Right now, it was finally drifting away from the table and towards the middle of the room, inching ever closer to your bed. The luxury of time was not something you had, and so you settled your mind on running once it got a little closer. Just a few more seconds. Your heart was pounding harder than the wind against your windows. Just a little bit farther! The heat coming off the creature was waving off on you, reminding you of your dream. It moaned unnaturally, shuffling slowly, without a purpose. You bit your lip, quietly swinging your legs over the end of the bed so you could finally make your dash to freedom. The blood pumping through your head was deafening. 

A thud reverberated throughout the room, making you jump, freezing your body in place. The creature had collapsed on your floor. It slowly squirmed, it’s shape shrugging away before a hand poked out of it’s frame. 

“O...w…” 

The familiar voice broke through the silence, and you pressed a hand to your chest as you took in a deep relaxing breath. You rushed to the floor, kneeling beside the shape. When you touched it, it felt soft. You grabbed the surface with both of your hands, peeling it back to reveal a confused disoriented demon. 

“Belphie…” The relief washed over you, weighing you down as you wrapped your arms around the seventh brother. You rolled your own eyes, exasperated at your own stupidity. If the other brothers found out, they would never let you live it down. You’d been spooked by Belphie covered in a puffy duvet. You snapped out of your thoughts, remembering that he’d taken quite a tumble. “Are you okay?”  He never answered, but you quickly found the source of his fall. The shoes you had left haphazardly on the floor. You bit your lip in a bit of shame. You snatched them and tucked them away near your bed. Then returned your focus near the lump. “Belphie? What’re you doing here?” You placed a soft hand on his shoulder. You almost reeled back, your hand nearly burning against his skin. 

“...anna...o...ome…” He mumbled, not focused on you at all, his eyes were even still closed. He clawed at your rugs, pushing himself on his arms just to collapse again. Your chest squeezed as you grabbed his arms. Convinced he was still asleep, you tried shaking him, feeling the palms of your hands tingle against his unhealthy temperature. 

“Belphie!” 

None of your attempts to wake him up were working, so you turned your attention to the only thing you could do. Bringing his heat down. The blanket you pulled off of him you grabbed, draping it over his body again. His hands tried lazily pawing at it. After turning him on his back, you tucked the excess fabric around him, doing your best to pin down his arms and legs to keep him from moving. You’d remove it soon, you couldn’t let him get hotter, but you didn’t want to risk him moving more and hurting himself. Frantically, you plucked a pillow from off your own bed and tucked it under his head. You brushed sticky strands of hair off his forehead, watching him mumble some more. 

“..illith...Beel…” 

If it could, your heart would’ve cracked right then and there, but you couldn’t let it get to you. Feeling against the walls, you moved around your room till you found the light switch. Then you went to work. Thankfully, due to your efforts before, you now kept extra medicine and supplies in your room. It was actually Satan who suggested it, and while you thought it had been a silly idea, now you were thankful. 

When you returned to Belphie’s side with all your items, you almost regretted turning the light on. He was panting, his mouth open to try and breathe, but his lips and mouth were noticeably dry. His skin was covered in splotches of color, sweat dripping from his forehead. You placed a bowl of water, rags, medicine, bottles of water, and a glass of only ice beside you on the floor. As soon as you ripped the blanket back off on him, his limbs moved to get up again. You settled a rag in the water then gently pushed him back to the floor with a single hand. He writhed as you quickly wrung out the rag, pressing it against his forehead. In only a few seconds, it was completely warm. You dipped it back in, feeling a bit of panic rise in your lungs as Belphie continued to pant. 

“Breathe, Belphie, breathe.” You rubbed his chest as you held him down, cooling off his face and neck with the damp cloth. You didn’t know how long you kept up this motion. Comfort, dip, cool. Over and over as the color in him almost refused to leave. He needed to wake up to take the medicine, you weren’t sure you could get it down his throat in this condition. You let your hand drift from his chest for just a second to check your D.D.D. It was now four in the morning. A full hour of this, by your estimations. Should you text someone? Were you doing the right thing? You debated this for a few more minutes, but then felt your worry assuage. His breathing wasn’t as ragged as he no longer gasped for breath. He was still moving a bit though, and you tried to recall if Belphie had any previous experiences with sleep walking. 

“Ahh...haah…” He wheezed, and for what felt like the hundredth time, you rubbed his cheeks with the wet fabric, brushing your hand back and forth across his chest. He raised his arms and grabbed your shirt and sleeve, trying to pull you close in his sleep. 

“Shh, it’s alright.” His hands were weak and trembling against you, but finally, he seemed to hear your words. The smallest slit of his eyes was visible as he did his best to open them. 

“M...C…” 

You were so overjoyed, you started tearing up. The rag in your hand dropped to the floor as you caressed his face with your hands. He still wasn’t fully awake or aware, but he was attentive enough to try to pull himself up, still clutching tightly onto your clothes. The first thing on your mind was medicine. You filled up the measured cap and brought it to him. You helped tilt back his head with the brace of one of your hands, and thankfully--or perhaps worriedly--he took it without questioning it. He grimaced a little, but the bitter and awful taste of the medicine brought him more into reality. 

“Where?” He released your sleeve as he rubbed his eyes. 

“That’s not important right now, can you stand? We should get you to bed.” You stroked his head, but he didn’t even seem to notice. He just nodded, and with your assistance, he almost managed to fully stand. He was mostly leaning on you, and it was all you could do to keep from collapsing yourself. Fortunately your bed was right here, and you let him plop into your space. You heard him sigh, and thanks to the magical demon medicine he was looking much better, and breathing easier to boot. 

With what little energy he had left, he scooted himself on the far side of the bed turning to face you. He held out his hands and squeaked out your name. “MC…” 

Your emotions hitched in your chest as you watched him beg for you. With a small sigh, you decided it would be okay to leave the mess on the floor as long as no more sleepwalking demons would enter without notice. You rushed over to the light switch in your room and turned the brightness off, using the light function on your D.D.D to prevent tripping over anything. You slid into the extra space Belphie left for you, and instead of being burning hot, he was simply warm. A little too warm, but nothing life threatening. 

He curled up by your side, as you pulled up the covers over both of you. He was doing his best to position his chin on your head and your face near his chest. You could hear air rattle around in his chest, so you reached around his body and rubbed his back. He squeezed you like one of his many pillows. All at once, the adrenaline and panic left your body, and you were left winded and exhausted. You were unsure if it was Belphie’s magic or simply your body at it’s breaking point, but you couldn’t keep yourself awake any longer. Before you could make sure he fell asleep first, your eyelids crashed closed as you passed out next to him.

[snugglytooth]

👥

Out of all the vizard that were forced to endure exile, Hiyori suspected that Rose would not make it. He looked so dainty and well-made. A soul that was composed with songs and elegance. How could he survive hunger and dispossession of his person and purpose?

Yes... in the early days, Hiyori did not think fancy and elegant Rose would cope. She did not know how his throat could manage those screams, when all he wanted to do was sing.

She watches him flourish through the years; wonders how he knows the art of opening up, even after all the horrors he's suffered. How his voice still reaches out in that siren's call, beckoning everyone to sing again.

Back when they were trying to stabilize their hollow, Rose would lament how he wished he had his instruments with him. Just something musical.

Hiyori spent months trying to repair a battered up violin she found that someone had thrown out. She doesn't know why she did it. But the way his face lit up as he tried to fix it later on, clean it up, and get it to sing once more... it seemed worth it all.

Of course, he is a bleeding heart. Rose is also one of the only few people who would endure Hiyori's tone-deaf singing in Karaoke just because she loves it.

@playkinshara

[jeeperso]

D&D Quotes Without Context

Ravenloft, Dementlieu Arc, part 3

"Oh goodie, another witness." “Oh, goody, a victim.” “Now, I only need one of you to scream answers for me. I’ll let you choose.” "Sri Marshal of the Ordo Custodes Tenebris! Y'all are under arrest! Surrender now or Jonni will open fire!" Jonni casts fireball on them. "Sri Linxia, Order of the Rack Hellknights. YOU are under arrest." Marshal: "I am responding to a code nine-oh...and Jonni lit you on fire. Good, I needed some work therapy." "Row, row, row your boat until I get to the bigger one." Row! Row! Fight the power!" "Also, your Apparatus of Kwalish is illegally docked." OOC: Never underestimate Jonni's willingness to solve problems with fire. Also, Jonni's fireball incinerated all the bodies and the boat is now MORE on fire. “You guys go finish those losers off, but save the screamiest looking one for questioning. Jonni’s got this!" OOC: Again, lock, stock & two wands of fireball. Gorbash picks up the ticking device and hucks it overboard as far as he can. GM: It goes over with no trouble, but is still floating near the boat. GM: Which is still sinking by the way. GM: And on fire. Marshal: "Some days you just can't get rid of a bomb." Once you guys get on the rowboat, you manage to get away from the ship as the bomb goes off, putting ANOTHER hole in the ship, and causing it to sink beneath the waves. Irost: "Does... this kind of stuff usually happen on your missions?" Jonni: “Usually there’s more fire than that.” Gorbash: "But yeah, assholes and fire are a staple. Also Jonni applying fire to assholes." Jonni: “Literally if possible.” Alright, as you return to the docks, you begin to hear sirens in the distance, signaling the coming of the city guard, you also see several boats on the harbor now, probably the coast guard. "Cheese it!" GM: As said by the party Paladin. This man is a father now. Gorbash: "If anyone asks we saw nothing. Except a boat suddenly being on fire. Which we know nothing about." Jonni: "Right, the number 2." There is one thing though. Driven in the door of your wagon is a dagger, the same dagger that the Tiefling was using. “Hey, free knife.” Gorbash: "Really? This is supposed to scare us?" shakes his head "Amateurs." As soon as you say this, the Mantis head rips itself out of your hands, grows metal spider legs, gives off a high pitched giggle, then runs off into the night. “It’s okay, I’ve seen this play. Jon Voigt finishes him off in the third act." "Hey, anyone who knows me knows I like to be everyones friend. I especially want to be friends with a friend who has a friend with a knife to my back." "Yeah, that is Linxia alright. Bigot too, she encouraged us messing with Semprini just because of his race." “Yeah. We mess with him because we hate him.”

"My other business is that, for all your generosity, Lady Vesh, I recall something about our needing to be seen as big spenders." “Hey, I bribed those cops without even being asked.” "They keep a whale in captivity. Jail break! Who's with me?" Nyx says with a huge grin on her face. Jonni: “We’d need a D3 cruiser and plexiglass. Get that and I’m in.” OOC: Seriously considering Jonni showing up naked, wreathed in fire. Marshal: "We go into the dark places, bringing light. And fire. And sharp blades." Irost: "I bring more darkness and ice." "COWER BRIEF MORTALS!" Jonni makes a fire bird behind Marshall. "I COME FROM FUNDERTAINMENT'S THRONE OF THE BLACK ROSE!" Gorbash sighs. "...I know we need to make an entrance but really guys." Marshal slips on a pair of burning red Kamina glasses With Irost's help, ominous bogus latin chanting follows Marshal as he strides like a Death Knight through the crowd. Minor illusions, as Irost sneaks along behind Marshal to keep the chanting going. "THE BOY, MORTAL." “BEHOLD MARSHALL! PALADIN OF THE WATCH! I AM HIS HERALD, JONTHANA, SHE WHO MAKES TORCHES OF MEN!” He produces a Sending stone, grabs Marshal, and flashes a selfie with it and him. As you enter, you step in some pools of fetid slime. Irost: "I just got these shoes!" he laments, stepping more daintily. Nyx decides to go looking for something slimy on the food tables. Armor or no armor, Linxia is getting it down the back no matter what. Seeing what she's doing, Marshal goes full ham. OOC: So we finally stuffed him with meat to make him a meat shield? "So, want to hear about how Clerical Magic has been shown to cause early onset dementia? I have some pamphlets..." “Nah, that’s a hoax by big alchemy.” "Not even a whale, describe what it looks like, Irost." I don't know. Like a big fish, with tentacles, and a weird mouth.... kind of Kalimari-ish.... and three eyes." “Aaaaaaaand time for us to go.” “I heard stories about them. Their reign was only ended by a falling piece of god that caused a thousand years of darkness.” "A knight of Asmodeus fears no man or beast." “Yes, but you’re all morons.” Irost: "I believe I heard Marshall refer to it by its proper name... Apparatus of Quail Quiche."

[iamtheempress]

Lets Talk

She nursed a nice bruise on her face in the bathroom, one that bloomed from her cheek to the top of her brow, extending a green fingertip to her cheek to heal it slowly, hopefully bringing back some natural skin tone to her cheek again.

 A normal practice for treating her wounds all her life, all while keeping herself awake and conscious with an energy drink that was half empty and the ever present feeling of anticipation. The source of anticipation lingering on that phone beside her, a burner phone she bought at the beginning of the day.

Chiaki's eyes flickered to her burner phone right next to her, waiting for a reply from a face shed only met during a fight earlier that morning with her father. 

Heroes against Villains, that old fight that will seemingly never ever cease, she cant remember why the incident happened but she just knew that she and her father were first responders along with a handful of other heroes.

 She inspects the faded mark on her face and closes the door to the bathroom, quietly as to not wake her mother who had tried to quell her worried eldest daughter, Aoi had retired to bed about an hour ago… the media had picked up on the travesty of a fight that happened earlier that day. Causing a nasty uproar from civilians and the media alike.

It was everywhere, newspapers, radio stations, the internet and she can hear the newscaster announce it clearly. "Pro Hero Witch is in the Literal Hot Seat today, is she someone we need to keep an eye on? Her power was in full effect keeping a fifteen-story building from crushing her and her battered teammate, FullCharge. Who had beaten the negligent heroin enough to make her heal him, after she did this the building she was supporting fell upon her and 5 other civilian lives, after letting the villain come to know as Dabi escape-'' she turned off the tv sick and tired of hearing of how useless she’s been, the ensuing argument she had with her family left scars on her psyche she wouldn't bat an eyelash at, she couldn't care about her reputation when she let people die on her watch. 

Useless. Lazy. A joke. 

She let those 5 civilians die so callously, she didn't know them and yet she doesn't feel as bad, atleast not right now. Casualties are a norm for heros, right?

The icing on the cake was to hear the media call her that word negatively again. 

Witch… 

A name she used to take her power back from a horrible nickname in her childhood. Now once again weighing on her like chains to the floor.

 She walked to bed holding the phone and lamenting, falling to her bed with a resounding flop.. It's her fault.. she let Dabi go, and everyone saw it.

 She let everyone down and even had her phone blown up by her friends. She turned her attention to the group chat and took a peek from behind the iron curtain of guilt. Bakugou's name was the first to catch her eye.

Bakugou: Chili. Hey dumbass answer us! We have been trying to call you all day and you leave us on read. Answer us goddammit! We don't want to confront you ourselves and see what your deal is but we will if you don't answer us for the rest of the night.

Midoriya: We will give you another 30 and we're coming over, we promise we're not going to gang up on you, Chili…That wouldn't be right. 

Chiaki: How can i trust that, you all saw my situation, no one did a damn thing to help me, i get im also the healer but that includes people defending me in order to heal at a distance or else I HAVE THE TARGET on me. I cant face any of you. 

Bakugou, Izuku, Shouto and more are typing…

She wept rubbing her eyes with her sleeve and making her tear up. Out of everyone… she assumed someone would understand but they all seemed to give her the same look, it made her heart stop. Once again she's the bad guy in a situation she lost control over. With guilt in her heart, she recalled the last moments before he got away. 

Dabi got her father off of her. No hesitation, blasted him clean off of her with enough force it could have singed her head to toe, but he didn’t. She went to get up and saw her father immolated in blue flames as she turned to see the same man she was sent to apprehend was standing fixed about 10 feet from her, his eyes trained solid on her. She looks up at the buildinh started to grown from the integrity being lost from the fight, it began to collapse down on them until she suspended it above the both of them, mere feet from his head; they stared at one another like deer in headlights. A sinister smirk spread across his features before disappearing from her view, in the kick up of dirt and rubble, 

Chiaki couldn’t bring herself to apprehend him. 

Why..? Did he see the desperation in her eyes or the fact that she barely had a leg to stand on when her own father took her down a size, when he saw insubordination over saving herself and not her father who was completely fine? Or was there another ulterior motive to keeping her alive?

Upon trying to close her eyes, and hopefully forget about this whole day.  

The burner phone buzzed to life. 

The screen could have been the brightest thing in the room, a beacon in the night beckoning her. Distant thunder rumbled to indicate the dire decision she's made, as well as a storm that was approaching.

 Her heart stopped, she lifted the phone slightly and slid her thumb over the screen. To see the text message from an unavailable number. 

“How is that eye feeling, Witch?” 

The text read, her fingers flew across the keyboard. 

“It’s been better, I fixed it up. Is this really Dabi?” upon sending the message the text came up as read. Is she really thinking of doing this… he messaged her back quickly. “Maybe I am, I have seen the news today and that shot of you and I standing before the building collapsed on us was cinematic so I have to give you props for that. I’m guessing the reason you wanted to speak to me was not make pleasantries and talk about our days.” 

“You want to join the League.” 

There it is. The question that lain heavily upon her mind. Shed never considered it as much as she has recently. The ridicule of her graduating class, her power seen as something not all heroes should use for good. She proved time and time again how she is not something to worry about.. But here she was.. Being abused and taken advantage of by the people she cared for. 

“Yes. I do.” She sent it with no hesitation and sat up in her bed looking down upon the phone, he made quick work of messaging her back, again. 

“We havent recruited anyone worth our time in a while. From what I saw recently as well as today. We were considering reaching out to you..but this works much better. Meet tonight?” Her golden eyes widened and her mouth popped open out of sheer shock. “Around what time? Ill be there” She stands up, with a loud crack of lightning the rain poured outside, she cursed and saw a location pop up on her phone.

An old and run down apartment complex outside of city limits. “Now. Get going. Text me when you're close.” Chiaki sprung out of bed without a second thought. Redressing herself in simple attire, something to not be seen on the streets so easily especially at night. Black leggings, worn in combat boots her mother gave her, a large black hoodie and that burner phone.

 While tying her hair up in a bun she saw her phone, the one with her best friends messaging her… and Midoriya’s name front and center..

Izuku: “Hey, cmon, Chili. We know you’re there.. We saw what happened and we want to know if your alright…We can see you reading our messages”

Izuku: What happened with your dad wasn't right but something doesn't add up from that fight, Chili.”

Bakugou: “It makes just as little sense to me too dumbass! Why did he spare you and go for FullCharge.”

Bakugou: “You better not have done something youll regret dumbass we cant lose you!”

Kiri: “I already have Shouto were on our way to talk to you, Spooky, were not mad..”

Her heart stopped in her throat as she started typing to them. She could see them all stop typing in unison. 

“Theres nothing to talk about. You all have made up your mind about me..i can see it. I sound like im just a problem to all of you. Consider me gone.” Chiaki tossed her old phone to the bed and scrawled a note. 

“I loved you all.. I'm sorry I'm not who you wanted me to be.”

With one message her phone began to blow up. Without looking back, she was gone. Hopping from her window to the road below with a splash into a puddle and starting her jog, leaving the only home she's known her whole damn life, as well as leaving her hero life behind her.

About a solid 30 minutes later she noticed she saw the buildings become more and more dilapidated marked with graffiti as sirens shrieked down streets and seedy characters crept behind alleyways, the city limits were within a mile away, and so was the old apartment building. 

Impatient and eager to meet him face to face, she messaged him.. "About a block or two away." she pulled her hood up as she exited a mini markets awning that was closed, rain started to shower down upon her, her light hair hidden beneath the oversized hood, the old marquis sign coming into sight. 

The phone vibrated in her pocket, Chiaki pulled it out and the words shone bright across her face. “You better not be some spy.. I won’t be too happy. So in your best interest, i'd be 100% transparent with me.”  She texts back quickly. “I am an open book and got little to hide.”

The text was read and the old marquis was above her, “No turning back now… the guys will be looking for me in no time.” She said to herself and entered the lobby of the closed apartment building, through the heavy wooden doors. It looked like it used to be grand but now it was so in disrepair that the wallpaper was torn back from walls and holes were created from years of neglect. 

Chiaki pulled her hood back and looked around, listening to the silence of the apartment, she took a breath and emanated a glow from her hands, her fingers and thumb lit up like bright green glow sticks.

From behind a darkened figure glided his scarred palm across the tattered wall approaching her slowly, he speaks up, cutting the silence and startling her. "Ah..There you are, you certainly didn't waste your time, Witch" she gasped and whipped around to see him, Dabi. She let out a nervous laugh and took a step forward, if she were not in this situation she wouldn't hesitate to take him down but this instance she felt on equal ground to him so she felt no threat.

 "I don’t dodge opportunities, especially ones like this, I would have contacted someone sooner but I wanted a reason to do this.. And you seemed like someone I wanted to contact first hand." Dabi approaches her until he is within mere feet of Chiaki, his feet shuffling with each stride, he's easily taller than her by more than a couple inches, being 5”2’ is sometimes a hindrance.

He blows air out of his nose with a laugh. “You were in luck then.. I had my eye on you for a while and finding intel for you was far more complicated than we expected. Chiaki Nakamura is it?”  one hand stuffed into his pants pocket and the other out to gesture towards her, his scarred hand fanned out, talking with his hands was natural for him to do it seems. His cyan blue eyes raking down her front and back to her eyes. Unblinking and just as dark and spellbinding as before, all the while being intensely overwhelming in every aspect physical. Chiaki’s heart bounced in her chest to her throat. 

His head lulls to the side.

 "Thats my name..” The young pro speaks softly, Dabi noticed the apprehension in her voice,"Oh are you nervous little Witch..?"  he didn't need her scurrying off or anything so he took to sauntering slowly around her, sizing her up like a hungry shark. She didn’t speak but caught his eyes through his black hair that curtained his eyes. “Just a bit but if i were any more scared i wouldn’t be here..” He looked upon her glowing green hands, it made her mildly conscious of the fact that they were shaking.

“Then my reputation precedes me even to fresh faces like you.” He says with a hoarse chuckle, he backs up with his arms spread open, she catches a glimpse of his long scarred arms, they flopped back down to his sides, She laughs gently in turn, her eyes fixed on his face, being this close she could see the gold sheen to the staples on his mouth and under his eyes. 

