#makes me cry scream weep wail every time

[binch-i-might-be]

hey guys idk if you're aware of this but when you pet rats they will literally make little sounds. because they like it so much

[justaz]

ygraine gives birth to a quiet child. the babe does not scream, cry, or wail when it is born. one of the midwives take the bloody babe and holds it against her chest and she rubs its back and urges it to breathe. gaius is hidden beneath her dress and he tends to her wounds that sap her strength with every gush of blood. nimueh sits beside her, holding her hand as she takes in gasping breaths, recovering from the painful and exhausting ordeal of birthing a child. nimueh’s hand is running through her hair as she whispers praises in her ear that she cannot hear.

the room begins to darken as she leans against nimueh. her vision tunnels to a golden scene hovering in the air above her. she sees a young man with golden hair and bright blue eyes. he sits atop a throne with a golden crown nestled on his head. beside him is a figure that is obscured, their features hidden from her view but she can tell they are powerful. the image in the air shifts between the two people, flipping like a coin in the air, the golden king on one side and the cloaked figure on the other. the coin slowly picks up speed until the two figures blur together.

from the distorted image, three women appear and whisper a prophecy to her, a familiar one that has been told for millennia - more a fairy tale now than the words of a seer. as the women speak each line of the prophecy, one after the other, their voices combine into one as they whisper to her “behold the once and future king, arthur pendragon”

“do you see that?” she feels herself mumble as the three women disappear and the coin begins to slow once more. the two men come back into view, now side by side, “oh, its beautiful,” she murmurs, “look at him, nimueh. my son, my son…so beautiful.” arthur shifts his gaze to meet her own and suddenly the golden visage begins to rot. his regal robes fall apart, his crown rusts, the castle around him begins to decay and collapse into rubble.

arthur begins to cry like a child, unfitting for a man of his age. he shrinks to a young boy, perhaps seven, and stands next to his father, uther, as he addresses a crowd. he stands tall and proud though it is clear something has happened. his expression is cold and unfeeling until his gaze shifts down to someone in the square and pure hatred fills his eyes. the vision moves back and allows ygraine to watch as a young woman is tied to a pyre, screaming and crying and begging and pleading for her life.

“this woman has been found guilty for the crime of sorcery,” uther’s voice commands attention though his words make no sense to her. sorcery a crime? what nonsense. uther continues, “for such a crime, the punishment is and will always be death.” he nods down at the executioner who ushers forward and lights the wood of the pyre. knights follow suit and soon the woman is screaming in agony as flames engulf her.

arthur lowers his head and averts his gaze but uther grabs his chin and pulls his face up, “watch,” he orders him, “they killed your mother. they deserve this.” young arthur has tears in his eyes but he does not let them fall. he squares his shoulders and stares down at the woman as she is burnt to a crisp. when the screaming finally stops, young arthur shifts his gaze up to hers.

“i’m sorry,” he whispers, “please, save me.”

ygraine can hear her cries as the vision dissipates, her wails and denials. nimueh holds her close and whispers how she needs patience, her child will breathe yet. ygraine feels even more of her strength sap away and she understands. the deal uther made with nimueh, it called for a death to create a life. she knows now that it is her life that will be reaped in exchange. she does not have time to weep.

she turns to nimueh, “protect him,” she squeezes her hand, “you have to protect him.” she pleads. nimueh does not understand. how could she? ygraine squeezes her hand harder than she had in childbirth, “promise me, nimueh. you won’t let uther corrupt him. you won’t let him harm my son.” nimueh looks down at gaius who peeks over her dress, sorrow in his gaze and shakes his head. ygraine sobs once more, “promise me, nimueh!”

the high priestess turns back to her, “i promise, my lady, but rest assured king uther will not harm a hair on your child’s head.”

ygraine shakes her head, her body has gone numb, “you don’t understand. he will never be the same. you have to protect him. you have to protect arthur.”

nimueh nods, her expression trouble, “i promise, ygraine. i will protect arthur.”

ygraine smiles through her tears, the pain and sorrow fading as she grew weaker. nimueh’s expression grows panicked but the last thing she hears is her beautiful son’s cries.

nimueh didn’t understand ygraine’s wish until uther learned of his wife’s fate. she had expected sobbing, falling to his knees, or begging the gods. she didn’t expect the rage, though it was understandable, and she definitely didn’t expect the vitriol he spat at her, blaming her for ygraine’s passing. despite the protests that fell from her lips, she knew he was right. it was her magic from a deal she offered him that took her life.

her magic claimed ygraine’s life in her chambers. she held her in her arms as she died and could do nothing to save her. the last thing she saw when she died was nimueh, helpless to do anything to stop what she had put in motion.

uther called for his guards to round up all magic users and have them punished. gaius, a man who was always a bit selfish, surrendered to uther, denounced sorcery and magic and was forgiven for his past “treachery”. when he turned to nimueh, she knew even if she had denounced magic, he would never forgive her for what happened. he ordered his guards to have her taken to the dungeons in cold iron and spat that she would burn in the morning.

it didn’t take much magic to disappear from the throne room and reappear out in the halls. she strode through the castle up to the nursery where little arthur was to reside. something in uther shattered in that room, he cursed magic users and called them monsters, beasts meant to be hunted and killed. she wouldn’t know if he truly meant to go through with it until the first execution but she was not waiting that long.

ygraine’s last wish had been for her to protect arthur, to protect him from his father. when she had said that, she had assumed the queen was delirious from pain and blood loss. now she understood. the triple goddess had blessed her with knowledge before her passing. and with that knowledge, she begged nimueh to protect arthur from uther. nimueh would not wait until it was too late, she would not sit back and let fate have it’s way, she would not let ygraine down again.

nimueh greeted the wetnurse with a smile. the woman smiled kindly up at her and she politely requested arthur and asked her to leave. the woman was hesitant but a subtle spell over her mind guided her out and away from the room. nimueh stared down at little arthur’s face. he had thin strands of white hair that was sure to thicken and darken as he grew. he had ygraine’s nose and lips. when he blinked his eyes open it was like she was staring down at the late queen.

the sound of guards pounding down the hall alerted her of her precarious situation once more and she did not waste another second before fleeing. she held arthur tight to her chest as she fled the castle and wormed her way through the citadel. no one looked twice at her, the average citizen unaware that their queen had had a child and died just that morning.

nimueh traveled as fast as she could back to her island. she warned her sisters that resided on the island of what uther meant to do. they did not take his threats seriously until they scried and saw uther slaughtering hundreds of magic users in the coming weeks. nimueh and her sisters helped raise arthur until an attack was launched on the isle itself. she and arthur remained under the castle while the other high priestesses fought back against the armies storming their home. one of her sisters stumbled down into the room, beaten and bloodied.

“they’ve won,” she slurred, “the isle of the blessed has fallen. you must go, protect the child. do not let him fall into uther’s hands.” she cast her magic to form a gateway for nimueh and arthur, “i do not have much strength to hold this, sister. go now.” nimueh left her home behind. she heard two weeks later that the castle had been burnt and crumbled to rubble.

nimueh and arthur traveled the land, hopping from place to place and never settling for long as camelot knights were soon to follow. arthur grew quicker than she thought possible and she knew she had to settle down somewhere, yet she knew that if she were to settle in a village or town, it would only be a matter of time before camelot found them.

it took time and energy and lots of magic, but she created a cottage in the woods, hidden by wards to divert any visitors. she and arthur both learned to live off the land, to grow what they needed and survive on their own. he always found her magic fascinating and loved to watch her cast spells. since he was born from a deal she made, his very being was fused together with her own magic, marking him as hers.

he called her mama and she called him son. she told him of his other mother, ygraine, of how she gave birth to him but perished before she could meet him. she told him that she knew ygraine was proud of him because she was proud of him. arthur always wished to explore the world outside of their haven but nimueh’s paranoia kept him close.

it wasn’t until one day when arthur was ten that something changed. nimueh had been on her way out to tend to their crops when she heard arthur laughing and playing. she smiled to herself as she continued on her way. until she heard another voice, a higher voice belonging to what sounded like a child.

nimueh dropped her tools and rushed around the lawn to find arthur on the edge of their haven playing with a boy a couple of years younger than him with a mop of black hair and wide blue eyes. the boy was also inside their haven. he had gotten past her wards. he was dangerous. nimueh dashed forward and grabbed arthur, tugging him behind her as she assessed the boy. arthur complained behind her and begged her to let him stay. the boy stood up on shaky legs and didn’t bother dusting off his trousers.

“hi!” he waved a hand, a goofy smile on his face, “my mom’s busy at the market so i came to play in the woods. arthur and i were just about to play will and i’s favorite game, knight and princess. will always makes me be the princess but arthur wanted to be the princess this time so i really, really, really wanna play with him. do you wanna join? you can be…the dragon guarding the princess!! oh, you already are. are we playing now? hold on, let me get a stick so i can-“

“who are you?” nimueh finally cut off his rambling. she wasn’t sure how a child, or anyone for that matter, could talk so fast and endlessly without taking a breath. her fear eased as she recognized that he truly was just a child, but she still remained wary as he had somehow found his way past her wardings.

“oh, sorry! my mom always says i have to be more polite but i always am so i never understand what she means.” he blinked and shook his head before grinning up at her, showing off his missing tooth in the top corner of his mouth, “i’m merlin!”

[cntloup]

Queen!Reader x Knight!Ghost

Part 1 | Part 2

"Where's Simon?" you mumble hazily as soon as you wake up.

"He’s in the war room, attending to his duties, your grace. He left so you could get some rest." your maid answers.

You open your mouth to say that you wish to see him, but close it on second thought.

You've been sleeping most of the time since your miscarriage a few days ago and when you're awake, you only wail and sob.

The thought prevents you from calling to him. You don't want to trouble him any further.

He's grieving as well, and you can't even look him in the eyes. The guilt and shame is too much for you to bear.

You've also been experiencing an immense pain in your lower abdomen which comes and goes, some light bleeding, dizziness and fatigue.

All of which you tried your hardest to hide from him, leaving the room whenever he's present as much as it pains you, but it would hurt you more to put that burden on his shoulders.

You spend all day in bed as every other day, the nurses attending to your pain.

Until night falls and he returns.

You shuffle out of bed with great difficulty, barely standing on your feet until you stumble and nearly collapse on the ground but he's there to catch you in his arms.

And it makes your heart crumble in your chest. It's the first time he’s touched you since that day. But none of it is his fault. You've been avoiding him.

"Love..." he mutters with concern, "What’s wrong?"

"Nothing is wrong." you make a quick excuse that you need to leave for your nightly routine, but he persists.

"Wait. Please. Talk to me, love." he pleads desperately to have his wife back.

"There's nothing to talk about, Simon." you respond coldly and leave the room.

The moment you close the door behind you, you clutch your belly in your hands and let out a silent scream.

But you don't know from the pain in your abdomen or your heart.

You spend the night in another room, not in your bed, not with your husband, but alone.

You don't get much sleep as the ache in your heart becomes unbearable.

You truly miss him.

The gates to the room open and you gasp, startled.

But then your eyes land on him, hair disheveled and eyes puffy and red.

Your gaze softens and tears form in your eyes.

"Love, please. Don't run away this time." he implores, voice almost breaking with a sob.

He lies down beside you, refraining from touching you in case it makes you uncomfortable, or makes you run like a frightened animal.

You sit in silence for a while. This is the most time you've spent together since that day.

"Tell me what's wrong, love. I am worried about you. Please." he pleads again, turning to look at you through glossy eyes.

You don't dare to meet his gaze as you cry silently.

He slowly reaches to wipe your tears, his touch so soft and tender so as not to startle you.

Until you can’t hold back your sobs anymore.

You throw yourself in his arms and wail at the top of your lungs, for the loss of your child, for the pain you have endured all this time, alone, and for missing him.

And he holds you so delicately as you weep together.

And you tell him. All the things you've been hiding from him.

And it only makes him hold you tighter.

[babydollmarauders]

FIGHT — JACK HUGHES

part of the el!hughes au

summary: y/n (lovie) and jack get into their biggest fight yet

warnings: fighting, mention of bad parents (lovie’s)

my head slumps on the back of the couch as Eleanor’s cries pierce my eardrums.

“El, baby, c’mon.” i groan out.

my recently turned one year old is sprawled out on the apartment floor, throwing a fit over something of which i have no idea.

i tried to pick her up, but she just kept pushing my hands away, screaming ‘mama! no! mama, no! no, mama!’

it’s been two weeks of this, and i have a sneaking suspicion that her constant sour mood has been all because of the particular absence of her favorite person. Jack.

it’s been two weeks of early wake-ups and late nights. two weeks of El having meltdowns if i mess up even one thing, like giving her cheetos in a bowl instead of her snack cup, or suggesting Moana instead of watching Lilo & Stitch for the billionth time, or reading her the wrong book at bed time. it’s been two weeks of sleep regression, no naps, and her throwing her food every chance she gets. two weeks of her screaming if i try and leave the room, but screaming if i try and pick her up as well. two weeks of bags under my eyes, messy buns because my hair is horribly greasy, and surviving purely on coffee.

i’m tired. my feet hurt because every time i sit, El screams at me. my head hurts from her screaming. and now my stomach cramps because i, of course, both started my period, and have not had a moment to eat all day. i’ve broken down in tears nearly every night once i finally get El to sleep, because i don’t know how much more of this i can take.

tears well up in my eyes at this very moment, and it takes everything in me to hold back my own screams. not necessarily directed at my daughter, but just in frustration. i can’t think clearly. it’s nearing midnight and i’ve tried everything to get her to sleep, but she just keeps fighting it.

i know she’s tired, just like i am. she’s been up since five in the morning, which means so have i.

“i give up.” i cry out, burying my face in my hands, weeping into them in frustration and exhaustion. “i get it, El. you want your father. i know. please, i know.”

El’s cries pause and i peek through my fingers to see her watching me with a tilted head, before she bursts back into tears.

i steel my spine, wiping my own tears, and strengthening myself. i rise from the couch, scooping my daughter up, despite her smacks to my chest and pulls on my now-falling-out bun, and shuffle towards her bedroom.

going for the last ditch effort, i grab the hidden pacifier in her top dresser drawer, and pop it into her mouth before turning on the white noise machine in the corner and placing her in her crib.

i gaze down at her, watching as she yawns, tears still slipping from her eyes. her eyelids flutter closed before she pries them back open and stares back at me.

“Eleanor Elizabeth Hughes, you have to sleep.” i scold in a whisper.

retreating from the room, closing the door and listening for her wails; i nearly cry in relief when nothing comes. nothing but silence and the sound of the white noise.

my feet pad across the wooden floors as i walk to the kitchen, keeping an ear out for El’s possible whines. too drained to make myself anything sustainable, i settle for a yogurt cup and a cheese stick. bringing my snacks with me into Jack and i’s bedroom, i settle under the blankets.

i have no energy to put into paying attention to a show or movie, and not nearly enough to read a book; so i sit in silence, staring at the wall as i eat.

placing the now empty yogurt cup on my nightstand, i pick at the cheese stick, lost in thought.

i’m struggling.

i feel like a single parent half the time.

i’m not sure how actual single parents do it. the ones who have to work and take care of their children. because parenting in and of itself is a full time job.

i know it’s not fair of me to think so little of myself, but i can’t help feeling like a horrible mother. she never wants me anymore; only ever yearning for Jack.

and i get it. i yearn for him too when he’s gone.

but can’t she be happy with me?

i miss the sound of the front door shutting; too deep in my own head. too far gone in my own thoughts.

but i do hear the not-so-hushed whispers of my husband and his brother as they venture farther into the apartment.

i hear the ‘goodnight.’ from Luke before his bedroom door shuts. i hear the nursery door opening, the white noise from the room getting louder. and then a few minutes later, i hear the nursery door click shut and the sound of my husbands footsteps getting closer down the hall before our bedroom door opens.

my cheese stick is long gone, and my fingers now settle for playing with each other. my nails picking at the others as i still sit in a catatonic state of exhaustion; staring at the wall in front of me.

Jack lets out a breath of surprise when he notices i’m awake in the dim lighting of the bedside lamp.

“hey, lovie.” he leans down, his fists pressing down on the mattress top, and lays a swift kiss on my cheek before rising back up to his full height.

i glance over as he throws Eleanor’s pacifier onto his nightstand.

“i thought we agreed no more pacifiers when she turned one? she hasn’t had one in the past month.” he huffs, stripping his shirt off and throwing it towards the hamper in the corner of the bedroom, narrowly missing by an inch. he eyes the shirt for a millisecond before shrugging and repeating the process with his pants, this time making it in the hamper.

“yeah, well, you weren’t here to attend to her screams and i was.” i retort.

“so you resorted to the paci?” he questions, pulling a pair of flannel pajama pants out of his dresser drawer.

“stop mom-shaming me.” i snap, scooting down and flopping onto my side, my back facing Jack.

“lovie.” he sighs. the bed dips as he sits behind me. “that’s not what i was doing.”

“yes. you were.” i accuse. “you’re saying i’m a bad mom for giving my daughter what she needed in order to fall asleep.”

i turn in the bed to look up at him and he parts his lips to speak, but i keep going.

“but you weren’t here, Jack. you didn’t hear her cries, or have to try every trick in the book to calm her down. you weren’t awake with her for nineteen hours with no nap only to still have her fight bed time. so, yes, i resorted to the pacifier. and ya know what? it worked.”

“i get that you’re in a bad mood, but why are you taking it out on me? i wasn’t even here for you to get angry at me.” he remarks.

“i’m not.” i deny, closing my eyes and hoping he’ll take it as a sign to just let me sleep.

“you are.” he grunts. “and it makes me feel like i’m the bad guy for doing my job.”

“well, i wouldn't have to do this all alone if it weren't for your fucking job.” i know as soon as i say it that my words were uncalled for. but, before i can take them back, Jack stands from the bed, making my eyes fly open to look at him.

“do i not help when i’m home? i’m so sorry that me providing for our family is so hard for you.” he sneers. his sarcasm is not appreciated, and i sit up in the bed in anger. “i’m so sorry that you have to be a mother, while i’m gone making money so that you don’t have to work.”

i shuffle onto my knees on the bed, glaring daggers at my husband.

“when have i ever complained about being a mother? and when have i ever said that i don’t want to work? i never asked to stay at home! but it’s what i do, because not both of us can work without putting El in daycare. which you said you didn’t want to do.”

my finger juts at my chest before poking his. my words harsh in delivery, but quiet in attempt to not disturb the sleeping baby down the hall.

“i never once complained about being a mother. i love her.” i continue.

“are you implying that i don’t love her?” Jack fumes.

“i never said that!” i cry. “you’re putting words into my mouth!”

“i’m just trying to provide for us!” our attempted quiet is long forgotten now, and i can only hope that the white noise in El’s room is enough to mask our argument.

“you think i don’t know that?” i exclaim, he opens his mouth but i don’t let him get a word in. “i’m just saying that you don’t understand how exhausting it is being a single parent half the fucking hockey season! you leave and play games and go out to fucking bars to celebrate wins and i stay here and take care of our daughter, who for the past two weeks, only wanted you!”

Jack throws his hands up in the air, huffing in anger.

“well, i can’t help that! i get that it’s hard, but you’d think you’d be a bit more grateful. it’s part of my job to leave, y/n!”

of everything he’s said, it’s those words that cut me the deepest. and what hurts the most, as small as it may seem, is that within all of our fights, big or small, throughout our entire six years together, never once has he called me by my name while we fought.

it’s always ‘lovie’.

but suddenly, i’m ‘y/n’.

i lower myself onto my butt on the mattress. tears are streaming down my cheeks and i try to wipe them away before Jack can see them.

“now you’re gonna cry?” he lowers himself onto the bed and i push myself off of it in order to gain distance, now standing a couple feet away.

“i quit.” my voice is quiet and surrendered, my words sheltered. i watch as his face drops, lips parting in shock.

“what?” he mumbles, his eyes softening.

i shake my head, letting my tears flow freely now as i round the bed and i head toward the cracked open door.

“where are you going?” he questions, his tone still holding a dash of anger.

