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defensivelee · 1 year ago

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Six Lives Won't Make You Happy: Did You Come Here to Fight?

The second chapter has arrived (and it is super long...)! Bentinck meets a really stupid but possibly threatening Ally, William has a bit of a pre-midlife crisis, and Mary keeps trying to kill him! More worldbuilding details are also here, so that's extra fun.

CW: violence, referenced murder, addiction, smoking, heavy drug use, unintentional self-harm, implied/referenced child abuse, gaslighting, implied/referenced domestic abuse, implied/referenced torture, discussions of sexuality, objectification, and just about the most dysfunctional family you will ever have the displeasure of reading about.

The two guards didn’t even realize what was happening, before Bentinck rushed past them and sliced through their throats, swifter than even that assassin of the Disciples. He caught them before they fell, setting them down gently on the floor and looking around for a faint aura as he nudged the door open. But there was nothing. It seemed everyone was asleep here, finally.

Unless there’s that dwaallicht remnant...he may smell my blood. His shoulder still stung from the bullet.

He shook his head. That dog caught him once, but he never would again. He shook the excess blood off his knife and began to step cautiously up the steps.

“Hey. Forgetting something?”

Bentinck clenched his teeth, not stopping to turn around. “Go away, you miserable spirit,” he said, hushed but no less threatening. “If you tell anyone I’m here, I’ll-”

“You’ll what?” Monmouth said. “Why are you here twice in one night? I swear you must be obsessed with us.”

“Maybe because I am forgetting something.”

“Ooh?” Monmouth hopped down in front of Bentinck, nearly knocking him back on the stairs. “Maybe a someone?”

“Yes.” Bentinck ran his tongue over his fangs, tempted to run them through Monmouth’s throat. “If I leave without him, you’ll just attack me again, won’t you?”

“I will.” Monmouth tilted his head to the side. “But if you try to take him, I’ll still attack you. How paradoxical!” The pitch of his voice heightened at the end there, perhaps with mock dismay, but he still grinned all the same. “Why do you need him? He’s dead.”

Dead...dead...no, he isn’t dead. He’s got more power than any of you could imagine. But Bentinck couldn’t say that out loud. Instead, he simply nodded.

“But you don’t need his body,” he said.

“My uncle does,” Monmouth said. “For some unfathomable reason. Dead bodies stink.”

“They do, don’t they?” Bentinck swallowed. “I’ll get rid of that for you. Just- just let me take him. You already had him killed, why shouldn’t I be allowed to take him?” He wasn’t sure how grief-stricken he sounded, or even looked, but he hoped it was enough. He’d never been the best actor.

No, nothing like that Ally.

“Hmm. Suppose it doesn’t hurt. It’s that kind of wonderful crime that doesn’t actually ruin any of James’ plans, but it does ruin his day. I like that kinda stuff.” Monmouth lifted his hand to the ceiling, his ribbons spilling out of his fingers. “He deserves all the trouble he’s getting.”

“Right.” Bentinck nodded. It was a weird thing for a dwaallicht spirit to say, but he had better things to think about. “So will you let me pass?”

“Whatever the Ally wants.” Monmouth closed his fist around his ribbons, hopping back up to them, nearly disappearing in the darkness. “Don’t talk about this to anyone.”

It was a small request; Bentinck could fulfill it. He bowed his head and continued up the stairs, still keeping an eye out for Marly’s aura. It’d be strange if the Ally actually lived here, but Bentinck wouldn’t put it past James. He had always liked to watch over the beings that could match his power.

And so does William...

There didn’t seem to be any particular threat from this hall, so he hurried through it, checking in every room for the bloody mess Mary had made, keeping his footsteps light and his breaths quiet.

Mary. That woman was so strange. When Bentinck had looked at her for who she truly was, he’d seen his own terror reflected in her eyes, but he didn’t know what she could possibly be afraid of. There were multiple assassinations throughout the years that Bentinck could suddenly make sense of, thinking of her as the assassin. No, everyone should have been afraid of her, perhaps James’ most dangerous weapon.