“If that nervous behavior is because you’re scared and having second thoughts about this.. And want to go back to playing around as a hero, i won't hesitate to fry you where you stand, but i'm hoping you're using that common sense of yours so i don't have to.” She listens intently, unwavering and dimming her hands back down, as to not allow her quirk to radiate outside the building.. Dabi’s mouth doesn’t even move beyond a normal straight line but his eyes say everything: He doesn’t see her as a stranger.. Despite this being their first time meeting amicably.

 “rest assured i won’t hurt you, from what I have seen already we need someone with a quirk like yours around, but when it comes to me bringing you back to the bar.. They won’t allow you in unless I check you for a wire, lift your arms.” He instructs and she lifts her arms just enough for him.

 His hands starting to traverse her arms and waist make her face swell with heat, a much more embarrassing position to be in… He was thorough and rough with the patdown, his face remained the same unchanging and stoic, her eyes trained on his face and the rough scars that covered the bottom portion of his face to the part directly under his tear ducts. Besides that he doesn't look bad.. The scars only add that intense look to him, the reason why people were scared of his looks. 

“I wanted to know something..” She caught his attention with a low hum, his brow raising and his lips curling upward. “What was the deal with you getting my father off of me..why didnt you attack me.” His hands finished patting down her body and he tuts her pulling the burner phone from her pocket.

 “You see.. That moment was televised and the moments leading up were not, and if they were, they didn't televise your abuse period or the reason behind it. It was pretty tragic, I heard your father's harsh words.. even more brutal pounding id say, he blocked all of your defences, your little friends didn't come for your rescue, they stood around." She stood stock still listening to him,

"Our Pro Hero lil Witch being ‘saved’ by me when i had enough of seeing someone who is more useful then her partners let on, being beaten to a pulp, and then when things seemed to be working in your favor and the fabled heroes would have gotten me, you in turn...stopped an entire highrise building from squishing me to death.” He leans forward and drops his voice an octave, dipping into a form of seductive and joking. 

“Kinda humiliating isn’t it? Being saved by a well known villain isn't really what the public wants to see.." he shrugs and steps back looks down at his palm, his long fingers moving around trying to catch her attention like he could light a flame at any moment,  with the other hand in his pocket. "I saw someone who needed help in more ways than one.” Her eyes widened as he stuffed the phone into his pocket “I saw someone who I had my eye on for a while being beaten for not doing something as useful as aiding her teammate… and for her own safety right?” He questions as he leans back against the wall adjacent to her.

 “Yeah.. that's right.. How do you know all that? I mean like, not alot of people know that about my quirk, i cant heal at a distance and provide backup unless i have backup...” He snaps his fingers and points at her. “Exactly my point. Your dear old dad didn't take his much more volatile daughter into account and only used you as a support to him, fueling his ego and making you look bad to the rest of the world.” his demeanor was so foreign to her, he spoke so eloquently and with conviction, a sadistic and perverse form of understanding that drew her in like a super magnet.

 She stood blanched, thunderstruck by how he's describing the situation to her, It's like he's in her head reading every emotion as plain on her face. “Yes. He never took me seriously… as a hero.. No one really ever did.” Dabi's eyes softened as their eyes remained locked in a stare of...mutual understanding on his part… she knew little of his past or who he was, but the weight of not being good enough or a lost cause caused his fists to clench.. he not dare ask anything personal yet.. he has a job to do and earn her trust and read her and her situation like a book. Foreshadowing the type of person she was made to be over years of unfair treatment and situations outside of their control.

 “Getting closer.. Go on, Witch.” She swallowed air and kept spilling her guts..  “I use my quirk to even help anyone or… do something for the good of others and its never highlighted in the slightest, no job well done or whatever. No sort of fanfare or recognition, i come home and.. get judged and told I'm not as good as… as him, from him.” SHe clasps her hands together and opens them up again, Dabi’s eyes watching the little light show from her fingertips and then fade away again. The more his eyes looked to her hands the more he wanted to see the beautiful little auras again, it was then Dabi realized her quirk is easy to be triggered, or atleast constantly active. “But when… i do one thing thats out of character for a… normal pro hero… all eyes are on you..and I was treated like a...pariah” 

Dabi nods his head and his smooth voice lulled her ears “Understand now? They only want you when you're useful to them, you're treated as backup, but in the right hands you could be so much more..” Her head hung low, like she just discovered it, that despite her power and the fact shes equally as dangerous maybe even more so she's treated as lesser than everyone else. 

Dabi mentally kicked himself, making such a pretty face sulk and look dour, he couldn't just stand there and allow her to beat herself up over how others treat her. Dabi took a step forward to her and found himself raising his hand to her chin and made her look right up at him, her chin betwixt the pads of his forefinger and thumb. “Come on now… don't be so down on yourself, they might see you as only an asset and a tool to use and expand upon themselves, as nothing more then a battery that never quits, but with us, you can reach a version of yourself you have never seen before.. And we can help you with that. We will make sure you surpass your expectations'' She caught herself staring. 

Eyes glazed over in tears that threatened to fall, and with a blink they were gone. “Excuse my ignorance but… you're serious like you can do that?” She asked with trepidation and abit of excitement that she had to cage off to not seem too eager. 

“It's not a promise, Nakamura. Its a fact that is going to be a reality. Now..” He turned on his heel and gave them some distance in the lobby, he was almost shrouded in darkness. “Give me a demonstration on what you can do.” He instructs. 

Chiaki blinks and becomes blanched. A demonstration. In here? She clasps her hands together and pulls them apart that green glow emanating from her hands to her elbows, pretty gold and green eyes enveloped in pure green with irises, her hands splayed out fingers slowly dancing and expanding outward, like licks of fire.

 “Brace yourself.” She curled in her fingers to drain the energy from surrounding lights and power, making the environment for everyone else but her heavy and sluggish. Dabi had a bead of sweat roll down his face and a headache grow slowly. “And just as it was pulled away I can give it back on my own terms.” She points a manicured finger at Dabi. The headache vanishes without a trace and his energy restored , almost knocking him on his ass from the dizzying feeling of having the wind knocked into you.

 The lights and the power entirely shut down for a full block and the bulbs bust outside. She holds a ball of concentrated energy in her palm and absorbs it into her skin, a content smile spreading across her delicate features and bowing forward and standing back up straight.

 “Oh yeah, they're going to thank me for insisting you be our new recruit... Warn me before you use your quirk on me again, will you?” She snorts and cocks a brow up at him. “So.. do it again later and knock you on your ass?” Chiaki giggled, Dabi quizzically tilted his head and narrowed his eyes, as if he's breaking down her words in his head, he flipped his black hair from his face as chuckles amused.

 “I knew I liked you for a reason, sarcastic little thing. ” she blushes and covers her mouth embarrassed. “I think it would be smart if we left.. I don't know if my friends are out looking for me or not..and honestly i would rather not face them head on yet.. And i don't want you to be hurt.” Chiaki looks back at him and blushes not realizing how worried she was for his safety, "What already thinking of me? Don't get so soft on me now, Nakamura.." Dabi chuckles and his hands return to his pockets and with a half turn he nods his head in the opposite direction of her, signalling her to follow him towards the exit of the building, he stops before the door. 

"Wait..you mean those UA kids..? trust me, Nakamura.. they arent your friends.. i don't need to know what you went through today after our little scene, you know as well as i that they're already plotting against you from what you did.." his words rang true along with his velveteen voice, the tall and slender Villain seemed to know more than he let on.

Chiaki became quiet and more confident with her decision. She made this choice, and she really didn't regret a damn thing. "And that very thing you have done today, Chiaki.." he slammed his hand into the wall, anchored his hand beside her head, making her damn near jump out of her skin. Lightning cracked outside illuminating the scars that adorned his features.

  The trench coat splaying open and just a bit of his shirt collar dipping down to reveal the purple scar stretches to his chest, gold tint staples fixed secure into what skin he had left to him that remained unscarred.

 Her eyes wandered from his chest back to his brilliant blue eyes. "Made me realize that you were worth contacting. Trust me, Nakamura.. we will bring out the best in you, UA would have easily tainted your view on the world and how ‘justice’ is delivered; but it seems like you know the world for what it really is." he gave her cheek a pat and a pinch, his gaze remained on her and a sickly grin twisted on his features when he notices her eyes wandering to the purple skin and his pronounced collar dipping further down his chest.. His hand engulfed her chin, capturing it and making her look him in the eyes. 

"Yknow, staring at people in the League will getcha in trouble or hurt, Not me though.. just don't get too used to it, anyone who stares  that long at me i consider mice…but honestly i don't see you scurrying off anytime soon." He backs off when she blushes brighter and gives him a shove. 

"Ah quit! Its kinda hard to not stare if you haven't noticed, Dabi." He pulled his phone out of his pocket and started texting someone facing the heavy door, when he received a reply he put it back into his pocket, and sighed opening the heavy metal door with a creak, rain poured down into the street as he spoke up so she could hear him. "its what we ugly folk are used to i'm afraid." Chiaki merely scoffs and pulls back up the hood and opened her palm flat and above his and her head together she created a translucent green umbrella like barrier protecting them from the downpour,  "Ugly is abit of a stretch, Dabi..." she mutters and follows him into the alley where the rain continued ro shower down bouncing off the barrier, a singular street lamp illuminating the barren street leaving the only city she had ever known, Dabi replayed that phrase in his head and he momentarily closed his eyes.

 Its been years since he got compliments.. it was strange but not unwelcome. "Ohhhh little mouse, your gonna get along very well with me.. stick by my side and everyone will like you… eventually.. Your about to meet one of them anyway." As he said this casually as the street became a black and purple haze, a portal opened up and swirled as a literal exit from the city.. to wherever the hell she was going next. 

Chiaki gasped and took an apprehensive step forward.

 "Scared?" Dabi asked, with a little smirk on his lips. "Just a bit…" Dabi extended his hand for her, inviting her with him "Cmon. Trust me. Trust a burnt man with nothing to lose." He chides playfully. Chiaki accepts his invitation, his hand warm and textured with the staples.. Dabis heart skipped a beat at the contact.

 Soft and small hands engulfed by his own as he guided her through the portal, stunning blue eyes never deviating from her gold and green ones.. like they were captivated by one another.. before she knew it, she was in a completely different location. She blinked and looked around, thunderstruck almost by the environment.

A bar that reeked of booze and smoke of different varieties. "Welcome home, for now." He says in a flat tone, she pulled off her hood and looked around.

 Dabi still had his back to her and looked at his palm for a moment that felt like an eternity, the ghost of her hand remaining in his own, strange emotions bubbled up from nowhere, he shoved them back down and spoke up. 

"Everyone seems to be out by now, usually the bar is never empty. The person who summoned that portal is here...Kurogiri, which means our leader Shigaraki is here. He’ll meet you at some point..when he's not on his damn video games." he nudged her shoulder with his elbow and shook his wet hair out. Turning to look down at her, "Nice place...you guys bounce from place to place often?" She asks in what felt like a shy whisper, the resounding echo from the hall made her feel like she was shouting. 

"Haven't in a while.. hoping we won't have too again. Wont say where because it doesn't matter. Anyway, wanna come up to my room? There's an old couch up there you can crash on. Unless you want my bed, heh.. Wouldn't mind you in bed with me.” He breathily chuckles and pinches her chin starting to lead the way, “Don't get any ideas! I'm just tired.. I haven't had any sleep and its like.. Almost 2:30 in the morning.” She yawned and dragged her feet behind him.

Chiaki follows him up the stairs and down the long corridor to the last door on the left, he opened it to find a bedroom with a king sized mattress pushed to the wall and the windows covered in blackout curtains, an old couch directly under it and  a flat screen across the room as well as his own computer and cans of empty energy drinks by it, as well as an ashtray that looked like it was used normally. 

“This room is mine, go ‘head.” He invites her in, noting the tired look on her face, he found it almost innocent if it weren't for the remnants of blush still ghosted on the apples of her cheeks.

Dabi had booted the door closed behind him as she kicked off her boots, he spoke up again, watching her movements, as they seemed to have gotten lazier. “Not much of an interior decorator but it works for me, sprucing the room up would be too much effort.” 

Making himself comfortable he sheds the trench coat and shuffles through a cabinet in the desk where his computer is located,”I'm getting pretty tired and by the looks of it you are too, so im afraid im gonna have to restrain you. Cmere.” He says, pulling out a pair of handcuffs that catches Chiaki’s attention, her brow instantly rising in confusion and a hint of worry. Dabis eyes flicker up to her when she whips around at the chain jingling as he approaches her, twirling the cuffs around his finger 

 “W-wait why do you need to restrain me?” She asks a little wary, “Its so you dont pull anything while I'm sleeping… can't be too careful, little mouse.” He states clasping the cuffs around her wrists in the front, they clicked almost to the point where he could get two fingers under them. Chiaki looked at him with big innocent eyes and then down to the cuffs on her wrists. “Tsk..you do this to all the new recruits or am i just that special.” He chuckles and turns his back to her. “You’re a first, to both be cuffed and able to sleep in my bed. Consider yourself ‘special’”

She looks back up to find Dabi stripping his white shirt off and tossing it to the couch, a blush forming on her face and a pang in her heart as she looks at him closely, hes much better looking up close… fit and lean, along with the added look of his scars that dressed his torso into his pants only made him 2 times more appealing and more her type. “Holy shit..” She says out loud with her jaw slacked abit. “Checking me out, little mouse? Remember what I said about staring.” He chuckled and laid back in bed exhausted, pulling the sheets up her body comfortably. “Sorry was just admiring the view, Dabi.” She teased rolling her eyes and settling into bed, Dabi’s eyes widened briefly and felt that sweet warm feeling creeping up his chest again, this time he let it simmer there.

“im going to sleep.. Too tired to think, that energy drink i had acouple hours ago finally wore off." Chiaki yawned and stretched, facing away from him to ease the situation, that situation being she wanted to face him and find comfort from him. 

A sort of comfort she longed for for years, acceptance and safety.. Funny she found safety with a villain.. With villains alike. This caused her to giggle to herself, he raises a brow and looked over to her with his arms tucked behind his head 

Instead as Dabi turned off the light and the distant thunder rolled she spoke up “Dabi..” “Hm?” She turned back over and some light from the opened part of the black out curtains illuminated her eyes, Dabi once again caught himself peering into them wistfully finding himself looking her over. 

 A genuine glow in her eye, appreciation and a connection the two have never felt before, “Thank you, for bringing me in.. you wont regret it,” She brings her bound hands up to pull the pillow further up under her head, and licked her lips, swallowing her fear and letting a wall down, even just alittle bit to him. Dabi mused and observed her closely, finally seeing the opposite end of what its like to have someone in need go to him of all people. “i haven't felt anything beyond disappointment for a long long time, so to say i feel comfortable with someone i was fighting not even a day ago says anything, i hope you understand and i'm not stepping over any boundaries.” He grinned, and responded with an amused chuckle. “Getting soft on me again, better not make that a habit with anyone else here, I just might get jealous.” Dabi grazed his finger against her cheek, she leaned against his hand and smiled angelically.

“I'm starting to like that fire in your eye. ” He ghosts his knuckles down her cheek as her eyes closed slowly, blinking exausted as the cold air kicked on from the ac unit above them, she shivered and threw all caution to the wind, Dabi stiffened as she moved closer to his end of the bed, she ducked her head abit beneath the blanket to snuggle against his warm chest, his heart hammered with nerves he still couldnt place a name too, the same hand that stroked her cheek rested on her shoulder, his thumb rubbing slow circles into the sweatshirts fabric. 

Comforting and confusing thoughts swirled through the villains mind as he soon came to realize he remained awake for all but another 20 minutes, the soft rise and fall of her chest and side indicated she had long fallen asleep in his arms. 

Dabi rested his chin against her head and attempted to find the sleep he had long since forgotten in his past life. Acceptance and comfort from someone. 

He sighed and whispered in a husky tone of voice.

“Glad we had that talk, Little Mouse…”

XXX~

Hey yall its my first MHA fic. You might see more of her and Dabi in the future cuz honestly this was fun!

[calamaricollie]

"The Heavy is dead" but it's an overly dramatic fanfic

(By Collie T. Calamari)

Nobody could predict the tragedy that would be bestowed upon the red team on that beautiful Sunday morning, Heavy walked outside of the base, singing and cherishing every moment as the sun warmed his bald head.

"It is good day to be not dead". Said the Russian man, taking off the sunglasses he'd been using, the vivid man could barely react to what happened next.

POW!

The Heavy is struck in the head by a bullet, shot by none other than blu engineer, with a devilish grin plastered on his face, the blue demon exclaims, to Heavy's demise:

"You are dead!"

Heavy was in pure shock, he grabbed a book titled "How 2 Die" for he knew not how to be deceased.

Tears swole up on his eyes as he threw away the meaningless book and shouted, as the situation dawned on him:

"I am dead!"

As he falls to the hard surface below him, the grass blades pricking at his harsh skin, now turned frail due to blood loss.

The sight of Heavy's fall made the engineer laugh, venom figuratively puring from every gasp of laughter, finally, no more would his sentries and dispensers be decimated by the heavy, he was ecstatic.

But his delirious joy was short lived, as his other mortal enemy approached from behind, Spy. He was delightfully singing, not knowing the horror he was about to stumble upon.

The blue engineer cursed and hid the weapon with haste.

It was then, the spy gasped in shock as he witnessed the enormous mass of a man lying lifeless on the dirt floor. He could barely hold in his astonishment as he uttered the statement:

"The heavy is dead!"

The dead heavy replies, with sorrow in his voice: "Yes, I am dead!" His entire body now being slowly consumed by the earth beneath him, becoming one with nature itself.

Filled with denial, the red spy asks:

"Why is the heavy dead?"

The blue engineer knew he would be in hot waters if anyone knew of the sin he had just committed, so he did the only viable thing to do at such a moment, he lied through his teeth.

"I don't know" He said to the spy, who took blu engie's words as true without a second thought.

But Heavy intrudes the conversation, about to say who the real killer was: "I think it was-".

But his attempts were futile, he was shushed by spy and blu engie's ignorance as both exclaimed: "you are dead!".

Defeated, the heavy complies with such ignorance with a simple, sorrowful: "ok" as he burrows back into the ground.

Before the conversation could develop, a van hastily drives by, and stops right beside the crime scene. Out of it jumps the Australian (but actually New Zealander) man everyone's come to know as Sniper.

Failing to grasp the situation at the same moment, he vulgarly says: "What's up ya wankers? Who's up for a-" he trusted his pelvis in the air as he uttered the words, but soon after he notices the commotion.

"Ah! What the bloody hell just happened?" Sniper inquires. "That heavy is dead" reply the previous Spy and Blu engineer.

"The heavy is dead?!" Sniper calls out in pure horror. "Correct!" Spy replies, giving Sniper a brief moment of joy from the approval of a man such as Spy.

The tone is quickly brought back to dread as spy asks: "So, did you see the murderer?".

Which Sniper replies the only way he can: "No, sorry mate." With Blu engie lying right behind him, not an ounce of regret to be heard on his voice.

Spy feels an utter sense of grief and betrayal. With sorrow filled rage he bashes his open hand in the table, and, with pure protective instinct, he proclaims: "I will find him, I will capture him, and no one will ever die again". Spy was filled with determination he's never felt before this day.

Moved, sniper claps, having felt in his heart the same emotion as the grief struck spy. Blu engie claps as well, in order to remain unsuspected.

"Ateeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeention!" Soldier could be heard not too far away, he dashes over to the scene: "The Heavy is dead!" He says.

Spy has his body slumped on the Heavy's dead figure, he lamentably cries out:

"We know!"

Soldier further inquires: "Who killed him?"

"We don't know!" The spy laments.

Soldier, wanting to know what man could possibly be behind this slaughter, offers: "I will find clues!"

And begins to search the area's grounds. Not long passed until he finds an odd item amidst the place filled with trash and an odd amount of lost tiny desk engineers, he utters: "What's that?".

As his wet, floppy hands touch an object on the floor, he wraps his fingers around it, the object is positively shaped like a gun, there was no questioning over what the object truly was. a weapon.

"That thing is why Heavy is dead!" Soldier points the gun at the three gentlemen. "The heavy is dead?!" The three men say in a moment of amnesia.

"Yes!" Soldier shouts in frustration. He slams his hands on the table as a very aerodynamic looking background shows behind him to prove his point: "He died!"

Spy, Blu engie and Sniper all gasp in utter pain at the reminder of the simply traumatic event.

But wait, a siren could be heard from not too far and a man's voice could be heard with it: "INCOMING!". By God all-mighty it was the Medic himself, a slim hope to get the Heavy back is lit.

The ambulance rams into the Soldier, penetrating him into the base's walls, behind the ambulance, the doors opens as the man himself hops out of it.

"RAUS RAUS!" Medic urgently shouts out, wanting to get to the Heavy as soon as possible, "MOVE, NOW!".

The men move out and let the bearded doctor inspect the body.

Medic gets close, and they all watch as his soft lips touch Heavy's nose bridge for a gentle kiss, can kisses really make it better?

As the German man retreats, something amazing happens, a bright light shines down onto Heavy's body, and soon enough, the enormous man is being slowly lifted in the air! Could it be that he was really being revived?

Heavy began to laugh in delight, he was beginning to feel the life re-enter his robustious body, the males watch with hopeful eyes.

But the fellow's optimism was fleeting, for they witnessed a true blood bath when Heavy's hulking body blew up into bloody pieces in front of everyone's eyes.

Medic was displeased to say: "In my medical opinion, that Heavy is dead!".

Sniper further pressed the Medic for answers: "Doc', what 'appened?".

"My professional opinion?" The medical procedures sir repeats. He slaps the desk in front of him and aggressively points at the men while shouting: "The Heavy was killed!"

They are all brought back to their panicked states at the thought of a Heavy killer being at large.

But the German medic disagreed with the concern:

"I don't think it's anything to worry about" he says in the midst of the panic and hops out of frame.

Sniper, balding in anxiety and fear, questions: "Well, now what?" But before anyone could answer his inquest, they heard an annoying voice coming not from afar.

"Clipidy Clop mother fucker!" It was clearly Scout's voice coming in hot.

"Ugh, come on" spy declares his distaste and fatherly disappointment.

Scout walks nonchalantly towards the Heavy's remains, in an overly amused tone, he chirps: "Look at this! The freaking Heavy is dead!".

The other mercs stand their silent unamusement. Scout, dissatisfied with being ignored, re-states "What d'you think of that?", Which is candidly followed by more silence.

"Ahm..." Scout mutters, but spy reciprocates "Yes, yes Scout, GO HOME!" More as an order than a request.