“to sleep in Luke’s room.” i reply. he calls after me but his words fall on deaf ears.

i need space.

i don’t bother knocking on Luke’s door, opening it to find him just now sitting down in bed, his hair wet and leftover steam drifting from his en-suite bathroom.

his head snaps over to the door as i close it, and at the sight of my tears, he pats the bed beside him.

a sob racks my chest as i crawl into bed with the boy i look at as a brother. he pulls me into his side, no words spoken between us as he rubs a hand over my hair, letting me cry into his chest and soak his plain white t-shirt.

a muffled cry escapes my lips and he squeezes me tighter, pressing a kiss to my scalp. nothing needs to be said, no words needed to be shared, just quiet shushes and his hand rubbing up and down my back, the other still holding my head tight to his chest in grounding.

i’m not sure how long passes before i cry myself to sleep, Jack’s words echoing on a loop inside my head.

‘you’d think you’d be a bit more grateful.’

***

i’m unsure what time it is when i awake, but Luke is gone from the bed, and the sun peeks through the bedroom window.

i know Luke and Jack have the day off, so if Luke is already up, then i must have slept in later than i usually do.

despite the apparent long sleep, i don’t feel as well rested as i should. my eyes flutter shut for a few moments, but at the sound of the familiar squeal of excitement from my daughter, drifting in through the crack in the door, my eyes fly back open.

i kick my legs free from the tangle of blankets and throw them over the side of the bed, peeling my tired body up off the mattress. i rub my eyes as i walk over to Luke’s bathroom, ignoring the mess amongst the counter and looking in the mirror.

my eyes are still red and puffy from crying, and i turn on the faucet, cupping my hands under the cold running water and splashing it on my face before drying it with the hand towel that’s thrown haphazardly on the counter.

exiting the bathroom and bedroom, i’m immediately met with the sight of El’s smiling face bounding down the hall. her chubby little legs wobble as she runs.

“mama! dada!” she squeals, motioning behind her. a grin overtakes my lips at her excitement.

“yeah? is dada home?” i ask with a laugh as she runs smack into my legs, reaching up with grabby hands.

my heart melts in my chest. for the first time in two weeks, she wants me.

“mama! dada!” she repeats as i hoist her up, lifting her above my head and rejoicing in her giggles.

my eyes are all too soon drawn to my husband at the end of the hall. he stands leaned against the wall with his arms crossed, a faint smile on his lips while my own falls at the sight of him.

our fight replays in my mind; flashes of his red face and his defensive stance. echoes of his harsh tone and his cruel words.

Jack approaches us, leaning down to press a kiss to my lips, but i shift my face, his lips landing on my cheek instead. pulling back, his face falls, hurt shining in his eyes. it hurts me to see him upset, but i can’t bring myself to feel too bad, as i, too, am hurting.

i maneuver around him, padding down the hallway with El in my arms, making my way to the open layout of the living room and kitchen.

Luke is sat on the couch, eyes on his phone while Lilo & Stitch plays on the tv, and i flop down beside him. El crawls into his lap, pushing his phone out of the way and pushing her smiling face into his line of sight. i watch his eyes light up, sliding his phone into his pocket and tickling her sides.

a laugh escapes my lips as he lifts El upside down in front of his face, making her giggle contagiously. but once again, my lips fall back straight as Jack enters the room again.

the day continues like this, living amicably with Jack, but not happily. as the day goes on, the more i reflect on our fight the night prior, and the worse i feel. i was in the wrong. i knew that last night and i know it now.

i know leaving El is hard for him, just as taking care of her without him is hard for me. but my guilt doesn’t erase his words.

i know he didn’t mean it, just as he knows that i didn’t mean mine, but it still hurts. he cut deep. he accused me of being ungrateful, the very same thing he knows my parents called me when i told them i was moving out.

‘you’re so ungrateful. we offered you to keep living with us even after your graduation, and you’d rather move out with your unstable little boyfriend than live with the people who raised you. well, don’t come crawling back to us, we don’t take ungrateful children.’

a lump grows in my throat as i compare the fights. it’s nine at night and Jack is in El’s room, putting her to sleep, Luke long having retired to his own bedroom, leaving me alone on the couch. my knees are pulled up to my chest, my arms hugging them tight, as tears stream down my cheeks.

a small part of me tells me i should apologize. i know if i do, he will too. he already seems to want to move past it.

but the larger part of me says to wait. to let him apologize to me. to make him acknowledge that we fought. instead of brushing past it like it never happened.

Jack strides into the living room, child free, and it’s the first time we’ve really been alone together all day.

i avoid his gaze, rather wiping my tears and averting my eyes to the television, which still plays the credits of The Little Mermaid from our before bedtime movie.

he sighs, taking a seat on the opposite side of the couch. his hand reaches out to graze my leg and i flinch at the soft touch. the larger part of me wins and i rise from the couch, stalking off to our bedroom and away from him.

i quickly change into my pajamas, hoping to be out of the bedroom before he comes in, but i’m not so lucky.

he enters the room as i’m pulling my t-shirt over my head. my t-shirt. not his. he notices this change quickly and shakes his head.

he stands silently, his back leaning against the now closed door as i pull on sweatpants, watching my every move.

i move to the en-suite bathroom when i’m done. making quick work of washing my face and brushing my teeth. when i finally finish with my nightly routine, i head back out to the still blocked bedroom door.

Jack eyes me up and down, and a quick wetting of his lips tells me he’s horny, but i laugh inside at the thought.

does me angry and upset, turn him on? does he really think he has any chance of getting lucky tonight when he hasn’t even apologized?

“can you move?” i huff, crossing my arms.

“where are you going now?” he questions, shaking his head.

“Luke’s room. again.”

“you know we have a bed, right? the one you were in last night before you left me alone in here.” his words twist my heart, but i stand my ground.

“oh, you mean the same bed i was sitting in when you implied that i’m ungrateful and selfish?” i mock, tilting my head.

“lovie.” his tone is defensive enough to let me know that he doesn’t plan on apologizing tonight, so rather than waiting and hoping for Jack to move, i push him aside lightly with my shoulder and slip through the door.

i knock lightly on Luke’s door and it doesn’t take long for him to open it, letting me slip through into the room.

“you guys are still fighting?” Luke asks, shutting the door and walking over to sit on his bed.

“i promise, this is the last time i’ll sleep in your room. if we’re still fighting tomorrow night, i’ll sleep on the couch.” i assure him, crawling up the bed and laying on my side, facing him.

“i don’t have a problem with you sleeping in here, lovie.” he sighs, laying down on his side so that we lay face to face. “i’ve just never seen you guys fight like this, ya know? you guys are usually so in love, it just scares me to see you fight. i want the best for both of you.”

my eyes soften and i raise my hand, running it softly through Luke’s unruly curls.

“Lukey, i’m still madly in love with your brother. one fight isn’t gonna change that.” i tell him. “he said some things that hurt me. i said things that i’m sure hurt him too. but we’ll get through this. we love each other.”

i speak with assurance, but at this point, i’m not sure if i’m reassuring Luke, or myself.

“you should go to sleep, bubs. you have practice in the morning.” i press a kiss to Luke’s forehead before he turns his bedside lamp off and flops down on his side, his back now facing me.

i follow suit, my back facing Luke as i close my eyes and let myself drift to sleep.

***

i’m woken up by little hands smacking my cheeks, immediately followed by the sound of my husbands whispers.

“oh no, El, we don’t smack mommy. we’re gentle.” he tells her softly, and soon after, i feel her open mouth press against my cheek; her version of a kiss.

my eyes flutter open and i’m met by the smiling face of my daughter. she’s held hovering above me by Jack, who seems worried for my reaction.

“hi, baby!” i coo, a smile stretching over my lips as i take her from him. “good morning, beautiful!”

“mama!” she cheers, followed by a steady stream of babbling.

“she woke up a couple hours ago. she was looking for you.” Jack tells me. “i just changed her diaper, and she already ate breakfast, but i noticed she’s been chewing on everything this morning, so i threw a couple of her teething toys in the freezer and she’ll probably want a popsicle soon to sooth her gums.”

i look up at him and nod, acknowledging that i heard him, before i sit up and lay El down on the bed, tickling her tummy and listening to her joyous giggles fill the room.

“Luke and i are off to practice, we’re running late.” he runs his hand over El’s hair, leaning down and kissing her forehead before turning to look at me again. “Luke said he wants to take El to the park after we get back. he said for me to ask you if you can have her dressed and her diaper bag ready for when he and i get back.”

“yeah, i can do that.” i reply and he nods, pushing off the bed and laying a kiss on my own forehead before he leaves the room.

i heave out a sigh, looking down at El, who’s already looking up at me.

“you wanna go take a shower with mommy?” i baby talk, pasting a smile back on my face. she smiles right back, grabbing at my shirt. “yeah, you do. you love showers, don’t you? my little water baby.”

*

El is all dressed and ready to go when Jack and Luke arrive home, while i stick the last snack into her diaper bag.

“hey, lovie.” Luke chimes, throwing an arm around my shoulder and squeezing my head into his chest. “she ready?”

“mhm! she should be good to go.” i confirm as i push out of his hold, stuffing the bag into his arms instead. “you have the stroller, right?”

“yeah, i’m taking Jack’s car and it’s already in the trunk.” he confirms, slinging the diaper bag over his shoulder and scooping his niece up from where she was already staring up at him by his legs.

“alright, say bye-bye to mommy and daddy!” Luke sings out, waving to us. El copies him, waving her entire arm about in order to wave goodbye, and with that, they’re out the door; leaving Jack and i in silence.

i busy myself by picking up the toys strewn about the living room floor, while Jack unloads the dishwasher. but tension lingers in the air.

maybe i should just apologize.

i hate this feeling.

i hate not being cuddled up with him right now.

we usually spend any El free hours curled up in our bed. napping, watching a movie, talking, or just taking part in general bedroom activities.

but instead, we’re across the room from each other, doing daily household chores and trying hard to avoid the screaming silence between us.

i drop a barbie into the toy box and stand up straight, looking towards my husband, who’s already staring at me with gentle eyes.

“i’m sorry.” i sigh, squeezing my eyes shut, holding my hands to my face. “i hate fighting.”

his hurried footsteps click against the wooden floors, stopping when he gets in front of me. his hands come up to mine, delicately pulling them away from my face before his arms encircle my waist.

“i hate it too.” he whispers, and i know his words hold a double meaning. he hates fighting and he hates leaving.

“i shouldn’t have said the things that i did. i shouldn’t have taken my bad mood out on you.” i let my head bob forward, my forehead laying against his chest. “i was tired, and i was angry at the situation, but not at you. never at you. you’re providing for our family, and i’m so glad that you get to do that by doing something you love.”

he kisses the top of my head, his lips lingering on my scalp.

“i’m sorry too.” he mumbles against me.

“i’m sorry for making it seem like i was mom-shaming you, i should’ve chosen my words more carefully. i’m sorry for making you feel bad. i’m sorry for accusing you of saying i don’t love her, i know that’s not what you were saying. and most of all, i’m sorry for implying that you were ungrateful. you’re not. i know you’re not. i should’ve never implied that you were.

“you’re an amazing mom, lovie. the best i could’ve ever hoped for El. i should’ve been more understanding about how hard it is for you to take care of her alone while i’m gone.”

i peer up at him, my chin still resting on his chest, and give him a pointed look.

“and i’m sorry for not calling you ‘lovie’.” he huffs out through a laugh. the corners of my mouth quirk up and i pull his head down to push our lips together.

my whole body melts even further into his, finally at peace for the first time in over two weeks.

[soapppp]

CW: ABO, extreme past sexual assault and abuse

Soap who assumes that Ghost is just like every other Alpha. He’s arrogant, rude, mocking, so why wouldn’t he be prejudice? What reason was there to assume that Ghost would revel in the idea of taking Soap with or without his choice? He makes fun of Soap for being short, for flirting with others, but the only good thing he does is what he doesn’t do, which is bring up sex in any way. Not heats or ruts, nothing. It’s one of the reason Soap Jose to actually get to know him, allowing his inner Omega to have a ally in him. But never would he trust Ghost with the vulnerability of a heat.

But, then they get stuck in a snow storm. The mission was simple and they’re safe in the well built cabin, but Ghost had expected to be home in time that he could take leave and suffer his rut in peace.

Soap wakes up in the middle of the night to see Ghost on the wall, panting as he holds himself up by his elbows. His mask is off, his shirt clawed open with a few drops of blood sounding like gunshots through the storm.

Soap picks up that Ghost is rutting instantly and feels dead in his spine, knowing the other will want anything he can fuck and that Soap is basically a neon sign in a desert to him. Soap is taking note of where his weapons are, making a plan to survive out in the storm and call for help when he hears it.

A loud, heartbreaking sob.

Ghost was crying. Worse, he was weeping like a child lost from his ma. His cries are deep and pitiful, full wails breaking out like screams and through it Soap can hear him pleading, saying things like,

“Please, stop, I don’t want it!”

“Don’t make me please!”

“Don’t touch me, not again!”

“Please, I want my ma…”

Soaps dread shifts to pure grief as he processes his words, releasing what had to have happened to his Lt.

Soap feels sick nonstop for the next few days as he helps Ghost into the only bedroom and routinely feeds and waters the broken man, listening to him sob without break. He tries hard not to cry when Ghost screams, loud and full of fear, whenever Soap accidentally touches him. He tries to smooth him with calming words, assuring him that Soap won’t make him do a thing and whispering promises of Simon’s Ma coming to see him soon.

Later, when Ghost explained how she had been killed but his rut makes him forget, Soap swears to protect him during his rut whenever he needs.

Not just for Simons sake, but his Ma as well.

[honeybeefae]

Be Happy For Me, Please. (Eris Vanserra x Reader)

Summary// The mortality rate for fae women giving birth was drastic, a stat that kept you up most nights ever since you found out you were expecting the future heir of the Autumn Court. Eris’s mother had reassured you countless times that you were strong enough, that the fire in your blood would keep you burning even in the darkest of times. But when the day arrived, and the darkness closed in…you couldn’t stop it.

(I wrote this and it is very personal to me. It was a reality that I was facing, and the only thing that helped me was turning my fear into something beautiful, something that hurt and relieved me all at the same time. I know this won’t be everyone’s cup of tea and I completely respect that. However, if you do like it, I hope it makes you feel as deeply as I did when I created it. That it leaves you with a pain that wants to turn into something awe-inspiring rather than soul-crushing. I love you guys.)

WARNINGS: Death, blood, angst, I mean heavy angst, but also hope and new beginnings

Another ear-splitting scream wrenched itself out of your throat as your stomach tightened painfully. Labor had started suddenly, your water breaking in the middle of breakfast, and seemed to be keen on staying throughout the night. 

Eris was out on a hunt with no known time of return. The healer and midwives had assured him that you were nowhere near ready to give birth and you had even pushed him to go, knowing things would soon change between the two of you. You had no idea what the babe in your stomach was brewing when you had sent him off.

“I can’t, I can’t do this any longer!” You wailed tearfully, fists gripping the sheets tightly as one of the healers pressed a cool cloth to your forehead. 

“My lady, everything will be okay, I swear it.” Lenear, the head healer, promised as he examined you once more. As another contraction hit and you threw your head back into the pillows, you missed the grave look on his face. “Have you called for his lordship yet, Kilen?”

Kilen, his assistant, nodded fervently. “As soon as it was confirmed she was laboring we did.”

“That was hours ago…she needs-” Lenear started to huff before the doors to the bedroom flung open. You blinked the tears away and saw the blurry shape of Eris’s mother, her hair tied back and dressed in plain clothes, rushing towards you.

“Oh, oh, my child,” She cooed, pushing away the sweat-soaked strands of hair around your face. “I’m sorry I did not come sooner.”

The presence of her calmed you quickly, focusing on the soothing tones of her voice that seemed to fade in and out. You tried to pay attention as she talked to the healer, noticing the edge of his tone, but it was so hard to piece it all together. 

Your fists curled tightly again as more pain electrified your body, your back almost arching off of the bed as you sobbed. With every contraction you could feel yourself growing weaker, your body just wanting to rest, and it was getting harder and harder to fight against that call. 

His mother must have noticed because one of her strong, soft hands cupped your face and turned you, so you were looking into her eyes. 

“Do not lose your fire, Y/N.” She commanded as if she herself could control your fate. The will in her eyes made you believe it, at least in your mind. “You are the fire within…don’t let it die out.”

Her words made you want to weep in frustration and love. If you could stop it, you would. You didn’t want to die. You didn’t want to leave this Earth, your mate, your child. It was everything you had ever wanted, and now that you were on the brink of having it, fate seemed to want to tear it away.

And what power did you have over that? What could you do to stop the will of the Mother?

The last question seemed to snap you out of the survival mode you were in, bringing you back to your body as you watched the healer pull away a blood-soaked rag. It was scarlet red, like the dying embers in a flame. 

It should have scared you, should’ve had you crying out for your mate and for the Mother to save you, but in what you once saw in fear you now saw in acceptance. You now saw the cards laid before you and knew this was the hand you were being dealt.

His mother watched you with furrowed brows, confused at your lack of reaction until you spoke clearer than you had since this started.

“Something is wrong.” You stated, raising up on your elbows as Lenear hesitated. “A choice must be made.”

“My lady, there are some newer practices we can try…” He replied though it did not sound firm nor hopeful. You knew he was just trying to make you feel better.

“Save them.” You said, leaving no room for arguments. “I will go, but you must save them, Lenear. Promise me.”

“I cannot make such a promise-” He began, but you were quick to silence him, sitting up completely as the blood continued to seep out. How you were able to do that, to ignore the pain that was prickling at your senses, you did not know. Even Eris’s mother was shocked as you restated your declaration.

“Save. Them.” You ordered, feeling that fire in your soul light anew. However it wasn’t for you to keep…it was for someone else, someone who you would hopefully meet one day in a field of flowers.

The doors once more slammed open and Eris stormed in, still in his hunting clothes. “What is going on? You had assured me she was fine, that I could leave, and-” He stopped dead in his rant when he saw the rags of scarlet red. “No, no, no…”

You could feel a strong urge to push as Eris rushed to your side, grasping your hand while looking you over for any other signs of distress. Lenear must have noticed as he started to bark out orders for his assistants, giving you one last look of doubt as you turned to look at your mate.

“Eris, my love,” You smiled, stroking the pad of your finger over his knuckles. “I’m afraid I must depart early from here. Please forgive me.”

“No, Y/N. You won’t, you can’t. Lenear has everything under control, and if not, I will do it myself.” He swore, wetness collecting in his eyes as you let out a small laugh before the urge grew again. You squeezed him tightly as you began to push, a warm light starting to fuzz around the edges of your eyes. “I can’t do this without you.”

“I will never leave you. Never, ever.” You whispered as the muffled sounds of people running and fretting ebbed in and out. “In the whispers of the leaves in the wind, the twinkle of the stars through the nursery window, even in the warmth of the fire, you will always find me.”

“My lord…” Lenear said worriedly, trying his best to stop the bleeding as you brushed away the tears falling down his face. 

“Please…” Eris said, calling on whatever higher power there was to either help you or take him instead. You took in a deep breath before turning to look at Lenear, nodding your head as you gave one final push. He caught the tiny baby with ease, immediately beginning to stimulate its back to try and get it to breathe.

You watched as your mate looked over to the baby, all sorts of emotions running across his face as the seconds passed by. The healer was no better, going between trying to help you and helping the baby, until you held your hands out shakily.

He hesitated for only a moment before handing them over, watching in awe as you cradled them to your chest and kissed their forehead with the gentleness only a mother could have.

“I love you, my sweet prince.” You cooed into the baby’s ear, feeling that fire in your soul starting to fade. You knew where it was going, that it had found its new home, and with a bittersweet smile you nuzzled his cheek and whispered, “I’ll always be with you.”

Eris’s eyes widened as the baby cried loudly, his skin turning pink and his arms flailing. He immediately scooped the tiny child into his arms, not even minding the blood as something in his heart broke and mended all at the same time.

The window beside him blew in a soft breeze as a sweet voice whispered, “Be happy for me, please.” before the fire in the hearth went out. He turned to look at you, coming back into focus on what was going on, but your eyes were closed, and you were sleeping peacefully. 

His son squirmed in his arms, opening his eyes momentarily and Eris was shocked to find the color was the same as yours. He brushed his thumb against the soft skin of his cheek and let his tears fall freely, bringing the boy tightly to his chest as the stars twinkled brightly above.

[yallmakemyassitch]

Chapter 1 - Insomnia (I'll Never Leave Your Side)

Summary: AGOTI is woken up by a nightmare and seeks comfort from his adoptive father. Solazar doesn't hesitate to attempt to make his child feel better but realizes the only way he can is quite... unconventional. Even after doing so, the night was filled with wonder as the two embark on an adventure...