And yet, she was so scared, covered in blood that wasn’t hers and looking at him with that shifting, unfocused gaze.

What are you so scared of? He narrowed his eyes, briefly forgetting about her when he thought he saw this odd, dark patch in one large room. Actually, it was so large it could fit a few sculptures of what Bentinck thought were these ancient Allies, with chains on their wrists and necks.

Only one Disciple could be so arrogant. Bentinck didn’t dare step in, but he could see the huge, curved horns lying back on the bed, the slow breaths coming out like rumbles of a dragon.

And there was blood on the rug, blood on the wall, though it was hard to tell in the darkness that it was red.

Not just there, either. The blood seemed to run down a trail, right to where Bentinck was standing, and even beyond him, when he looked back. And that was when he saw the shape on the ground before him, wheezing and holding up a hand to his mouth to stifle it.

“Hanni...” The voice was so small, smaller and more afraid than what Bentinck would expect from his friend who had possibly the biggest ambitions in the world.

“William.” He rushed to kneel beside him, though not without a final glance at James. He began to feel around William’s body, checking if all the wounds had healed properly. They should have, so why did he sound so hurt? “Hey, look, don’t make a sound. It’s alright. I’m here, no one will catch us as long as we’re quiet.”

He realized William was shaking, his breaths coming out faster as he leaned on to Bentinck’s chest. “There’s so- so much blood on my f-face. What did she do...to me?”

Bentinck lifted William’s head in his hands, wiping at the blood over his eyes. “I- I don’t know. But she won’t hurt you again. You’re alright now, okay? You just lost a life, is all.”

“I smell it all over me.” William didn’t seem to hear him. “This blood is all mine, isn’t it?”

“Don’t think about that.” Bentinck tried to keep his voice calm. He remembered how it had been when William had lost his first life, how scared he had been like never before, and how much it had scared Bentinck. He had never wanted to see William like that again. It was all wrong, like the devils had twisted all these roles in their claws and now everything was not how it should be.

“She stabbed me,” William whispered. Bentinck could feel both of their hearts pounding, syncing after a few seconds, but he had no idea if William noticed. “I felt it all rush out, Hanni, I was almost drowning in it. And she- and she—!” He broke off with a sharp, shaky gasp, and Bentinck lifted him in his arms, standing up and holding him tight.

“No, no, no, no,” he said, smoothing William’s bloodied hair out of his face. “Do you feel it now?” He ran his fingers over William’s throat, slick with blood but intact. “There’s nothing there.”

“But there was something—!” The wheezing didn’t stop, his chest heaving with the effort to take every breath.

“Not anymore,” Bentinck reassured him. “Not anymore. You’ll be fine. You always were.” He began to walk down the stairs, more carefully now than ever. Monmouth had let him pass, but he wasn’t about to risk it. Even now he could feel the hound’s eyes on them. “Please, William, try to be quiet!”

“What- what do you think I’m tryna do, bitch?!” William let out. “Is she- is she here?”

“No, she isn’t here.”

“Then who is that?” He lifted a finger behind Bentinck, and he looked back, his breath catching.

It wasn’t Mary, he knew right away. But it was a woman, her eyes wide as she stared at the Ally and the Overlifer. In the darkness, Bentinck thought he recognized her as James’ wife...Maria Beatrice. That was her name.

Stranger yet, there was an aura coming from her, one that Bentinck had never seen before and couldn’t recognize. She wasn’t an Ally, and for her to be an Overlifer would be almost laughable, considering who her husband was. But there was that aura, colored gold and white, and it was dizzying.

Maybe she’s...something of a handler? He had seen some of them walking around with faint auras, if they were skilled enough to use the power of the devils. But this one was so strong, and he had never seen it on her before.

Do I have to kill her?