Scout then knew his presence was not welcomed at that establishment: "Ah come on!" He spouts out his distaste.

He begins to make his way to the pink car beside him, of which his mother was driving, he whines at every step: "Freakin unbelievable! No, seriously you guys suck!" Until his whining was cut short by the car's crashing into the walls of the base.

Spy isn't phased. "Ok, Let's get back to the point!" He says,

The Heavy is now looking at his own dead body, poking it with a stick, there's probably something poetic about this moment, Heavy gets back to the point: "I think Heavy is dead".

"THE HEAVY IS DEAD?!" All the men shout in once again ASTONISHMENT at the sheer MEMORY of Heavy's CRUEL FATE!

All while Medic realizes tragically too late that, the Scout, has probably been wounded in the car crash, but he still squawks "Scout! I will heal you!" But it is all for naught, for the car has already exploded.

"Oh, seriously?!" Heavy spits in annoyance, it was finally time the burly Russian man knew the truth, so he inquires: "WHO KILLED HEAVY?!" He was done waiting around, he demanded answers, forthwith!

That's when the stench of Falstaff beer could be sensed by everyone in the area, they all knew who was coming. With a swing of his bottle, Demoman slurs out:

"It was ME!"

All the mercs were SHOCKED! Demoman never showed any hatred for the big russian man, so why this? Why shatter the trust and the good memories made team red? For nothing but gratuitous violence.

"YES!" Demoman continued, "I did it..." He says while using his sheer mental power to bring another bottle of beer to his lips, "...like this!" He pulls out a revolver and hits sniper straight in the head while being flung in the air by the force of the gun.

"WOOP DEE DOO!" The madman Demoman kept going. Spy, medic, and even Blu engie were all holding Sniper horrified about yet another gruesome death on their hands.

But Demoman simply slurps some more beer and burps out "That's the joke lads!" Because of course he was merely playing a prank.

Laugh track

But with another chugalug of his beer and a large burp, he finally speaks out. "It was...Y —Buurp— him!!" Demoman says while pointing at The blue Engie himself.

Astonished! Blue Engie questions: "How did you know?!" Knowing he's been had.

"I didn't!" Demoman responds with yet another belch. "That was a joke too".

But it was too late, the blue Engie new there was no coming back from this, they all knew of the horrid acts of immorality he had committed. Blu engie burts into a maniacal laughter, all of his evil desires being known to the world, he had nothing to hide anymore.

"That's right!" Blu engie exclaims "It was me!".

Spy felt every bit of betrayal enter his slim body like needles in a vein, "you MONSTER!" He shouts, knowing the friend who's been there trying to solve the case with him from the very beginning turned out to be nothing but a deceiver.

"But WHYYYYY?!" Heavy quizzes, still puzzled on why the smurf colored engineer would do such a thing.

Blu replies "coz you're fat boi!" Revealing his raging fatphobia against the voluminous man. "And another thing, you're ugly" he continues.

A full out argument blows up between the two, spy is left out of the fight and is forced to watch the chaos grow bigger, it's tradition.

"ENGINEER!" Heavy screams out the loudest he possibly can!

"AH DAMMIT HEAVY FUCK OFF" Engineer bellows out in alarm. "You are dead" he reaffirms Heavy.

But Heavy pulls out the ultimate revenge tactic, he says...

"No u" an immediately shoots Blu Engie with FINGER GUNS, and as soon as he did:

POW!

"Ha ha!" He laughs, feeling the sweet sweet taste of vengeance served hot."You are dead! Not big surprise" he mocks away.

"Well, that was idiotic!" Spy expresses in great disappointment he just wasted time on this Bee ess, "Off to hang myself!". He then ties a noose around his neck with the rawest feeling of dissatisfaction, he wanted to go the best way he could. "Watch and learn!" He screamed as he did an EPIC FRONT FLIP TO HIS DEATH.

Thus, Heavy is left standing there, in the middle of the once chaotic establishment.

"I am alive!" He jovially says, happy that he's finally able to breathe once again."...Is nice."

And Heavy is left, with one last thought he wished to share:

"Yes, this is stupid!"

[toloveawarlord]

Study Date

You can find my masterlist in my bio!

Event Masterlist: 50 Types of Kisses

Characters: Lucifer x MC

Prompt: “ A fierce kiss that ends with a bite on the lip, soothing it with a lick.”

Requester: @lucifers-heartbeat ​ & @paopufruittt ​

Tagging: @plumpblueberry ​​​​   @ggukstummy ​​​ (Please let me know if you want to be tagged!)

A/N: I combined these two asks since both of you asked for 15, I hope that’s okay!

[This event is closed]

The music spilling up the stairs from the study into the library in the House of Lamentation pulled me in like a siren’s song. The melody bittersweet but ultimately a cacophony of beautifully composed. It’s sound only heard when Lucifer had taken a much-needed break from his work. Incidentally, I’d been on my way to ask for his assistance on my studies.

Rapping on the door, I waited patiently for his call to enter. Despite it being his private study, the eldest brother was always open to my use of it. To aid in allowing you a quiet space to focus on your work, so you won’t disgrace Diavolo with bad grades. Or so he said. He’d grown to like my company, even if he hardly said it.

“Do you have a minute?”

Lucifer’s gaze turned from the window to me, tongue sliding across his lips to lick away the last bit of wine from his emptied glass. “Having trouble with your studies?” He abandoned the glass on the desk as he motioned to the couch before the lit fireplace.

I gave an exasperated sigh. This would have to be the billionth time I asked for his help. Devildom was so diverse and its history quite unknown to me, and near impossible to understand how everything worked within the span of only a few months. “I hate to bother you on your break when you’re so busy with student council work.”

A graciously sweet smile spread across his lips, as if he knew that wasn’t the only reason for my arrival. “It’s not a bother at all. I’m pleased that you are willing to ask for assistance and put forth effort into gaining new knowledge, unlike some of my brothers.”

Taking the seat next to him, I opened the book up to the saved page, moving aside the papers that served as both notes and bookmark. It had been so long since I’d started working on it, I could hardly remember what I’d starting writing about it.

“You are writing a paper on the governmental system of Devildom and how it relates and differs from the Human Realm. Quite an interesting topic,” Lucifer said, plucking the outline up to read it over. His crimson eyes scanned it but gave no indication of his own thoughts. This demon could be hard to read.

I chewed on my lip, anxiously waiting. The topic would be one of kind, as Solomon had chosen to write on how the summoning of demons had affected events throughout history in both realms. 

Lucifer hummed to himself and gave a curt nod. “You’ve got a firm grasp of your thesis, the data to back up your claims and research is flimsy.”

It spiraled from there. Though strict, Lucifer guided me through the mistakes and offered references and books that I could take pertinent information from. He gave praise easily. It had little to do with the fact that he was also quite taken with me. Lucifer was simply an excellent teacher as long as one tried their hardest.

The book snapping shut startled me. Still scribbling the last of my thoughts down, I peeked at him out of curiosity. His silence only drove me on to hurry and finish the sentence. The moment the pencil fell onto the table, I was flat on my back against the couch, staring up at the beautiful demon. “Lucifer?”

His thumb traced over my bottom lip. “You’ve done well. I believe I’ll take my reward for assisting you.” His silky voice wrapping those words in honey. Lucifer dipped his head down, pressing a hungry kiss to my lips.

My whole body seemed to relax, accepting his gesture of affection and responding in kind. Our lips meshed together, as if I could ever hope to be in control of it, but I tried. He tasted of wine, but he needed no alcohol to make me completely drunk on him.

Having spent so long working on the paper, my mind hadn’t quite checked out of the research zone. My eyes flickered to the paper; a little phrase that would surely go so well with my thesis had come to mind. “Ouch!” 

The scrape of his teeth digging into my bottom lip had been most intentional. Lucifer guided my attention fully back on him, a sly smirk growing on his lips. “I do hope you are paying attention.” His warm tongue traced across the spot that throbbed with a dull pain. Crimson eyes were filled with desire, daring me to lose focus on him again.

“It seems you need different kind of lesson. I’m most willing to work all night to make you understand.”

[rwbyremnants]

WARNING: Still a little gore

Okay I did mean to post this faster than this but at least it wasn't TOO long... I hope... anyway enjoy!

=Chapter 28

The world seemed to slow to a crawl as Weiss reached toward the red stain blossoming outward from where the blade was penetrating her navy blue dress, turning it a shade of indigo. She vaguely saw Pyrrha taking a step away from her, eyes wide in abject horror.

Cinder. No, wait - one of the Huntsmen. Raven. Her father. The culprit could have been anyone by this point. As Weiss tried to turn on the spot to see what was going on, she lamented how many people had come to resent her in such a short time. It wasn’t as if she had ever done anything to anyone on purpose, and yet she had become one of the most hated people in Vale. How unfair that was! Now all that remained was to find out which specific adversary had taken action.

Nothing could have prepared her for the incensed expression in Emerald Sustrai’s face as she stood panting in her driveway, shaking all over. Yes, she was angry, furious, fists clenched just below her still-bandaged forearms… but something wasn't right. Her eyes were unfocused, breathing ragged and uneven. Saliva was running down her chin.

“Make you pay,” she stammered, stumbling slightly as she backed away with the knife, fought to remain standing. Clearly, it wasn't easy. “Get you to… make Cinder… make her.”

“I…” Pressing a hand against the wound, she asked, “Why?”

“You!” Tears had joined the spittle, and she raised the knife again. “You got her h-hurt! Not allowed! Fake Dragon, I'll-”

That was as far as she got. Grinding back into life, Pyrrha tackled her to the ground, wresting the knife away from her. Not that Emerald was going down easy, but it was difficult to tell through all that fog; Weiss felt her own vision beginning to blur as she sank to her knees.

“HELP!” her friend was screaming as she wrestled with the green-haired Dragon, even though she sounded so far away. “Someone help us! Please!”

Not that Weiss could wait for help. The world was sliding to one side - or was she? Impossible for her to tell. Her entire body felt so light… maybe it wouldn't matter what fell where. Maybe nothing mattered.

Nothing except…

“Yang…”

Even her own voice sounded false, immaterial. Footfalls and outcries filled her ears, but light was already fading by then. No time for anything anymore. Only nothing.

-------------------------------------

Though Weiss had a fleeting memory of sirens, shouting and being manhandled, it all seemed so insubstantial that she couldn't be bothered to focus. At some point, she was sure she heard her mother's voice…

The next thing she was aware of was glaring fluorescent lights overhead. They hurt. Nothing else did, but that was so painful that she couldn't stand it. So she squeezed her eyes shut again immediately. The throbbing had to stop, she wanted to throw up, but she couldn't move, her legs were so heavy, and some unseen force was jostling her all over the place…

Consciousness evaded her for so long that when it came back again, she had no idea whether or not it was hours or days later. The lights were still painful but tolerable now. Trying to move felt like rolling back the tide, but she had to - something she couldn't quite catch hold of in her mind was screaming that she had to act, to move right now. So she pushed up with her elbows-

And felt a wealth of bandages and cotton pads restricting her movement. Not that they did anything to blot out the pain: sitting up that one time made a cold prickle spread outward from a sharp heat, and she hissed in through her teeth.

At least now she could see that she was in the hospital room. Sickly green curtains hung around her bed, and the quiet beep of a heart rate monitor broke the silence every few seconds. Looking down at the sheets, she caught sight of a little red tube leading from the crook of her arm up to a bag of blood hanging from a metal apparatus.

That was when it all came rushing back to her: Emerald. The knife. Pyrrha-

“He-” The noise that came from her throat was more of a rasp than a word, and it set in motion a coughing fit that made the pain in her abdomen so much worse. In that moment, she wished she had never woken up.

A stirring in the corner of her eye made her turn, dreading another attack - not that she had even seen the last one coming. Instead, she saw her mother, slumped down in a chair and quietly dozing. She looked utterly exhausted. Bags darkened the skin under her eyes, and her dress was more wrinkled than she could remember seeing her wear in quite some time - even on her most drunken nights, she would simply change the next morning.

“Mom?” she rasped. No response. Looking down, she saw an empty cup of coffee by her pumps. How long had she been up before she succumbed? Maybe it would be kinder to let her sleep, even though she desperately wanted some answers.

Settling back against the bed again, Weiss resigned herself to her fate. Aches were beginning to make themselves known. Mostly, the one in her abdomen was the one worth noting, but dozens of lesser pains were beginning to flare up now that her mind was awake. Did she get run over by a bus? Curious now, she peeled back the bed sheet to get a look at her abdomen…

A red blotch was marring the pristine white of the bandages around her midsection. Weiss let out a strangled cry of alarm. Seconds later, she more felt than saw her mother shoot to her feet before her face came into view over her bed.

“Oh no… oh no oh no oh n- NURSE! My daughter!”

Medical staff began to flood into the room. She looked on in mingling a horror and fascination as they began to strip away the bandage, examining the tiny hole from which welled her life's blood. She tried to keep watching, hoping to learn something about what they were doing and what was happening to her, but the sight of her own blood made her head so light that she had to lay it back down…

-------------------------------------

The next time Weiss awoke, clarity came a lot faster. Even still lying in the bed, she remembered that she had been attacked, that she was presumably in the hospital now. Remembered the look on her mother's face when she saw her bleeding again. How many times had she seen her bleeding before? The thought of forcing her mother to suffer through the agony of watching her own child cling to life on a thread was an awful prospect.

This time, she didn't try to sit up. Partly because she was so weak she didn't feel like she could accomplish it, but also because the longer she lay there, the more certain she was that sitting up had been what opened her wound again. Not that she was any sort of a medical professional.

With no way of tracking the passage of time, she couldn't know how long she had been awake before a familiar face poked over her bed. After a second, the olive-toned features lit up with mingling relief and joy.

“There she is,” Kali Belladonna whispered.

“M-Mrs-” She gagged, but somehow stopped herself from coughing this time.

“Shhhh.” Looking around very briefly, she reached toward an unseen table and came back with a small cup of water, gently tipping it to her lips. Weiss drank deeply until her thirst was slaked. “There… that's better, isn't it?”

Gasping for breath now that she had finished, Weiss gazed up at the cook. She certainly looked as if she could use a few more hours of sleep herself. Unlike her own mother, Blake's mother was as well-dressed as ever, makeup in place and hair flawless. But that couldn't hide the very real fear in her hazel eyes, nor the fatigue in her posture.

“I'm… what…”

“Take it easy. Do you want to know what happened?” Weiss nodded. “What's the last thing you remember?”

“Stabbed. Emerald. Then… I woke up, Mommy was here, but… I bled.”

The instant she tried to sit up, Kali pushed her back down firmly. A thrill of dread shot through her - even though she trusted Kali, it was scary being held down.

“Lie still. You lost a lot of blood, twice. You shouldn't lose any more.” Tears glistened in the corners of her eyes.

“I'm sorry.” Her own were welling up now. “I'm sorry, Kali, I…”

“Shhhh, Weiss, it's not your fault.” Clearing her throat, she began, “Emerald attacked you. Her story is… interesting, to say the least. From there, your mother heard your friend Pyrrha calling for help and called for the ambulance. We… well, I kept pressure on the wound until they got to you, Pyrrha kept Emerald under control. She got nicked here and th-”

“What? No, I have to-”

“Stop, stop,” she reminded her as she held her in place. “It wasn't too bad; they already treated her. Small cuts on her arms, nothing to worry about. Please don't forget about your stitches.”

Feeling chagrined, she whispered, “I'm sorry… so… what happened? I'm alive, am I going to be okay?”

“They…” Her throat worked to swallow. “Well, as I said, you lost a lot of blood, and… the blade did nick your kidney, but missed the major blood vessels, so you were lucky there. Still, it was touch and go for the first couple of days to save the kidney.”

“Days?” Afraid of the answer, she asked, “How long…?”

Kali averted her eyes. “It's Sunday. So almost the entire week. But you're stable now, you just- they warned us that if you pulled your stitches again, they would have a harder time… keeping you from bleeding out. So please, please…”

The tears made her reach up to pet up and down Kali's neck. The warmth was comforting to them both. “Gee whiz… I'm so sorry for making you worry. You and- is my mother still here? What about Pyrrha? Has anyone told Yang? We have to-”

“Shhhh, Weiss. Yang knows. She's right outside.”

“Can I see her?” When Kali frowned, she craned her neck up. “I need- need to see her!”

“She's been awake for so long, Weiss… she needs her sleep. All of us do. It's not your fault,” she headed her off before she could apologise again. “But we love you and are so worried, and we want to make sure at least one of us is awake if there's news.”

A little smile broke through Weiss's fear and gloom. “You love me?”

Kali blinked a few times, stunned out of her current train of thought. “What? Oh… oh, Weiss, of course! Haven't you been able to tell?”

The poor girl burst into tears. The entire situation was far too much for her, and hearing that someone she had become increasingly attached to felt the same way provided an easily accessible outlet for all those feelings to come pouring out. Kali leaned down to hug her very delicately, to make sure Weiss didn't lean up. They cried together, laughed in the middle before crying took over again.

“Oh, sweetheart,” Kali finally breathed when she could talk again, kissing the side of her head. “I'm so glad you're going to be alright. I r-really… Weiss, you are family now, and don't you ever forget it!”

Such simple words, yet they were music to her ears.

After another few emotional minutes, Kali bowed out and prompted her mother to come in and fuss over her for a while. She had never felt so adored in all her life - well, other than with Yang.

“The doctors really have been swell,” Willow finally blubbered some time later. Her poor mother seemed like she was nearly as bad off as she had been when drinking, but wasn't drunk; that was some relief to the patient. “Even let Kali and Yang stay, as long as I was here to vouch… that they knew my b-baby…”

Her smile was almost pitying as she squeezed her mother's hand. “I'm going to be fine, Mother. I promise. Though I guess I won't be cheerleading much for the rest of the semester…”

“This is very h-hard for m- for me to… I want to hate those Dragons! My baby keeps getting h-hurt, but then… Kali is so wonderful to me, and you, so it isn’t- and your father! He isn't one of them, and he attacked us, so even with that girl stabbing you…”

“Yes, Mommy, I know,” she told her gently. As she well knew, calling her that came out when she was very emotional, but it also seemed to convey a deeper love that her mother often worried was lost. Her hope was that it might help soothe her nerves somewhat.

“I don't know what I would have done. You're my… m-my only baby left! Winter's gone, your father… and Whitley-”

“Whitley and Winter are fine! They're just… not as close. Right now!” she added when she saw her face scrunching up more. “But… I mean, give them time! Especially for Whitley. You know he's Daddy's little boy.”

Nodding, she leaned down and left one of those kisses on Weiss's forehead that was more firm than necessary, causing her to roll her eyes even while she smiled. “My little angel. I'm so glad she didn't get you. You'll never… never know!”

Comforting her enough so that they could hold a conversation again took the better part of five minutes. She knew it was a little twisted, but Weiss was extremely happy. Yes, she hated that she and her mother had to go through so much trauma to get to that point, but at least it felt like they were mother and daughter again. It was a vast improvement over the wino she had living in her house scant weeks ago.

“Okay,” she finally whispered into her hair as she pet up and down her mother's back. “I do need to know something.”

“Yes? Oh sweetie, whatever it is, we will find out together. I promise!”

Smiling a little wider, she asked, “Do you know… what happened to Emerald? Do the police have her?”

“Oh…” Finally, Willow sat back up, one of her hands brushing her own hair back into place as the other one remained on Weiss's shoulder. “Well… yes, but she's in the asylum ward here at the hospital. Under constant guard. At least, that's what Kali told me.”

“Have they tested her for drugs?”

Her mother looked quite taken aback. “How… did you know that?” When Weiss merely waited, she cleared her throat before continuing, “They said she has been doing… oh, I don't know much about these things. Opium, maybe?”

That confirmed something that has been bothering Weiss since she first saw Emerald in her front garden. Her unfocused eyes, broken sentences… they may have meant nothing, or may have just been the product of grief. But she had never seen anyone behave quite that way before. Her first thought had been the reefer, but opium could certainly be the problem - not that she knew much more than her mother did.

“Weiss? What is it, sweetheart?”

“Nothing. Just… never mind. The important thing is that I survived, and I don't plan on going anywhere ever again. Mother, I'm sorry for worrying you so much! I never meant-”

Her mother's hand drifted up and pressed into her lips gently, silencing her whinging. “Please, don't apologize for that anymore. How were you to know that she would… th-that sh-sh-she…”

Again, her mother was useless for conversation for the next several minutes. They then talked a bit about her general health after she had collected herself, and about whether or not Whitley had come to see her - he had, but had scarcely stayed for a few minutes before wanting to return to the waiting room.

Then they were interrupted. Yang stood in the doorway, looking completely beside herself. Weiss had never seen her hair so matted, nor her features so stricken.

“Oh,” Willow breathed when she noticed, sitting back away from her daughter.

“Yang?”

That was all the prompting it took for her brute to take off running across the room, straight for her. Willow had to stand up and catch her to keep her from landing on the bed with her full weight.

“Don't! Her stitches-”

“WEISS!” Tears were streaming down her face that quickly, bloodshot eyes wide and pleading. “I'm sorry! I shoulda been there, shoulda- you almost died and- a-and I never… told you I…”

Finally, her mother let her go so she could embrace her love. They both breathed a sigh of relief when the hug was a lot gentler than the one Yang had initially gone in for. A minute ticked by as they found comfort in the warmth of each other’s bodies, in the nearness of their soulmate.

“Shhh,” Weiss whispered gently into her hair, her own eyes wet. “It’s okay. It’s okay! You can’t be everywh-”

“NO! I should be! You’re all I care about in the whole goddamn world, Weiss! And if I lose you… I’ll burn it to the fucking ground!”

Both she and her mother started at the strong language used. A second later, she petted over her hair and hissed, “Hey, hey. I’m fine, alright? Yang, I’m fine. Golly…”

After a couple of minutes, Yang finally pulled back to smile down at her. “My Princess. She’s a real fighter.”

“Sure I am,” Weiss laughed wetly, pushing their foreheads together. They both giggled to release the fear and tension and pure raw emotion. “Pyrrha deserves the congratulations.”

“Oh, believe me, she’s gonna get a big ol’ kiss from me the next time I see her! But… wow, this just- I can’t believe… was it really Emerald? If you say it was, then I trust you, but it’s still crazy to think-”

“It was.” Sighing, she looked away at the curtain. “But I could tell she wasn’t herself. Too much drugs, apparently. Has… Emerald ever…?”