Word count: 10,764

Character count: 60,904

Tobi talks: This was meant to come out much earlier so apologies for the late upload folks, I had to do some extra proof reading and corrections. This is a passionate project that took nearly two years to create (created back in 8/30/2021) and it's still ongoing! You won't have to wait such a long time as I have spent time on future chapters as well so those will be published much sooner rather than later. Be aware that just because this chapter is void of anything graphic or disturbing does not mean future chapters will not have mature themes present. Please enjoy the story and I thank you wholeheartedly for reading~♡

AO3 link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/49247710/chapters/12426553

A love letter to the ENTITY crew and its creator @sugarratio1

✿

✿

✿

✿

Vigorous winds blew within the small confinements of the city and it had everyone cooped up in their homes to escape the harsh weather. It was booming and traveled well into the night, spilling into everyone’s nightly routine as the tiny town quieted down. Life had become stagnant, branches were pulled by the wind, and small puddles accumulated on the roads, undisturbed by the lack of roaring vehicles that would quickly cause them chaos. Contrary to popular belief, thunderstorms weren’t as aesthetically pleasing to everyone.

Inside a humble house inhabited a family of three, both children of which were fast asleep. One struggled, however. He was the youngest out of the nest, squirming in his sleep to try to escape the uncomfortable heat taking over his body. The digidevil child, Agoti, had patterns of sweat stitched into his forehead. With his blanket held hostage, he had no clue where his consciousness had taken him.

“Get away…” He mewled, turning on his side.

Agoti’s dream was shrouded in black, himself being the only thing visible in his nightmare. But there were voices, impish voices taunting him . The child couldn’t even begin to think how the tormentors he met only a day ago got into his head. But that wasn’t very important as they belittled the digidevil, mocking him even more when he began to cry. No matter how frantically he searched for the source of the voices, they couldn't be found.

“Leave me alone!” He cried one final time.

Tears were beginning to leak from his eyes, his whimpers soft and anguished. Agoti fell to his knees and curled up into a ball. “Daddy...Aldie…help me.”

But nobody came. That was soon to change, Agoti was jolted out of his nightmare by the loud clap of lightning. He wrenched up from his bed with an audible gasp. The moment he opened his eyes, he felt afraid. The fear bubbling in his chest built up into a scream he shrieked into the night, his high-pitched and terrified wail muffled by the natural boom of thunder.

His eyes were wide with alarm and what would normally be rivers of salty water spilling from his eyes were strips of VHS film. He was in shock, sitting erect and still from the raw terror circulating his body. The images of his nightmare cycled through his mind and the violent thunderstorm distressing him more as the seconds ticked by drove his quivering lip to release the cries building up the painful lump in his throat.

The toddler’s weeps were loaded with whimpers and snotty hiccups. He tried so desperately to palm away the tears streaming down his face, but alas, they did not relent. His hazy vision stared into the darkness of his bedroom, flinching every time lightning struck and momentarily showed the stark white interior of the room before reverting back to black.

The glowing stars plastered on the ceiling above his bed brought him no level of comfort. Agoti's gaze flickered next to him to his tear-stained stuffed bear. Without hesitation, he grabbed the animal and sought protection under the covers. His face was buried into its soft fur while fresh, hot tears ran free. His sobbing was uncontrollable, squeaking when lightning roared outside as he could never brace himself in time.

Like many young children, Agoti would have trouble sleeping in the dark. His beloved father had noticed his struggles and gifted the boy a nightlight to help soothe him during the night. But right now he couldn’t handle it alone.

The digidevil waited for another minute, anxiously anticipating the sound of the door opening and being met by the gentle glow of his father. Or if he was lucky, his older sister would come through and snuggle under the sheets with him. Both options sounded lovely, so he waited. It soon became apparent after a few minutes none of that was happening. It was only a muffled rainstorm and teddy bear as his friends during this dire time. Terrified to death, he lifted his head out from under his sheets, his hot cheeks streaking with tears.

He wouldn’t get anywhere by calling for them again, the outside cacophony made that feat impossible. The 4-year-old, with shaky hands, slipped off his bed and plopped down on the carpet, leaving his animal friend behind.

Even at his young age, Agoti was unusually small, he couldn’t reach most things that children his age could. Most of what he couldn’t reach was doorknobs, so his father was committed to leaving the door ajar for him to leave at night less a situation similar to his current or if a late-night bathroom break was needed.

He stuck his hand in between the gap and slowly opened the wooden door, grimacing as it moaned along its hinges. Agoti peeked out slowly, feeling an overwhelming sense of dread that made his blood run once in contact with the darkness outside his room.

With this new revelation, Agoti knew he wouldn’t be able to enter the corridor without any… ‘reinforcements’.

The stars above his bed replaced the general use of his nightlight by a long shot and he didn’t have to use it much anymore. But he did keep it and remembered leaving it in his drawer. He turned his attention back inside to the piece of furniture on the other side of the room. The demon walked up to it and sorted through the top section of random junk, eventually hitting something firm and around.

He grabbed it and felt along its side to flick it to life, holding it with both hands. Agoti had to squint when its warm light hit his eyes but adjusted well enough to make out its features. Silk silicon layered the rotund exterior and two ears poked out the top to give it the authentic look of a rabbit.

He left the comfortable quarters of his bedroom after assuring himself his father was just down the hall. Unfortunately for him, he had unluckily directly stepped on a weak floorboard. The sharp squeal made the digidevil jump a foot into the air, snapping his head down so quickly it made him dizzy. Realizing it was just the floor made him sigh out in relief, not doing much to quell the anxieties that prickled at the nape of his neck.

Agoti began to trek down the hallway, it felt much longer than what he experienced during the day. His senses were running on overdrive, acutely aware of every sound surrounding him. Each breath that entered and exited his lungs, the rapid clattering of rain on their roof, the creaking sounds along the floor where he walked, all served to make the experience as sinister as possible.

Then he heard it.

A creak not from his own doing, coming from just behind him.

Agoti whipped around, holding the nightlight right in front of him. He hesitated but ultimately approached the weak floorboard where the noise had resonated.

There was nothing there.

His vision was superior to most species compared to his, but even he struggled to see what was in front of him. Agoti focused and scrutinized the darkest depth of the hallway, seeming to stretch infinitely from where he was standing.

He looked a little harder and that’s when he dropped the only thing that could protect him. He swore he saw a figure move in the dark.

Agoti grabbed it from the ground and quickened his pace, his little feet pattering across the ground. It was enough to finally make it, his hand trembling as he knocked and didn’t dare to move the light hovering over the patch of darkness. The wait was agonizing and the more he glanced back, the more threatened he felt, like a looming presence was steadily approaching him each time he briefly looked away.

Agoti knocked harder, beating his small fist into the wooden door, crying out for his father. The demon could only hope the man would come sooner. After all, who knows what was really in this hallway?

…

The chamber’s only nuance within the stygian and static environment was a bizarre blue figure sitting quietly, holy light shedding from their body. The man with every rapid and accurate keystroke of his fingertips connecting with the keyboard occasionally stopped to sip his coffee. The black kind was his favorite, it being his number-one assistant in getting through the hazy nights made of nothing but raw work ethic. But if he was feeling generous, he would add some cream or sugar to it.

The man lived this lifestyle for numerous decades and it still caused him to call into question how he got here. Sure, he could recall the precise events that landed him as an Earth dweller. But they felt so surreal, it was such an abrupt shift from who he was then.

That didn’t stop him from adapting, however.

Whilst taking out another paper to file and beginning to write on it, he stopped mid-stroke of his cursive handwriting. Solazar began to think, his thoughts were interfered by a flood of memories. It was practically routine at this point for him to take time out of every day to reflect.

Solazar descended from an ancient race named the Solarisapiens, densely populated with murderous, god-like star entities. They were the next of kin from the gods themselves and what they would do struck terror throughout the universes. And after eons of bloodshed, one of them suddenly becomes a father of two. If it had been during war, his high social standing as a commander created to lead these bloody crusades would sink to the furthest level. Solazar would be looked down upon and ridiculed, distinguished with a flaw that hadn’t been noticed by their oversight; it wasn’t in their programming to care about mortals. The brutal punishment afterward was something he had only personally witnessed, but it left an impression on his fellow warriors if they dared to be so incompetent in their purpose. He did train them to be merciless and obedient, but to be reduced to such putty was a fault he held against himself. Their fate was sealed the moment their betrayal came to light. It didn’t happen often but when it did, certain procedures would be initiated.

The ceremony that took place was meant to purge the warrior of the humanity they gained, to give them a second chance. But at a cost.

The Solarisapien would have their limbs dismembered and every single one of them was catapulted out into the deepest, most treacherous parts of the universe. They may only return after regaining the members of their body, to prove their loyalty to their purpose. Those days were cruel but over, the war was ended, and while the blood on his hands had washed away, he reminds himself often they haven’t faded. Not yet at least.

Solazar was aware of the risks of fathering mortals. He had grown fond of them and their antics, he had grown to even love them. This was despite his specific design created for being an unfeeling monster, Earth somehow changed him in such a way he had the ability to love. Solazar accepted their fates a long time ago; everything would die eventually, he just wouldn’t be a part of it. For each day the sun still shines, he would cherish the chaos and laughter his children have brought into his life.

Solazar despised self-pity, but even he had to admit his own fate was the worst out of any painful way to die. He is forced to walk along this mortal plane, created to fight for all eternity, and no longer supported the reason for it, so what were his goals now? The death of his children would strip him of his purpose as a father, foraging a path down an existential crisis-

What was he doing?

There were better things to worry about.

He blinked once, snapping him out of his trance, and realized the tip of his pen left stiff by his hand accumulated a glob of ink on his sheet, leaving a noticeable stain on his pristine handwriting. Solazar rubbed his eyes, sighing deeply. He blinked again, now putting down the pen to massage his face with both of his hands.

‘Goodness that stings,’ He thought to himself.

Needle-like sensations have been shanking into his eyes for the past several hours. Staring so hard at his screen because he was so adamant about his work wasn’t healthy. Yet again, he disregarded his doctor’s warning, it was no wonder why he was farsighted. Short spurts of shut eyes did the job of replenishing his drive, so the fiery being leaned back in his chair to take a deep breath and closed his eyes.

Infinite energy meant the man didn’t sleep, so ever since he crashed onto Earth, he would spend his time running errands. Even though the specimen was quite intelligent, it landed him a not so revered job as a music manager. The man admired music, how humans were able to craft a piece made with skill and passion was a beautiful thing to him. Unfortunately, many of the clients he had to work with have proven themselves as either incompetent in their jobs or bailouts. With his constant failures, it made creating a profit difficult so he would often live paycheck to paycheck. It was just enough for his children and their home so he didn’t dwell into it.

Solazar pushed himself back to give the desk and himself some space in between them. He folded his hands together and placed the interlocked hands on his lap after crossing his leg over the other. He closed his eyes and started to softly hum, mindlessly humming to no one in the room other than himself. It helped him relax.

That’s when the former warrior was interrupted by thumping on his door.

“Hm?” He pondered aloud, looking behind him to lock eyes with the wooden door. He knew exactly who it was based on the squeamish pleads on the other side. Solazar, with steady haste, got up on his two feet and opened the door. His gaze instantly dropped to the ground to see Agoti, his youngest, at his heels. Before he could react, the small child dropped what he was holding and hugged his leg, crying.

The incomprehensible blubber sputtering through his lips caused the man’s hardened gaze to soften. Agoti looked up at him with big, glossy eyes, stretching out his little arms and grabbing at the air, beckoning the man to hold him.

“Did the storm wake you?” He spoke in a low voice and kneeled down in front of him, opening his arms to give him access to his embrace. The demon was quick to fall into his arms, bawling so hard he could hardly say a word.

He nodded quickly, “M-mhm.” the toddler whined, clutching onto his torso. “I had a... *sniff* a really bad dream.”

“So you had a nightmare?”

“Uh- *hic* huh. I was scared, Daddy. No one was there…”

His father’s eyes slit into a sympathetic gaze and pulled the demon closer into his arms, “Shhshh, it’s okay. I’m here for you.” he hushed, slowly rubbing his back.

The warmth he had ached for crowned his body in a soothing heat and his nerves strayed once his flesh made contact, reminding him of the familiar buzz that came with his father’s touch. Solazar stayed there for a while, patting the back of his head while continuing to calm him down.

The child’s shivering slowed down to a halt when his body melted from the affection. He glanced at the glowy object on the ground and picked it up with one hand, holding Agoti in his other arm.

“Ah, you used the nightlight I gave you.” He mused, inspecting the tool in his hand.

He nodded, still sniffling.

“That’s alright, I gave it to you for a reason. Do you like it?”

Agoti seemed to hesitate before nodding his head again.

He peered at him, consumed in thought before speaking up. “Maybe it could be brighter next time?”

“Mhm.” He heard Agoti mumble into his chest.

“Then I’ll look for a special one, just for you.” The Solarisapien gave him a tight side hug, which had Agoti’s face squished up against his.

The warmth he had ached for crowned his body in a soothing heat and his nerves strayed once his flesh made contact, reminding him of the familiar buzz that came with his father’s touch. Solazar stayed there for a while, patting the back of his head while continuing to calm him down.

Solazar flicked it off and left the nightlight where it was, and stood up, holding the toddler as he walked back inside his room. He closed the door behind him and sat down on his unused bed and placed the digidemon on his lap. The room had been nearly pitch black at this point, minus his blue flames and still-illuminated laptop at his desk. He reached his hand toward the nightstand to pull the string hung under the hood of the lamp and gave it a tug, now able to properly see him.

“So tell me about this nightmare of yours.” He questioned calmly, looking thoughtfully at his adopted son.

“It was the b-boys from the playground.” Agoti mewled, “T-they were h-hurting me and-” he began to cry again, recalling the terrifying dream. “They said they would hurt me if I told anyone!” The Solarisapien quietly listened to his dilemma, stroking the top of his head to calm him.

“It was only a dream, okay? Anyone who tries to intimidate our family will have to go through me first,” He said assuringly, however, Agoti didn’t take much of a liking to this.

“They sounded like monsters and were really scary! D-don’t you remember yesterday?”

Solazar did in fact remember yesterday, it was an especially terrible day for Agoti. He managed to get cornered by two older children while at the playground with his sister. They went as far as to get physical and destroyed his favorite toy in front of him. This was the first time anything like this had ever happened to him, so it gave him quite the scare. Luckily Aldryx eventually found him and terrorized them both into submission and managed to escape before any on-sight parents got involved.

Solazar admits the outcome would have been much better if he was present, his poor son came home sobbing and he had to promise to get him another toy to stop the tears. But as expected, the parents of the bullies would come to his door, complaining about their ‘innocent’ children coming home mysteriously bruised. Solazar wasn’t having any of it and proceeded to verbally rip them to shreds, insulting every part of their subpar parenting, and with a wave of his hand, dismissed them off his property.

He tried to sympathize. "I remember, Agoti, and I know it was scary, but-”

“NO YOU- *hic* don’t!” Agoti started to fuss, his cries intertwined with a hiccuping fit. He mewled after his outcry, putting his face in his hands as Solazar rubbed his back.

“I do know, Agoti.” Solazar uttered, gingerly thumbing a tear off his face, “Try to calm down, okay? Breathe for me.” he said it in the softest tone he could muster, but it barely helped.

“I tried to find you but I couldn’t!” Agoti sobbed.

As if the situation couldn’t escalate anymore, the 4-year-old began to hyperventilate. Solazar could feel his VHS heart pounding against his ribs repeatedly. At this rate, the digidemon would have a panic attack.

“They said they would- they said they would- *hic* hurt me! And you weren’t there! *sniff* I-I thought you had forgotten about me.”

This struck a chord within him. “Agoti, I would never…”

“They said they would take big sis a-away from *hic* m-mehe.” He buried his face into his chest and lamented his sorrows. “I-I don’t want y-you and A-Aldie to go!”

His father only had to think for a second to know what to do next. Agoti’s distress after a nightmare wasn’t uncommon, but this time was especially bad. Anything he said to try and soothe him was a trigger word to his panic, he would have to approach this would a lot more grace. Solazar held onto his son’s shoulders to push him back, exposing his tear-stained face to him. His fingers brushed against his cheek and with his hand, he softly caressed the smooth skin. His index finger moved beneath his chin to angle up and have their gazes link, held together by his thumb. Solazar’s pure white scleras gently stared into his wide, terrified ones.

“Breathe, Agoti. I’m not going anywhere.” There was a ring in his voice that grabbed the attention of his son, gentle but firm in his words.

The digidevil ogled obliviously at Solazar, his words quite not processing.

“Follow my lead.” he demonstrated, his chest rising and falling as breathed deeply. Agoti stared at him for a while before attempting to mimic his actions. It took some effort through all the tears but not long after, his breathing evened out and he found himself synchronizing with his father. At this very moment, the pair silently bonded as his nerves were tamed and put to rest.

The room was quiet, save for the soft breathing and gentle praises from Solazar to keep going. His method of calming the child was successful, he wasn’t crying anymore and the film was hanging loosely from his eyes. The Solarisapien plucked off a strip and peered into the black squares, seeing from his perspective the void that his child was plunged into. He tore the rest away, grazing his hand over his face and creating a small pile of film onto the carpet below them both.

Solazar wrapped his arms around him in a loving embrace and said to him. "Listen to me when I say this, Agoti, I will always be with you. There’s no way I could leave someone as sweet as you behind.”

“Really?” He sniffled, a flicker of hope flashing behind his eyes.

Solazar raised a brow at the rhetorical question. “Do I really need to answer that?”

Agoti’s soft giggle hung in the air as he was lifted into the air under his arms, spreading a smile onto the Solarisapien’s face, his eyes curving to show the affection brewing behind his glasses. “Hehe, I don’t think so?” He giggled. He was placed on his lap again, to which the digidevil snuggled into his chest, listening closely to his father.

“You don’t ever have to be afraid of me leaving you. I would never do that to you, my child.”

“You promise?” The demon whispered, peering up at him with even more hopeful eyes.

The Solarisapien’s shoulders shook as he chuckled deeply and lovingly at the silly question. “Yes, Agoti, I promise.”

He held up his pinky, eyes glistening. “Pinky promise?”

Solazar held up his own. “I promise.”

There was a moment of silence between the pair.

“I love you, Daddy.”

He pressed his cheek against his forehead affectionately. “And I love you.”

Solazar readjusted the boy, laying him into the crook of his arm, and began to gently rock him. Agoti laid still, relaxing his muscles, and ascended to a sort of heaven with the coziness the heat gave. Solazar placed his hand on top of his head again and massaged each one of his tendrils, taking his time with each one to let his son know just how much he cared about him. To send this point home, his deep voice coaxed him closer to the cliff of slumber as he once again mindlessly hummed a berceuse.

The past warrior was massive and radiated warmth, so Agoti took it upon himself to take advantage of it and used him as a heat blanket. Agoti felt more than safe, he felt loved by the man that was carrying him oh so gently. Little did he know, Solazar was already aware of his neat little trick.

He would ‘coincidently’ pass out in places he knew his father would come across, the most ludicrous spot he discovered him in was the bathroom sink. It was all a ploy for Solazar to attempt to wake him up, fail, and eventually tuck him into bed himself. His father knew from the start what he was doing, he could even feel his chest quiver with suppressed giggles, proud that his plan had worked out so many times. Sometimes he would even peek an eye open to see if Sol was giving him the attention he desired. It amused him but he couldn’t find it within himself to point out the adorable quirk.

He stood up. “Let’s get you to bed now, alright?”

Agoti went stiff and paused, shocked that they had to depart so suddenly, “Can we please stay here?” he begged.

Solazar shook his head. “No, Agoti. You need to sleep in your own bed.”

“Pleeease? I don’t want you to go…” He whined, clinging onto his shirt tighter.

“No means no, Agoti.” He understood the child’s fear but also understood the child would have to get used to the dark eventually.

The digidevil’s expression turned sour and he puffed out his cheeks. Agoti’s calm breathing began to waver and his whines were quickly escalating.

Solazar sighed. “Don’t make that face, Agoti…”

Agoti pouted even more, his expression souring by the second.

“No!” He cried.

“What-”

“I’m not leaving you!”