But before he could take his knife out again, she turned around without a word, taking her blinding aura with her.

She’s going to get James! Bentinck held William tightly and hurried down the stairs. If he was going to fight anyone else tonight, he’d much rather take Monmouth again than James. He stumbled over the bodies he had left behind in front of the door as he ran outside, looking one last time behind him before he took off again through the winding paths, under the trees with branches that reached out like claws.

“I’m getting blood all over you...” William poked his chest, but Bentinck shook him off.

“I’ve had blood all over me before. It’s fine, William.” Up ahead, he saw his car, and he sighed in relief. No one had caught them. “You can get in by yourself?”

There was silence. “Yes.” And then, more certainly, “Yes, by all the stars. Do you think I’m some helpless child just because I died?”

Bentinck looked down at him as he set him back on the ground. Well, he sure sounds more confident now.

Or is he hiding his fear? He peered down at William, but he had already turned away to open the door, his tail flicking from side to side. If he was hiding it, he was doing a remarkable job— he had always seemed to swing between this cold, unfeeling cruelty, and then back to an amusing state where he’d make the most expressive faces at the smallest situations.

“Are you feeling better?” he asked cautiously.

“Yes,” William hacked out. He looked back at Bentinck, but under the blood on his face, there was none of that irritation in his eyes. Only fear.

And what inferior being could manage to make an Overlifer afraid?

🝰🝰🝰

“Do I have to do everything myself?!” Mary could hear James’ voice practically shrieking, even though he was one entire floor below her. She groaned and buried her head in the bloody pillow, trying to get some kind of song stuck in her head so she could focus on that rather than the words her father was saying.

“I tell you, Maria, when Charles wanted somebody dead, I got the job done on my first try. You’d be hard-pressed to find me fucking on the job!”

“Are you seriously still going on about that?” Anne called. “I’d say it’s a good thing he escaped! We don’t even know if he did it yet!”

“Really? Who else then? Because you’re certainly our most reliable detective, aren’t you?”

“You told me to—”

“Only because you wanted to! Why? I thought Mary was the only one fucking him! He’s our worst rival, by all the stars! Why are both of you always against me?”

“It was only once, James,” Maria said. “You know how she is. Maybe that was the only way.” “William?” James snorted. “I doubt it. She very well could have just shot him right there! Him and his desperate little dog! Can’t trust her to do it, can’t trust Churchill, can’t trust those two idiot guards! How could all of them have messed up so badly? When can we expect another opportunity like that one?”

“Can I go now?” Anne asked.

“You’re not leaving this house today, Anne.”

“But you don’t even want me here!”

“Shut up! Just shut up, the only thing you’ve ever done is—”

You are all so annoying. Mary threw the rest of her blankets over her head. She knew she should get up, she knew how it angered James to see her sleeping in, but there wasn’t really anything she had to do all day other than kill people and stream. Sometimes she joined her father when he went out, mainly because he went into the city and things always happened there, even when she didn’t have anyone to kill. He’d either insist she remain with him, or he’d give her a dismissive flick of his tail and let her run off on her own.

Whatever James ordered, it was fun. She liked how everyone always commented on her closeness to her father at twenty-three, and it was fun to watch everyone fawn over Charles, especially when they were terrified of him.

Or...well, I suppose it’ll be James now. That would be interesting; no one had ever seemed to like James, but they never said anything within earshot of Charles. He had always just been...there, all his menace seeming to melt back when he was in the presence of his brother with the larger authority and horns.

Now everyone would have to see him for who he was: a hidden danger in his own right, with his living weapons beside him at all times.

Ooh, that’ll be exciting. She rolled over, realizing the yelling had stopped. Still, with how miserable he was today, she doubted he’d want to take her along anywhere, so the observations would have to wait.

“Mary!” Anne threw open the door, and Mary sighed.

“Why don’t you ever knock?”