Yang blinked at her for a moment, then seemed to realise what she was asking all at once. “Oh! No, never - I mean, we’ve all tried reefer once or twice, but Emerald barely even drinks that often. Nothing stronger than that.”

“Okay.”

“Why? What did they say she was on?”

Weiss glanced at her mother, who had been watching them very carefully. Almost as if studying them. When she realized they were looking at her, she held up both hands helplessly. “I don’t know. Opium, maybe? I thought she got it from you.”

Even while Weiss was groaning at her mother’s continuing unintended prejudice, Yang sighed and answered patiently, “Not from me. And not from any of us; the Dragons don’t deal in stuff like that.”

“Well…” Sighing deeply, the patient reached up to caress Yang’s cheek. Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed her mother wincing, but decided the best way to handle that would be to ignore it; let her sort out her feelings in her own time. “I suppose there’s only one way to find out.”

-------------------------------------

“What do you mean, ‘you can’t see her’?!”

The full-bearded officer tipped his hat again, even as he repeated the same sentiment: “Sorry, can’t let you in there. Dangerous criminal.”

“I know!” Weiss burst out, leaning even more heavily against Kali. “I’ve been waiting days for them to tell me I can leave my bed so I can actually talk to the ‘criminal’ myself! Now, will you move out of the way?”

“Listen, girlie. Why don't ya go back to your room? Let the adults handle business.”

Kali definitely took offense to that. “And what am I, then? A newborn?” All she got in return for that was a wolf whistle, and her eyes narrowed further. “Just ask if she's open to any visitors. I assume you have her handcuffed to the bed?”

“Well… yeah, but that don't-”

“Ask.”

He asked. It didn't take him very long to come back and usher them into the hospital room, though he looked quite surly about it.

Emerald was definitely not in the best of shape, but she was doing better than Weiss had been when she was admitted. All of the machines she was hooked up to seemed to be for the sole purpose of monitoring her vitals because of the drugs in her blood supply. There was a saline drip, and she still had bandages around her forearms from Shopkeeper's, but other than that and the handcuffs holding her upper arms to the bed, she looked more or less right as rain…

Other than the purpling bloody nose. Privately, Weiss reminded herself to congratulate Pyrrha the next time she came for a visit. She and Yang had been in and out constantly, fussing over her, and Blake and Ruby dropped by once or twice. Still no word from Winter… but she didn't want to think about that right now, so she returned her attention to the matter at hand.

“Oh…” Emerald sat up straighter, eyes wide with pure fear. “H-hey, Weiss. Mrs. Belladonna.”

Kali seemed to have no time for games. “Is that all you have to say to the young lady you stabbed?”

“No, I… of course not. But I don't know what to say, it was like…”

Weiss waited for her to finish. When she didn't speak again for a few seconds, too plagued by inner demons - or worried about repercussions - to summon the words, she calmly seated herself in the chair at Emerald's bedside, hands folded neatly in her lap.

“Go on.”

“I couldn't think. Couldn't calm down, o-or make my mind focus on anything other than how angry I was with Weiss.”

“Angry? Why were you angry with me?”

Finally, she turned her eyes to glare daggers at the guest. “You got Cinder hurt. Do you even care about that? Because your daddy can't let go of you, he burned down our place and Cinder got hurt! And really bad, Weiss!”

“That isn't fair,” Kali admonished her in a firm tone of voice. “Parents are supposed to be responsible for their children, not the other way around. She can't control what that idiot does any more than Blake could control what I did if I were to settle petty grudges like that.”

“I don't care. She's the cause for it; he would never have made someone set that fire without her being involved. But…” The ire faded, and Emerald's eyes became more haunted than anything. “I didn't want to attack anybody! All I wanted to do was go find Weiss and yell at her, tell her that she owed Cinder, ask what she was going to do to make it right. Th-that’s really… that’s all I wanted, I didn’t…”

Weiss was listening patiently all along, trying to distance herself emotionally from the situation. Then she asked, “Do you know what the doctors have said, about the drugs?”

The haunted aura only intensified, her tan fingers clutching at the white linen sheets. “Yes.”

“Well? What was it? Marijuana?”

“I'm no reefer addict,” she snapped impatiently. “No, I… they said it was opium, and s-some other drug I've never heard of before. Just some letters…”

“Letters?” But even as she asked that, she could see Kali's hand raise to her chin, tapping as she thought. “What is it?”

Barely distracted, she let out a soft “Hm?” that forestalled any more questions for a few seconds as her mind worked through the possibilities. Then she asked Emerald, as if there had been no pause at all, “Were the letters ‘LSD’?”

“I think they might have been?” The lilt at the end made the statement a question.

“Hmm.”

Reaching up to catch her arm, Weiss whispered, “What is it?”

“Lysergic acid diethylamide. It’s an experimental drug being used and studied by psychiatrists.”

“How is it you just… know everything?!”

That made Kali laugh weakly. “If I knew everything, I could have…” But she didn’t finish that sentence. Weiss had no way of knowing what past mistake she was thinking of, because she moved on immediately. “Well, I’ve only heard of these things. I’m no doctor. But I like to know what’s going on in the world. I thought this could have been Dexedrine tablets - Ghira used to talk about those when he would send correspondence home from the war front. But it wasn’t until she said ‘letters’ that I remembered LSD.”

Emerald was nodding, sitting up straighter as if it would take her closer to salvation. “Y-yes, I- I mean, I don’t know anything about this stuff at all, but it was like I was watching myself do it. St- stab…” Tears finally pricked, but she was trying to ignore them. “I couldn’t control anything once they pushed me out.”

“What?”

Weiss had noticed that as well. “Who pushed you out? Of where?”

“I don’t… remember…” Both of Emerald’s fists slammed into her eyes. “AH! What happened to me?!”

“They said you checked yourself out of the hospital,” Kali was saying in a distant voice, eyes unfocused as her mind raced. “But… nobody could tell me how you got home. Your bike is still at my house.”

“Were they lying?” Weiss asked urgently. “Did they kidnap her and… and pay off the nurses, or something?”

“It’s sounding too likely to ignore.” Sitting up straighter, she said, “We have to tell Salem about this. Immediately. If Jacques Schnee is trying to pull strings from behind the scenes-”

“Oh no,” she breathed. When Kali only blinked at her, she looked up into her eyes. “Cinder and me, and Emerald… it’s all my-”

Fingers covered her mouth again. “We don’t have time for that. Emerald, please say you forgive Weiss. She is a victim of this now as much as you are.”

“What?!” But then the poor girl’s red eyes pointed down at Weiss’s bandage before flicking away again. “Oh… well… I don’t know if I can; my Cinder is…”

“She’s hurting just like both you and Weiss are hurting. Like Salem is, even if it was only a little smoke.”

Tears rolled down her cheeks. “It’s still her fault! Who cares if she got herself hurt?” However, her next words were, “I’m sorry… I d-don’t mean to be- I know she’s a Dragon, Cinder told me sh-she’s branded, and it’s… this is all too much. What did they do to me?”

Kali gestured for Weiss to join her. They both worked together to help Weiss stand gently as they could, trying to avoid further aggravating her injury, and made their exit.

“Do you think she’s going to be okay?” Weiss asked once the door was closed and they were further along the hallway.

“I don’t know,” Kali confessed, arm securely around her back as she helped her along. “But this is bad news. Emerald attacked a fellow Dragon; she won’t be let off easy, no matter why it happened. Even worse than that…” She swallowed hard. “Someone has decided to start messing with our minds. If it’s not your father… then we could be in for such a terrible time that we can’t even fathom.”

[mordoriscalling]

48 Weeks (1/4)

Throughout the 48 weeks that Geralt and Jaskier spend apart, their relationship develops.

Aka, part 3 of the Singer and the Sailor AU no one asked for but I wrote anyway. The events of this story happen after Stay or Sail Away but before Homecoming. Warnigns: some sexual content ahead! 

Weeks 1-12

Week 1

The memory of everyone he left behind is still fresh in his mind. He clearly recalls how he embraced Ciri and Yen for the last time. The hugs were short but his daughter and ex-wife know that he needs to grow distanced before deployment. It hurts less this way.

Jaskier was there to say goodbye too, but it was different with him. He has no idea how all of this works, and they only had mere three weeks to enjoy each other’s company. They tried to make best of it but Geralt still wanted to detach himself in the last week. Jaskier reacted with panic and kept asking if he’d done something wrong.

The only wrong Jaskier’s ever done was to appear in Geralt’s life just like that, waltzing past his walls and defences with laughable ease. Jaskier is loud and bright, almost unbearably so, and everything is suddenly too dark and quiet when he isn’t there.

Geralt didn’t use to mind dark and quiet. He rather enjoyed them, in fact. Now, as he waits for Jaskier’s first video call, he’s vaguely annoyed that he allowed Jaskier to influence him like this in such a short period of time. The change is small but significant and he shouldn’t have let it happen, not so fast.

But then Jaskier’s face appears on the screen, his face lit up by a brilliant smile, and any negative thoughts suddenly fly out of Geralt’s mind.

“Hi, handsome,” Jaskier purrs.

“Hello,” Geralt replies.  

“I must say,” Jaskier goes on in low voice, “the sight of you in the uniform does certain... things to me.”

Geralt looks down at his clothes with a bemused frown. He’s wearing a white, long-sleeved shirt with shoulder pads showing his rank, a black tie and black trousers. It’s nothing special. He has no idea what Jaskier sees but what he does know is that Jaskier’s gaze on him is distracting, so Geralt decides to change the subject. Clearing his throat, he asks, “How are you?”

Jaskier beams as if he asked the best possible question.

Week 2

“How the first two weeks on the ship have been?”

“Busy,” Geralt answers truthfully.

“And?” Jaskier prompts, after a moment of silence.

Geralt sighs, irritated. “And there’s a lot of work to do and some chaos, like always at the beginning.”

Jaskier chuckles. “This will have to suffice for now, but know this, White Wolf: I will get all your stories out of you.”

Geralt rolls his eyes and asks, “How are you?”

There’s that smile again.

Week 3

“How are you?”

Jaskier’s grin is blinding as he answers, “Honestly, Geralt, you’re just so sweet.”

Geralt grunts. Jaskier has to be mentally challenged in some way, to think that the basic human decency which Geralt displays is some kind of special gesture. (Or have had unpleasant experiences with past relationships but that doesn't seem right. Who would treat Jaskier like that?)

He only asks Jaskier about how he’s doing the first moment he can. It’s not much but Jaskier appears to think it is. Geralt’s not going to correct him, not when it makes Jaskier smile like that.

Week 4

“I wrote you a song.”

Geralt doesn’t know what to say to that.

“I’ll send you the recording, just tell me what you think.”

He only nods. As he listens to the song after they hang up, he can’t find any words to describe it. The beautiful lyrics tell a story of lovers camping in a forest, and Jaskier’s voice conveys so many emotions that Geralt’s chest aches.

Before the knows it, he listens to the song every evening, then it keeps replaying in his mind at all times. Jaskier’s voice is there with him, luring him towards thoughts that he shouldn’t entertain, and it all affects him in a way he struggles to express.

Week 5

“Thank you, siren.”

It’s the only words he’s found. Somehow, they seem to be enough for Jaskier.

Week 6

Jaskier is leaving on tour tomorrow, his first international one. He has a lot to say, but not necessarily on that topic.

“It turns out my agent and your ex-wife are friends from uni. I hate it, Geralt. I don’t want them to get along. I have a feeling I’m gonna have little say in my own life from now on.”

Geralt acknowledges Jaskier’s despair with a grunt that is barely noticed because Jaskier chatters on, “The only thing I’d hate more would be you knowing Triss too.”

Geralt frowns. There’s only one Triss he knows. “Triss Merigold?”

There’s a stunned pause and then, “What the fuck, Geralt –”

Week 7

Jaskier is in Europe now and Geralt is somewhere on the Atlantic but he can’t say anything else. Jaskier seems tired but Geralt finds out that it doesn’t make him any less talkative.

“I’m still not over the fact that you were right there the whole time –”

“Jaskier –”

“ – just two introductions away!” A huff. “Hey Jaskier,” he pitches his voice high, imitating how a woman would sound rather well, “do you know my friend Yennefer? Oh, and here’s her ex-husband, who’s gonna ruin you for other men, women, and everyone in between and outside of that spectrum.”

Geralt snorts.

“I could’ve had you for so much longer,” Jaskier laments, “But actually, I wouldn’t have, because it seems I’d have had no idea about your existence at all if not for Lambert? Those two introductions were possible for five goddamn years that Triss has been my agent but apparently, that’s not enough time for it to happen –”

“Jaskier,” Geralt sighs. He needs some sleep and rest. He misses home, already.

“Yes, dear?” Jaskier asks.

Geralt does want to tell him to shut up but Jaskier’s eyes are too distracting, so what comes out of his mouth is, “Sing something.”

Jaskier obliges with the brightest of smiles.

Week 8

“We can’t –”

“I know,” Jaskier replies, “but that’s the thrill of it, don’t you think, darling?”

Geralt clenches his jaw, breathing heavily. The temptation is so strong he almost trembles, like a bloody teenager. Memories don’t work in his favour now – he still remembers Jaskier’s scent, how his skin, mouth and cum tastes. It sets his nerves on fire, and it takes every ounce of his self-control not to start palming himself through his trousers as Jaskier keeps talking in that damned husky voice.

“You know... your moans are the sexiest thing I’ve ever heard.”

He bites down at his lip, hard.

“Moan for me, Geralt.”

Geralt does.

Week 9

It’s been more than two months and gloomy silence hangs between them as they stare at each other through the screen.

“Tell me something funny,” Jaskier says.

Geralt searches for any memory of the kind in his mind. When he finally finds it, he launches into the story, “There was that time when me, Eskel and Lambert went out and got so drunk that we blacked out. Next thing we know, we’re in some stranger’s flat, and Lambert’s wearing actual handcuffs, his hand tied to the guy’s ankle.”

“What?!”

“Yeah. We couldn’t find the keys to uncuff them anywhere and we couldn’t pick the lock either. Me and Eskel had to get clippers to set them free. We still have no idea how we got there.”

Jaskier starts chortling.

“That’s how Lambert met his boyfriend Aiden. They’ve been together for seven years now.”

Jaskier keeps cackling. When Geralt realises that listening to that – probably the most inelegant sound he’s ever heard in his life – warms him to his very core because it’s Jaskier’s laugh, there’s only one thought on his mind.

Fuck.

Week 10

“Another song?”

“Yes,” Jaskier admits, looking almost embarrassed, “I hope you like it.”

“Hmm.”

He knows he will. When he listens to the recording, he quickly finds out he wasn’t wrong. The song is more lively and dramatic than the first one, expressing the wonder of watching your lover move, and it feels like a promise. It makes Geralt look beyond the sea.  

Week 11

“Thank you for the song, siren.”

Jaskier sighs in a love-sick way. “I wish I could kiss you right now. Have got the slightest idea what I’d do to you?”

Geralt smirks. “Why don’t you tell me?”

Jaskier moans and goes on to describe his fantasy in vivid detail.

Week 12

Geralt toys with the gold wolf signet as he waits for Jaskier’s call and tries not to drown in grim thoughts.

Being away from his family starts getting hard. The worst period of deployment begins – he hasn’t been away from home long enough to forget but just enough to miss his loved ones terribly and not be able to get over it. The very second his thoughts wander away from work at hand, he remembers Ciri’s laugh, Yen’s smile, his brother’s embraces and father’s gruffness.

Then there’s Jaskier, with his bloody bright smiles, charm, quick wit and endearing... everything. He makes it so much harder.

They should’ve just parted ways, Geralt muses. They shouldn’t have exchanged their “engagement rings” for safekeeping to give them back to each other after Geralt returns like it’s some ridiculous romance novel.

Jaskier’s ridiculous like that, though, and Geralt’s still hasn’t learnt to say no to him.

When Jaskier greets him cheerfully and asks him about how he’s doing, a smile tugs at Geralt’s lips as he answers, “Better now.”

Part 2

***

A/N: you can also read this on AO3. 

The first song that Jaskier writes is in Icelandic IRL (and it’s so goddamn beautiful) but even the English lyrics are just so stunning, I can 100% imagine Jaskier singing that:  This night is ours, spring in the forrest air Let’s pitch our tent among the berries over there. Lead me, my dearest, to the grove of yesterday Where the brook kindly whispers and the birches sway. Light locks in motion, lingering emotion A rose scented breeze from the Fae Dew drops glitter, the dale is quiet and fair Dreams coming true for lovers sleeping there Heather blushing in the evening sun’s last ray The cool quiet night comes after a perfect day Light locks in motion, lingering emotion A rose scented breeze from the Fae

[bnha-mcu-requests]

Request : #kissmybestfriendchallenge

Hi could you make a Bakugou or Todoroki one-shot where the reader does the #kissmybestfriend challenge from tiktok? Fluff or Lime.. Um thanks..

Ask and you shall receive! This was really fun to write and I hope you like it!

I could feel every cell in my body tingle, as though Katsuki’s explosions were effecting my very soul, the sensation spreading rapidly through me from the point of contact.

This….this…what?

Waking up this morning was not on the top of my bucket-list, particularly after such an intense round of battle simulations that Aizawa had us going through last night, something about ‘villains don’t care what time it is’.

As much as I agree with that statement, any villain that attacks at 2 in the fucking morning can actually suck my toes…wait no…a villain that ATTACKS can suck my toes. Yeah, that’s better, I nod to myself, slowly dragging my aching body out bed, trying desperately to ignore the siren calls of the still warm bed sheets.

Mornings can suck my toes as well, at least it’s a Sunday so no ‘surprise’ training sessions today.

Outside the dorm room I can hear the tell-tale signs that the others are getting up as well, Kaminari and Sero’s loud conversations floating uninvited into the sanctuary that is my room… it’s too early for this bullshit.

Deciding against getting dressed, I threw on a bathrobe, tying the cord loosely around my middle, too tired to care about my appearance, and swung open the door, allowing the aura of death to seep from my very being into the common room down the hall, warning the others of my mood.

Conversation quieted rapidly, for that I was grateful and things were starting to look up until I walked into the room.

“Y/N!! IT IS HIGHLY INAPROPRIATE FOR YOU TO WALK AROUND DRESSED LIKE THAT! I UNDERSTAND THAT YOU MAY BE TIRED BUT IT IS HIGHLY DISRESPECTFUL TO YOUR CLASSMATES WHO MAY BE UNCOMFORTABLE ABOUT YOUR STATE OF DRE-”

Slowly, calmly, I raised up my middle finger and trudged past Iida, unwilling to grace him with a response. He sputtered and flailed his arms in that weird chopping motion he does -I wonder why he does that?- as I walked into the kitchen, nodding at Katsuki who was stood at the stove flipping what looked like pancakes. Without saying a word, he slid me a mug full of the life giving bean juice, grunting at my muttered thanks.

A few sips in and I was already feeling better, drawing myself upright and releasing the heavy aura that had permeated the room previously, sending the others in the common room an apologetic smile at the sighs of relief, yeah my control is not great first thing in the morning.

The day passed quite peacefully after that, some of the class having made plans to go to the mall, had left soon after breakfast, calling out quick thanks to Katsuki as they passed the kitchen, grinning at his customary, “YOU THINK I NEED THANKS FROM FUCKS LIKE YOU?! OF COURSE IT WAS DELICIOUS, I MADE IT!”.

Everyone else continued to mill around the common room, talking among themselves and watching the TV or drifting back to the dorm rooms to get on with any last minute assignments. Momo and Jirou were sat watching videos on Jirou’s phone and occasionally giggling or blushing. My interest peaked, I walked over to see what they were looking at.

I could feel my face lighting up when I saw the girl lean over and kiss her ‘bestfriend’ leading to an intense make out session.

“W-what the fuck is that?” I asked, unable to keep the shocked stutter out of my voice.

“Oh! Y/n I didn’t know you were stood there!” Momo gasped, face flushing in embarrassment at being caught. Jirou on the other hand seemed unbothered, fixing me with a deadpan expression before saying,

“It’s the #kissmybestfriend challenge on TikTok, it’s really popular at the moment.” I shifted under the intense gaze she and Momo suddenly fixed on me, as cheshire grins suddenly crept across their faces.

Whatever was about to happen, I wanted no part in it and I carefully began to inch backwards, very aware of how close the two were getting. I could feel the room begin to heat up and the others sat on the couches began to shift uncomfortably under the weight of my aura as it once again began to fill the room. Momo and Jirou to their credit seemed mostly unbothered by it as they continued their advance.

“Say, Y/n, you and Bakugo are pretty close right?” Jirou asked

“Very close, one could almost call you best-friends, no?” Momo continued, both of their smiles turning from cheshire to shit eating.

“W-what are you talking about? Katsuki and me? N-noway! We’re just friends!” I managed to stutter out as images began to flood my mind, unbidden, from their implications.

“Friends that call each other by their first name even though you’ve only known each other for a year or so…”

I tried to stutter out a response, the air becoming even heavier still from my increasing embarrassment and confusion.

“WHAT THE FUCK IS GOING ON IN HERE? EARPHONES, PONYTAIL, BACK THE FUCK OFF, Y/N CALM THE FUCK DOWN, I CAN’T FUCKING BREATHE IN HERE” saved by the bell, kinda.

Momo and Jirou do back off at this but their smiles widen at the use of my name instead of a nickname. Thanks Katsuki but did you really have to prove a point in the process?!

I took a deep breath and once again, released the room from my aura before taking the opportunity to split and race back to my room.

I spent the rest of the morning sat on my bed thinking over what Momo and Jirou had said. Sure, Katsuki and I were close, but we weren’t like that. We just got each other, we were on the same wavelength, we vibed. That’s all, right?

Unable to let it go, I let myself slump back onto the bed sheets that only hours ago I had felt so comfortable in. I grabbed my head and rolled backwards the forwards, groaning and lamenting at my apparent inability to function as a normal human being.

I was so busy feeling sorry for myself, I almost missed the sound of my door opening. I looked up only to slump back down as I registered just who it was that had invaded my abode.

“HAH??” was the eloquent response to my deflated sigh. I couldn’t even bring myself to snap back with a quick comeback, so busy trying to hide the inappropriate thoughts from showing on my face.

He looked good.

A redundant statement, he always looked good. But right now, with this rose tinted filter over my eyes, he looked almost edible.