The toddler grabbed handfuls of his turtleneck sweater and clung to the black fabric. Solazar was sure he was gripping hard enough to where he didn’t even have to hold him if he stood up. He quickly sat down again and hugged the digidevil just in time for him to let out a loud wail onto his chest. Sobbing ensued.

‘Goodness…’ he thought to himself.

Agoti was a stubborn child, once he believed something, it took a lot of convincing to reverse the effects it had. He was grieving at the thought of his father abandoning him. He would never of course, but his son’s recent nightmare clouded his innocence with pessimism. The only logical solution would be to inflict the opposite. Make him feel good about himself, cheerful even, but with what? A warm glass of milk? Retelling his favorite stories?

Solazar’s brainstorming landed him in the middle of yesterday where this whole incident started. Of course, Agoti was still very upset but then it jumped to later in the day with his sudden change of mood, he was acting like himself and graced anyone he was with a beaming smile. He found this very strange as not too long ago, the boy was distraught and now he was back to normal. What caused such sudden optimism finally jogged his memory into remembering why…

Oh no.

In practice, it could be very effective against Agoti considering his sensitivity to touch that came with his age. It wouldn’t be very hard to dish it out. If you were to ask Solazar about performing the action, however, he would call you ridiculous.

This activity that Solazar was so unsure about was tickling.

Aldryx, his older sister, had gotten tired of Agoti’s constant moping. He would drone on about how upset he was until she couldn’t take it anymore. Aldryx chased him down, and the duo scampered all around the house loudly enough to simulate an earthquake. None of Solazar’s warnings to tone it down stopped them. Once Agoti was cornered, instead of their usual roughhousing, she ruthlessly tickled him until he agreed to stop talking about it. The Solarisapien very vividly remembers the laughter and squealing that came from behind his door.

It persisted until the deal was made official, albeit breathlessly on Agoti’s part. After that, the younger demon continued his daily hijinks like nothing had ever happened.

That was until tonight, he was still haunted by the day before. Solazar wanted to feel frustrated, all of their best efforts have led to naught and even his sister couldn’t stop it from persisting. He stopped himself once he realized what he was thinking and stopped himself in the middle of his foolish thoughts. Was he really going to insinuate a 4-year-old was at fault here? He had no one else to go to other than his family, they lived in a world where anyone could be taken advantage of, a foreign concept to Solazar. However, Agoti had just experienced this firsthand a day before. He could only imagine what it was like and felt a sudden tide of compassion for the small boy.

He wasn’t well adjusted to give physical affection despite the years they had been under his custody. Sure he would hug them and overall, tried to be the father they needed. Tickling was even rarer. Majority of the time it was unintentional and he would be left confused why his daughter or son was giggling up a storm when touching them in certain places. Sometimes it was purposeful but was brief and lasted only a few seconds as a response to his little one’s mischief with a small bit of his own. Solazar either way was apprehensive at the idea, making Agoti uncomfortable was the last thing he wanted. He heard his muffled mewl, aching with sadness and wrought with pain. Finally, the man spoke up, he couldn’t bear to see his son so distraught any longer.

His arms were already wrapped around his body which could prevent him from squirming away. Solazar didn’t have much experience with the activity but knew along the torso solicited the biggest response. He mindlessly scribbled up his side, his massive hand could reach the entire area so no part was left untouched. The reaction was immediate, Agoti gasped at the sudden touch, which didn’t stop the fit of soft but bright giggles bubbling out of him. He did it again with his other hand, causing the boy to attempt to squirm away from his hand. The next spot he didn’t expect to be targeted was his back, he traced along the center of his spine slowly. Agoti arched his back with a light squeal, finally showing his face to his loving father as he expelled a flurry of happy giggles, shivering at his gentle touch, and looked up at him, confused but smiling.

“Pahapapa, what ahare you- eheehee!” The digidevil’s query was interrupted by another wave of bubbling laughter, this time much louder. The Solarisapien was stroking up and down his back with his entire hand, each digit crawling up and down his spine like a spider. It was sending fuzzy, warm feelings in his chest, so he didn’t hold back his laughter.

“Just relax, Agoti. Let me take care of you.” He sounded suave and mellow, not helping the fact he was being held against his will. Solazar picked up the boy and laid him down on his lap, keeping his body facing up.

Agoti wiggled on his thighs, tittering with anticipation and a giddiness he hadn’t quite felt before. “Dahahahaddy! Eeeheeheehee!” The boy was giggling like he was still being tickled, which confused the Solarisapien for a moment as he hadn’t touched him yet. It made him slightly chuckle in response once he realized why he was giggling so much.

“I’m guessing it's my hands doing this to you?” His children weren’t lying when they said his flames made their skin feel funny.

“That tihihickles!” Agoti cried.

Solazar patted the top of his head. “Don’t worry, I’ll be more gentle this time.”

He resumed his tickling, mostly letting his flames do the work, and only slightly grazed his fingertips over the torso, mostly targeting his back and sides like before. This left Agoti in a never-ending snorting mess as the warmth sent shocks of ticklish sensations up his body. The digidevil was squirming from left to right, never leaving the safe spot his father had placed him. Although he secretly enjoyed it, the instinct to protect himself by wrapping his arms around his body never faltered.

“Mweheeheehee *snort* ahahahahaah!” By then, the child was face down, still giggling up a storm. Warm fingers were tracing random shapes up and down his spine, eliciting the biggest response out of the boy. Solazar’s stern expression softened, gazing at his son with admiration and delight. Making his way to his lower back, he teased the skin where the shirt rode up from all the movement. Agoti wheezed and his laughter turned silent before he returned to his hysterical fit, sounding even more childish with a hint of femininity now that his voice was so high-pitched.

The Solarisapien’s eyes thinned, the bridge of his nose wrinkling as the invisible smile returned to spread across his face. The spot seemed too much for him as much of his laughter was starting to sound too breathy, so he slowed down. He calmed down, giggles still sputtering out of him and laced with unintelligible babbles for mercy. Using the other, he began to tap the side of his ribcage, the fabric of his shirt moving as he gently dug into the bones. With the size of his hand, five fingers were able to press into his entire side of bony flesh while the other hand titillated off his back. All ten of his fingers were doing their job of keeping the boy in stitches, belly laughing with his whole heart, Solazar could feel his stomach rumble and shake with unfiltered mirth.

“AhaHahAhah mweheHEHhehe- *snort* p-pahAhaHapa!” The demon howled, slightly kicking his legs. From where Solazar was, he could see the corner of the child’s wide smile.

“Do you need a break?” He asked.

“I doohoohoo! I dohoho!” The digidevil cried.

Solazar stopped and removed his hands, giving the boy time to recover from the tickling. He wasn’t outright gasping for air, but he definitely struggled to keep it stable. Agoti flipped onto his back to rub his eyes, removing the stripes of mirth that threatened to fall out. His smile was gleeful and his cheeks were a lovely crimson tint. The aftermath was pleasant, the tingling was not only present on his torso but throughout his entire body, reaching the tip of his tendrils to the top of his toes. It left him feeling purely euphoric.

“Hehe…ehehe…” He tittered, his energy was being depleted at a moment’s notice.

“Are you alright?” The digidevil looked at him with sleepy eyes and nodded slowly. His demeanor was exhausted and tired, but his tail was curling happily at the treatment he had received. Agoti moaned softly, worming his way into his chest.

The Solarisapien, without skipping a beat, carefully scooped him up and held him close. This night was.. longer than he expected, normally Solazar would already have the toddler in bed by now. But he thinks this night was needed, for the both of them to be together. He made sure to make the transition to the corridor as smooth as possible, swiftly getting up and closing the bedroom behind him in one fluid motion. With half-lidded eyes, Agoti’s blurry vision made it hard to see, but what was quickly made apparent to him now that they were in the hallway. His father shined brighter than ever, standing out from anything else in the corridor. Solazar began his stride deeper in, his glow bouncing off the walls.

Time slowed down as the pair traveled across the rooms, they were in no rush so Solazar took his time. They had made it and his father pushed the door open where it was left agape. Solazar stepped inside and began to slide his fingertips over the wall, guiding his hand to locate the light switch. Upon contact, he flicked it to life.

Solazar grimaced and squinted hard as he rubbed the burning that returned in his eyes. It didn’t help, he really needed to take a break after this. Once his vision came into view, it made his environment finally observable.

Unsurprisingly, the room looked as it had always been, but disturbed from what he could tell from the disheveled bed sheets. The walls were painted in pastel red and blue stripes, decorated with stickers of spaceships and stars, along with the mild scribbles that Agoti had drawn all over. There was even a box of toys in the corner of the room well over the max as other ones were scattered about the carpet. The shelves were occupied with books all about his favorite things, with one dedicated solely to his stuffed animal collection. Then there was the lone rocking chair placed in the corner of the room next to the window, masked by the dusty ruby-red curtain. Solazar didn’t really need to use it since his son’s infancy but left it there for old time's sake.

He made his way to the small bed and laid the demon on the mattress. He then pinched the corner of the comforter and draped the fluffy material over his body.

Solazar deeply stared at him with a certain gaze that would only belong to a father deeply fond of his children and stood up to leave.

He looked back at him. “Sweet dreams, Agoti. Rest well.”

As his hand lifted off the mattress to make his departure, a gentle tug pulled on his sleeve.

“Um, Daddy?” He heard the meek voice of Agoti say.

Just his luck.

“Yes? What is it?” Solazar sighed, kneeling back down.

Agoti tugged at his sleeve more, gesturing Solazar to lean over so he could say something in his ear.

“Can you sing me a lullaby?” He whispered.

Solazar thought for a moment and pulled down his sleeve to look at his watch. 1:48 AM. It was already extremely late and that could lead to some trouble falling back to sleep. Thinking about it more, a lullaby made a lot more sense; it could serve as a sort of encore to their already chaotic night.

“Sure.” He says.

His skills with the piano gave him a lot of time to practice his own singing too. All too often he was interrupted and teased by his children for it. Nowadays, both of them loved to serenade in music and often joined their father.

Agoti’s eyes lit up with joy, “Yay, papa’s singing!” he rhapsodized. His previous exhaustion seemed to vanish out of thin air and was replaced with his typical energetic self. Children were…odd. One moment they could be at the edge of passing out and the next they are seen bouncing off the wall, it was funny honestly.

The Solarisapien pulled the demon out under the covers, the comforter slothing off his body in the process. Solazar held him as got up and sat down on the rocking chair. He pushed aside the curtains and spread the blinds between his fingers to peek and looked up towards the sky. He hadn’t realized the thunderstorm had passed up until now, although many thick clouds had been left behind.

“Do you hear that?” Solazar said, still looking out the window.

“Hear what?”

“The rain, do you hear it?”

Come to think of it, he didn’t hear it anymore. He hadn’t realized when it stopped.

Solazar turned his body towards his window and pulled the string attached allowing them both to see the outside completely. The numerous clouds didn’t flood the sky anymore, occasionally dripping and enriching the dark sky like a great big canvas, acting as an impromptu portière to the doorway of the waning crescent that stood on the other side. Once exposed, it filled the sky with its eternal glory.

He pulled down his glasses to get a better view. Their view of the moon didn’t waver, Solazar was especially fixated on its beauty.

This gave him an idea.

He turned to his son, fixing the prescriptions back onto his eyes. “Agoti, I want to show you something. Something extraordinary…”

The cryptic tone caught his attention.

“Like what, papa?”

Solazar leaned in. “Something enchanting I know you will like.”

There was a solid three seconds of silence before Agoti stammered out excitedly. “I-is it magic?!”

Influenced by fantasy and the like, he would answer with that. “You could say that.”

His already bright and cheery smile widened and the anticipation warping his excited nerves morphed into butterflies flapping within the bowels of his gut.

His train of thought was interrupted when something bright brimmed in his peripheral vision. He looked directly at whatever it was but immediately had to look away as it was shining so brilliantly. Agoti had to squint to make out what it was, eventually making out the shape of his father's hand, now a glowing glob of light. Solazar snapped his fingers, triggering the glow to dispel, echoing around them with such bass, it startled him.

The digidevil’s eyes were wide with alarm and he hadn’t realized he was holding in his breath, itching for something to happen. Just as he was beginning to breathe, a sound resonated that he didn’t quite expect; a twinkle. The twinkling gradually grew, crystalline diamonds manifesting and briefly ascending above them before disappearing.

His time to process what was happening was cut short after a beacon of pure light engulfed them. When Agoti opened his eyes, their surroundings were now consumed in white, the only exception being the more pasteled variant of his father. Agoti looked down at his own body to realize he looked the same and this new environment had completely changed his natural color pallet.

A breeze formed under them and seemed to push them upwards as the more the winds increased. Agoti was about to ask Solazar what was going on when he noticed himself beginning to float. It was slow and hardly noticeable but when he did, he saw the way his clothes would air around his body, similar to a blanket in the ripples of gentle wind. Or how his short tendrils became independent of just resting on his scalp.

The digidevil was hardly off his lap but after some movement, he discovered he could move around the white space like a pool of water. He had fun experimenting with this new gravity, spinning, and doing all sorts of tricks as if he were a simple lost boy, ageless but youthful. Agoti, upside down, grasped his father’s face and joyfully greeted him, “Hi daddy!” his tail curling behind him with elation.

Solazar played along, allowing him to grab onto his glasses, “Hello, my child. How are you doing tonight?” he responded warmly. While still upside down, Agoti sloppily put them on, amusing the star being into a chuckle.

“You look silly without your glasses,” He simpered.

Agoti giggled when his nose was softly booped by his finger. “I beg to differ, little one.”

There was a noticeable pickup in speed, throwing off the demon since he was already adjusted to the new atmosphere. He found it harder to move in the empty space, stuck in his now upside-down position. Solazar did the honors for him and grabbed his shoulders to pull him back to his original position.

“That will happen the closer we get to our destination, just be sure to hold on.” Solazar said after he reclaimed his glasses. The demon pressed his face against his chest with a grip on his shirt and shut his eyes. Another shockwave pulsed through them as the new wave of speed was brought upon them, moving so quickly, it felt like they were traveling at light speed. Agoti whimpered, the feeling of his shirt whipping against his body made him realize just how quickly they were traveling. He fluttered his eyes open, fearful at first but dazzled by the way Solazar’s flames burned. It possessed a fierceness that would crumble his foes to their knees, he felt inspired by it. Like a candle in a snowstorm, it was on the cusp of burning out but its tiny blaze was determined to keep the night shining.

Then it all stopped.

His ears were no longer overburdened with fast winds and chimes akin to a chandelier being spun ceased to exist. The demon didn’t dare to open his eyes, afraid of what he might see. But of course, Solazar was there to mediate his fears.

"It’s ok, you can open your eyes now.”

The way his voice sounded surprised the toddler. His soft inside voice was replaced with a resounding chime as if they had traveled inside a cave.

"I-I don’t wanna look!” He whined.

“You will be fine. It isn’t anything that will scare you.” Solazar spoke with an assuring, confident voice.

Agoti, hesitant at first, obeyed his father and barely jarred his eyes open. But through the thin window of his vision realized there was no imminent threat, which finally gave him the courage to open them both completely.

He gasped loudly and a wide grin slowly crept up his lips…

“It’s- it’s space!” He gushed, his voice booming with astonishment, “How can we breathe? Aldie said there’s no air!” shouted Agoti, unable to contain his excitement.

Solazar lightly shrugged his shoulders. "You could say I brought a bit of home here with us.” Agoti didn’t question it and was still in awe, again not realizing he had been holding his breath this whole time.

He bounced with excitement. “I’m gonna tell everyone about this!” His enthusiasm for space was really touching and Solazar was honestly very flattered by this.

“Do tell, I’m sure your sister would be delighted, but on another note,” He cleared his throat. "You might be confused about why you’re here right now, yes? ”

“A little,” he responded.

“This place is peaceful and full of wonder, somewhere I visited where I needed to clear my head. When you would have trouble sleeping at night, I would bring us here to sing to you,” He was speaking faintly but fondly as he remembered the sweet yet chaotic times when the demon was just an infant.

Agoti was quiet for a moment. “I don’t remember that?”

“You were so young, nobody would.”

He pondered and glanced down at himself to see if he still possessed his pastel palette. It was gone, replaced by a shimmery aura that bounced off both his and his father’s bodies. Continuing to look around, everything he took in was so unfamiliar. Just somewhere in the cosmos, he guessed. None of the planets were from their own solar system and neither were they in one, but the planets dispersed about were close enough for them to personally observe. Around them were a multitude of worlds ranging in all colors and sizes.

Even the suns nearby looked remotely nothing like theirs. That wasn’t the only thing there, stars were obvious but from afar did Agoti see these sort of cloud-like accumulations of colorful speckles. Nebulas of course! He remembered that from the books he read with his sister and would definitely have a story to tell once morning arrived.

He looked to see his father gazing up at the space, eyes glinting with fascination.

“Isn’t it beautiful?”

Agoti’s quick babble was all he needed to know he agreed with him.

“What’s that star over there?” Agoti questioned, pointing to one particular star. It wasn’t like the other ones where they glowed a color that would be anomalous to their solar system. It was anomalous to every sun around it, aqua blue and yellow swirled within its core like a cauldron having its contents stirred, its surface shining a seafoam green. Despite the bizarre coloring, it fascinated Agoti and he was instantly entranced by its alluring appearance.

“I’m not sure. Do you like it?” He asked.

“Yeah! Can we name it?” The boy was enthused, standing up to get a better view.

Solazar kept him steady by planting his hands on his hips, for a few moments, he thought of a name for this unknown star. “Maybe Cerulean would be a good name? It goes well with the blue.”

“It’s perfect!”

There was always something new to see no matter where he looked. His adoptive father could indeed relate to this feeling.

Agoti for the next several minutes pointed out every detail and squealed over each new discovery to his father. He let him rant about it, he would get tired eventually. And as if on cue, a wave of exhaustion crashed over him. The digidevil felt his eyelids get a little heavy and his body’s muscles began to go limp at an unprecedented rate. He plopped back down before leaning back into his body.

“Dad I’m…tired,” He said in between a loud yawn.

Solazar pressed a finger to his intangible lips. “Shhh~ You’ve been awake long enough, close your eyes.”

Agoti’s eyelids succumbed to its weight, quicking shutting close.

“That’s it, just listen to my voice… ”

He lightly brushed his knuckles against his hair. He knew just the song to sing and looked forward to finally bringing his boy peace, just as he did all those years ago. Solazar's deep voice became smooth as he commenced his serenade, sounding much more divine as his cords echoed despite the heavens they were in being devoid of oxygen.

…

♪ Come little children

♬ I’ll take thee away

♩ Into a land of enchantment

♩ Come little children

♪ The time’s come to play

The digidevil was immediately dragged into a state of calm, helped by the Solarisapien who sang so handsomely. His carol fills the quiet around them.

Follow sweet children ♩

I’ll show thee the way♩

Through all the pain ♫

And the sorrows ♪

Weep not poor children ♫

For life is this way ♩

Murdering beauties and passions~ ♪

Agoti began to stir when he saw something bright form behind his eyelids and opened them just a tad. He witnessed their surroundings suddenly filled with glowing figures of the sort.

His vision cleared just enough to recognize that it was musical notes materializing. They danced in the air, reminding Agoti of the copies of sheet music he’d seen his father playing. They were blue like his dad and seemed to serve some sort of purpose with his solo, playing the instrumental to the song for further auxiliary.

“Papa, wass tha’?” He slurred, his speech ruined with spittle and weariness.

“This is one of the many gifts I was given when I came to exist.” Solazar stopped singing to answer his question.

“You yourself will be blessed one day,” he rubbed the back of his head with his hand, “Now then, try to go back to sleep.” his voice was rumbling with how low he was speaking.

♬ Hush now dear children

♩ It must be this way

♩ Too weary of life

♪ And deceptions

♫ Rest now my children

♬ For soon we’ll away

♪ Into the calm and the quiet

A symphony of woos slowly began to reveal themselves and surround them, varying in pitch and length, all were quite feminine voices but there was an underlying manly voice behind their delicate chorus. Agoti could start to see figures of people fading in above and around them. They appeared to be the same species as his father. None of them had their entire body showing, ending around the waist, and faded into faint sparkles as the outline of their bodies connected like constellations. One stood out, the man behind the guttural singing and the biggest out of them all, muscular and imposing yet seemingly at peace. The notes pranced around the duo, moving accordingly in a hypnotic fashion. Solazar wasn’t lying when he said this was highly effective. The honeyed voice dripping with affection singing the sweet song in his ear and enchanted infinity called space took a toll, succeeding in shutting his eyes permanently. He could no longer see the forms of the ancient race or the notes as he had finally fallen asleep.