“You never knock,” Anne said, glaring at her. “Why couldn’t you just kill the bitch and get it over with?”

“I thought you didn’t like it when I killed innocent civilians.”

“Out of all your targets in the world, that one is the least innocent,” Anne muttered. “You see how he looks at all of us? Charles was just amused by our rivals, in this really weird way, like an I’m definitely sending an assassin after you later kind of way. Not William. He hates us, Mary, seriously hates us.”

“Maybe I was just giving you time to solve your case,” Mary said, sitting up.

“To be honest, Mary, I don’t know why I said that,” Anne said. She sat beside Mary on the bed, scooting away from the dried blood. “It just- it feels so dumb, and convenient, doesn’t it? To pin it all on William and then send you after him as if that was the big dealbreaker, when before he’d always just have Marly do the job and honestly...he’d get really close! And then he just- he dismissed it so easily. Mary, you and I, we’ve heard the stories dozens of times...” She sighed. “The thing with the invasive devils and all, they went through so much together! And now he doesn’t even seem to care!”

“It must be a lot to process.”

“Maybe, but it’s as if he just wanted to get his lives and go. Have an excuse to restart our war with the Devils of Orange-Nassau and then get on with the world domination.” She hesitated. “And I can’t believe that he wouldn’t care, even if it was all very convenient for him...he didn’t even seem that surprised.”

“Are you implying he killed his own brother?” Mary tilted her head to the side. “Don’t let him hear you say that.”

Please, by all the stars, don’t, she begged internally.

“N-No.” Anne looked away. “But, I mean, is it so hard to believe?”

“He’s just efficient, that’s all,” Mary said, clearing her throat.

“Come to think of it, you don’t even care that much either.”

“I was never that close to him.” She could hear the edge in her own voice. “Are you just going to accuse everyone you come across? Look, if we somehow do find another murderer, then I’ll get rid of them. But for now, you let me kill William.”

“William- oh, right, William,” Anne sneered. “Why’d you have to let him run off? You can’t be as stupid as to not actually notice the Over-marks. Or were the drugs real bad this time?”

“I wasn’t on anything this time,” Mary lied. “He just put up a fight and it was hard to tell in the dark.”

“Oh, yeah, a real good fight, huh.”

“When he realized what was happening, I mean.” Her face grew warm. “I didn’t force him to do anything except die.”

“You only got that one-sixth of the way done,” Anne said. “Now you’ve got James all mad.” She narrowed her eyes. “I wanted to see Sarah today, Mary! You always get him mad and then I have to deal with it!”

“That’s not true,” Mary said. “He came in to yell at me earlier. And now you’re here bothering me. I’d say I have to deal with the consequences too.”

“And you didn’t think of that when you had sex with William?!” Anne let out in disbelief. “Why, Mary? You could have stabbed him a few more times, you know! The sex couldn’t even have been that good!”

“Oh...” Mary laughed. “It was great, actually. He was really funny. You’d think a guy like that would be awful, but he was better than all the other guys I’ve fucked because he didn’t seem to care about himself at all. He was like a girl, in that way. I mean, like the girls I’ve slept with, at least. This tiny wheezy girl with a-”

“I really don’t wanna know,” Anne broke in. “Is that all you let him live for? James was right; now that you’ve attempted once, an opportunity like that won’t come again.”

“I know.” Mary fell back on the bed and sighed. “But he said things, Anne...things I’ve never heard before. He seemed so happy to believe that I could never kill anyone.”

“So is everyone else,” Anne said. “It’s not like you stream yourself torturing somebody.” Both of them grimaced at the thought that quickly formed into a memory, of the blood that had run through Mary’s fingers as she “played with my new toy,” as James had phrased it. He had filmed her, like a parent filming his excited child opening presents on Dwaallichtsdag, except the present in question was a defiant Ally.

But nobody ever posted that.

“He believed it,” she said after a moment, “even though I was here. Even though he surely must have known...”