I blinked uncomprehendingly at him as he finished speaking. I hadn’t listened to a word of what he had said. I gulped at the look of annoyance that flickered across his face, flinching silently as he launched himself onto the bed next to me, almost certain this was the start of another loud and typically harmless argument.

“I said, what got you in such a state earlier?” he growled out, eye contact so intense, I couldn’t tear myself away from it.

“N-nothing, it was nothing Katsuki,”

“I’ll be the one that decides that thanks” he said, voice flippant.

Frustration licking at my nerves, I did something that under normal circumstances, I would never even consider. I whipped out my phone and opened up my TikTok, quickly setting it to record.

His eyes widened in confusion as I placed it on the bedside table facing us both. So concerned about what the phone was doing, he didn’t get the chance to stop me as I grabbed his face and pulled him in close, our lips meeting briefly.

No matter how fleeting our contact, I felt fireworks spread through my entire being, lips tingling. I looked back up at him, dreading the look of disgust on his face. Oh… what had I done? I had just ruined this perfectly good relationship by being an idiot-

I squeaked as I felt him grab me and pull in, eyes sparking and face warped in a snarl - goodbye world, you were shitty.

I squeaked at the feeling of his warm lips pressed against mine, movements rough and passionate and I couldn’t help but let my eyes slip closed, enjoying the intensity and fervour behind the kiss, allowing myself to indulge in the bliss of his surprisingly soft lips.

His tongue brushed fleetingly across my bottom lip as his hands tangled in my hair and I opened my mouth, permitting him entry, head still spinning at the impossibility of what was currently happening. I could feel my grip on my quirk slip and suddenly, the room was filled with fireworks, bursting flashed of happiness, surprise, excitement and, small hints of arousal. This was like nothing I had ever experienced and not for the first time, I was thankful that while others could feel the pressure of my aura, they couldn’t immediately recognise what it meant. Though, if Katsuki continued with his ministrations,  it wouldn’t be too long before the aura was strong enough that he could see it as well as feel it.

He pulled back, both of us gasping for air, his face flushed and a smug smirk on his face as he took in my dishevelled appearance, clearly proud of the mess he had made of me. His gaze travelled down my body before his face lit up like a tomato and he looked swiftly back up to my face. I looked down to see what had caused his sudden embarrassment and noticed that at some point during our make out session, my bathrobe had slipped down, the tie in the middle coming loose and exposing more of my chest than I had realised in the heat of the moment.

Gasping, I shoved him off, pulling it closed again to protect what little dignity I had left before looking back up at him, suddenly shy now that the situation had lightened.

“Not that I didn’t enjoy that y/n but what the fuck?” he asked, voice lacking the bite it usually carried and I couldn’t have stopped the fond smile even if I had wanted to as he reached behind his head to rub at the back of his neck where his blush was the darkest.

“Well, Momo and Jirou-” I sighed at his blank expression, “Ponytail and Earphones” his eyes widened slightly in remembrance.

“Wait, was this about those shitty videos they were watching?” he suddenly got another smug look on his face as he leaned in closer, so close I could feel his breath on my face and I felt my heart rate spike again, “If you wanted to kiss me so badly, you didn’t need a stupid excuse like that,” he said and I felt myself flush again.

“Nope! Absolutely not! Out! Get out!” I shot up, blushing uncontrollably as I began to push him out of the room, trying to ignore the shit eating grin on his face as he allowed himself to be shoved across the threshold. Before I could slam the door on him however, he grabbed my arm and pulled me in for a quick, but no less intense kiss.

“One for the road” he said when I looked up at him. I felt my blush explode across my whole body then, and threw the door shut with such intensity the pictures on the walls began to shake precariously on their fixtures.

I almost missed the soft, fond chuckle from the other side of the door as he began to walk back to his own room as I slumped against the wall and slowly sank to the floor.

I help my clenched fists to my chest, trying to calm down my racing heart as my blush slowly began to recede. I lent my head against the wall with a muted ‘thump’, taking in the room that suddenly seemed brand new, despite nothing having changed. My eyes caught on the phone propped up on the bedside table, repeating video showing that it had finished recording.

I crawled over to it, knees still shaking and clasped it close, watching the video, slightly disbelieving what had just happened and reminding myself to thank Momo and Jirou for pushing me into this situation, even if I didn’t think I was ready for it.

I smiled softly, cheeks pink and heart full as I clicked ‘save to drafts’.

[unpack-my-heart]

I Have Crossed Oceans Of Time To Find You – Final Chapter

FYI: This chapter contains explicit smut, and as such the fic rating has been bumped up accordingly.

Chapter Word Count: 12293

Read Chapter One on AO3 HERE

Read Chapter Two on AO3  HERE

Read Chapter Three (this chapter) on AO3 HERE 

@tinyarmedtrex​ @xandertheundead​ @violetreddie​ @constantreaderfool​ @eds-trashmouth​ @toziesque​ @moonlightrichie​ @appojoos​ @sunshines-fabulous-legs​ @perrytheplatypus4president​ @qwertsod​ @rainbow-reddie​ @pulitzerandhearst​ @mad-h-w​

Preview:

“This place is too big for just you, Eds.”

“Eds?”

“Edward, y’know, your name. It’s too long, and I’m too -- too drunk to say it. So now, you are Eds.”

“I don’t like it.”

“Yes you do,” Richard insisted, poking Edward on the cheek, “You’re Eds, the littlest vampire”

“Stop calling me that!”

“What? Eds? Or little?”

“Both!” Edward groaned, and he swotted at Richard’s finger that was still pushed into the soft swell of his cheek.

“Fine, fine. No Eds, and no little. You can be Edward the Terrible, Edward the Undeadward, Edward the Blood-Thirsty, or --”

“Eddie.”

“Pardon?”

“You can call me Eddie.”

Read the rest of this chapter under the cut

“I may have a heart that no longer beats in my chest but I am not immune to your barbed words, Tozier.” 

Richard shrugged, and watched Edward leave the room. The alcohol that swam in his stomach rapidly began to turn his mind foolish. He stood up, half intending to follow the sulking vampire out of the room, but instead found himself wandering over to the decanter of wine, and he poured himself another large glass. And then another, and another and another until he found himself lying prostrate on the floor, arms slung above his head clumsily, laughing at something he couldn’t quite explain.

An hour later, or perhaps two, Richard couldn’t be sure, the door creaked open and the sound of heavy footsteps filtered into the room. Richard opened his eyes, and saw Edward hovering over him, eyebrows knitted and face scrunched in an expression of hybrid concern-surprise. 

“You’re still here,” Edward said plainly, leaning down to gently pry the glass from between Richard’s fingers.  

“My wine! You can’t take my wine, that’s --” Richard hiccupped, “that’s not very nice.”

“I thought you would have left, I assumed you’d --”

“Where would I have gone? I don’t --” Richard hiccupped again, “I don’t know where anyone is, you killed them all!” 

At that, Edward jumped back slightly, releasing the very gentle grasp he had on Richard’s hand, leaving it to flop to the ground with a loud thwack.

“No! No, no,” Richard said, in an attempt to backtrack, “I mean, you ate them? Is that, is that better? Ate?”

Edward chuckled, a deep, syrupy sound that sent a jolt of static up Richard’s spine, setting the tiny hairs on his arm on end. 

“I suppose you are correct, I did, technically, consume some of them. You are a bizarre little thing, aren’t you.” 

“Little?!” Richard gasped indignantly, and rolled onto his side before pushing himself up. He wobbled on his legs like a new-born deer, but Edward’s arm shot out, and grasped him around the waist. “I’m taller than you! Much taller than you, actually.” 

“Careful. Yes, yes, fine. Not little, you’re very --”

“You’re little, you know. The littlest vampire. Were people really scared of you?” 

“Terrified,” Edward replied, solemnly, and helped Richard stumble back towards the couch. 

“I wouldn’t be scared of you -- I mean, I’m not scared of you, I’m just --”

“Just what?”

“Confused, and a little bit --” Richard yawned, “a little bit tired.” 

“Quite right, it’s nearly nightfall. You must rest.”

 “Hey, hey why -- why aren’t you asleep? Don’t vampires have to sleep during the day? Isn’t that sort of your whole deal?”

“My whole deal?” Edward parroted, amused. “Yes, well. I suppose that is usually our whole deal, but, at this present moment my body uh -- well, it doesn’t want to sleep.” 

“Oh. What does it want to do?” Richard asked, and watched curiously as Edward stepped away from him, just barely, before his eyes darkened.

“The bond, between us, is so powerful, so strong, that even though we barely know each other, my body wants to -- do other things. To -- to you.” Edward said, gesturing vaguely at Richard, who pulled one of the cushions up to his neck.

“No, not -- not those things” 

“No, Edward, I don’t -- I’m not -- I don’t want to --” 

“Richard, look at me,” Edward implored, sitting down next to Richard on the couch, and grasping both of Richard’s hands in his. “I would never, will never, do anything that you don’t want me to. I’m not --” Edward dropped Richard’s hands, and stood back up, “I’m not a monster” 

“I didn’t say you were, I just… This whole thing. It’s bizarre. I’m flushed with alcohol and twice as stupid as I normally am, and this, well, this isn’t something you just get used to”

“I am aware of that,” Edward snapped, before rubbing a hard across his face harshly. “I’m sorry, I don’t mean to snap at you. This is a lot to process, for both of us. You need to rest, please let me help you to your room”

Richard didn’t protest. He let Edward slot his arms around his shoulders, and let himself be hauled to his feet. They walked slowly through the twisting corridors, Richard’s legs trembling under his own weight.

“This place is too big for just you, Eds.”

“Eds?”

“Edward, y’know, your name. It’s too long, and I’m too -- too drunk to say it. So now, you are Eds.”

“I don’t like it.”

“Yes you do,” Richard insisted, poking Edward on the cheek, “You’re Eds, the littlest vampire”

 “Stop calling me that!”

“What? Eds? Or little?”

“Both!” Edward groaned, and he swotted at Richard’s finger that was still pushed into the soft swell of his cheek.

“Fine, fine. No Eds, and no little. You can be Edward the Terrible, Edward the Undeadward, Edward the Blood-Thirsty, or --”

“Eddie.” 

“Pardon?” 

“You can call me Eddie. That’s what -- My mother used to call me that.” Edward – Eddie – said, and he pushed Richard gently through the large door at the end of the corridor. 

“Eddie, huh? Well -- I’m Richie, nice to meetcha,” Richie said, sticking his hand out. Eddie stared at it blankly, before gingerly taking it in his own. 

“Nice to meet you, Richie.” 

– X –

A strange, ethereal noise woke Richie that night, a noise that floated through the mansion, dancing in and out of each of the rooms like smoke. It was a beautiful sound, a siren's call to Richie’s restless soul, and it tugged at him, dug its claws into his flesh, deep into his gut, and it tugged.

Despite still being in the throes of his alcohol-fuelled stupor, Richard hauled his legs over the side of the large bed, feet landing flat on the floor with a dull thud. The sound grew louder, and louder still, until it was practically screaming, as if the house itself was howling some imagined pain that Richie couldn’t understand.  

Before he could convince his leaden feet to move, to go in search of the origin of the noise, Richie’s head began to pound with such ferocity that he fell back, and was consumed by the insatiable appetite of sleep. 

– X –

When the morning sun began to pour into the bedroom, Richie awoke with no recollection of the haunting lament that had woken him in the dead of night. Whilst his memories did not remain, the violent pounding of his head did, accompanied by a swirling tempest in his gut that pressed on his stomach and threatened to send him sprinting to the bathroom.  

A brisk knock on the door spiked Richie’s heart-rate, before a cautious voice called out,

“Richard? I mean -- Richie? Have you woken yet? It’s nearly noon”

Memories of the night before flooded back to Richie, exacerbating his already tender head. 

“Yes, yes, I am awake. I’ll -- What do you want me to do? I mean, what are we doing? What -- What’s the plan?”

Eddie snickered from behind the door, a raspy, rattish sort of sound.

“I want you to come downstairs, when you are modest and ready. You insisted I leave the room post haste last night because, and I quote, I sleep butt naked, Eds, butt naked. I have some food you can eat to help settle your stomach”

“Food?” Richie called out, “Do you mean food food or, um …”

“I mean food food, you oaf. I’m not going to force feed you blood, if that is what concerns you”

“No, I didn’t, well, yes, I suppose I was rather concerned”

Richie stumbled to his feet, ignoring the lusty beckoning of the plush, downy bedding, and he began to shove and wiggle his uncoordinated limbs into the clothes he had been wearing the day before. “I am modest, if you want to come in, you can”

Immediately, and before Richie had managed to properly get the undershirt over his head, Eddie burst into the room, eyes trained steadily on Richie’s pale, and exposed, chest.

“Oh, I mean -- nearly modest,” Richie stuttered, pulling the shirt down. 

“Yes, well,” Eddie said, voice ocean-calm, “you may follow me down, I fear you may get lost on the way to the kitchens”

Without another word, Eddie stalked out of the bedroom, but not before Richie saw the faintest hints of a flush paint his cheeks.

True to his word, Eddie lead Richie down a rabbit’s warren of labyrinthine corridors and stairways that twisted round and round like old, gnarled tree roots. The kitchen was hidden away in the bowels of the house, at the end of what Richie imagined to be the longest corridor in the world, followed by a descent down a seemingly never ending stone staircase. Finally, Eddie stopped in front of an inconspicuous looking door, and pushed it open, revealing the biggest kitchen Richie had ever seen. The gas stove was lit, and a large copper pot was sat on it, bubbling away, and the smell of cooking vegetables had filled the air.

 “Vegetables?” Richie asked, and he watched as Eddie walked over to the pot, and began to stir.

 “Yes, vegetables. You need the goodness after last night, you drank far too much”

 “Well forgive me for panicking after being told that, one, I was in the presence of a creature of the night and, two, that said creature of the night was bound to my soul through a sort of metaphysical force that ‘I couldn’t even understand so don’t ask,’” Richie mimicked, hanging back in the doorway. 

 Eddie rolled his eyes. “You’re difficult.”

 “So I’ve been told.”

 “Do you want any of this, or not?”

 “Depends. What is it?”

 “It’s a vegetable stew, one of the only meals that my mother used to prepare for me herself. It’s called --”

 “Ghiveci,” Richie interrupted, with a grin that Eddie returned.

 “Yes! Do you know it?”

 “Yes, my father used to bring me bowl after bowl of it when I was taken ill, and sometimes I’d feign sickness just so he’d make it for me.”

 “Your father? Are you close with him?” Eddie asked, as he spooned the stew into two large bowls.

 “Yes, very much so. I -- I suppose he will be worried about me.”

 “Perhaps,” was all Eddie said in response, setting down one of the bowls in front of Richie. “Now, eat.”

 Richie ate. The stew was good, a hearty, meaty broth with large chunks of tender vegetables floating in it, and, much to Richie’s bemusement, Eddie was slurping it up with an enthusiasm that matched his own.

“So,” Richie began, “you can -- you can still eat, uh, human food?”

Mid-way through lifting a spoonful of tender potato to his mouth, Eddie let the vegetable slop back into the bowl with a splash. 

“Richard. This is growing tiresome”

“What?! I’m not trying to offend you, I’m just -- curious”

“I have no problem with your curiosity, the more you learn now, the better, I suppose, but must you insist on drawing the line between you and I so harshly?”

Richie blinked.

“I shall not ask anything else of you, I will not ask you to stay, I will not ask you to like me, but do please stop calling everything I am not, everything I cannot do, human. I am acutely, painfully, aware of what I am. I do not need you to remind me.”

The asparagus stalk turned sour in Richie’s mouth, and he swallowed, but a lump remained petulantly lodged in his throat. Eddie, sat across from him, was hunched over his own bowl of rapidly cooling stew. He wouldn’t look up at Richie, and continued to solemnly spoon his food into his mouth.

“Eddie?” 

No response, just the clinking of cutlery against china.

“Eddie? Please don’t ignore me.”

More clinking of cutlery, this time accompanied by obnoxious slurping.

“Eddie I’m sorry, you’re not -- you’re not a monster.”

“How do you know?” Eddie spat, finally looking up at Richie with wild eyes. “How do you know? You have no idea who I am, or what I am. What I’ve done. Now you’re here, because -- because I didn’t die like I was supposed to, and now it’s all… it’s all wrong” 

“What? What are you talking about?”

“The bond.” Eddie said, plainly, “That metaphysical bond I said I wouldn’t explain to you. The reason I said that, the reason I wouldn’t tell you, is because it’s my fault it’s like this, that the bond is so … concentrated” 

“Concentrated? I’m lost, Eds.”

Eddie sighed, pushed the bowl away and cradled his head in his hands.

“I didn’t die like I was supposed to because I was turned. Those motherfuckers turned me, and then I didn’t die. Most people, they don’t meet the person they’re bonded to. They live thousands of years apart, or even if they are born in compatible eras, they never meet. One lives in China and the other in England. That’s how it usually is. But ours, our bond, it’s wrong.”

“Wrong?”

“Wrong,” Eddie confirmed with a short nod of his head. “I didn’t die, so the bond became … stronger. More concentrated. It caused those headaches you get, and it drives me wild with … a sort of craving. A need.” 

“I’m still lost, how exactly is that your fault?” Richie said, leaning forwards until he could, if he tried, grab Eddie’s hand in his. 

“I’m the one that got turned, I’m the one that didn’t die,” Eddie said, staring at Richie as if the answer was obvious, as if his immortality was his fault, his burden to bare, and his alone.

“Look. Eddie, look,” Richie implored, standing up and rounding the table so he was crouched in front of Eddie, who looked down at him with a mildly panicked expression.  

“I’ve only known you for, hell, one day and one night, but I know, despite all rationality telling me to get the fuck out of here as fast as my legs can carry me,” Richie said, eliciting a wet sounding laugh from Eddie, “I know, in here,” Richie grabbed at Eddie’s hand and placed it on the left side of his chest, directly above his rapidly beating heart, “I know, in here, that you’re not a monster” 

Eddie let his hand rest gently on Richie’s heart for a few seconds, before drawing it back with a small, caged smile.

“You are very kind, Richard. Now, help me wash the dishes.”

They made quick work of the dishes, with Eddie plunging his hands into the soapy water to clean them, before he handed them to Richie who dried them off with a soft piece of cloth.

 “I haven’t eaten a vegetable for nearly two-hundred years, I’d almost forgotten what a carrot tasted like,” Eddie said.

“Really?”

Eddie nodded. “Yes. Whilst the taste is nice, nutritionally, it does nothing for me. It would be the same as you just drinking bowl after bowl of bone-broth. It tastes good, but you’d wither away soon enough”

“So, you get your nourishment from --”

“Blood, Richie. Yes, I drink blood.”

 “Human blood?” 

“Look,” Eddie turned around, crossing his arms over his chest, leaving a small trail of suds on the floor. “I’m not going to lie to you, or pretend that the maintenance of my life doesn’t cause suffering to others. I exist mostly on a diet of sheep blood, but -- there are only so many months that will tide me over. I do, occasionally, and not without guilt, venture beyond the confines of this town.”

“To find people to eat?”

“I prefer drink, as I do not actually -- uh -- eat them. I drink their blood, but yes. To find people.”

“Huh,” Richie said, mulling the notion over in his head. Here he was, standing in front of a man, a vampire, who had just readily admitted to killing people to drink their blood, and here he was, standing in front of a vampire, without the slightest sprouting of the seeds of panic in his stomach.

 “Huh.”

“Is that it, huh?” Eddie said sceptically, and Richie shrugged. 

“I mean, yes. I’m not -- I’m not scared? Or, even remotely freaked out? Which, in itself, is freaking me out. I am scared of the fact that I am not scared. Is that normal?”

Eddie laughed, syrupy and warm, and placed a hand on Richie’s shoulder. “I have no idea.” 

– X –

The rest of the day passed slowly, like running through sand. After tidying up the kitchen, Eddie ushered Richie back upstairs and back to the room where they’d drank the night before, the evidence of which still stood on the table, the sight of the rich, burgundy wine turning Richie’s stomach. 

“What -- what now?”

“Well,” Eddie said, as he walked over to the large, wooden bookcase before he ran his finger across the dusty spines of the many, many books housed on it, “that’s sort of up to you.”

“Me?”

“Yes. I would normally be asleep now, and would only arise when the sun begins to sink beneath the horizon, but, as I’ve explained --” 

“Ah, the whole your body wants to do things to me issue.”

Eddie shuddered, before he grinned, a smile slightly too wide, with too many teeth on show, the smile of someone who hasn’t smiled for centuries, the smile of someone with a mouth full of fangs.

“Yes, that issue. I have many many books, and, as long as you promise not to pull up any of the plants, I have a -- Well, I have a garden.” 

“You mean, the grounds?”

“Sort of. I have a… vegetable patch.” 

Richie paused, before shaking his head. “You, creature of the night --” 

“Stop calling me that!”

“Edward, stalker of the living, devourer of necks --”

“I’m warning you--” 

“You have a vegetable patch,” Richie laughed, collapsing backwards on the couch, and he held his stomach as he laughed, for fear that he would explode from sheer joy. 

“I’m failing to understand what’s so funny about me growing my own potatoes!” Eddie said, crossing his arms across his chest as he leant against the wall. 

“Everything about that is funny. Everything,” Richie said, still laughing. “You don’t even eat them! Why do you grow them?”

“It’s … something to do, I suppose. I get bored, moping around this ridiculous building on my own.”

“So I have permission to go and look at your potatoes then?”

“Yes, but don’t you dare pick any of my tomatoes, I’ve counted how many --” 

Before Eddie could finish his sentence, Richie had grabbed the nearest book from the shelf, and had skittered out of the room, and had begun to charge down the hallway, not knowing exactly how to get out of the building and into the grounds, but enjoying the air rushing past his ears and the slight burn of his lungs. After turning this way and that, and getting hopelessly lost for nearly fifteen minutes, Richie managed to find his way outside. The air was frigid, and it whipped at his skin with tiny hands. The book now slotted firmly in his back pocket, Richie began wandering the grounds, rubbing dead leaves between his hands and throwing rotten twigs into the air as high as he could, sending them soaring like birds before they inevitably fell to the ground with a sickening crack.