Come little children…♫

I’ll take thee away…♪

Into a land of enchantment…♩

Come little children… ♬

The time’s come to play…♪

“Here in my garden of shadows ♪”

The ancient species sang one last beautiful chorus, singing with more vigor and more passion at the sight of the mortal child resting in his caretaker’s arms. They were merely souls, however, apparitions of warriors who faded eons ago, forever roaming the cosmos in silence.

The notes faded away, along with the spirits who had long since perished, leaving him alone with his son. Solazar sighed and relaxed his shoulders. He wanted to admire the sight of his beautiful boy one more time, he stood out among all the beauty that surrounded them. But was unfortunately interrupted by their aura beginning to dull. Solazar pulled up his sleeve to quickly look at the time, reading 2:27.

They had overstayed their visit, it was time to go home.

Before the aura could fizzle out, he had already snapped his fingers to send them home. Everything from before happened in reverse order, catapulting them to the ground. Agoti somehow remained asleep, a soft smile gracing his already darling expression. Solazar would love to bask in it but was too busy holding onto dear life, keeping the chair's armrest well clutched and silently praying the seat wouldn’t crash.

Once that beacon of light had collapsed and revealed the carpet floor of his room, Solazar braced. Shockingly, the chair bounced off the floor with ease, launching them both in the air before going down again. The momentum knocked them forward hard and fast, so hard he nearly face-planted into the floor but digging his foot in the ground stopped it. Solazar’s eyes were wide and when he looked down at the small boy; he was somehow in a deep sleep.

Solazar stared at his sleeping face, his gaze fueling the core inside of him to swell. A wet line of saliva was leaking from the corner of his slightly agape mouth and he gingerly wiped away the spittle with his thumb. Words couldn’t describe how he was feeling, he just wanted to preserve the scene.

The ancient being stood up from the rocking chair holding him in one arm, using his other to pull back his comforter and prepare the area for his son. Slowly and gently, he laid the digidevil in the empty spot and covered his body over the sheet. He snuggled into the warmth, stretching before falling still back to his sleep. He grabbed his teddy bear and tucked it in next to him. He witnessed him leisurely pull it closer to him. The Solarisapien stood over him and bowed his head.

He took a seat on the corner of his bed, creaking as his weight pressed down on the bolts holding it together. Solazar reached for his face but was stopped by Agoti’s tendrils, who somehow sensed his presence and curled the short hair around his hand sweetly. How long he sat there he didn’t know, but eventually, he knew it was time for his son to sleep alone.

His hand was already on the doorknob and he swung it open before exiting. Outside his room, Solazar couldn’t have felt more relieved and slid his back down the wall before his bottom met the wooden floor. He leaned his head against the wall and took off his glasses, rubbing them against his turtleneck sweater, getting rid of specks that were a nuisance to his vision.

Then he heard it.

A creak not from his own doing.

He turned to his right and saw a pair of disembodied eyes staring at him from the darkness. The creature stepped forward.

It was Luna, the family cat. She was immediately purring and rubbing up against Solazar’s legs and accepted being scratched behind her ears.

“Hello, Luna.”

Luna meowed and rubbed up against him, her black fur felt soft against his legs.

“Why don’t we go relax?”

She meowed, signaling her approval.

…

With the sun creeping up the horizon, it cast red and yellow clouds in the sky as a new day began. Birds sang their melody of dawn, golden light striking the green trees. Tiny flecks danced around the digidevil’s bedroom while gold luster brightened the room. He did not stir, Agoti had never slept so well in his life, the blanket felt so warm and the pillow was soft enough to melt into. The only thing he could hear was his soft snoring and the chirping of birds. He could stay here forever.

Agoti felt a dip further down his bed, but he didn’t dare open his eyes. It was too perfect to ruin this moment.

“Son, it’s time to get up.” Solazar’s voice was nearly in a whisper. His son was a light sleeper, it didn’t take much to wake him up.

He groaned and rotated his body, encasing himself in more of his soft blanket. “Too shleepy…”

Agoti believed he had won and breathed deeply into the layers, taking in their fresh scent. He was left sorely mistaken however once he felt something move under his comforter and attempt to grab him. His father was trying to pick him up out of his bed and he wouldn’t let that happen.

“Nurrr…” Agoti mewled, burrowing deeper into the sheets, dodging the hands trying to grasp him.

“Are you not going to get up?”

“Nuh-uh.” He pouted, upset his morning slumber had been interrupted.

Solazar was silent for a moment.

“Suit yourself.”

What he did next was something he hadn’t seen coming, catching him off guard greatly as two hands tweaked his sides. Solazar systematically targeted his torso, following his son’s every moment so he could never escape and was always first to prod away at his body. Agoti tried to suppress them at first but the laughter piling in his chest was getting harder to ignore. The barrier broke and he let out a flurry of bubbling giggles, doing his best to squirm away from his father’s wrath.

“Agoti, you know how to stop this.” He heard him say but didn’t relent, he really needed his sleep!

“Nohohoho!” The demon cried, encasing himself under the covers to protect himself, which only left him more vulnerable. Solazar proceeded to tickle up and down his son’s torso at random, never giving him a chance to get used to the sensation before moving again. It had a significant effect on his dear boy, who by now made it obvious with his sputtering laughter and silly little snorts in between. Agoti still persisted but still made no effort to bargain with his father.

Sol could clearly see he had inherited his own stubbornness. But what he didn’t have was patience and his father for all he knew could be here all day if he wanted, gently tormenting his boy until he gave in. But with their limited time, it wasn’t possible and he aimed for the final blow. Searching under the cover a bit and eventually landing on what he was looking for, his digits wiggled wildly all over.

Agoti shrieked and the thrashing increasing under the covers indicated he had found what he was looking for.

“Not my rihihihihibs!” The digidemon cried from under the sheets. With all his thrashing, it finally led up to Agoti wrestling the comforter off of him, finally releasing himself from his hiding place. He pushed at his hands, laughing brightly.

“Are you going to get up?” Sol asked, continuing his ministries as the digidevil giggled for mercy.

“Yehehehes pahahapa!” His laughter became girlish as the tickling continued.

His exterior remained hardened and stern, but on the inside, he struggled to keep up the facade.

“And I won’t have to return to your room and do this again, yes?”

A squeal was ripped out of Agoti’s throat once his lower ribs were targeted, warm fingers glazing over his clothed skin.

“Yehehes dahahaddy! I prohohomise!” He didn’t have to wiggle around much longer as Solazar had ceased his playful punishment.

Agoti hugged himself once his hands pulled away and giggled as the residual ghost tickles slowly sunk into his bone, fading into his skin feeling stimulated and sensitive. From all the laughing he had been doing, he thought he would be exhausted. Strangely enough, all of his fatigue from earlier ceased to exist and he felt rather energized.

The Solarisapien adjusted the glasses on his face. “I’ll start cooking breakfast then. How do pancakes sound?”

Agoti’s face lit up in excitement, pancakes were his favorite. “Yeah!”

“You think you can get dressed on your own?”

“Mhm!” He hummed excitedly, looking forward to the flavor of fluffy, buttery pancakes by his father.

“That’s my boy.” He ruffled his tendrils and left the demon to his devices, giving him the well-needed privacy to get dressed. As he left the door behind him ajar, Agoti got to work and directed his path toward his dressers.

He found the perfect t-shirt and while he struggled to clip on his overalls at first, he succeeded and slipped on a pair of socks before escaping his room through the considerately cracked door. Agoti ran out into the kitchen, finding his beloved family and the delicious wafts of butter circulated the air and satisfying crackles of oil smelling of grease got him excited.

If there was anything better in the mornings, it was the sight of bacon and his father’s famous pancakes. His sister and father had their backs turned to him, all focused on the stove as the former warrior instructed his daughter on making the pancakes. Aldryx seemed frustrated but as usual, their father was patient, guiding his child through the steps until she cheered for joy at her successful pancake. It was only then the pair noticed the youngest’s presence that they turned to warmly greet him.

“Nice to see you joined us this morning, Agoti. You look well.” Solazar hummed, drinking from a mug and wearing a chef’s apron.

Aldryx looked and grinned at her little brother, revealing all her sharp sets of teeth to the toddler. She was sitting on the counter, holding a bowl of batter and wearing her signature pink nightgown and pink slippers, swinging her legs in blissful innocence. Even Aldryx was excited at the sweet breakfast the two were going to have.

The flaming male beckoned the smaller child forward and hoisted him up, only this time to place him on his shoulders. Agoti’s legs were twigs compared to the tree trunk equivalent of his neck and when he wrapped his legs around it, they fit perfectly around the nape, giving the toddler the perfect amount of support.

“Would you like to help us make breakfast?” He asked calmly, slightly turning his head to make eye contact with the boy on him.

“Uh-huh!” Agoti was bouncing up and down as he was brought closer to the stovetop. He was struck with the delicious smells of both foods cooking, even more, potent now that he was closer. Solazar did the same with Agoti as he did with Aldryx, slowly teaching him his ways while lightly scolding him if he ate the raw batter. Time slowed down and the household was filled with laughter and chaos as their hijinks persisted.

All of a sudden, Agoti stopped, still holding the spatula. “Daddy, can we eat now? I’m hungry.”

Solazar nodded his head. “I suppose so, go sit down and I’ll bring your plates out to you.”

“Yay!” Both cried in unison, Aldryx jumped off the counter and scampered off with her little brother, who was already climbing up to his booster seat. Dishes clattered and cabinets opened here and there and soon enough, Solazar was walking toward them with their food. They both said their thanks as their father placed the plates with the appropriate silverware in front of them, the duo donning beaming smiles before digging in. Their father sat down with them, but stayed quiet, silently watching them gulp down their food with half-lidded eyes.

Hardly any time had passed and the two children were already begging for another helping. The Solarisapien obliged, picking up their plates yet again to go into the kitchen where the rest of the food lay warm. Unfortunately, in the Entity household, it was never short of calamity. Aldryx and Agoti were already beginning to goof off at the dinner table, flinging specks of food caught by their placemats at each other back and forth. Both were quietly snickering, doing their best to not attract his attention and ducking under the table as a shield against each other’s attacks.

Solazar came back with their second meal and wasn’t surprised at the scene, their faces were peppered with leftover pancake and grease from their bacon. He stared at them and just smiled, placing the plates back down in front of them.

“Enjoy your breakfast, children.”

Needless to say, it was a great morning.

He wouldn’t trade it for the world.

✿

✿

✿

✿

Fin~

[blackjackkent]

"It is absolutely preposterous that any of us are alive!" Hope cries out as Raphael's body collapses against the marble floor. A pause, and then her eyes widen. "Maybe we're not. PINCH YOURSELF AND CHECK WE'RE NOT DREAMING THE LAST OF OUR LIVES AS WE DIE SCREAMING!"

Hector looks at her blearily; leaning against the wall, he slides slowly down into a sitting position, feeling the slow creep of pain through him as the adrenaline fades and the burns all over his body start to make themselves known. "We're fine, Hope..." he mutters hoarsely. "We did it."

"Then we're not just fine - we're spectacular!" she says brightly. "What a wonderful, jubilant, glorious day!" Her head snaps sideways, looking to one corpse amidst the pile of bodies in the chamber. "OH BUT MY POOR SISTER KORRILLA!" she bellows, a sudden wail of grief. "It is not right that she died, and it makes me want to weep an ocean..."

Hector lets out a heavy breath, following her gaze. Korrilla is stretched on her back, staring blankly at the ceiling; her head sits at an odd angle where Yurgir broke her neck. "I don't think there was any way to save her," he says quietly.

Her eyes narrow thoughtfully. "When we were children, she always kept the last piece of pastry for me. And bloodied the nose of the bullies who pulled my hair... She was my sister..." A pause. She squares her shoulders and looks up at Hector with a sudden earnestness. "But as a wise woman once said, there's no point in crying over spilt blood. We must go on. And despite all the years I've lost, I have enough love in my heart to guide you home."

Narrator: For the first time since you heard her voice, Hope seems calm. And the peace flows from her into you, soothing your very soul.

Hector half-closes his eyes, focusing on the welcome moment of serenity. It does nothing to dull the pain of his injuries... but it means, at the very least, that this is over. And he can't help admiring the tormented dwarf's bravery in this moment - to still look forward after everything that has happened to her.

"What will you do?" he asks.

She smiles just a little. "I'll hope," she says simply. "What else? I hope I'll see Korrilla again one day, and that she'll say sorry, and I'll tell her she's forgiven. I hope I'll find all the pieces of my mind that fell out of my head over all those years, and that I'll be able to put myself back together again. I hope the echoes of pain will fade, and memories of sorrow will die, and that you'll visit me here some day."

She steps forward, rests a hand against his cheek. Her palm feels feverishly warm, and yet the touch is gentle and soothing. "And I hope you have a happy ending of your own."

He looks up into her eyes, and though he smiles back, it is a sad expression. Little chance of that, I think, little one, he thinks to himself. But the words are a blessing, kindly meant, and he folds them into his soul where they will live alongside all the other little bits of hope he carries with them, in the hope that they will bolster him when the dark times come...

-----

Minsc is looking around wildly, in search of another enemy to strike; the wild frenzy of the rage is in his eyes and he narrowly avoids slamming his trident into Karlach as he turns.

"Easy, buddy," she mutters, putting out a hand on his arm. She can feel that every sinew of his body is stretched tight, his heart pounding.

It takes a few moments for him to calm, for the mad rage to clear out of his eyes, for him to realize that Raphael is dead. "He has killed her!" he snarls at Karlach, who flinches back under the ferocity of his expression. "He has killed Jaheira! Another witch dead before Minsc's eyes!"

Were the moment less tense, Karlach might point out that Jaheira had insisted she was not Minsc's witch, but it's not the point, not really. Witch or not, Minsc has watched his best friend crumble in the fire, just as Karlach once watched Hector die in a similar sea of flame. And there is some greater weight in Minsc's words too - a history of other deaths that could not be prevented.

"I know-- I know," Karlach says hastily. "But it's all right. We can revive her. I've got a scroll in my pack--" She pulls one of the curled sheets of paper out, offers it towards him.

He snatches it from her wordlessly, crouches at Jaheira's side, beginning to mumble the words of the spell as Boo scurries back and forth in agitation on his shoulders. Karlach stands next to him, shifting uncertainly, not sure whether to stay with him or go to Hector...

The pale gold light of the Revivify spell begins to swirl around Jaheira's body; she twitches, coughs painfully, her eyes flickering open.

"Ah," she says vaguely, looking up at Minsc. "Is it over, then?"

Minsc's eyebrows lift and he smiles widely in relief and joy. Heedless of her injuries, he lifts her in a full body hug; she gives a soft grunt of pain and pushes weakly at his shoulder.

"Careful, you great ox of a man," she mumbles. "I am only so many inches from death's door; take care you do not knock me back over the threshold..."

"Should I do so, Minsc would travel into death to find you," Minsc says gravely. He loosens his embrace but does not quite let go of her. "I failed you," he adds soberly. "I did not protect you, my--" A slight pause. "My friend."

"Did you not?" she asks with a slight smile. "I am here, and our enemy is not. What more could be asked?"

Minsc narrows his eyes thoughtfully. "I think this is wisdom which Minsc does not form so easily in his brain," he says slowly. "But if Jaheira says it is so, then he must believe it."

With the situation in something resembling calm, Karlach draws back away from them, moves to kneel at Hector's side. "All right, soldier?" she asks quietly.

He looks up at her with a weary smile, presses his palm to the chest of her armor as if reassuring himself of her presence. "I never grow tired of this," he says dryly. "The pain in every limb, the feeling of having been run over by rampaging rothe."

"Glorious, isn't it?" she answers in similar tone, and ruffles her fingers gently through his hair. It's sticky with blood, like the rest of him, and her fingers come away covered in it. "But hey... not so bad, the feeling of going to rest afterwards, right? We should get to that part."

"I couldn't agree with you more..."

[sororalice]

On The Blessedness Of Mourning

A homily for the New Moon on October 2, 2024.

Dearly Beloved,

Blessed New Moon in Libra, and a double Libra, no less!

On this New Moon, I find myself in mourning. I am in mourning for Palestine and Lebanon, for Ukraine, for the victims of gun violence in America, and (always) for women, BIPOC, queer people, and the poor and disabled everywhere. I find myself praying fervently that all of those in need, all of those who have found themselves exploited, victimized, harmed, or in need find relief in the scales of blessed and divine Justice, however they—or you, dear reader—may know Her. May your tears be wiped away, your wounds and sicknesses be healed, and your bellies be filled.

So mote it be.

I am also in mourning for a very personal loss I should have felt 26 years ago, a loss that I hid behind a veil of guilt so I that didn’t have to feel it, the loss of a whole life that could have been but never was.

As such, I find myself moved to speak about that special grief that feels like a hole in our chests, that grief that feels like the end of the world. I find myself moved to speak about the sadness that sits quietly weeping at the side of an open grave, the loss that screams at the sky in the middle of a thunderstorm, the pain that sits in stunned silence at the end of a final phone call.

I am moved to speak upon mourning.

I have lost many people in my life, not just to death but also to time and change, those other absolutes of our natural world that stand next to death. And some people have lost me. The same forces that take people away from us can take us away from other people. There are the people who I thought were my best friends, the loves I thought would be forever, even the people who I used to be, the shards of crystallized self that once brought me into focus but, over time, ceased to serve me. I have loved and mourned them all.

And it has been heartbreaking.

Again and again, my heart has been split open, soft and vulnerable, laid bare by the past, by the memories and experiences that made me grow and change and become far more than I could have ever been without them. I have been hounded by thoughts that wound from behind, by the fantasies of what could have been (if only), and by the empty moments that are revealed by the absence of those we love.

And in these times, I have sometimes tried to avoid the feelings. I would drink or smoke or fuck myself into a temporary oblivion. I would hide myself in stories and music. And of course, as anyone who knows me can attest, I would find escape through endless hours of games.

I have always so loved games.

But life isn’t a game. The people we come to know and love during our lives are the really-real, the true truth. They give us some of the few signposts we can count upon to show us our way in a world that is often confusing and frightening. It is through seeing the good in others that we often come to admire the good. It is through seeing others be kind that we often come to value kindness. And it is through loving others that we often come to understand what it could possibly mean to be loved.

Unfortunately, this incredible joy, this continuous growth into a new creature based in love and shared vulnerability, comes with a price: it is temporary. Every person, place, thing, or situation we fall in love with, including ourselves, will come to an end. Even the universe as a whole, according to most accounts of the universe both scientific and mythical, will someday come to an end. The light will go stale, the darkness will grow tired, and the gods will sweep the floor and put the chairs up on the tables. The party will, at long last, be over. All over but the crying.

The mourning.

So what does it mean to mourn? What do we do when we wail over the dead, over the lost, over the endings of things we’d once felt like were forever? What is the meaning of our grief? These are questions so heavy that they can break our backs, can make us get stuck in our mourning, because whatever else mourning is, it is a process, and processes can get stuck, can get derailed, can get postponed. We can get trapped in our mourning, turn our mourning into a blanket that we pull over ourselves, nice and warm, until it becomes suffocating. We can fall in love with our mourning and make it a part of our identity.

At least, I know that I can.

But mourning is a gift, a way of honoring those people and situations that we love. We offer up our grief and tears, our sad and suddenly empty moments, to what has come to an end. We offer up our weeping and our beloved memories of what we once had on the altar of our love. They are a solemn treasure, given in honor of what was, and such a treasure is holy.

There are many who become impatient or annoyed by mourning, by the time that it takes and the energy that it uses. In our world, where “optimization” has become embraced as a universal good, mourning is singularly less than optimal. It grants no advantage over competitors in the market, it doesn’t gain likes or subscribers, and even worse, mourning doesn’t care about any of that…all mourning wants is to finish mourning. The “Spirit Of Mourning” wants our tears and our hours, our dreams and our memories, so how can we blame those who become impatient, who want us to “just get over it” and “move on”? They want us to be fun again, to be available again, to have space for them in our hearts again.

And the secret of mourning is that we will be fun again…someday. The tears will come to an end and we will find ourselves looking forward to the future again. As nature teaches us, Winter always comes…and it always comes to an end. But until then we must hold our tears tight. We must let ourselves mourn.