“He’s never seen you before, he wouldn’t know what you do!” Anne said. “It’s the same as everyone else, Mary.”

“But he’s of our kind! He knows how these things go, and- and, well, Overlifers are really intense, this whole hidden world is, but he wasn’t— I mean, he was, but not in a way that scared me.” She thought of the way he had looked at her then, first with admiration and then with horror.

How it changed so quickly!

“Are those your standards? As long as you’re not scared of him, he’s perfect?” Anne shook her head. “I know it’s all we can really expect at this point, but...he’s an Overlifer, and our rival at that. Your target, even!”

“I know! And I will kill him.” Mary looked down at her hands. “I just wish he could’ve been a crueler man.”

“He’s the same as James.”

Is that supposed to be good or bad? She had always known Anne thought of their father very differently than she did, but she hadn’t figured out how.

“Just be careful,” Anne began, but Mary cut her off.

“No, you’ve never been with a man,” she said firmly. “You’re younger than I am. You don’t know anything about this.”

“I know enough!” Anne protested. “And I’m not looped out all the time like you are, so I-”

“I know more about myself than you do!” Mary pointed at the blood on the blankets. “James can rely on me, all of the Disciples can! I’ve spilled his blood once and I’ll do it again. I’ll kill him.”

“Really? Because you’re acting like a lovesick little girl,” Anne said. She turned to the door without looking back at her sister. “Don’t wait for me to solve anything, because NO ONE LEFT A CRIME SCENE THAT I’M NOT EVEN QUALIFIED TO INVESTIGATE!” She called that last part down the hall as she left Mary.

“I thought I told you to figure it out!” James shouted back. “Don’t you know how to do anything?”

“I DIDN’T GO TO COLLEGE FOR THIS SHIT!”

Mary shut the door and sighed as they started yelling again. If she had known this is how angry James would be, maybe she would have killed William after all. Was his love worth her father’s rage?

Love! She covered her eyes, the sun’s light falling in suddenly seeming too bright. William would never love her now, not after she had killed him once. Anne was right; he hated all the Disciples, and she knew from all she had heard that his methods of dealing with a perceived problem were...violent, of course, but in this boring way Mary had always hated. What was the point of spilling blood if you wouldn’t smile when it hit your skin?

It was so stupid. She was so stupid. How could she ever have expected him to fall for her right away, how could she expect that from herself? She hadn’t been on anything when she met him, but she might as well have been.

Idiot! What were you trying to do? She knew where her destiny lay— here, with her father, with the future of the world laid out before her if she stayed alive long enough. If she was brave enough to do the same things James had done, if she recognized when a leader needed to go one way or another...

It’s easy. Then the world will be mine.

The thought just filled her with dread, as it always did. How could she be expected to lead humanity when she only knew how to follow her heart, her treacherous, childish heart? And Anne was right, as much as she hated to admit it. The world couldn’t rely on someone who made half of her decisions when she was on drugs.

Why did she have to do all this? Why couldn’t someone else do all the killing? Why did she have to learn to love the screams of her targets, no one else had to learn that to survive in society.

You should be proud you’re being brought up in the family that will rule humanity, she was always told, but part of her thought that maybe she would have been fine with being just another target of the assassin rather than the assassin herself.

I guess it’s possible to be both.

Nonsense, she was proud. She was just uncertain of her future, scared like any girl would be, even if she wasn’t a child and hadn’t been for a while. No one else had this path laid out for them, and the Overlifers were superior to everyone in the world. That much she believed in.

Why are you doubting yourself now? She turned around, glaring at her disheveled appearance in the mirror. She seriously needed to wash the blood off. You’re not even high yet! That’ll give you something to complain about!

She stepped out into the hall once the yelling stopped, nervously entering her father’s room. He was lying on his bed with his hand over his eyes, growling under his breath, with Maria leaning on his shoulder.

“Now’s not the time, Mary,” she said without looking up.