Before long, Richie found the vegetable patch, nestled neatly in the corner of the grounds under the safety of a large, grandfatherly oak. The patch was divided up into orderly rows, six in total, each row with a different crop of vegetables sprouting from the earth. Potatoes in the first, carrots in the second, cucumbers in the third and so on. To annoy Eddie, Richard plucked a juicy looking tomato from the vine and popped it in his mouth, sweetness exploding over his tongue as he crunched into the plump fruit. As he walked around the plots, he noticed that at the end closest to the bordering wall there were little handwritten signs propped up on wooden stakes, written in elaborate, curling cursive letters, indicating which vegetable was growing there, and what date they had been planted. Richie was taken aback by how normal Eddie’s handwriting was, how normal the whole ritual must have been, when Eddie had written out the names of his plants, had hammered the stakes into the soil, had presumably sat back on his haunches and admired his handiwork. Yes, the whole thing was so normal, it forced Richie to sit down and breathe, in and out, in and out, until his heart-rate slowed and he could see more than three feet ahead of him.

“Must you insist on drawing the line between you and I so harshly?” 

Eddie’s words echoed in Richie’s brain, a cacophony of sound that forced Richie to listen to it, that insisted he drink in its message, that insisted he allow the message to percolate, to ferment in his stomach. 

“Must you insist on drawing the line between you and I so harshly?” 

After he had inspected all of Eddie’s vegetables, tried and failed to open the locked door of the small shed, and eaten a few more of Eddie’s tomatoes for good measure, Richie wandered out onto the huge lawn. The lawn was overgrown but not wildly so, and had wildflowers littered across it sporadically. The grass was plush and bouncy beneath his feet, and it didn’t take much persuading until Richie pulled the book out of his back pocket and lay down. He spread himself out like a cat, and began to read.

– X –

“Richie? Richie, wake up, you’re covered in grass”

When Richie blearily blinked his eyes open, his immediate reaction was to believe that he had, in fact, gone blind. All he could see was nothingness, an oppressive blankness that stretched on for miles and miles, until Eddie’s illuminated face floated into view. 

“Rich, how long have you been asleep?”

 Asleep. Richie didn’t remember falling asleep, but now that his eyes had become accustomed to the dark, and he could see Eddie standing there, wrapped in a thick, black overcoat and holding a large, hand-crank torch, that was the most obvious conclusion. 

“Oh, hey, Eds, long time no see,” Richie groaned, rolling onto his stomach before pushing himself to his feet. His muscles groaned, and he shook out each limb, hoping to shake any remnants of sleep from them. 

“Come with me,” Eddie said, not waiting for Richie to respond before striding off purposefully, “I have something to show you.” 

Richie jogged to keep up with Eddie, unleashing a litany of questions to the tune of “where are we going?” and “Oh I didn’t know you had an outhouse!” until Eddie stopped in front of a pair of metal gates, locked with a heavy chain and padlock.

“Now, what I’m about to show you is my pride and joy. This, Richard Tozier, is what I call The Poison Garden. Within these gates is the most beautiful garden you will ever lay your eyes on, and each and every one of these plants, if consumed, would send you spiralling down a tunnel of agony you cannot even comprehend”

Richie nodded. “That -- is actually very cool, Eds, and exactly the kind of plants I expected a vampire to grow.”

“Are you insulting my potatoes again?”

“Would I do that?” Richie said, faux-shocked, and Eddie laughed.

“Yes, yes you would. But, if I am to let you inside these gates, you must promise me, sincerely, that you will not touch or eat any of these plants.”

“I’m not a cow, Eddie, I’m not about to go chomping on your foliage.”

“Promise me, Richard.”

“Okay, okay, I promise.”

When he was satisfied that Richie’s promise was genuine, Eddie pulled a ring of keys out of his pocket, and unlocked the gates, which swung open with a loud creak. 

“After you,” Eddie said, and he thrust his arm outwards, guiding Richie inside. 

The garden, as Eddie had promised, was beautiful. Unlike the neat, orderly rows of plants in vegetable patch, this garden was more sporadically organised, as if Eddie had stood in the middle of the narrow path and thrown the seeds into the air to be carried to their rightful place by the wind. Richie walked forwards, not noticing that Eddie had hung back, and he scanned the garden with awe. Each plant was encased inside its own little metal cage that didn’t affect the amount of light the plant got, or impede its growth, but stopped any rogue animals from taking a lethal bite. Like the vegetable patch, however, each plant had a little handwritten sign, with information about the effects on the human body upon consumption of the plant, and, endearingly, Eddie had drawn a tiny white skull on each sign.

“That one is called belladonna,” Eddie muttered into Richie’s ear, and Richie jumped, having not been aware that Eddie was so close to him, close enough to speak directly into his ear without the sound bleeding out into the surroundings. 

“Belladonna, otherwise known as deadly nightshade, is one of the most toxic plants in the world. They say consuming it can send a man insane, that is, if your nervous system doesn’t turn to sludge first. Brutal stuff, but just so beautiful, don’t you think?”

“Uh-huh,” Richie replied, barely making a sound. Something about their proximity, something about having Eddie practically pressed up against his back, speaking in hushed tones directly into his ear, set Richie’s skin alight. 

“That one over there,” Eddie continued, pointing at another caged plant over Richie’s shoulder, “that one is conium maculatum, or poison hemlock. See its beautiful white flowers? Well, eat those and your muscles will constrict, and your lungs will fail, and you’ll heave your last sorry breath, all for eating just one of those little white flowers.”

“You know a lot about plants,” Richie said, turning his head to look past Eddie’s hand, but, when Eddie’s breath hitched slightly, he realised that he had just bared his entire neck right in Eddie’s face. Richie held his breath, waiting for the inevitable pain that would shoot up his neck when Eddie –

“I’ve had a lot of time to learn,” is all Eddie said, however, and he stepped back, stepped away from Richie and his defenceless neck, and walked further down the path. He made it only a few steps before he turned on his heel, and held his hand out.

“Are you coming?” 

When they got to the other end of the garden, there was another small wooden shed. Eddie took the ring of keys out of his pocket once more and unlocked it, before he disappeared inside for a few seconds. He emerged holding a small, potted sapling in one hand, and a pair of large, rubber bright yellow gloves in another. 

“I need to plant this young thing before she dies in that shed, she’s ready to be put to the soil. It’ll only take a few moments and then I shall escort you back to the house,” Eddie said, placing the plant pot on the ground and putting the gloves on. 

“Oh, Eds, believe me, I could sit and watch you prance about in those gloves for hours, take your time,” Richie laughed.

“What? What’s wrong with my gloves?” Eddie asked, staring at his gloved hands as if they’d suddenly speak up and tell him the answer. 

“I mean -- bright yellow rubber gloves? That go almost the whole way up your arms? Can you really not see how that isn’t funny?”

“Well, I suppose -- I don’t even really need them, the plants, they don’t -- affect me. I’ll take them off,” Eddie mumbled, as he began to take the gloves off.

“I didn’t mean to offend you. I think they’re quite dashing --”

“It’s fine, really. I guess it was silly of me to keep up with the pretence, I just --”

Eddie paused, and looked up at Richie, with a helpless expression. The gloves hung limply in Eddie’s grasp. 

“Do you know why I love flowers and plants so much?”

 “Because they’re pretty?” Richie guessed, but Eddie shook his head. 

“I love them so much because they die.”

“... That certainly is a novel reason for loving plants so much,” Richie said, tone jovial and light but Eddie shook his head again.

“No, I -- look. When I was a boy, when I was still … when I was younger, my mother locked me away. People kept disappearing in the town, and she was paranoid that I’d join their ranks and be the next little boy to disappear in the night. So, she locked me up in this house, and didn’t let me leave. For years.” 

“Shit, seriously? Not even into the grounds?”

“Not even into the grounds,” Eddie continued, ��and I used to watch the gardeners, with their silly rubber gloves and their pruning shears, spend hours out here, tending to the garden and making it look beautiful. Then, when the frosts came and everything died, they’d collect all the dead, like the men who collected the dead after the plague times, and then the spring would come, and they’d start again.” 

“I can’t believe she locked you up, like a princess in a tower.”

“Yes, yes, that isn’t really the point. When I became … this ... When I was turned, and everyone left, and they boarded up the house, I watched the garden sprout and grow and blossom without any help, without any intervention. But, when the frosts came, year after year, they died. They all died, as living things are wont to do. Would you -- Would you think I was crazy if I said I find comfort in death?” 

Richie shrugged. “Not really, no” 

“I can’t die, I found that out when I tried to throw myself off of one of the balconies. My bones didn’t even shatter, Richie. Not one. Watching my flowers die, watching them bloom and blossom and thrive and then shrivel, turn brown and die, it reminds me that … not everything is chaotic. Some things … Some things are inevitable.” 

“Inevitable, like …” Richie paused, unsure of how to continue, “like …” 

“Say it.”

“I --”

“Richie, say it.”

“Inevitable like us?”

Eddie smiled, and thrust the gloves into Richie’s hands. 

“Yes, like us”

– X –

Despite his initial qualms, Richie settled into mansion life with remarkable ease. 

Eddie’s body remained hypersensitive to Richie’s presence, so they’d spend the days holed up together, moving from room to room leisurely, from library to kitchen to sunroom, but together, always together. They’d spend the days reading aloud to each other from Eddie’s expansive, sprawling collection of books, or they’d sit quietly, basking in each other’s presence, or Richie would sit hunched over reams of paper as he sketched out the maps he knew from memory, and Eddie would watch him. Then, sometimes, when the top floor library was the only still point of the turning world, Richie would, with sweeping lines, draw out a map of his home town. Voice door-mouse quiet, hoarse from lack of use, Richie would begin to tell Eddie about the town, “that’s my house, my parents’ house, and that is where the tree is that I fell out of, and my grandmother lives here, and that’s where …”. Eddie would listen, eyes trained to the page, absorbing each little snippet of Richie’s life, each little crumb of who Richie was. Richie’s pen would dance across the page, a complicated foxtrot that Eddie didn’t understand, but loved to watch. This would go on for hours, until Richie had projected his entire town, his entire life, onto the page, and Eddie would remain perfectly, entirely silent, content just to listen, just to observe. 

Occasionally, Eddie would excuse himself, some unknowable errands calling his name, and he’d be gone for several hours. When he’d return, his pupils would be blown, eyes as wide and as bright as polished dinner-plates. The times when Eddie’s eyes were the widest and his breathing was loud and erratic were the times that he was the most tactile with Richie. A fleeting touch here, a hand that lingers on the small of Richie’s back as they walk, a hand that pushes errant locks of hair behind Richie’s ear. It’d stop though, as soon as Eddie’s eyes returned to normal, the respectful distance between them returned, too. 

It took nearly a week of Richie continually getting lost, or wandering into cupboards in the dead of night when he was looking for the bathroom, and being constantly late for dinner before Eddie demanded that he accompany Richie on a tour of the entire mansion. As per Eddie’s demand, the tour began in the grand entrance hall. 

“That’s my piano. It was a gift from my father before he died, and I’ve kept it going with sheer willpower ever since. It’s almost as old as I am.”

“Do you still play?”

Eddie shrugged, and avoided Richie’s gaze. “Sometimes.”

The tour is rather whistle-stop, and Eddie didn’t give Richie more than mere seconds at a time to poke his head into each room.

“That’s the seventh bedroom, this is the eighth, the next one is the ninth, the tenth and eleventh are down there. There are two libraries on this floor, a study down there and this --” Eddie paused, and then gingerly pushed open the door revealing a very small room with a bed, a small stool and nothing else inside. “This was my old room.” 

When Eddie didn’t enter the room, and chose instead to hover awkwardly in the doorway, Richie pushed his way past, breaching the threshold, before walking steadily into the room. The room was brightly lit by two decent sized windows overlooking the main lawn and flowerbeds, and the small bed had been pushed against the wall underneath them. Richie could so clearly imagine a very tiny Eddie, all those centuries ago, kneeling on the bed, elbows propped up on the stone windowsill, watching the gardeners labour away below. The only other item of furniture in the room was a small wooden stool pushed against the other wall, but, when Richie extended his arm, he could touch it from where he sat on the bed. The room was tiny, barely bigger than the cupboards Richie found himself stuck in most nights on his trips to the bathroom.

“You really lived in here?” 

“For several days, yes, before she -- before I convinced her to let me roam the rest of the house.” 

The room was tiny, and it grew tinier and tinier still, the walls closing in on Richie every time he thought of Master Edward, hammering on the door, pleading to be let out, pleading to once again feel the sun on his cheek and the wind through his hair, before he’d give up and sit on the bed with no one but the sun’s taunting rays for company. 

“With all due respect, Eds, your mother sounds like a bitch,” Richie said, tone too jovial for the weight of his words, and he expected Eddie to snap at him, to accuse him of cruelty, but he didn’t. Instead, Eddie laughed.  

Eddie laughed so much that tears sprang from his eyes, and they chased each other down his face in great, glittering ribbons.

“Oh, Richie,” Eddie said, clutching his belly, “oh how I adore having you here.” 

At that, Richie felt the blood rush to his face. “Heh. Tell me again how you escaped?” 

As they walked around the rest of the mansion, Eddie regaled Richie with stories from his youth, how he’d snatched the key from around his mother's neck that allowed him to escape, how he’d spent many a winter's night huddled in front of a blazing fire with the groundskeeper sat in the rickety old armchair, scaring him silly with ghost stories of yore, and how the servants used to sneak him crumbs of sweet cakes on hot, sticky afternoons in the summer when he’d long for the feeling of a fresh, summer breeze on his face, when he’d long to feel anything at all. 

They were walking back to the kitchens, Eddie having promised Richie a mug of hot cocoa, when Richie spotted it. A large metal door, entirely unlike the rest of the opposing wooden ones, with four heavy-duty locks set deep into the frame.  

Richie stopped walking immediately, and let Eddie carry on own the hallway, chatting mindlessly to the air. It wasn’t long before Eddie noticed Richie wasn’t with him and turned around.

“Richie? Are you okay?” 

“What’s in there?”

“Nothing,” Eddie snapped, marching back to where Richie stood. “Do not concern yourself with what is behind that door.” 

“But --” Richie started, but Eddie cut him off.

“What is behind that door has nothing to do with you, and you shall not seek to discover it. Now, leave it.”

Before Richie could protest further, Eddie stomped off, sending a sharp, “Come!” over his shoulder. 

Richie followed.

– X – 

It took fourteen days of being in almost constant contact with Richie for Eddie’s body to return to normal. Richie first noticed it when Eddie’s eyes began to droop, bulldogish, in the afternoons, and soon after, he began to flinch away from the sun’s midday greeting when they’d sit in the sunroom and play cards. He’d expected it, that one day the vampirism squirming in Eddie’s veins would rear its ugly head and pull Eddie away from Richie and back towards what he truly was.  

The days without Eddie were long and tedious, and, more often than not, Richie found himself pacing the corridors aimlessly, counting down the hours until the sun sank below the horizon and the familiar sound of Eddie shifting in his room began to echo around the mansion. Eddie would emerge, smacking his lips, with his hair sticking up wildly, and he’d greet Richie with a sleepy, “Good evening” that would shake the butterflies in Richie’s stomach until they awoke themselves. 

If asked to pinpoint when his attraction towards Eddie transcended simply being physical and entered the unpredictable realm of emotional, Richie would have to shrug. It was as simple as if it had happened spontaneously, as if he’d woken up one morning, walked downstairs to the kitchen where Eddie was bent over the stove, meticulously stirring herbs into a bubbling pot, and Richie’s heart had suddenly burst into song, “yes, yes, it’s him, it’s him, it’s him.”  Whilst he still didn’t understand this bond that Eddie spoke of reverently, and whilst he didn’t believe in soulmates, and had said as much to a bemused looking Eddie, Richie felt something. It wasn’t  a cosmic force, nor was it a metaphysical hand guiding him towards Eddie without consulting him first. It was something lighter, something more delicate, like a string of the most fragile spider silk had been woven between them, no wider than a hair, and the longer they spent together, the more Richie looked at Eddie, really looked, the more convinced he was that one day he’d be on his knees before Eddie, and he’d thrust own his beating heart clasped into Eddie’s hands, bloody and raw. Spider silk turned platinum. 

At the time when the only light came from the fireflies floating like embers in the inky darkness,  it was this same something that pulled Richie’s eyelids open, an insatiable desire to be near Eddie stopping him from truly slipping away into blissful, restorative unconsciousness. Though he was fearful of encroaching on Eddie’s nighttime activities, more often than not, Richie waged victorious campaigns against the part of him that pleaded that he remain in bed, that he shut his eyes against curiosity. More often than not, Richie found himself tip-toeing to the door of his room and coaxing it open with tiny, jerky movements to avoid the tell-tale creak that would alert Eddie to his rising.

As soon as the door swung open the first time Richie snuck out of bed, though, a different noise invaded the room, swirling and dancing in the air until it was all Richie could hear. Immediately, memories of his first night in the mansion flooded back to him, memories of a haunting cry that came from the belly of the house. Filled with a reckless sort of determination, Richie crept down the hallway, and, as he walked, the sound swelled around him, growing louder and more insistent with each step. 

Richie burst onto the main balcony that overlooked the entrance hall at precisely the same moment that the sound crescendoed, before it fell gently downwards, furious yelling replaced by comforting whispers. 

It was Eddie.  

Eddie was sat at the piano, back rod-straight, hands flying over the ivory keys frantically. Richie didn’t recognise the piece, but was more than content to crouch down on his haunches, lest he be seen by Eddie, close his eyes, and listen. The tempo peaked and troughed at seemingly random intervals, and Richie wondered idly whether Eddie was playing a pre-existing song or whether he was having his hands be guided by the invisible muses, letting his body become a conduit. 

Without consciously wishing to, Richie began to awake most nights, body and soul alight with anticipation. He’d sneak out of his room, and hunker down in his spot on the balcony, concealed by darkness, and he’d watch Eddie play.  

Until a rogue sneeze escaped his nose before he could stop it, and his cover was blown.

With a hand covering his nose, as if it could claw the sneeze back in, Richie watched Eddie jump so hard he stood up, snapping his head this way and that, searching for the noisy intruder.

“Up here, Eddie,” Richie called out, face pulsing with heat and embarrassment.  

“Richie! I -- how long have you been there?” 

Richie gulped. “Not that long, perhaps an hour or so?”

Eddie shifted, and closed the lid of the piano with a loud bang. “You must return to your room, it is very late.” 

“You’re beautiful, you know,” Richie blurted, without thinking. 

“Beautiful?”

“I mean, you play beautifully. I didn’t recognise the piece, though.” Richie said, beginning to descend the stairs to where Eddie was still sat at the piano, hands knotted in his lap. 

“I have begun to write my own music, a somewhat … recent development, I must admit.” 

“How recent?”

“A few weeks, perhaps. I cannot be specific.”

Richie regarded Eddie steadily, and rested his hand on the top of the piano, as if to feel its heartbeat. 

“Be specific.”

Eddie placed his hand next to Richie’s, with an all but a negligible amount of space between them. “Eighteen days.”

 “The exact length of time I have been here,” Richard said, a statement of fact that neither needed to hear aloud.

“Yes,” Eddie replied, simply. “The exact length of time you have been here.”

– X –

Richie sat in the gardens, and, as he watched two small rabbits dance in the lush undergrowth, he decided that tomorrow, when the moon had risen, her smiling face bathing the world in cool light, he would ask, nay insist, that Eddie accompany him on a walk. They would leave the mansion, leave the grounds, to see if they truly did exist in the world beyond the borders of the bubble of existence that they had meticulously created with shared efforts. Whilst he was content to hide away with Eddie, an ever-growing part of him desired to breach the womb-like comfort of the mansion. He stood in front of the mirror, rehearsing his lines, practicing how he would convince Eddie to venture into the wilderness with him, but, much to his bemusement, it wasn’t necessary. 

“Of course,” Eddie agreed, “if that is what you want, then that is what we shall do.”

That night, with the wind howling and rain falling from the sky in great, bloated drops, Richie and Eddie ventured out of the relative safety of the mansion and into the mercy of the wider world. Eddie had insisted that Richie wear one of his coats, a great, woollen thing that swamped even Richie’s lanky frame, but he was grateful for the shelter it provided from the weather as they trundled down the hill into the town of Krov. They barely spoke, as Eddie watched the moon with his dinner-plate eyes, and Richie watched Eddie. 

Abruptly, Eddie stopped walking. 

“Are you okay?” Richie asked, walking backwards for a few steps before he was stood next to Eddie once more. Eddie continued to stare at an inconspicuous spot on the ground.

“This is where it happened.”

“Pardon?” 

“This is where … this is where I was turned.” 

Oh. The fury radiating from Eddie was palpable, a hot current of air fighting the arctic winds. Richie had barely asked Eddie about the circumstances of his turning, and Eddie had offered little to no information himself. It was a vast and foreboding secret, something that Richie was desperate to know but reticent to ask. The look on Eddie’s face, a look of sheer savagery, like he would rip the larynx from the creature who did this to him with his bare hands and not think twice, set Richie’s stomach on edge.  

Up until this moment, it had been easy to convince himself that, whilst Eddie was in possession of two rather large canine teeth, and professed to being centuries old, he was – in all the ways that counted – still human. But now, with his too large teeth bared in a too large mouth that snarled like a wolf, and his eyes, with the pupils blown and the rest an unnatural white, Eddie looked different. Eddie looked scary.  

“Eds …” Richie cautioned, laying a timid hand on Eddie’s bicep. “Eds, can we go?”

Immediately, as if Richie’s words were as sharp as pins, Eddie deflated.

“Yes, uh -- of course. I seem to have … forgotten myself,” Eddie said, as if in a daze, before he allowed himself to be gently tugged away from the spot by Richie, who vowed that never again would they return to that spot.

The silence of the town was deafening. The buildings were the same as they had been when Richie arrived, the same dilapidated, crumbling walls and the same sloping rooves. But, with Eddie stood next to him, fists clenched into tight rocks, it felt different. Now, more so than before, Richie could picture the town as it had been before, a bustling town, thrumming with the energy of life. But now, the only indication that there had ever been life here were the things abandoned in the street, a chair, a bowl, a children's toy, and the incredibly guilty look currently spread across Eddie’s face.

They walked in hushed reverence along the rows of houses, Eddie peering inside each open door, and Richie watched him. Richie watched him walk inside one particular house, and lie his hand flat on the bed, with his eyes shut and his mouth pulled into a thin, straight line.

“Did someone you know live here?” Richie asked, painfully aware of the intimate moment he was intruding on, but unable to squash the curiosity within him.

Eddie’s head snapped up. “Yes.”

Richie wanted to ask more, ask who lived here, ask who it was that Eddie’s eyes glittered for, but he didn’t. Instead, he watched. A silent observer to Eddie’s very palpable, and very private, grief. 