So let us embrace the crying, dear siblings. Let us embrace the sighing, the empty moments of staring into space. Let us embrace the terrible feeling of absence, that forlorn feeling of lack that feels like it will tear us apart. Because in that place of loss, of lack, of mourning, there is a beauty, a tribute, a loving offering.

So let us love each other deeply, dearly beloved, and let us miss each other when we are gone.

Let us mourn.

Happy New Moon.

In love,

Soror Alice

Art: Frederick Ellwell, “The Wedding Dress”, (1911)

[dp-marvel94]

The Same Type of Ghost- Chapter 1

Summary: Deep in the Infinite Realms, something writhed. And only Clockwork can help.

Word Count: 2136

Chapter 1(Here) -> Chapter 2 -> Chapter 3

Also on AO3

Note: For @everystarstorm @modordracena @five-rivers

For Phic Phight 2023. Welcome to my first entry for phic phight this year! Have some eldritch horror and a bunch of angst for this first chapter. As you'll see from the tags, Clockwork comes next chapter to makes things better. Below are all the prompts I'm using for this, though not all are relvant for this first part.

The clones are back, how are they no longer goop? Kibby | everystarstorm | _ | StarStorm21 | _ (Team Human)

Soft and cozy body horror. (Yes borrowing that phrase from Rivers because it’s good and I always want more.) Modor Dracena | Genevieve#6101 | modordracena | ModorDracena (Team Human)

Horror, but soft and cozy with lots of sensation. Five-rivers | FiveRivers | five-rivers | Marsalias | FiveRivers (Team Ghost)

Clockwork knew about Danielle of course, he knew everything. But knowing about her was not enough to prepare him for the full force of her puppy-eyes when she came to him asking for help. Aedelia | Aedelia#2626 | aedelia | neokid93 | neokid93 (team Ghost)

Clockwork is DEFINITELY not sick, stressed, tired, or overwhelmed. The idea of an incredibly powerful ghost with control over time itself experiencing anything like that is ridiculous! Everything is fine, and anything that implies otherwise is mere coincidence.Lurking | Lurking🕓🍁#5333 | Currentlylurking| currentlylurking | (Team Human)

Also, an important note. This story is canon to my "Life and Death is all Perspective Series" set after Drifters (the story where Prometheus, the muscly frankenstein clone is the main character). It assumes that all the clones have been reunited at some point in the future. A main focus here is Prometheus' experience in Vlad's lab before his death, when he saw a lot of other clones destabilize and as the oldest and most stable, tried very had to make sure none of them were alone as they passed.

Deep in the Infinite Realms, something writhed. 

“Stop! NO! Stop!!” A scream of agony.

Pained whispers. “No. No. Please.” 

“Master? Where’s? Where’s... No. No.” Frantic rambles.

“Why?! Why?! Why?!” Weeping sobs.

So many voices- screaming, crying, whispering, wailing- at once. Too many hands… one, three, fifteen, fifty. Reaching, gasping, touching. 

What was… No…. That’s not…. Why…. Thoughts caught and released, shifting like so many limbs.

Limbs? Two hands touched, combined. Smaller? Smaller! Yes! No. Good…. Bad?! What…. What. Why….

A wet, sunking noise. Black, white, green mass of ectoplasmic flesh undulated. One leg divided into two. Too many limbs. Twisting. Growing. Dwindling. 

Another head budded, rising up from the mass. A new mouth opened, a wordless moan of sorrow.

A flash of memory flickered. Needle in the neck. Knives. Red blood, seeping from a gash. Cracked bones. Green… so much green. Like….

Eyes darted – green, blue, red, black, white -- dozens on every surface. 

Can’t… focus. What… where. NO! NO! 

The surroundings… almost familiar. So much green. But where…

“ Stop! Hurts! Please make stop!” A mouth cried.

Can’t…. Focus. Too much. Too many…. Too many directions. Nothing makes…. Pain!... Why!... We didn’t…. Where is….

A cry in front of-

All eyes darted forward, alert. A cry, not from we-me-us-I but….  

Focus! A tall, muscular figure. Scarred with tears in his green eyes. 

One head tilted in curiously. Then a second…. Wait. We know….

Dozens of memories slotted into place. Strong arms, holding, caressing. Fingers, wiping away tears. A gentle, deep voice. And the words….

“I’m not gonna… not gonna leave you. I’m… I’m right here.” A focused watery smile, a finger moving to whip away the tear. “You’re not alone.”

Recognition. All eyes focused on the face, black tendrils reaching out to touch, to grab. Malformed limbs encased the other, smaller figure.

 All voices spoke as one. “Brother?”

“How much farther, Ellie?” The girl turned at the question, taking in Prometheus’ raised brow as he continued. “We’ve been flying for a long time now.” Nervous eyes flickered around the green atmosphere, dotted with a few floating rocks and distant purple-green clouds, but mostly empty. “I’ve never been out this far.”

“We’re almost there.” Ellie offered her larger clone brother a comforting smile. “Twenty minutes or so. See that chunk of rock.” She pointed. “That’s where we’re going.”

The muscular clone nodded. “Alright.” Some of the tension leaked out of him, the question casual. “What exactly did you want me to see anyway?”

The girl’s smile morphed into a grimace, the memory flickering in her mind. The distant cry of pain, the writhing mass of black and green, all the blinking eyes…. Ellie shook her head, forcing the disturbing image away. “You’ll see….” 

Pro wrinkled his nose, the skeptical look making dread and guilt sink like a stone in her gut.

The smaller clone looked down; she would have shuffled awkwardly, dragging a shoe across the ground if there had been any. “I thought…. I might know what it is… whatever I saw.”

That… creature, if that was what it had been. That thing she’d seen from a distance and fled from, full of fear and dread… There had been something oddly familiar about it. Later, when she’d arrived at their lair, Ellie knew she had to investigate and somehow… Pro had to be the one to go with her. 

The taller clone accepted the statement with a sigh, flying forward to hover at her side. An arm briefly wrapped around her in a side hug. “Let’s get going then.”

The rocky island loomed larger and larger in Ellie’s vision. She still couldn’t see anything yet but… her ear twitched. A noise, quiet under the roaring winds of the Realms. The sound of crying…

The girl swallowed, core heavy in her chest. They still needed to get closer but-

“What’s that?” Pro’s hand on her shoulder paused her flight.

Slowly, he pointed. Ellie’s eyes widened. There, along the bottom of the island, almost completely blocked by the rock…. Something squirmed.

A scream pierced the air.

“Pro! Wait!” The larger ghost dashed in front of her and Ellie cursed herself. She should have told her brother about this; the creature had screamed like that this last time. 

Ellie hurried after Prometheus, quickly approaching the island. He dipped down, curving to the side to approach the source of movement from below. 

Another wail. The smaller ghost covered her ears, eyes focused on her brother. His wide eyes darted, searching for the origin of the sound. 

Where was it? It should have been right in front of them. Ellie’s stomach knotted. This was a horrible idea. But… 

A wet snapping noise sounded.

The girl froze, ears drawn to the sound. She didn’t… she didn’t want to look. Something green and sticky dripped past her. God. She didn’t want to look. That… that couldn’t be….

Slowly, as if by a spell, her head tilted up. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Prometheus do the same. 

Both clones stared.

Prometheus couldn’t look away. Eyes wide, body frozen, he couldn’t move, couldn’t look away from… from…. He couldn’t describe it. Or maybe, it was too horrible to describe. 

The mass of flesh… constantly moving, fluctuating. It looked… wet. Or gummy. Sticky? So much green…. Arms sprouted, legs, flashes of hair. Eyes blinked, stared, wept. And the noise….

“Make stop! Make stop!” “No. No. Please.” “Master? Where’s? Where’s... No. No.” “Why?! Why?! Why?!”

Blood curdling screams. Crazed rambles. Haunted whisper. Excruciating wailing.

It…. god, this was too much. Too horrible. Nausea rose, tears welling in his eyes. This was… this was horrible. He… he needed to get away. He needed to get his sister way. This was… this was wrong. But…. 

“ Stop! Hurts! Please make stop!”

Prometheus recoiled, a choked sound, part-sob and part-scream exiting his throat. His stomach twisted, a sick sense of familiarity. 

Suddenly, all the monsters' eyes darted forward, focused on him. One head tilted, then another. A breathless pause and…

Black tendrils reach out.

Panikedly, Pro tried to pull away.  “Hey! What are you-”  Slimy, misty, sticky limbs wrapped around his torso.

The larger clone frozen, core locked in blind terror. He shook, mind spinning and blank. Behind him, Ellie screamed. The malformed arms-legs-tails tighten around him. A small, hysterical thought…. He was going to die again.

But… every eye- red, blue, green- fixed on him, the massive body freezing.

“Brother?” The word was gibberish to Prometheus’s ears, mind unable to comprehend. The squeezing lessened into something almost tender….. Like an embrace. “Brother.” Recognition sparked in the hundreds of eyes. A dozen voices speaking at once. “Brother was there. Brother holds. Brother protects. Brother loves.” 

Prometheus trembled, mind crashing to a stop. “Wha…what?” Throat hardly able to form words.

“Shhhh.” The massive creature shushed him, one tendril extending to caress his back. “I’m not gonna… not gonna leave you. I’m… I’m right here.” One face… the painfully familiar face in front of him, forced a watery smile. “You’re not alone.”

Those words…. Prometheus had said those words to… to… The clone’s eyes widened, understanding crashing over him. “No.” The word brimmed with dread.

“Let him go!” An ectoblast slashed into the creature, Ellie finally pulled out of her stupor. 

The monster, the creature let out a cry.

Pro barely registered. “No. No. It can’t…”

It couldn’t be. It couldn’t!

“I said let him go!” Another shot from his sister. 

A confused whine. “Let… go? No.” A head shook. “No! Yes! Let him go. Hurt brother bad!” The grip tightened. “No! Brother stay. Need brother.” 

Prometheus let out a whimper, tear spilling. “No. You’re… you’re not….”

A set of the creatures’ eyes widened in alarm. “We hurt brother. No… accident. Didn’t mean… Bad! Let go.” The being writhed. “We need! No!” The voices echoed, fluctuating. “Yes! Let go.” Tendrils tighten, lossen, tighten.

Another ectoblast from Ellie. “You, listen! Let Pro go!”

Prometheus shook, core in his throat. It hurt. It hurt. The shadowy limbs hurt. But…. but this… this was worse. The truth, what was happening… it wasn’t possible

“No! Yes! What… why? Brother…. Where?” The voices…. So many voices, arguing. “Why?! Why?! Why?!”

The creature shook, movement returning. Heads, limbs sprouting and disappearing. The mass of appendages holding Prometheus twitched…. The abomination less let-go-off, more threw the older clone.

Prometheus tumbled, hand over foot, chest heaving with emotion. 

“Pro!” Ellie darted after him.

The larger clone slammed into a small shelf of rock.

“Are you okay?” Her eyes are wide with worried.

Wobbly, Pro pulled himself to his feet. He felt… felt sick. Head shaking, stomach heaving. “No. Ellie. No. I’m…I’m…” Bending over, he threw up. 

The smaller ghost jumped back. Her eyes popped wider, panicked. “It hurt you.”

Frantically, his head shook in denial. “No. No. That’s not. It… They didn’t… didn’t hurt me. That’s not…” The taller ghost whipped his mouth. “Ellie…” The word came out so pained. “It’s… That’s them…. All the… All the..” Another heave. “All our brothers that die. They’re there. They’re right here. They’re over there. But… But… they’re stuck together.”

Prometheus’ legs wobbled, falling to his knees. “This is… this is so wrong. It’s so wrong. It’s…” In the background, the creature’s argument with itself has devolved back into incomprehensible noise.

This was… this was a nightmare. A nightmare. All the… the brothers he had held as they died, comforted as their bodies failed. The memories flashed in his mind. All the blood and ectoplasm. Deep cuts, scapals, needles, vials of liquid. The cries, the screams, the eerie silence. The begging.

Please make stop! Make stop!  

Pro shook. He’d been there. He’d held, he’d comforted as they died. He’d whispered words of comfort the best he could. And once he’d…. He listened to the begging and with the needle and drugs, put the poor brother out of his misery. He’d died.  They’d all died. They were… they were all dead and gone.

But they were all still here, all right here. In that… that thing, that abomination, that affront to nature. His insides twisted. All those memories, those bodies, those souls forced together. It was… it was wrong. It was sick. It was… it was cruel. It was… bile rose in his throat, eyes falling over the corrupt, twisted, warped mass. This… this terrible unholy conglomeration. 

There were no words for how horrible it was, never enough tears of the injustice, the perversion of how things were supposed to be. He’d already.. He’d already faced this grief. The reality that all those brothers were gone. They were dead, the only solace that they were no longer in pain. Except….

The grotesque amalgamation….  They were weeping-screaming-crying in pain. 

Pro shook his head, his nauseous feeling melting away. “They’re.. They’re in so much pain.” No. No. No. That was worse, so much worse than then just being gone. The wrongness, the affront to nature he could handle -He was a full ghost clone of a half ghost for crying out loud; the definition of what was natural must be much larger than when he was foolish enough to think. But this…. “They’re hurting… hurting so much.” A desperate compassion crowded his core “I need to help them. There.. There has to be a way to help them.”

For a long moment, Ellie stood, a shaking hand covering her mouth. She stared into the distance, her eyes unseeing. Until… “What?” The words finally stirred her back to life.

“I have to help them.” Prometheus repeated, conviction filling his voice.

The girl’s eyes flickered from him to the being, wide and afraid. “How?”

“I don’t… I don’t know.”

Head shaking. “This was a mistake. I shouldn’t… I shouldn’t have brought us here.”

“No!” Pro suddenly stood. “No! We… we needed to find them. We found them for a reason. They need… need our help.”

An agonizing wail behind the pair… Ellie flinched. “Pro. We can’t… there’s nothing we can do.”

Prometheus’ mind raced, desperate. “There has to be..” Fresh tears spilled down his face.

And at their back…

“Brother! Brother! Where are you?! Where’d he… alone… alone!” A sob. “Hurts! Hurt! Please!”

Pro turned, trembling with emotion. “They… they need me.”

Ellie stared, unable to process as the monstrous abomination half-crawled, half-swam forward. Again, tendrils reached for Pro. But this time, the larger ghost fell into them, weeping and blubbering desperate comforts.

Empty despair. Helplessness. All she could hope was Pro crying himself out and being able to get him away from the creature. She… she needed help. She had to get her brother away from this abomination even if… even if it at one point in time, had been… had been….

It struck like lightning. “Time…” Her eyes widened, an idea catching.  “Clockwork…” She zoomed away. “We need Clockwork. He’ll… he’ll help.”

Note: I hope you enjoyed that angst fest. 😅 Things will get better next chapter, once Clockwork shows up, I promise. I don't know when that chapter will be out though. Next week looks very busy for me, just like this week was. Finding time to get this part out was a struggle. :( But I really wanted to get something posted for this event before too late in the month. As always, feel free to let me know what you think. If you need any clarification about my weird idea, feel free to ask too. 😅

[coffeejerk]

JOSETTE.

that cursed name. oh, how she LOATHES it — how it plagues her troubled dreams and invades her waking nightmares. 

my dear josette. 

barnabas' voice echoes ceaselessly within her skull, triggering a maddening barrage of unwanted memories. so sweet and seductive, his sonorous purr; so quick to change to an animalistic growl as he throttled her throat. willie’s tearful pleas ringing in her ears as she screamed for her life, then choked and gasped for breath. how many hours did she sob in vain for her father, until despair rendered her cries hoarse and her spirit utterly broken? and consistent throughout it all, there was always the incessant droning of the music box, and the dumb, vacant stare of that fucking portrait. 

my dear josette, you are such a LOVELY creature. 

is that what he wanted her to be? a beautiful girl perpetually frozen in a moment of time — a snapshot of corrupted innocence? the resemblance was certainly there, although the girl in the portrait lacked the weeping wounds on her neck, the hideous bruises marring her skin, the hollowed-out cheeks and thousand-yard stare. no, his plans for her were far more insidious.

maggie evans is dead, he told her with unsuppressed glee, and my josette has come back to me. 

how could he possibly make her understand? with gentle praise and persistent reinforcement, or with cruel teeth and battering fists? she never knew which she would receive. her thoughts were obscured by the thickest of fogs, and everything was all so terribly confusing. she drifted around the house aimlessly in those early days, lost in the melody of the music box, a blank canvas upon which to project his sick fantasies. a ghost of a girl.

it pains me to have to PUNISH you, josette. 

her desperate wails would give way to voiceless screams that went unheard throughout the night, her nails cracked and split from clawing at the coffin lid in frantic agony. and for what offense? she cannot remember, nor could she make any sense of it if she tried. he put me in a coffin! — a COFFIN! — that’s where she belongs, isn’t it? maggie evans is dead, and josette collins is dead, and barnabas collins is dead, and she is trapped in the HELL that he has crafted for her. 

how shall maggie evans die? 

it was more than relief she felt when she heard her name, her real name, spoken from his mouth, addressing her. maggie evans. i am maggie evans. her jubilant, cacophonous laughter echoed within the walls of her cell as tears of joy sprung to her bloodshot eyes.   ❝ yes! i’m maggie! you DO know my name. ❞   he called me maggie. MAGGIE!  an uncontrollable grin spread across her face, her eyes lighting up with joy for the first time in months.   ❝ see? i told you i wasn’t josette! ❞   her mad laughter followed him as he stalked away in anger, echoing through the damp basement and up past the dungeon stairs.

who is josette, maggie? 

the nearly-catatonic girl shot to life with a strangled cry, her hands pressed tight against her ears as she cowered against the wall in terror. her reaction was enough to shock even the perfectly composed dr. julia hoffman. the psychiatrist would raise her brow, lips pursed tight as she jotted down a note: acute psychological distress observed in patient at the mention of the name JOSETTE. her pen circles the name with vigor, her interest immediately piqued. 

do you know the legend of josette collins?

so many years have passed, but that name still haunts her. it infiltrates her dreams in an endless echo set to the music box’s tune, dredging up every horrible memory that she’s tried so hard to suppress. she can’t sleep because of that name. she wishes she could rip it clean from her mind, bleeding and screaming. she would give anything to scrub every last remnant of that hellish summer from her subconscious. any real progress she's accomplished, any small step toward attempting to heal, is all violently stripped away the second that name reaches her ears.

her regression is instantaneous, and obvious. a small whimper catches in the back of her throat, her jaw clenching painfully as she attempts to keep the flood of memories from overwhelming her. as is usually the case, she is only partially successful. but what else can she do but soldier on with a false smile?

after all, they'll never believe what happened to mad maggie evans.

[perexcri]

I’m Sobbing ejdkwow. They’re so in Love and aaaa! And wills teaching Mike magic!!! It’s so cleradin of them! And im so excited and sad that next chapter is the last! Excitsad

“I want to learn because it makes me so happy when you use your magic, and I’d like to make you at least a fraction as happy.” Wailing sobbing curled up into a tiny little ball. Mike you are The Boy of all time

‘he takes the starlight and smears it against one of Mike’s cheekbones, watches as the light dusts against his freckles and slowly dissipates back into the arms of the universe.’ I’m scream this imagery is so pretty!!!

I swear I’m going to Weep until my eyes get sore when I read the last chapter. This fic is so close to my heart noww😭😭

they ARE in love!! i am beating the "why is this so slow" / "why haven't they kissed yet" allegations with this one!! or at least i'm telling myself that heheheh

yeah Will teaching Mike magic (since it can be learned!!) had me very emo. i wasn't lying in the a/n i was seriously at the library telling myself not to cry because i was feeling some major shrimp emotions reading over this chapter, specifically over the last little section, and also because of the starlight!! when am i gonna have somebody smear starlight they called down from the sky onto MY face 😔 (she says as somebody who barely likes being hugged alkjflsajfl)

let's count this as comment #69 (nice) that i am once again saying: i'm so glad you like this fic man!! and that it's close to your heart!! i know i keep repeating the same like two phrases every time, but idk how else to express my appreciation for the love you have for this story T_T 💜

i hope you enjoy the last chapter!! i actually wrote it a while ago, but i love it very dearly. i think it does everything justice, and i hope you feel the same way!!

thanks as always for your lovely words, Vee!! and barring i don't get carried off by a pack of vultures or something equally as bizarre, i'll look forward to seeing your final thoughts on this fic soon :] 💜💜💜

[tma-entity-song-poll]

Battle of the Fear Bands!

B5R2: The Lonely

The Rockrose and the Thistle:

“Two lonely people. Please listen to this one it is VERY lonely.”

Salir de la Melancholia:

"I want a song (for a friend) who can't leave his eternal melancholy of suffering for love"

Lyrics below the line!

The Rockrose and the Thistle:

When you call to me asleep Up the ragged cliffs I scramble A single thread hangs limply down And I breathe, "Not now, not now"

And I find you all unwoven Trying desperately to sew And I know the kindest thing Is to leave you alone

When your seams have come unknitted And you cry out to the sky I've run out of my words, my song Just let me die, me die

The rockrose and the thistle Will whistle as you moan I could try to calm you down But I know you won't

All the pins inside your fretted head And your muttered whens and hows All your mother's weaves and your father's threads Let me rob them of you now

'Cause I'll darn you back together When you think that you're bereft And you'll wail, you'll scream, but I'll never stop 'Cause it's all that I have left

I wake and hear you calling And up those cliffs I climb And I find you with a thimble weeping "May I?" I ask, "May I?"

And you gently gift it to me 'Cause you've no clue how to sew And I know the kindest thing I pray to God it's the kindest thing I know the kindest thing Is to never leave you alone

Salir de la Melancholia:

¿Cómo te atreviste a…? Ahora saben lo que soy y estarás muy feliz, Johnny No es lógico que solo lo sepas tú Ya todos saben que al poderoso Johnny Farrell le engañaron Y que su esposa es una…

Podrá pensar en nada claramente Quisiera una canción para un amigo Que no puede salir De la melancolía eterna de sufrir De amor

Y busca en cualquier parte y hace todo para amarte Sin embargo, nunca pide perdón Sueña que vos sos como quiere él Y así todo lo va a perder Miente y se equivoca cada vez que abre la boca Y hace todo para mostrar que es fiel Para colocarte en la cárcel de su ser

Quisiera una canción para un amigo Que no puede salir De la melancolía eterna de sufrir De amor

Si quieres un consejo, no la cuides desde lejos Ni le digas lo que tiene que hacer Ella debe ser como quiere ser Y eso ya lo tienes que ver Rompe las cadenas que te atan a la eterna Pena de ser hombre y de poseer Es un paso grande en la ruta de crecer

— What do you mean by…? — Now they all know what I am, and that should make you happy, Johnny. It's no use just you knowing it, Johnny! Now they all know that the mighty Johnny Farrell got taken! And that he married a— "You can't think clearly"

I'd really like a song for a friend of mine That cannot get out of the eternal melancholy of suffering From love

And he's looking anywhere and he does everything to love you But to say "sorry" he isn't the one He dreams that you are how he wants you to be And that's how he's losing it all He lies and makes mistakеs every time his mouth opеns And does everything to show you he's true To put you within the jail of his being

I'd really like a song for a friend of mine That cannot get out of the eternal melancholy of suffering From love

And here is some advice, don't look for her from afar And you shouldn't tell her what to do She can be however she wants to be And you should know that by now Break the chains that tie you to the eternal pain of being a man and possessing It's a big step in the way to growing up

[btranwrites]

Clean

a Han Vu short a gay Lovecraftian urban fantasy/horror short story

Glimpses of what lies beyond the threshold. …Before him was Dr. Wong, crying, wailing, choking on mud. It was pouring from her eyes, her mouth, her ears. It muddied her hair, it stained, no, ruined her pristine white therapist coat… The other therapists were around him, still as mannequins even as Dr. Wong’s screams echoed through empty university halls, their eyes following his every movement. No. This was not what happened. He was in the corner, Alexander was fooling them all, he–

Full story under the cut, or read on my website!

I.

"Here are the results, Dr. Vu," Samantha breathed as she closed the door to Han's office, sealing the afternoon bustling of the hospital behind her. She put a yellow folder on his desk, looking disheveled, a bit out of place in the otherwise neat office. Han picked up the thick stack of paper and paged through the sheets. Samantha continued, "she will need the tumour removed, or–"

"–she will be dead in a year's time, yes. That's very good!" Han said, beaming as he closed the folder. It confirmed what he suspected; they could proceed with the treatment. "You could read that from these? They've reached oncology in the curriculum by now already?"

Samantha looked down a little bit, trying to hide a smile. "Not yet, but I've already seen many such diagnostics working with you, doctor. About the surgery, though…"

"What about it? We caught the tumour this early, the procedure will be very simple! Mrs. Lam would be back on her feet in no time."

"She cannot afford it."

"What the fuck do you mean her insurance won't pay for it?? It's on her fucking cover!" Han slapped shut the vanilla folder in front of him. The single sheet inside was too thin to cushion the impact, but the noise was as loud as the paper was final.

Marc took off his glasses, fingers massaging his temples. The fucker had no dignity to not act exasperated. "Was. Her cover changed last year. The insurer communicated the change. She signed it."

"They 'communicated' it with a piece of paper stuffed into her bills printed for fucking ants to read! She has a family to raise, even I don't have the energy to read those!"

"Han, just, stop." Marc sighed, drawn out and tired and infuriating. "This isn't charity. This is how things work."

Han ground his teeth, feeling heady. Without timely intervention, they might as well get Mrs. Lam a casket. "We have the budget for grants. I'll write a fucking paper. Hell, I'll make a video. Experience for the interns. Cover it."

"The budget is not for you to influence, Han." Marc said. "The hospital has priorities, and–"

"What the fuck are they?"

Marc said nothing.

"Just… give me a room and some nurses. Take a cut off my pay. I just need the equipment and space."

Marc shook his head. "We cannot afford that, Han."

Han was close to breaking his own knuckles. "Have the decency to lie better, Marc."

Marc did not care to end the silence.

"I regret having ever loved you," Han said, walking out. Behind him, papers resumed shuffling, keyboard resumed clacking. Business went on.

II.

Ruben, the poor young man, had a broken arm, many burns from the caustic mud that covered him just minutes ago, but he was crying from a pit so deep in his mind Han doubted those even registered.

He let the man weep on the porch of the mall, half of which had already fallen apart. It was a wonder the building was still standing. Han silently patched together a makeshift cast from torn, muddied clothes and tree branches, the rest of his team talking to the police behind him.

"This should do for now until the ambulances arrive," Han said. Ruben had not stopped crying. Maybe he could distract him with light conversation? He worked that technique before with success, and the sobs were getting to him. "Ruben? How's your arm feeling? Is it better?"

Ruben kept his face buried in his hands, his body shaking, the sobs turned into mournful wailing.

"Ruben? Ruben." Han got annoyed. Come on, that was just too much. "Ruben!"

He reached for the arm in the makeshift cast and, he realised too late, somehow, he yanked with almost violence.

It came off.

Ruben did not stop crying, but there were no tears. Mud was pouring from his eyes.

Han took in a sharp breath. Before him was Dr. Wong, crying, wailing, choking on mud. It was pouring from her eyes, her mouth, her ears. It muddied her hair, it stained, no, ruined her pristine white therapist coat.

Panic knotted his lungs. What was going on?? Where was Ruben? This wasn't the mall. This was–

The other therapists were around him, still as mannequins even as Dr. Wong's screams echoed through empty university halls, their eyes following his every movement. No. This was not what happened. He was in the corner, Alexander was fooling them all, he–

Mud spilled out from Dr. Wong's mouth onto his arm. Cold and biting, he felt, just as he realised he was choking her with his own hands.

No. No, this was not how it happened. He didn't touch her, this was temporary, it was just to discredit her, she just got unconscious, she–

Her eyes rolled to the back of her head.

Terror cleaved his heart into shards. But each of them thrummed with… excitement. She got what was coming for her.

"Finish what you started," the mannequin doctors chanted.

In his head he screamed, but his mouth chanted along, "finish what I enabled."

No. No, this was not what happened, this was not–

Han slipped on something wet, but by instinct regained his footing. He was at the asylum, standing by his teammates, watching a monstrosity of claws and tentacles ground through furniture, equipment, and people alike. Debris mixed with body parts, chunks of concrete jutting through bloodied, clothed flesh.

They stood still as the carnage unfolded. Han remembered watching in awe. To be that strong and powerful. To display, to possess that much strength, to–

A torn arm smashed against the wall, spraying blood all over him.

No. This was not what happened! He did not enjoy this, but he was terrified, he did not want to get in the way. He–

–turned on the saw in his hand. The blade whirred to life, turning so quick it looked like a solid disk the size of an eyeball. Functional.

"Don't worry, Mrs. Lam," Han said, putting a mask on then reaching for the bloodied latex gloves. "You won't feel anything for long." He grabbed for a pristine white coat off the rack, putting it on, his handprint marked the sleeve red and raw. As it should be.

Mrs. Lam, frail and wrinkled, struggled against her straps, the sock stuffed in her mouth the only thing dirty in the otherwise spotless surgery room. For someone her age, she sure had a lot of stamina, putting up a fight that long.

No! No, this was not what happened! She left the day after, he didn't know what happened next, he didn't check, he–

"Finish what you started," Samantha chanted, a backdrop of muffled cries behind her.

"Finish what I allowed," he chanted along.

"What?" Goldie said, sounding almost annoyed.

He took in a sharp breath. She was looking at him funny. They were at the top of the asylum. The mirror was broken and destroyed. All was well. Sydney was no longer a mass of tentacles, but he was standing behind his girlfriend, considerable arms crossed, frowning at him, foot tapping.

Han looked down. There was a bandage roll in his hands. Goldie was bleeding.

"Oh. Sorry." He shook his head. What didn't happen? Finish… It had been a long night. He continued bandaging her arms.

Up. Over. Down. Tighten, secure. This, he knew. This, he knew happened. He could care, he could heal. He could break, but he could restore.

Where was that saw? He turned around. Ah. He reached out a bloodied, gloved hand for it.

He turned back. "Sorry, it has been a long-"

Their heads were on the floor, eyes glazed over. In his hands were no bandage, no surgical steel, but wet with black, melting entrails. The rotten smell permeated his whole being.

He felt suffocated to tears. This was who he was. How else did he end up like this?

The offal melted to the floor, and so did the heads, the whole building. They pooled together, blood coiling into mud, into roaring tides that mar the horizons.

Han was kneeling knees deep in a mound of flesh, his legs steeped in blood and spoil that oozed through his pants, cold and biting. Around him lapped an ocean of mud and offal, whose depths without end he knew were pregnant with vast abominations, into which he knew, deep down, his cursed 'talents' had been reaching all these years. Above him burned a pair of binary suns, attended to by a pantheon of squirming galaxies.

He dragged his eyes down, praying for release from this plane beyond hell. But the mud answered.

Before his eyes, from the lapping waves of roiling seas, rose a slender man. His hair was black and short, his ears jutted out just a bit too forward, with long fingers that Marc once held and described as graceful. Han whimpered as he watched himself crawl out from the mud, a mangled figure with voids where eyes should be, from where more mud and blood dripped, drop by steady drop onto the once-white doctor's coat, soiled beyond recognition.

"Finish what you started," his mouth, no, its mouth rasped the words, but the entire planet rang with their vibrations.

"No," he said, choked with tears. He had done bad, he had failed, but through the corridors of his mistakes, he never decorated their walls with deliberate malice. Plot exploitation. Indulge greed. Invite damnation. But it was for restoration, for help, for the hope of second chances that he kept walking. To swim with rot and not add to the silt, so those mired in its depths can chance recovery.

"Finish what you started yourself," he croaked out the words, voice breaking. "This will not happen. Whoever you are, whatever you want, I'm not. Helping."

The figure above alien waters let out a howl that shook the sky and winked out the stars. Only the twin suns remained, misshapen cosmic eyes glaring down at him.

"When you're ready, you will."

The figure raced forward, but the mud caught its legs. The mud tore it in half. Its jaws stretched open to–

–screamed himself awake. Han sat up with a start, his body slick, thankfully with just sweat. He was on his bed, in his bedroom at the back of the Clinic in the sewers. His throat was raw, as if he had been screaming for hours, probably did.

He was alone.

He didn't think it was a bad thing. At least he was free to cry.

III.

"So, uh," Riah gestured vaguely at Han, looking amused. "You're supposed to let him go to actually do the cleaning."

He looked down at his lap. The plecostomus-dog hybrid looked back up at him, beady eyes shining. His wide mouth opened even wider, a dog tongue lolled to the side, armoured gills flexing along with the panting. Fins big enough to cover Han's face pressed against his thighs like paws, dog hind legs balancing on his knees.

Soft paws. Not mud and bones.

Han placed a palm between the plecodog's eyes, and gently glided it to his back fin. Then repeat. His tail wagged approval.

He looked around the Clinic. If needed, thirty people could cram in here, though he shudder to imagine just how much quicker it would get dirty. Whatever these halls were built for, they were now the Clinic. His Clinic.

Which he had decided to close for a few weeks. Surgical steel was still too reminiscent of the mud from Dr. Wong's mouth on his hands.

He shook his head. Not today. He was due for a break. He looked at the plecodog. Perk. He looked at Perk. He petted Perk. "It's a big place," Han mumbled. "Reckon I don't work him too hard."

Perk cooed, a throaty sound.

"Thanks again for these, Riah. It would have taken me half an afternoon to clean all that up. The place just keeps getting dirty. And I appreciate the company."

Riah chuckled. "Yeah, I get it. Just staring into nothing, petting something cute for hours. No better use of time, I say. Seymour knows."

"The carpet shark? You need to show me!"

Riah pulled out his phone, fingers swiping, then turned it to Han.

"Oh dear god." He grabbed the phone and zoomed in. "Definitely beats the things from the mud, lemme tell you. It's not even a competition. Is this what you do at Helix these days?"

"In a way, yeah. You know, working with animals, vet stuff."

Riah didn't elaborate further, but Han could tell the mood shifting. Something happened, something bad, that made him drop out three months away from graduation, that much Han knew. When Riah was ready to share, he would.

Han didn't push. He, of all people, knew what it was like to carry the past.

"Least I can do is say thank you. California rolls?"

Riah smiled, bright and clean. "Just like old times?"

"Yeah. Just like old times."

[the-clari-net]

i'll be dead before the day is done

Ao3

“Danny, aren’t you the literal Ghost King slash Prince slash whatever? Can’t you just make her go away?”

“If I could, I already would’ve,” Danny hissed back. “This isn’t fun for me to see either.”

Sam growled, as the Banshee’s weeping continued in the back of the classroom. Dash and Kwan in the back looked like they were about to pass out or deck her in the face. No one really blames them.

The Banshee coming to Amity Park was a new development for everyone. At first, she appeared as any other regular oddity that occurs in the ghostly town. A woman singing down the streets with her long dark hair covering her face in an old green dress wouldn’t arouse much suspicion in the town. That is, until she made it to the elderly care home.

Once there, the details get scrambled for everyone who heard of the incident later. Some recollect her approaching an old woman in a corner of the recreational area, another claims that they saw her approaching one of the young receptionists. Truthfully, no one knows who she was here for. And it really didn’t matter once she started screaming.

It was a terrifying yell that resulted in all nearby windows shattering, and several people fainted from the shock and pain to their ears.

In the end, two people died, both elderly. Whether it was through the shock of the woman’s scream or through natural causes, it’s hard to say.

Since then, she’s been seen around. Not often, and not for every death. Oddly enough, when investigations on the death were concluded, it resulted that she doesn’t seem to be the cause of the deaths. It’s akin to an eerie canary in mines; a warning rather than a cause. The police are in the process of figuring out her pattern and tracking her behaviors, but it’s still quite perplexing.

Phantom once tried to talk to her, but she completely ignored him, which is an odd approach for a spirit. Danny knows his role as future king in the Ghost Zone makes his presence noticeable to say the least and impossible to ignore to most ghosts. She never even glanced in his direction. He became concerned with it a week after her arrival and decided to do his own investigation on her.

He found his answer with the Ghost Writer. 

“Ahh, yes The Banshee,” Ghost Writer says to himself while moving some of his manuscripts into some infinite filing cabinet that Danny avoids looking at to prevent a headache. Too many dimensions in a tiny space is not something his human brain is capable of processing well.  

Ghost Writer continues, “She’s untamable. Think of her as a grim reaper of sorts. No one’s really been able to track down what her logic is to be quite honest. No one wants to be exposed to her wailing long enough to figure out,” he shrugged.

“So… I shouldn’t worry about her being in my town?”

“Wait, what?” Ghost Writer fumbles with his manuscripts and turns his entire focus onto Danny. “She’s in your haunt?”

Hesitantly, the boy nods.

“Well, I’ll be damned…I thought you just wanted to talk on an educational level, kid. This is more serious and bigger than I expected it to be.”

Danny scoffs a little at that, “Bigger than fighting Pariah Dark? I’m not sure I can go bigger than that. I mean, the town’s been sent to the Ghost Zone, how much worse than that could it be?”

“I’m just saying, if she’s in some place, that usually means a big death is bound to come. You might want to brace yourself.”

After that discussion, Danny stayed a bit to help with Ghost Writer’s endless organizing before heading home to think.

Unfortunately, he wasn’t given much time to think because the following day, Danny arrived at school to see the Banshee crying in his homeroom.

At this point, all Danny knows is that this Banshee has been weeping in his classroom this morning, and he’s been a nervous wreck all day. If Ghost Writer says that it’s going to be a big death, then it has to be his class that’s in danger. Danny’s not the only one struggling. The entire class has been silent, trying desperately to ignore her crying in the corner and focusing on their work. It hasn’t been very effective.

Suddenly, there’s a knock at the door. Their teacher ignores it, when suddenly the door blasts open and in enters two men in white uniforms and government issued ectoweapons.

Danny’s heart freezes. The Banshee’s weeping is becoming louder.

“Daniel James Fenton, you are to come with us immediately to be decontaminated. We have collected months’ worth of evidence, indicating that you are in danger of ectocontamination, and will be taken into custody by order of the United States Government.”

“What?! No!”

“Son, this is not a request. Our scanners are going off the charts at the amount of ectoplasm in your body. You are a danger not only to yourself but your peers.”

There’s more jargon being said but Danny can’t hear anything. Blood is thundering in his ears. His breathing is shaky, his hands have clenched, ready to fight something.

Danny can’t go, they’ll find out everything about him, they’ll try to cut him open, they’ll kill him.

“I said…no.” Danny’s eyes begin to glow green and the temperature in the room suddenly drops.

The Banshee’s crying becomes more hysterical. 

“This isn’t ectocontamination, this is body possession! Set your blaster to stun!” yells one of the agents.

A noise goes off and Danny’s body lurches back, and his vision blacks out for a moment. However once it comes back, he turns towards the agents. They’re pale, and their weapons have fallen on the ground. He then looks towards his classmates who look at him in horror.

Danny looks down where their eyes are pointing, and he sees a massive hole where his core used to be.

Oh.

Danny feels his vision dim, and his body collapses, unable to move.

The last thing he senses as he falls into oblivion are the Banshee’s screams.

[kurtie4life96]

hii i would like to request prompts 10+11 from the angst category with steve harrington!

But make it horror, tis the spooky season

The Crybaby/ S.H. x F Reader

Summary: Reader has been haunted by a spirit of a woman for as long as she can remember, and is on a mission to figure out who it is with her best friend Steve by her side.

CW: angst, horror, blood, violence, the paranormal, time is an illusion, mystery, upside down, reader has a nickname, reader lives with Steve but "just friends", and I cannot stress this enough - there is no happy ending.

Lightly edited.

Your eyes shot open as you sat up from your bed gasping, nearly hyperventilating, your lips chapped, split from heavy breathing, as you felt the all too familiar ominous, yet somehow melancholic feeling in the pit of your stomach.

You glanced over to your left at the clock set on a nightstand.

3:37 a.m.

Please, not again.

You've woken up in a cold sweat at this very time every night, ever since you could remember.

You forced your breathing to slow as you dared to scan your surroundings, the dreaded but all too familiar feeling never leaving your body.

The moonlight barely peeked through the window, a cold, blue shade illuminating the bedroom, your quivering skin, the beads of sweat on your face, your closet, the barely cracked open door, your dresser and your clothes scattered about.

And then you heard it again.

The familiar, soft sobs coming from the right side of the room.

You felt your hair raise on the back of your neck, and quietly, slowly turned your head to the right of the room, to the noise.