“There’s a river,” Eddie whispered, a small sound that thundered in the silence. “I want to show it to you.”

The river was a mile or so from the town, and they walked there in silence, Eddie several steps ahead of Richie. When they arrived, Richie was awestruck. The river was high and fast-flowing, and curved this way and that, a jagged vein on the otherwise perfectly untouched valley.  

“I used to come here and think when I was younger. It’s beautiful, don’t you think?” 

“Yes,” Richie agreed immediately, not looking at the river. “It’s beautiful.”

Despite Eddie’s protestations that he might fall in and be swept away, Richie stood on the very edge of the riverbank, staring at his reflection, warped by the fast flowing current.  

“The river is hungry, Richie. Everything it consumes, it spits out again, but it’s hungry. You must fear it,” Eddie said right in Richie’s ear, causing him to jump and spring backwards.

“Holy shit! I didn’t see you --” 

Then it dawned on Richie, slamming into him like the tide against rock.

 “You don’t -- You don’t have a reflection, Eddie”

 Eddie sighed. “No, I don’t. It’s another symptom of this disease, another curse.  I haven’t seen myself since I was eighteen years old, and that was over four centuries ago. I suppose I must look rather monstrous now.” 

“I wouldn’t say monstrous, not at all. Just --” Richie paused, gesturing with his hands as if he might pluck the right word out of the air, “different.” 

“Well that’s incredibly reassuring, Richard, thank you” 

“Different isn’t bad!” Richie insisted, backtracking, “different isn’t bad at all. Look, I’ll tell you what you look like, so you understand.”

Richie stood back, surveying Eddie’s face as one does a work of art, with his eyebrows knitted.

 “Well, you’ve got pale skin, but I suppose that much is obvious. You’ve got greyish-whiteish eyes, and they can be rather spooky in the dark,” 

“Charming!” Eddie interrupted, but Richie dismissed his comment with a wave of his hand. 

“But sometimes, when the light catches them when we’re sat in the sunroom, or when we are in the library with the fire blazing, sometimes … they look like molten silver, and that’s,” Richie coughed, “that’s quite lovely. You’ve got a messy crop of the darkest, blackest hair I’ve ever seen, and when you wake up it sticks up in all directions, and then that, combined with when you have creases from your pillow all over your face, I just want to --”

“Richie,” Eddie cautioned, but Richie continued. 

“I, um. Your nose is pinched, and quite pointy, but it suits your face, like the peak of a mountain. Your mouth --” 

Richie stopped, and his eyes flitted back and forth between Eddie’s mouth and eyes. 

“Your mouth is large, perhaps bigger than normal. Your teeth, well … they are rather frightening but … when you laugh, when you really laugh and you smile, not that stupid smile you do when I know you’re trying to hide your teeth, you look --” 

“Richard.”

Richie shrugged. “You look beautiful.” 

Eddie placed his hand on Richie’s face, his fingers brushed the hinge of Richie’s jaw, and Richie had but a second to panic before Eddie tilted his face down, and fitted their mouths chastely together. Richie, as if on autopilot, pressed himself against Eddie, knee to chest, and his hands gently gripped Eddie’s waist, fingers curled in the soaking wet fabric of his overcoat.

After a few seconds, Eddie pulled away, just barely, just enough to stare into Richie’s eyes evenly.

“Eddie,” Richie whined, a pathetic sort of noise that he would have been embarrassed about had Eddie not practically growled and pulled Richie back down, back in. 

Eddie tilted his head, as if he meant to go deeper, and fangs scraped across Richie’s lower lip. As much as Richie hadn’t anticipated kissing Eddie at that exact moment, it would be patently untrue to suggest that he hadn’t thought about doing it at some point. Those nights that he’d spent fantasising about when he’d do it, whether he’d corner Eddie after breakfast or whether he’d grab Eddie’s wrist and haul him in when they were walking around Eddie’s poison garden, he’d always come back to one thing, the thing that made his gut swirl with anticipation.

The fangs.

The same fangs that were, at that very moment, pressed gently into the soft swell of Richie’s lower lip.

Richie pulled away, gasping.

“Shit,” Eddie cussed, and stepped away from Richie with clumsy steps, “I shouldn’t have -- I assumed that, you kept saying that I was beautiful, and --”

“Eddie,” Richie said as he stepped into Eddie’s personal space, crowding him against the trunk of a tree, hands cradling Eddie’s face, “Eddie.” 

“Fuck, Richie -- Fuck!”  

They stood there, sheltering under the boughs of the tree, the wind roaring it’s encouragement, and kissed. 

– X –

“NO!” 

Eddie smacked the spoon out of Richie’s hand with a growl, and his movement sent the contents of Richie’s bowl cascading over the floor. 

“What the hell is wrong with you, Eddie! I was about to --”

“It’s fucking poisonous, Richie. It’s poisonous. I was looking in one of my books to see how long I needed to let the vegetable boil – I didn’t know its name, but I’ve been eating it for centuries – but the book said that it’s poisonous! I could have killed you!” Eddie yabbered, wringing his hands as he stood over the mess on the floor, staring at the lumps of apparently-poisonous vegetables.

 “I can eat it because my insides are practically dead, but if you had eaten it … if I had let you eat it … I couldn’t live with myself, Richie, I’ve only had you for a few months and I nearly killed you myself.”

And then, Richie learnt that it was perfectly possible for a vampire to cry.

Richie gathered Eddie up in his arms, and stroked a comforting hand through Eddie’s hair as the vampire wept against his chest.

“Eddie, Eddie, I’m still here, I didn’t eat any, you’ve still got me, you’ve still got me, Eds, I’m not going anywhere.”

“Do you promise?” Eddie asked. 

Richie pressed his promise to Eddie’s lips. 

– x –

 “SHUT THE DOOR!”

Richie slammed the door shut, but what he had seen would be etched onto the back of his eyelids for centuries to come. 

“RICHARD,” Eddie boomed from inside, voice syrupy and wet, “GO AWAY!” 

Richie didn’t move.

“I know you’re still there,” Eddie’s voice was wet, and as he spoke, his words were interspersed with ugly, slurping sounds. “I can hear you breathing.” 

A coppery, metallic smell lingered around Richie’s head, a heady fog that sent his head spinning and his mind racing.

He’d burst into the room, excited to tell Eddie that the asparagus spears had begun to stick out of the earth, but he’d found Eddie slumped over the body of a rather large sheep, mouth attached to the animals neck. Eddie’s eyes had rolled back into his head, an expression of pure ecstasy, as he slurped at the blood gushing from two large puncture wounds on the animals neck greedily, the dark red liquid smeared around his neck and face. 

“This is my reality, Richard,” Eddie said, pulling the door open. “This is what I am.”

This Eddie was different. This wasn’t the Eddie that Richie had kissed at the riverbank, this wasn’t the Eddie that curled up like a cat next to Richie on the couch, and read Richie’s book over his shoulder. This wasn’t the Eddie that cried from laughter when Richie had fallen over in the mud when his feet gave way from under him in the vegetable patch, sending carrots flying over his shoulder like tiny orange arrows. No, this Eddie, this Eddie who wiped the back of his hand across his mouth roughly, this Eddie who had pupils blown wide, and who chattered his teeth together like an excited hyena, this Eddie was different, and Richie was terrified by how much he wasn’t terrified. 

“I’m not scared,” he blurted, as he stared at the droplet of blood that was still clinging to Eddie’s bottom lip. “I know I should be scared, but I’m not. I’m not even a tiny bit scared.”

Eddie laughed. “You’re a strange little thing, aren’t you.”

“Not half as strange as the vampire who grows potatoes in his back garden,” Richie shot back, before he pulled Eddie into an embrace. 

It took two weeks to get the blood stains out of his shirt.

– X –

Eddie’s hand was pressed against Richie’s throat, a barely-there pressure that had Richie squirming underneath him, rutting against Eddie’s leg that was slotted possessively between his own. They were shirtless, with Richie’s legs bracketing Eddie’s hips as he hovered over him. They had been going at it for a while now; what had started as chaste kisses and gentle hands on waists had become needy, insistent and breathy over a remarkably short space of time.

With Eddie hovering over him, skin ghoulishly pale in the flickering glow of the candlelight, Richie was sure no one else had ever been more aroused than he was in that moment. He bucked his hips up, desperate to make contact with Eddie’s thigh, his dick straining painfully against the fabric of his trousers.

“So needy,” Eddie hissed, and he shifted his attention from Richie’s mouth to his neck, ghosting his breath along the length of Richie’s exposed jaw. “So needy, so ready, would you let me take you now? If I asked very nicely?”

Richie nodded feverishly, mind focused on nothing but the feeling of Eddie’s hand snugged to his jaw.

“Do you want me to? Take you right here? With you flat on your back?”

“Yuh-yes, Eddie, fuck –”

“Do you? It’d be so easy, you know. So easy to just –” Eddie paused, trailing one of his hands down, skating it over the taut, trembling skin of Richie’s chest and stomach,  until he’d dragged his fingers, slowly, over the bulge in Richie’s trousers and down, until his fingers were hovering over Richie’s clothed asshole.

“Eddie, Eddie, please –”

“Please what?”

“Please”

Eddie shifted off of Richie, and sat back on his haunches panting. Richie whined at the loss of contact, at the loss of Eddie’s weight hovering over him, pressing him down into the mattress, and he reached out, and tried to pull Eddie back onto him. Eddie swatted at his arm, and stood up, stumbling a bit, before he left the room in haste. Confused, and rather annoyed, Richie huffed, pushing himself up to a sitting position. Three, or perhaps four, seconds later Eddie returned, holding a small bottle of oil in his hands. 

“This will make it easier,” he said, and placed the vial on the table next to the bed, before climbing back up the bed, and back up Richie’s body like a jungle cat. 

Before he could capture Eddie between his legs again, however, Eddie shoved an arm underneath Richie and deftly flipped him over, so that Richie was now lying face-down on the bed, dick trapped against his heaving stomach. Eddie was on him instantly; he placed open-mouthed, wet kisses against Richie’s neck, before Eddie shifted, and began trailing kisses over Richie’s shoulder, down his shoulder blades, over the dip of his waist, before he landed at the fleshy swell of his hips. 

“I want – Richie, I want to – do you trust me?” Eddie asked, voice crackly.

“Yes,” Richie answered, immediately, as he scrunched the crisp sheets in his fists, as he tried desperately not to transcend this mortal coil.

“I want – just … let me …” Eddie babbled, and then he scraped his teeth along the squishy flesh of Richie’s hips, not applying enough pressure to break the skin, but just enough that Richie cried out, half from surprise and half from concentrated want. 

Eddie continued to bite and suck at Richie’s hip, and Richie buried his face in the pillow, biting at the soft cotton to stop himself from sobbing. 

With deft fingers, Eddie began to tug at the soft material of Richie’s trousers, encouraging Richie to buck his hips up, allowing him to tug the material over the swell of his ass, and down his thighs.

 “So beautiful,” Eddie whispered, a reverent prayer not delivered to Richie himself but to his ass, “so good for me.” 

Eddie replaced his mouth with his hand, that continued to squeeze at Richie’s hips, and, even with his eyes still screwed tight and the static buzz of lust screaming in his ear, Richie heard Eddie unscrewing the top of the vial. Richie shivered on the bed, entirely overstimulated but, at the same time, nursing an insatiable need for more, for Eddie to touch more of him, all of him.

And then it was there, an oil-wet finger that probed gently at the tight ring of muscle, and, instinctively, Richie tensed. 

“Sssh, my love,” Eddie whispered, and he stroked a comforting hand across Richie’s back, “it’s just me.”

Richie nodded, and his breath heaved out of him in great, staccato wheezes as he willed himself to relax. Two of Eddie’s fingers, both wet and dripping, rested against the ring of muscle, slender fingers between the cheeks of Richie’s ass like they were meant to be there, like they had always been there. Slowly, painfully slowly, so slowly that Richie felt like he was about to scream from sheer anticipation, Eddie’s fingers began to move. They circled Richie’s sensitive opening that twitched uncontrollably, as spikes of not-quite-pleasure rippled through Richie’s body. 

With a careful confidence, a certainty that made Richie’s dick twitch from where it was trapped his stomach, Eddie finger bared down on Richie’s opening, until, after pushing past a little amount of resistance, it entered him. Richie’s body instinctively tensed once more, before Eddie leant forwards, and began to press small kisses to the small of his back.

“So good, Rich, so good,” Eddie praised, and Richie’s brain flicked into overdrive, as it oscillated between embarrassment and an unabashed desire for more, to such an extent that, when Eddie began to draw his finger back, Richie’s hips chased it wantonly.

Eddie chuckled, a deep vibrato that cut through Richie’s embarrassment like butter, and he drew his finger back, only to sink it in a little deeper the next time, and again, and again, until Eddie’s finger were burrowed up to the knuckle in Richie’s ass. The motion was smooth, thanks to the oil, and the not-quite-pleasure had been replaced by a rapidly solidifying pleasure buried deep in his gut that was growing and growing with every thrust of Eddie’s skilled fingers. 

“Are you okay, love?” Eddie asked, and Richie almost laughs. 

Richie shifted, and spat the corner of the pillow out of his mouth.

“I’m – fuck. Move, Eddie,” he tried to command, but when spoken aloud, the words just sound like he was begging, like he was pleading. Perhaps he was.

Eddie obeyed. It was slow at first, a teasing, languid movement that had Richie writhing beneath him, before it became firmer, a more confident rhythm that turned Richie’s insides to jelly, and his lips parted in a soundless groan that only the air heard. Eddie continued to thrust his finger in and out of Richie, before he pulled it back all-together, which caused Richie to whine.

“Could you take another, my love? Are you ready?” 

“Fuck me, Eddie,” was Richie’s only response, and Eddie didn’t need to be told twice. However, instead of continuing to finger-fuck him with his face pressed into the bed, Eddie prodded at Richie’s side, prompting him to roll over. Richie obliged, and Eddie shuffled up the bed, and curled himself around Richie’s back. Eddie pushed on Richie’s right leg until it moved forwards so that it was lying at a right angle, giving Eddie access to Richie’s ass once more. 

Before he could push his fingers back into Richie, Richie ground down on Eddie’s crotch, a spike of pleasure shot up his spine at the realisation that Eddie was as rock hard as he was. 

“Eddie, Eds, I want --”

“What do you want, my love?”

“I want you to bite me”

Eddie stilled behind him.

“What?”

“I want you to, ah, I want you to fucking bite me!” 

 “Richie,” Eddie warned, “Richie you have no idea what you’re saying.” 

Richie sat up, and twisted around so that he was facing Eddie. 

“Yes, I do. I’ve been thinking about it, thinking about what this,” he gestured between them, “what this is. What it means, not just for me but for you, too. And these past few months, I’ve -- I’ve …”

“You’ve what?”

“I love you.”

Eddie didn’t say anything, just blinked dumbly at Richie.

“I know you probably don’t believe me, and I know it’s incredibly fast, and I don’t expect you to --” 

“I love you too, Richie, but, God, this is bigger than love.” 

“What could possibly be bigger than love?” 

“Come,” Eddie said, and he stood up, and held Richie’s trousers out to him. “I have something to show you.”

 – X –

The basement was freezing, and Richie watched with a steady gaze as Eddie unlocked the four heavy padlocks.

“This,” Eddie said, as he heaved the door open and revealed a long, dark, stone staircase, “this is bigger than love. I need you to see this, I need you to see all of me, see all of what I have done, before I let you make this decision.” 

Richie, unsure of how to respond, pushed past Eddie and began his descent, deep into the underbelly of the house, deep into Eddie’s past. 

The first thing that Richie noticed was a gaping hole in the stonework, large enough for a man to walk through.  

“Who, or what on earth did that?” Richie asked, confusion evident in his tone.  

Eddie sighed. “Let me tell you about Patrick.”

– X –

Eddie spoke for nearly an hour, and he paced up and down the room, patently not looking at Richie, who was sprawled on the floor, head resting against the cool stone. 

“I haven’t been down here since,” Eddie confessed, staring at the hole in the wall with an embittered expression, “I can’t bear to see what he did, what I did … What I put him through.”

 At that, Richie’s head snapped up.

“What the fuck? Eddie, no, that wasn’t your fault.”

“How could it possibly not be my fault?” 

“How were you supposed to know he’d turn into a feral beast? No, you were the victim, as much as those --” 

“Richard,” Eddie said, voice trembling, “do not compare what I went through to those people who had their throats ripped out by that animal. Do not.” 

It made sense now, of course. Why Eddie’s lusty expression had so rapidly been replaced by a mask of panic, why Eddie was so reticent to even entertain the idea of turning Richie. Eddie, compelled by the kind of loneliness that gnaws at your soul, had taken a risk, and it had so horribly backfired that it had left all but visible scars across Eddie’s entire body. Eddie, his trusting, wonderful, Eddie had been duped by a creature so evil, that even the vampirism coursing through his veins could not have affected his nature that much. 

“You know I’m not Patrick, right?” Richie said, sitting up. 

Eddie scoffed. “Of course, you are nothing like that brute. But what if --”

“Go on,” Richie prompted. 

“What if it goes wrong? What if I … what if I lose you? What if I accidentally kill you? I could --”

“You will lose me either way, darling. I will age, I will grow coarse and weary, and you will no longer love me,” Richie said, and he stood up, walked over to where Eddie was hunched in the corner, and grasped Eddie’s hands in his own. 

“I will always love you,” Eddie insisted, fiercely, but Richie shook his head. 

“You cannot love me when I am dead, Eddie. I will age, and change, and then I will die. Like your flowers, I will rot and turn brown with decay.”

Tears began to trickle down Eddie’s face.

 “It is such a horrible choice, Richie,” he said, voice wobbling.

“I know, darling, I know” 

– X –

The candles flickered in the breeze of the open window, and Richie screwed his eyes shut. Eddie was between his legs, lapping over Richie’s asshole with a broad, wet tongue. He’d been there for what, to Richie, felt like eons, teasing Richie’s hole open with a pointed tongue that darted inside, just for a moment, before the lapping, and the sucking resumed and Richie was left frustratingly empty. Occasionally, Eddie would graze the pointed tip of his fangs over the soft, vulnerable skin of Richie’s inner thigh, pressing in just enough to hear Richie gasp, before he’d pull away again.

“Eds, I can’t – please, c’mere, Eddie, please,” Richie moaned, and he buried his hands in Eddie’s hair before he gave it a sharp tug.

Eddie pulled off of Richie’s thigh, and slithered back up Richie’s body, and pressed their mouths together.

Anticipation pooled in Richie’s stomach like lava, and it took all of his self-control not to force Eddie to chomp down on his neck, but he knew what had to happen first, he knew what he had to wait for. An aching, primal urge tugged ruthlessly at Richie’s lower stomach, and he groaned as he felt it travel up his spine, reaching a deafening crescendo behind his eyes. With Eddie grinding down, swivelling his hips down against Richie’s, their bare cocks brushing together, Richie threw his head back, exposing his bare neck.

 Eddie immediately dropped his head, and licked a long strip up the length of Richie’s neck, beginning at his clavicle and ending at the hinge of his jaw.

“You smell so good,”  Eddie moaned, nose buried in Richie’s hair, “you have no idea what it’s been like for me, all of these months, not letting myself smell you, not letting myself have you.”

“You have me,” Richie babbled, “you have me.”

“I do,” Eddie said, “I do”

Arousal spiked in the cradle of Richie’s hips, a white hot electric heat that spread like wildfire. “Eddie, I’m ready, I’m ready –”

Wordlessly, Eddie pushed Richie onto his side, the same position they’d been in before, when Richie had asked Eddie to bite him. This time, though, as Richie lay there, back nestled against Eddie’s chest, Eddie draped his arm over Richie’s shoulder, positioning it so the soft flesh of his forearm was positioned in front of Richie’s mouth. 

“You know what you need to do, right?” Eddie asked, breathlessly, and Richie nodded. 

Two oil-slick fingers pushed their way into Richie’s ass, and Richie bit down on Eddie’s arm, and began to suck.

Eddie gasped behind him, a noise he’d never heard Eddie make before, breathy and high-pitched.

“Drink, ah, drink up, Rich, oh fuck oh fuck” 

“Does it hurt?” Richie asked, voice thick and wet, mouth still half full of Eddie’s blood, but Eddie shook his head.

“It – ah, it the opposite of hurts, Rich, oh fuck”

 As Richie sucked on Eddie’s arm, swallowing mouthful after mouthful of blood, Eddie’s fingers worked in his ass, maintaining a furious rhythm that worked in sync with Richie’s greedy slurps.

Soon, when Richie’s stomach sat hot and heavy, Eddie gently pulled his arm back. “Are you ready?” he asked.

“Yes, fucking do it, Eddie, do it” 

Eddie pulled Richie back, and Richie jolted when he felt the press of Eddie’s solid length against his ass. Need swirls wildly in his stomach, and he holds his breath, waiting for the press of Eddie’s dick against his entrance. It comes slowly at first, Eddie edging forward with gentle caution, dick slippery with the same oil as before. The tip of his cock nudges at Richie’s tight opening, and he pressed forward, Richie’s eyes snapping shut instantly, mouth parted in a silent gasp. 

Eddie edged in, inch by inch, centimetre by centimetre, until he bottoms out and Richie’s ass was pressed snuggly against his crotch.

“oh fuck oh fuck oh fuck,” Richie jabbered, and his hips stuttered in Eddie’s lap, micro-movements that sent sparks of not-quite-pleasure and not-quite-plain up his spine.

Eddie waited until Richie stopped jabbering to start moving, but when he did, Richie’s head fell back on Eddie’s shoulder, and he forgot where he was, forgot his own name, all he remembered, all he cared about was the blunt drag of Eddie’s cock, in and out of him, a rhythm as smooth and as regular as ocean waves. Experimentally, Richie pushed his ass back against Eddie’s thrust, meeting it in the middle, and earning himself a “oh, Richie, oh, oh God…” for his efforts. 

“You’re doing so well, my love,” Eddie praised, hand snaking around to grasp at Richie’s dick, “you’re doing so well.” 

Heat flooded to the base of Richie’s spine, a cloying heat that grew and grew as Eddie continued slamming into him, breath stuttering in his ear. 

“I’m gonna come, fuck, Eddie, Eddie, do it.” 

“Are you sure?” 