There she was, her dark figure peering through the window as usual, her back towards you. Her long, black disheveled hair, jacket dirtied and stained with a thick, dark liquid, a putrid, rotten smell filling your nostrils, as if she'd been decaying for some time now.

She always looked the same without fail, every single night.

She continued to weep as she clutched the curtains, the kind of crying you'd hear from someone yearning, mourning, grieving even.

You watched her wail in the darkness for what felt like an eternity, goosebumps scattering your skin, the only other sound in your room being your heart pounding loudly against your chest, as you fearfully waited for what was to come next, because it was routine for you now.

The woman stopped crying abruptly, releasing the curtains from her tight grasp, bringing her arms down gently to her sides, standing, as she peered through the window silently for a moment longer.

You instinctively brought your legs up to your chest and held the comforter close to you, as she slowly began to sit down on the edge of the bed.

She rested her arms delicately on her lap, her bloodied, injured hands overlapping each other as the smell of her decaying flesh grew stronger, stinging your eyes.

You stared at her, waiting for her to make a move, although knowing she wouldn't until you spoke first.

You shuddered, having to remind yourself to breathe, as you would often forget to in this situation.

You gathered up your courage quickly, wanting this nightmare to end as soon as possible.

"Please, stop," you barely croaked.

The woman didn't respond, continuing to stare out the window.

You took a deep, shaky breath.

"Leave me alone, please," you pleaded in a whisper.

Still, no response.

"Why are you doing this? Please, stop. You're scaring me."

Silence.

"Please, just go away, leave me the fuck alone!" You screamed at the top of your lungs.

With that, the woman shot her head over to yours, horrifyingly rapid, a regretful, sorrowful look on her face, eyes blackened, tears staining her face as she reached an arm towards you.

"LEAVE ME ALONE!" You screamed, screwing your eyes shut, your heart threatening to jump out of your throat.

"A.J!" A worried voice exclaimed, barging into your bedroom and flipping the light on.

You opened your eyes, hyperventilating, fear stricken.

She was gone.

You glanced over to your left, wide eyed, instantly feeling relief.

"Steve," you gasped, "oh my god."

Harrington clumsily made his way towards the side of your bed, pulling you into a tight hug as your breathing slowed.

He smoothed the hair plastered to your drenched face away, and rubbed your back in an effort to comfort you.

"Another nightmare?" He asked.

You sighed, frustrated at his question.

"It's not a nightmare, Steve. It's real life." You reminded him, your voice cracking.

"I know, I know, but," he pulled away, still staying close, "this happens to you damn near every night."

"Yeah, I know it's every night. And it's fucking real. I know the difference between dreams and what's right in front of me."

Steve clasped his hands together, exhaling.

"The Crybaby ghost again?"

"Of course it's Crybaby, it's never been anyone else," you groaned.

Steve was quiet for a moment, before saying, "You know, we've seen a lot of shit, The Upside Down, Vecna, the demo-everything, but... I've yet to see a ghost."

"Exactly. That's why you, of all people, should believe me!" You spat.

"Hey, I'm sorry," he started, "I do believe you! I do! I believe that you're seeing her, I believe everything you're saying, but maybe it's like... sleep paralysis or something."

You crossed your arms and turned away from him.

"It's not sleep paralysis, asshole."

He sat up from the bed, running his hand through his hair.

"Well, sorry, I guess," he began to walk towards the door, "can I get you a glass of water or something?"

You shook your head, still feeling overwhelmed.

"Alright, well, I'll let you get back to sleep-"

"Steve?" You interrupted him, pleading in your eyes.

His features softened, a knowing smile on his face.

"Yes?"

"Um, do you think you could, you know, sleep in my bed with me the rest of the night? I'm, just... I don't wanna be alone."

He walked back over to you, flopping himself on the bed in a dramatic manner.

"Of course I will. Anytime you want me to, you know I will."

You sniffled a bit, and smiled. "Thank you."

He walked over to turn the light off again.

"Also, do you think you could-"

"Sleep on the side by the window?" He interrupted.

You nodded, feeling a little embarassed. "Yeah."

Steve turned out the light, crawling into bed with you. You pulled the covers tightly over yourself, looking at him with scared eyes.

He let out a breathy chuckle. "C'mere, AJ."

He pulled you in tightly to him, pressing your body against his. You nuzzled into his chest, feeling safe as he cradled you.

"That's what friends are for," he said tiredly, before he quickly fell asleep, snoring. You smiled a bit, drifting off soon after him.

===============================

Steve "The Hair" Harrington had been your friend, one of your closest confidantes since middle school. You were there for him when the two of you started high school, through his douchebag days, through his heartbreak with Nancy, through all the terrors of the Upside Down, and through his redemption and babysitter days, and he was always there for you, too.

He was there for you through your own first heartbreaks, through your awkward blue eyeshadow and red lipstick phase, fighting your bullies for you- although he got his ass kicked nearly everytime- and had saved your ass multiple times through the horrors that lie underneath Hawkins, not to mention your "night terrors".

You were also both there for each other when it came to your families- his almost always absent parents, and your abusive, alcoholic ones. You would sometimes sleep over at his house as an escape, and the first time you did, he'd asked you what you wanted for breakfast. To his amusement, you'd downed three bowls of Applejacks cereal, earning you the affectionate nickname, "AJ".

Once the two of you had graduated high school, and you'd turned 18, he offered for you to move into his empty house to escape your toxic household. You denied his offer at first, telling him you didn't want him to feel like you were just using him for a place to stay, but he eventually convinced you after a year of begging, saying there were plenty of spare rooms, and that you two were best friends, that he knew you would never just use him for a roof over your head.

Best friends.

Sometimes those words stung.

===============================

You'd been living at Steve's house for over three months now. It was definitely a huge weight lifted off your shoulders, and you were eternally grateful for it, but you still couldn't get rid of the entity, the woman who'd had an attachment to you since you were a child.

Steve had always teased you for giving her the name "The Crybaby", saying that she probably kept bothering you because of what you called her, but you didn't know her real name, and she would just... cry. She had never done anything to harm you, except for scare the ever living shit out of you, and it was always the same every night at the same time. You'd wake up, she'd cry at the window, she'd sit down on the bed, and would disappear when she'd reach her arm out to you. It was always the same- until recently.

Within the last week, the routine had slightly changed.

At first, she would began to whisper after crying. It was so quiet, her words were unintelligible. Then, her whispering would get a little louder each night, her words still unclear, until last night.

Last night, she had sat down, reached her arm out to you, and whispered

"The portal. I'm sorry."

"Hey, you there?" Steve snapped his fingers in front of your face, a concerned look on his.

You came back to reality, and cleared your throat. You were sat at the kitchen island.

"Sorry, I was just thinking about something. Um, what'd you say?"

He raised his eyebrows at you, motioning to the pantry, "I asked what you wanted for breakfast."

"Oh, Applejacks, please." You both said in unison, him slightly mocking you.

"Stop!" You laughed as Steve pulled the cereal box out of the pantry.

"Sorry, can't help it. Just know you too well," he poured you and himself a bowl, and grabbed the milk from the fridge.

"So," he started, grabbing spoons, "what were you so lost in thought about?"

He sat next to you and began to eat, as you pursed your lips, not yet touching your breakfast.

"So?" He asked again.

"Well..." you replied, sighing, "I saw Crybaby again last night."

"Yeah?" He took another bite.

"Yeah, except last night, was different."

"Different how?"

You scoffed. "You're just gonna tell me it's a bad nightmare again."

Steve set his spoon down and turned towards you, placing his hands on your knees.

"No I won't. I promise. Tell me what happened. Please." He looked at you with his stupid teddy bear eyes.

"Okay, well," you tried not to blush at his contact, "last night, she actually spoke to me. Like, real words."

"What did she say?"

You glanced at his face, worry on yours.

"She said, 'The portal. I'm sorry.'"

Steve paused, unresponsive for a moment, and looked to the ground, deep in thought.

"The portal?" He repeated.

You nodded.

"The only portal we know of-"

"Is the Upside Down." You finished his sentence.

"Well, the last portal we saw was in the woods, behind Hawkins High." He reminded, glancing back up to you.

"I know." you stared at his hands that still rested on your knees.

"Well, it's probably just a coincidence-"

"You know it's not, Steve," you argued, "after all we've gone through, you know it's not."

He let go of your knees, leaning back. "Well, what are you proposing?"

"I propose that I go down there and find out for myself!" You demanded.

He sighed, frustrated, "Find out what, exactly?"

"I don't know, Steve, maybe I can find out why she's been bothering me, talking to me, how to make her stop!"

He went silent for a few seconds, tapping his fingers on the counter.

"Well, what if it really is just a coincidence? What then?" He raised his eyebrows.

You smirked, staring at him teasingly, before replying, "I'll make dinner every night, for a week."

He clapped his hands together and laughed, "I like the sound of that."

"Sweet," you giggled, "but if I'm right, what's in it for me?"

Steve looked at you questioningly.

You rolled your eyes. "I mean, what if I'm right? What if it's not just a coincidence?"

"Oh, well..." He thought for a moment. "I guess I'll cook dinner for a week, too."

You smiled, and held out your hand.

"Deal."

"Deal," he shook your hand, then yanked you closer to him, "but if you think you're going alone, you're wrong. I'm going with you. No way you're going by yourself, okay?"

You were quiet for a moment, feeling your cheeks turn hot, Steve's face only inches from yours.

"Okay." You breathed.

===============================

After the both of you spent the day debating on how you were going to execute your plan, you both showered up, got dressed into your protective gear, and got into Steve's car. It was the middle of the night now, as you didn't want to draw any attention.

Crickets chirped as he pulled over to the side of the road next to the woods after a mostly silent car ride. The air was chilly as you stepped out of the car, the dried leaves from autumn crunching underneath your feet as you took your first steps into the woods, turning on your flashlights.

"Wait," Steve abruptly stopped, grabbing your shoulder tightly.

"What?" You asked, a little annoyed.

He grabbed both of your shoulders now, looking at you earnestly.

"Remember, you're not allowed to go in there by yourself. You go, I go too. Don't do anything stupid, okay?"

You huffed. "I'm not a little fucking girl, I don't need a man to save me, alright?"

"No, no, no," he assured, "I know you're not. But, it's too dangerous to go in there alone. And... you're my best friend, you know?" He smiled at you, some kind of adoration in his eyes.

"Yeah, best friends," you scoffed, mumbling underneath your breath as you began to walk again.

"What was that?"

"Huh? Oh, nothing, I didn't really say anything-"

"No, sorry, that was a stupid question. I heard you, actually." Steve chuckled nervously.

You stared at him, unsure of what to say.

"Best friends, that's what you said," he started.

"Steve, we should really go-"

"No," he took a step closer to you, close enough to feel his warm breath against your cold skin, grabbing your hands, "Hold on a second."

"Okay..." you responded, hesitance in your voice.

He sighed, "AJ, we've been best friends this whole time, I know, but... have we, really? I mean... we live together, we even cuddle sometimes when you're scared, we know each other better than anyone else does, you know? So, I don't know, maybe it's something different, maybe..." He trailed off.

Your heart began to beat against your chest, as butterflies danced in your stomach. You stared at his face, his stupid face that you loved so much, through wide eyes, as you clutched his hands back tighter.

Is this what's happening right now, of all times?

"Steve," you whispered.

He let go of your hands.

"Just- come here."

He grabbed your face, and pressed his lips against yours, hard, yet so gentle, passionate, warm, desperate, everything all at once.

You kissed back just as quickly, wrapping your arms around his shoulders, raking a gentle hand through his hair. He broke the drawn out kiss, only to take a quick breath and do it again, this time more delicately, at first short and quick, then long and slow. Your tongues just barely glided over each others, kissing in perfect harmony, in perfect sync.

Steve pulled away, and pressed his forehead against yours, the both of you breathlessly laughing in relief, the both of you still holding each other.

"Just in case." He panted.

You smiled.

"Just in case."

He nodded, grinning ear to ear, "Let's go."

He let go of your face and held your hand tightly, leading the way.

After a few minutes of walking through the dark woods, flashlights in hand, Steve stopped in his tracks.

"What's wrong?" You asked.

"Do you smell that?" His face curled up in disgust. "Jesus, that's..."

The stench hit you like a ton of bricks.

"Oh my god."

He quickly glanced at you.

"Steve, that's... that's her. She's here."

You held a death grip on his hand, using your flashlights to look at your surroundings.

She was nowhere in sight.

"Steve, we have to- we have to follow the smell."

His face still scrunched up in revulsion, he nodded, and the two of you kept trekking.

After 20 more minutes of navigating your way through the trees, you stopped when you saw a red light in the distance.

"There it is," Steve said in a loud whisper, "there's the portal."

You stood silent, staring at it, the smell becoming stronger.

"You still sure you wanna do this?" He asked, a hint of hope in his voice, hoping you would say no, hoping that you would turn around and just go home.

You simply nodded. "Yeah. I can't live like this anymore. Let's go."

He looked at the portal, then looked at you worriedly, before hesitantly walking towards it, your hand still in his, guiding you.

As you approached the brightly red lit portal on the ground, you peered into it, seeing the usual dreary environment of the Upside Down, vines snaking through the dead leaves surrounding the opening, hearing hissing and screeches faintly coming through it.

Steve peered into it too, placing a hand on his spiked baseball bat, grasping it tightly, preparing for whatever horrors might come out.

"AJ," he breathed heavily, "I'm really thinking that this is not a good idea, I think we should turn around now."

"No," you continued to stare into the depths, "I have to do this. I feel like... like I'm supposed to do this. Like I'm supposed to be here, in this very moment." You said quietly.

Steve gulped and nodded.

"Okay."

Suddenly, an ominous feeling formed itself in your abdomen. A bone chilling, twisted feeling that made your stomach flip, goosebumps forming on your skin, the hair raising on the back of your neck.

The all too familiar feeling.

"Steve," you barely whispered, "turn off your flashlight."

He glanced over to you, a worried look on his face.

"Okay." He whispered back.

You both switched off your flashlights.

The sound of a woman softly weeping filled the thick air.

You glanced back up from the portal to see her.

Her.

She was standing right in front of you.

Standing right there, holding her dark, bloodied hands up to her face as she cried.

The jacket, stained with a black, thick liquid. Her hair, matted and also stained with a dark liquid. You could barely make out her features in the shadows.

You screamed and tumbled backwards, squeezing Steve's hand, taking him to the ground with you.

You both panted heavily, hyperventilating as you watched the woman before you weep.

"What the FUCK is that?!" He shrieked, a crack in his voice.

"That's her, that's Crybaby." You whimpered.

Sucking in desperate breaths, the air filled with the stench of her rotting skin, the two of you watched in horror as she brought her hands down from her face, placing her arms gently by her sides.

You scrambled on the ground, trying to find your flashlight in desperation as you muttered to yourself in fear.

You found it.

"What do you want?!" You shouted, turning on the light and shining it to her face.

Your breathing stopped.

Steve's breathing stopped.

It was as if the world stopped all around you entirely, as the unsettling realization slowly came to you.

The woman stared at you, her tears streaming down her dirtied, brutalized face.

"Steve," you whispered, your voice shaking, "That's... that's-"

"You."

You looked at each other with fear stricken eyes, the blood draining from your faces, pale, shuddering.

Glancing back to the woman, you saw she was still staring right at you- or, you were staring at yourself.

"I'm sorry." She said quietly, looking down into the portal.

Her body hovered barely inches off the ground, floating over the top of the portal, before she became transparent, disappearing entirely.

"Steve-"

Before you could squeeze his hand again, the vines of the Upside Down rapidly shot out through the portal, wrapping around your legs firmly and began dragging your body as you screamed.

"AJ!" He shrieked, trying to grab your arm, to no avail, only missing you by mere centimeters.

You clawed at the ground desperately as the vines dragged you further, pulling you into the portal.

Your back hit the ground, knocking the wind out of you, as the vines snaked around your limbs and neck, constricting your breathing and holding you tightly to the cold, hard dirt.

Steve's cries were the last thing you heard as he tried to dive in after you, only for the portal to shut completely, his body hitting the ground above it with a thump as it closed.

You tried to scream, tried to call for help, tried to wiggle your way out from the vines grasp, but it was too strong, squeezed onto you too tightly for you to move or make a sound.

A figure stood next to you as you looked over, instantly recognizing your own pants, your own shoes, the only difference being hers was caked in dirt and rotten blood.

She leaned down towards you as you struggled for air, her brushing your hair out of your face delicately with her gashed hand, face brutalized and crying as her blackened eyes stared deeply into yours.

"I'm sorry."

You heard the all too familiar screech of the creatures that inhabited the hell you were stuck in as she disappeared one last time.

A swarm of demobats came flying towards you, and surrounded you as they began to sink their teeth into you instantly, tearing your flesh.

The pain was too intense, like a million knives stabbing you, twisting and turning mercilessly, but there was nothing you could do, as you stared into the red sky, tears streaming down your face as you hoped, prayed that the portal would open, that Steve would fight them off, that he would save you, that the pain would stop.

It didn't.

The demobats ripped nearly all the skin on your body apart as you laid there helplessly, tasting your own blood in your mouth, your eyes squeezed shut from the excruciating pain for what felt like an eternity, until your body went into shock, no longer feeling anything at all, everything completely numb as you began to slip into unconsciousness.

The bats had been long gone now, the vines no longer constricting you, unbeknownst to you. You lay there in a pool of your own blood, awaiting your fate.

It was then you heard a faint noise coming from above you, making you barely open your eyes, and you felt a body hit the ground next to you.

"AJ!" Steve screamed, scrambling over you, "AJ! Oh my god!"

You turned your eyes slowly to look at him, panic written all over his face.

"Steve," you croaked, only to cough, choking on the blood that had now filled your throat.

"AJ, hey, it's okay, I'm right here! Holy shit, holy shit-"

He ripped his shirt hastily, holding the fabric to your neck in an attempt to stop even more blood loss. He slipped his arms underneath your back and legs, holding your cold body close to him.

"Come on AJ, talk to me, please!" He pleaded with you.

Using all of the energy you had left in you, you smiled at him.

"Steve."

He smiled painfully back at you, "There you go, yeah, keep talking to me, it's gonna be alright, we're gonna get you help, get you out of here-"

"Steve," you whispered, "stop it."

Tears filled his eyes as he looked into yours, shaking his head, "No, no, no, you're not dying, whether you like it or not."

He began to lift you up, only to make you gasp in pain.

"Shit, shit," he stopped, gently lowering you again, "I'm sorry, don't worry, we're gonna figure this out, and you're gonna be okay-"

"Steve," you whimpered softly, pleading with him, "please, stop. It hurts."

Tears filled his eyes as he looked into yours, panic stricken, choking back sobs.

"AJ, I'm so sorry. I love you, I love you so much." He pressed a kiss to your forehead as you felt his body tremble against yours.

"I love you," you stuttered between your words, tears stinging your eyes, "I'm..."

Your vision began to cloud, slowly fading to black, your body beginning to slump even further.

"Hey," Steve shouted, "Hey! What are you doing?!"

He grabbed your face and shook your head, slapping your cheek lightly.

"Wake up!"

No response came from you.

"WAKE UP!"

Your last breath audibly escaped your lungs, eyes still open, your heart ceasing to beat.

"Come on, come on," he pleaded, "You need to wake up, I can't do this without you!"

===============================

Quiet.

Steve was finally quiet, after an eternity of his attempts to wake you up, after realizing that you were gone, after realizing that you weren't coming back, after realizing that you really did die, cradled in his arms.

It took him hours to let you go, to leave your body in the Upside Down, him promising that he would come back for you, come back to the portal with your friends, to get help to get you out.

When he did come back with Robin and Nancy, it was daylight, and the portal was gone, much to his dismay.

He spent the rest of the day in the woods, numb, his soul shattered, waiting for it to open again, so he could retrieve your lifeless body from its depths.

When it finally did, your body was no longer there.

He scoured every bit of the environment he possibly could, for months, but was never able to find you.

Steve tortured himself, blamed himself, hated himself, every day for the rest of his life, for agreeing to go to the woods, for taking you there and leading you to your fate.

You weren't exactly a big help, either.

It didn't help that every night, at 3:37 a.m. without fail, you would wake him up, crying, sobbing as you watched him, as the sight of your bloodied, rotted, massacred body, and your disheveled, black hair filled him with terror.

It didn't help that every night, without fail, you would reach your gashed hand out to him, as he forgot to breathe, whispering,

"The portal. I'm sorry."