“I love you,” Richie gasped in response, and he felt Eddie nod behind him, before he felt a sharp, piercing pain on his neck, and his vision went black. At that moment, with his lover’s hands scrabbling around his neck, Richard Tozier died.

– X –

The first thing Richie saw when he opened his eyes with Eddie’s face hovering above him, eyes wet. The first thing Richie felt when he opened his eyes was an unfamiliar toothache, overwhelming in its intensity.

Richie swirled his tongue around his mouth carelessly, and jolted with shock.

There, sat in his mouth, as if they’d always been there were two, razor sharp, huge fangs.

“Happy Birthday, Richie”

[pilot-boi]

It’s Only Teenage Wasteland

Sirens are wailing in the bowels that creepy laboratory in the woods, but the sleepy inhabitants of the town nestled in between the trees didn't know about that. They were far too busy with their own, ordinary lives to worry about the supernatural forces threatening their dimension at this very moment.

It would be a shame if something happened that would make the two disparate worlds collide.

Looking out a dirty old window Down below the cars in the city go rushing by I sit here alone and I wonder why

AO3 LINK

Date: November 6th, 1983

Location: Beacon, Indiana

It’s dark outside. Stars twinkle in the velvety black sky above the Beacon National Laboratory. A huge monolith of steel and concrete that sat in stark contrast to the sleepy forest surrounding it.

Crickets were chirping and hopping among the cars still parked in the lot. If they so chose, the insects could have peered through the wide glass door at the entrance to see the lights flickering wildly in the off-white lobby.

If the apparently extremely resourceful crickets had wiggled through the air vents to gain entrance to the lab, they would have found a twisting maze of doors and hallways, all lit only by the same madly flickering fluorescent lights. There were no people.

Deep in the bowels of the eerily empty lab is one such abandoned hallway. The air was heavy down there, and in the air hung a faint scent of chemicals or maybe...ozone? The hall splits, and twists, and turns, eventually leading to a heavy steel door. This door, like the others lining the hall, is rounded slightly and bolted to the wall. Like the doors in a submarine.

Or a bomb shelter.

With a crash a man burst through the door at the end of the hallway. The sound of numerous alarms blaring followed him out of the room and split the silence like a knife through butter. His lab coat billowed in the breeze left behind him as he sprinted down the dimly lit hallway.

The lights reflected dully off the linoleum under his feet as he ran. He glanced behind him to check if that...that thing was following him. The hallway was blessedly empty, but this only set the man’s heart beating faster.

His breath was catching in his throat, and he skidded to a halt in front of the closed elevator doors. Before he’d even stopped, his hand was already battering the call button to the left of the doors. The clicking of the button mingled with the alarms that were still clamoring for attention and only served to increase his panicked need for the elevator to arrive.

A loud bang echoed down the deserted hall behind the scientist, not unlike the one he’d made when he’d barged through the other door. The scientist’s head whipped around to stare, pupils blown wide, down the hall towards the distant sound. The man hadn’t thought it was possible for his heart to pound harder, but he’d learned stranger things today.

Things he’d gone his whole life without knowing, and that he would have gladly continued to not know.

He was still slamming down the button when the doors dinged open. They moved agonizingly slowly. He hopped from foot to foot, glanced over his shoulder one last time, and stumbled the thr finally open elevator doors.

When his instincts forced him to turn to face the open door of the elevator, the scientist felt a curl of anxiety-riddled relief settle in his stomach. The lights were flickering more than ever, the distant alarms had only gotten more frantic, and none of his coworkers had joined him in the elevator. However, the empty hall reassured him that the thing hadn’t followed him.

It had torn Richardson apart.

He’d hated the guy, but still. It’d been tough to watch.

Overhead, the lights flashed fully off for a full second and when they turned on, he thought...he thought he saw a shape. Like a person standing there. But not like any person he’d ever seen working at the labs. There was something wrong with that silhouette, but the brief glimpse he’d gotten of it hadn’t been enough to pin down what was wrong.

As if that shape wasn’t enough, there was a noise. There was...what the actual hell was that noise?! It was deep, and fluttering, and high pitched. Like a growling stomach starved of food, and the chattering of a rabid squirrel all rolled into one. No creature he’d ever heard sounded like that, living or mechanical.

The relief he’d been feeling only moments before dissipated as quickly as water in the hot Indiana summer sun. Dread flooded his system as he slowly turned his face towards the ceiling of what he was rapidly realizing was a very small metal box.

A very small metal box with only one exit, and that one was closing.

Oh God...oh God its face! Its face [REDACTED] and it lifted him into the air. He couldn’t tell if he was screaming or if it was screaming. It sunk its [REDACTED] into his chest. He could feel it [REDACTED]

It was [REDACTED]

It [RED ACT TE D]

[RE D A C

Pop-up sprinklers watered the lawn of a large, lived-in looking house. They sounded remarkably like the thing from the elevator, but the accompanying sounds of the neighborhood displaced any further similarities.

Amber colored street lights hummed softly overhead, a dog barked in the distance, and across the street a car door slammed as someone returned from work. The Arc family station wagon was parked in the driveway, and a pair of bikes could be seen propped in the cluttered garage. One had streamers duct-taped to the handlebars and was covered in brightly coloured decals. The other was dark green, and it had a headlight attached to the front.

Neither of these bikes belonged to the residents of the house, or they would’ve joined the mass of bikes, skateboards, and scooters littering the garage.

With all the smaller vehicles filling the space, it was really no wonder that the car was in the driveway.

“I just...I dunno man.” Lie Ren didn’t even bother looking up from where he was working on homework at the careworn table in the Arc basement. Jaune has had this conversation with himself more times than Ren could count at this point.

He’d learned somewhere in the middle of the sixth one that his friend didn’t need replies to any of his questions. Jaune was perfectly content with just rambling anxiously to himself.

His blonde friend was currently sprawled haphazardly on the couch across the room, lamenting his romantic life. Nora was very pointedly not doing her homework for Glynda’s class, and she was instead opting to rummage through the cabinets in search of who knew what. Ren was writing...well, Ren was attempting to write an essay for Oobleck.

This was proving difficult with Jaune meandering wistfully, and loudly, through all the reasons that Weiss Schnee was amazing. A list of reasons that he’d recited so many times in recent months that Ren had practically memorized it. Nora definitely had, as the past few times she’d perched just out of Jaune’s line of sight and mouthed the words along with him.

“I just don’t know what to do,” he complained, rolling off the couch onto the threadbare carpet with a soft thump. Jaune clambered to his feet, flopped down in the chair across from Ren, and slumped dejectedly. “I’m completely head over heels for her,” he rested his face in one hand, “and she won’t even give me a chance.”

“What about Nikos?” Nora interjected, pushing Ren’s books away so she could perch on the table. Ren glared reproachfully at the redhead and pulled them back towards him.

“Nora, we’ve been over this already,” Jaune grumbled, rolling his eyes. “Me and Pyrrha are just friends.”

“Uh huh, sure,” she said, a cheshire cat grin stretching from ear to ear. Both of them ignored Ren as he absentmindedly corrected the blonde’s grammar. “But she totally likes you.”

“She does not.”

“Does too.”

Apparently Jaune had learned nothing from having siblings, because he immediately retorted, “Does not!” He stood, knocking over his chair, a blush rising on his cheeks.

“Does too! And you-” She jumped up as well, knocking books off the table to join the chair on the floor. The ginger jabbed Jaune in the chest. “-you like her, too!”

Jaune’s blush from before was nothing compared to the red spreading across his face now. “I- I do NOT like her!” he spluttered, his voice cracking and not helping his case.

“Yeah you do,” Nora grinned. “Look at how much you’re blushing, you totally like her!”

“I will have you know that I am blushing because you are embarrassing me, not because I like her,” Jaune retorted, dodging Ren as he crouched to retrieve his books from the floor. “Because I don’t. Like her. I don’t like her.”

Nora just raised an eyebrow, and her too-knowing grin grew somehow wider. Ren glanced up in time to hear Jaune say, “She just helps me with History, that’s all.” He also saw a tell-tale glint of mischief in Nora’s eyes, one that he recognized from years of friendship with the short hyperactive girl and had learned to steer clear of.

Jaune had just opened a metaphorical bees nest.

“Besides, I’ve got a crush on Weiss.” The teen took special; care to emphasize the girl’s name. “So there’s no possible way I could have a crush on the really nice, pretty, friendly-” Nora was making no sign of interrupting him, a feat that Ren knew had to be taking all of her self control “-humble, pretty, popular, pretty girl who helps me with my History homework.”

Why the hell was Nora so smug looking all of a sudden?

“You sure you said ‘pretty’ enough times in your little spiel there, fearless leader?” she snarked, bouncing proudly on her heels in triumph. Upstairs Mr. Arc shouted something about the television not working, and the muffled yells of the numerous Arc daughters echoed down the stairwell into the basement below.

Jaune was suddenly wishing with all his heart and soul that he could blink and be upstairs with them, away from this conversation.

“I didn’t say ‘pretty’ too many times, no way. Or- or at all, in fact!” He was backing away from Nora now, as if she might transform into a tiger or something and suddenly pounce. His face, while it had been bright red before, had now paled to the colour and consistency of old oatmeal. “We’re just friends. Right, Ren? Back me up here.”

“I wasn’t really paying attention, but by my count,” Ren looked up at him over his glasses, a sly look gracing his impassive features, “You did call her ‘pretty’ at least three times in the last minute.”

“Jaune, honey? It’s 9:15, time for your friends to go home!” Mrs. Arc called down the stairs, and her only son took that interjection as an excellent excuse to exit the conversation.

“Hey, Mom?” Jaune called, tripping on a stray book on his way over to the foot of the stairs. He scrambled up them after her while Ren and Nora started gathering their things behind him. “Just twenty more minutes?” he asked, following her into the kitchen.

“Honey, its a school night,” she reminded him, putting leftover casserole in the fridge. “Fifteen after, you know the rules.”

“Yeah, but-”

“But nothing,” she said, a little sharply. “Besides, I just put Violet to bed.” Mrs. Arc raised her tone slightly, using the comment to her son as a reprimand to the four of her daughters that were still awake. Two of them quieted immediately. The twins had the good grace to at least pretend to look sheepish.

“Hey, Dad!” Jaune called into the living room, where Mr. Arc was adjusting the antenna on their television. “Do you think-”

“-I think,” he interrupted, not looking up from what he was doing, “That you should listen to your mother.” Jaune groaned in defeat, and glared when the twins snickered at him.

Downstairs, Ren and Nora were pulling on their coats. They knew from experience that Mrs. Arc wouldn’t let them stay any later on a school night, so they were getting ready to leave before Jaune even got back with confirmation.

“Do you think he actually doesn’t like her?” Nora asked, flipping her hair out from under her collar. “‘Cause like, I don’t even know Pyrrha and I can tell she likes him.”

“I don’t know,” Ren replied, zipping up his backpack and hoisting it onto his back. “Maybe you should actually try talking to her before you start coupling her up with him.”

Nora placed a hand to her chest in mock surprise. “Why Ren! Is that sass I hear?”

“It might be,” he replied evasively, smiling softly.

“But honestly,” Nora continued, as if they hadn’t gotten sidetracked. “They would be great together.” She reached up to fix his collar, and neither of them noticed his eyes following her hand, or the way she paused just a moment longer than necessary. “How dumb do two people have to be not to realize they like each other?” Nora asked, glancing up at him.

Ren didn’t reply, and the moment stretched on for an uncomfortably long amount of time.

The door at the top of the stairs banged open, and Ren and Nora leapt away from each other like they’d just been caught doing something they shouldn't have. The moment broke, and Jaune called down, “Mom and Dad say you can’t stay later, sorry guys.”

“Yup, that’s what we thought they’d say,” Nora said, trying too hard to act as if nothing had happened while their friend had been gone. “So we got all ready to go ahead of time,” she continued, bouncing up the stairs. She glanced behind her when she reached the top to confirm that Ren was following, and then she made her way to the garage.

“Thank you for letting us come over, Mrs. Ar,” said Ren, passing the woman in the kitchen.

“Oh, anytime,” she replied and gave Nora a passing wave. “Oh, Lie, I’ve got something for you,” she said abruptly, ducking into the fridge to grab something. With her view blocked by the door, she missed the uncomfortable squirm Ren gave when she called him by his first name.

She stood back up and passed him a tupperware over the head of one of her daughters. “Here.”

He peeked under the lid and cocked an eyebrow. “Cookies?”

“I thought Nora might like them.” Mrs. Arc sounded very proud of herself, so he decided not to mention that Nora could not be allowed to eat this much sugar in one sitting. The chocolate chips in them were also a big no after “The Incident.”

Nora didn’t think it was that big of a deal, but if something like that happened again, Ren and Jaune wouldn’t have enough pocket money to make bail.

“Ren, come on!” Said teen jerked his head towards the door when Nora called his name. Ren said a quick thank you to Mrs. Arc and sidled awkwardly past Jaune out the side door into the garage.

“What was taking so long?” Jaune asked, leaning out of the way so his friend could pass. “Everything okay?” Ren just held up the tupperware as an answer, and the blonde rolled his eyes. “Of course. Mom’s very proud. Took her six batches to not burn them.”

“I figured,” Ren replied, shoving the plastic tub in his backpack where it clunked against his books.

“Nothing your mom makes could be as bad as Ren’s ‘health shakes’,” Nora jabbed from her spot by the door, using her fingers to make quotes.

“Algae contains-”

“-Contains numerous spectacular properties, we know.”

“All the same,” he said, swinging one leg over his bike and sitting down, “We’ll see you tomorrow at school, Jaune.”

Nora did the same, and added, “Yeah and get some sleep, you look like shit.”

“Wow thanks Nora, way to make a guy feel loved,” Jaune replied dryly, leaning on the doorframe, “Sadly I’ve got a late night tonight. Still gotta finish up that essay Cardin needed me to write.” He shoved his hands in his pockets and markedly wouldn’t meet the pair’s eyes.

Ren and Nora shared a look. “Jaune, you have to report him, “ advised Ren in a more serious tone than was really necessary, flicking on the headlight affixed to his handlebars.

Jaune nodded noncommittally and kept his eyes on his sneakers as if they held all the answers in the world. “Guys, I’m fine,” he said, sounding more like he was trying to convince himself than convince them. “Besides, it’s not like Cardin being a jerk is exactly news.”

“Doesn’t matter,” Nora argued, pulling on her gloves, “he’s been pushing you around since we met you, and probably before that, too.” She grinned, and met his eyes as he looked up, “And if he doesn’t start leaving you alone this year, we’ll break his legs.”

Jaune rolled his eyes and waved them off. “Yeah yeah, thanks, I’ll be fine,” he said, “Now you should probably leave before my mom finds out you’re still here and freaks out or something.” He was deflecting. He knew it, and he knew they knew it, too. But that was a problem for future Jaune.

Nora kicked up the kickstand on her bike and sped down the driveway, with a parting, “See you nerds later!” echoing after her. She only narrowly missed colliding with the station wagon parked there.

Ren started to follow her, but he paused on the threshold of the garage. He looked back to Jaune and said, “You need to tell someone.”

The blonde startled at the intense and slightly off-putting stare Ren was giving him. Then he slumped a little where he was standing and nodded. “I will, tomorrow,” he promised.

Ren nodded and smiled a little. “Good,” he said, hiked his backpack a little higher on his shoulders, and started off down the driveway with a soft, “See you tomorrow.”

As he drove off, the flood lights over the garage and the porch lights flicked off twice before finally turning back on. Jaune leaned out of the garage and squinted at them for a moment. “Stupid faulty wiring,” he muttered, as he flipped the switch to turn them off and went back inside.

Ren pedaled down the road, occasionally passing other jacketed teens and kids walking or biking to and fro. Nora had waited for him for a little while, but soon enough she had peeled away from him to swerve down another road. Fallen leaves had kicked up and swirled in her path, but they settled back down to the ground soon enough.

Before long, Ren was alone, his light shining through the darkness. The beam it cast carved a path down the deserted streets as he pedaled back to his house. He lived alone, so it wasn’t like he would get in trouble if he was late, but the temperature was dropping rapidly and that alone was enough to spur him onwards.

He turned the corner onto his road, passing by the fence that separated the town from the lab. With the cold rising, he might’ve taken whatever punishment the Department of Energy could dish out for his trespassing if it meant he got inside sooner. As it was, he shrugged his backpack a little higher on his shoulders and wished he had a free hand to push his glasses back up on his nose. The fog that was rising was doing his already poor vision no favors.

Then his light turned off.

He hadn’t turned it off, but off it was. Ren glanced down at it to make sure that the bulb hadn’t come loose or something like that. No, it was still there. Probably just burnt out.

Wait...it was back on. Must’ve just come loose from a bump in the road, and then it settled back to its correct place. He’d take a look at it when he got home. He returned his gaze to the road and-

-What the hell?!

Before Ren knew what he was doing, he had swerved off the road into the woods. His bike tipped over and he landed sprawled on the ground with a groan. Some idiot had just been standing in the middle of the road!

Some idiot that was wearing no clothes, was pitch black...with limbs too long and fingers that came to sharp points. And its face...Ren could swear...he could swear that it didn’t have a face. Like something out of a freaking horror film.

He could hear it. A growling chittering something from where he’d seen the thing in the road. He slowly raised his gaze to where he’d seen it just before he’d swerved. The thing was still there, in all its otherworldly glory. The fog and the darkness were hiding any distinct features, but he saw enough to freak him right the hell out.

As his eyes fell on its indistinct form, he felt himself freeze. Instincts battled within him. One side was telling him to run as far and as fast as he could. The other more logical side was telling him that this thing had appeared out of nowhere and he hadn’t heard or seen it coming. There would be no outrunning this.

All debate went out the window when its growling raised in volume and it turned to face exactly where he’d fallen.

Screw logic, he was running.

He scrambled to his feet and stumbled backwards a few feet before he turned and high-tailed it out of there. Leaves crunched under his feet, his backpack slapped in a dull rhythm against his back, and the fog rose like a wall in front of him. Ren was already sprinting along the trail that led past the Xiao Long cabin when he realized that he’d left his bike behind.

With his inhales catching in his throat, and his breath coming out in short panicked gasps, he came to a conclusion: The monster could have his bike, he wasn’t going back.

When he got to his house, he blessed every god he could think of that he hadn’t left his keys behind. Ren slammed them into the keyhole, nearly snapping them off in his haste, and yanked the door open. It ran into the wall hard, but he had no time to check if the wall was damaged.

The lights were still on in the living room and the kitchen, so at least he had that going for him. As soon as he got through the door, Ren turned and scrambled to hook the chain lock into its track. He doubted the thin brass chain would do much to stop that thing which huge it was, but he could dream couldn’t he?

Nobody was home, as he knew would be the case, but he suddenly found himself wishing that he didn’t live so alone.

Ren skidded, and nearly fell, on the cracking tiles in his kitchen as he rushed to lock the back door. The window in the door was nearly entirely fogged over, but he pressed his nose to it anyway in a desperate attempt to see if the thing was out there.

Please don’t be there, please don’t be there, please don’t-

No...oh God please no-

It emerged from the shadows the trees cast on the leaf strewn ground. It was coming for him, whether it was was walking, or gliding, or whatever he couldn’t tell with the fog. He had a clear enough look at at it now to determine that he was well and truly fucked.

His eyes widened under his thick framed glasses and he launched himself away from the window with a choked gasp. The time it took for him to get from the window to the phone was too long, but he had to call someone. Who knew what that thing was going to do to him?

Ren snatched the yellow plastic phone from its holder on the wall, and cursed quietly at the rotary dial. He couldn’t call Nora, she didn’t have a phone. He’d just have to pray that anyone at Jaune’s house was still awake.

It connected. Thank Christ it connected! “Hello? Hello?!” The cracks running through his voice underlined the fear he felt, and the adrenaline coursing through his veins had sent his voice shaking. If he was shaking hard enough to fall apart, Ren was sure that he’d be crying.

Nothing. No one answered. There was only static. Static and...what the everloving hell was that?! His receiver was picking up static, and some kind of animal screeching or growling. Or more accurately some ungodly combination of the two.

He took an involuntary step away from phone housing, the receiver still clutched in a white-knuckled grasp. Hairs rose on the back of his neck, and Ren inched around the corner so he could see the front door.

For one god-given moment, there wasn’t anything to be seen through the rippled glass. Then as he stood, stock- still, phone still clutched to his ear, he saw it. An indistinct shape. A shadow passed over the window, blocking out the light of the solitary street light outside and standing taller than any human he knew.

‘The chain lock,’ he thought desperately, eyes locked on the tiny metal chain that might be his last chance.

It-

It was moving?!

The bit, or whatever it was called, was moving in its track on its own accord. Unlocking the door. As his eyes followed its impossible journey, he had the insane thought that this was hardly fair. That thing was breaking the rules.

What rules those were, he didn’t have the faintest idea, but it was definitely breaking them.

When the bit finally fell out of its track and officially unlocked the door, much to Ren’s never ending disbelief, he dropped the phone and scrambled away from the front door. The phone dropped, but its cord kept it from hitting the floor, and the dial tone it was emitting only served to remind Ren that nobody was coming to help him.

Without a conscious decision of where to go, he found himself in his kitchen. Maybe it was because this was the only other room with light. Maybe it was because this was the furthest room from the front door and the thing he could hear slowly pacing towards him.

Or maybe it was because this was the closest room he could get to that he could get a weapon. Ren dove across the room for the drawer, and rummaged in it for something, anything.

His hand closed on a knife, smaller than he would’ve liked, but he didn’t have time to find a better one. Ren stood, shaking so badly it was a miracle he didn’t drop the damn knife, and faced the door. It was the only entrance to the room. The thing would have to come in that way.

The kitchen light flickered. It flashed on and off, making it difficult to see. Not that it would have mattered if he could see, because he could hear it now. That growling, chittering, mess of a noise it made.

And it was coming from behind him.

He felt his heart drop right out of his chest and settle somewhere down near his feet. Slowly Ren turned, pink-tinged pupils blown wide in fear. The hand holding the knife dropped limply to one side when he saw it.

‘It’s too bright,’ he thought distantly as he gazed at the impossible and unholy creature looming over him. The kitchen light hanging over the table wasn’t flickering anymore, now it was glowing. Glowing brighter than it ever had before, flooding the room with light. It was blinding, and the creature was screeching, or maybe he was screaming.

And then, it was gone. The light went back to its normal level of luminosity, and the sound stopped. The monster was gone, but then again, so was Lie Ren.

The kitchen was empty.