“Mary,” James drawled, flicking his tail at Maria to silence her. “Mary. You’ve got a lot of nerve coming in here, after what you did. What you didn’t do. How could you fail? He fell right into our hands and you- you let him go!” He brought his hand down, so Mary could see his eyes scanning the ceiling.

“I didn’t mean to,” she said, bowing her head. “I swear I did everything with you in mind.”

“But he still lives!” James stood and began to pace around her, all around the room like a restless calf. “The man who killed my brother still lives! I know- I can see him already— he’ll come back for us and kill us all. Charles was just a display. But we...we are his prey now.”

“I will protect us,” Maria murmured.

James looked over at her, his gaze softening. “It’s a lot to expect from you.”

Since when did you care that something may be “a lot?” Mary tried to keep her face as neutral as possible. Why did Maria get all her father’s pity? It was Mary who had no powers, no extra lives.

Maria, on the other hand, was perhaps stronger than even the Overlifers.

“If I can get into his Ally, then it’ll be easy to take him next,” Maria said. “Maybe you shouldn’t send anyone after William until I can figure that out.”

“Ugh.” James rolled his eyes, his sympathy disappearing. “We’ve waited long enough! And because we waited, my brother is dead.” He turned around, back to Mary. “He would be so angry. To see that we’ve failed to avenge him.”

“I will,” Mary said. “But, sir, I wanted to ask—”

“But nothing will be enough!” James interrupted. “He’ll still be dead, and he’ll still be telling us, Mary, to avenge him! Even if we kill William, he- he’ll still hate us—!” He gasped, covering his mouth, his tail lashing and twitching so much that Mary had to step back to stop it from tripping her. “Mary...Mary, before you had come of age, I was the- the assassin that Charles sent after the Devils.”

Mary looked helplessly at Maria. She hated when James got like this, not angry but agitated, and it was enough to make Mary nervous as well. She’d seen her father covered in his own blood before and it had scared her less than this.

“If you were not here, I would- it would have to be me.” James sat back down. “I’d have to kill William. I’d have to face my brother’s murderer—!” The last word came out as a sob, and Mary had to close her eyes before she had to see him weep. But she heard it, and what kind of daughter would she be if she ran from her distraught father? “No- no, he will never return here. He hates me- Mary-”

She wished she could say for sure that he didn’t, but she couldn’t answer that. She only swallowed and listened.

“No, no, no, Charles...” She heard him whispering, his voice breaking. “It never had to come to this-! You promised to protect me, so protect me now.” He was suddenly crying out, so loud that she was sure everyone in the house could hear him, and she opened her eyes. “Protect me, Charles! Forgive me! Forgive me! You said- you promised-” His gaze was still fixed wildly on the ceiling, as if his brother was watching him from there. “I cannot do this without you!”

“You won’t be alone,” Maria said, gently resting her tail on his shoulder, but Mary saw her eyes were clouded with confusion rather than pity.

Mary was just as puzzled. She hadn’t believed her father felt an ounce of grief for Charles. He’d made his ambitions perfectly clear. Charles had been his obstacle, not his...protector, whatever this meant.

“Sir?” She lifted her hand, reaching out to run her hand over his horns to remind him she was still there. “Are you alright?”

“How can you be so cruel?” James took her hand in his own, his nails that bordered on claws digging into her wrist. His agonized, but deeply furious eyes, met hers. “To him, Mary?”

“I- I’m sorry, sir,” she said, wondering how much she could say in front of Maria. “I only...do what I’m told.” She nodded firmly, but James only pushed her away, turning to bury his head in his hands.

“S-Sir-”

“Oh, by the dwaallichten—!” He was crying again, shaking as Maria held him close. “Have I- have I not done everything for you, Mary? Did I not do everything for Charles? Why did it come to this?”

She hesitated before sitting beside him. “You’ve done everything we could’ve asked for and more,” she began. “There was no way you could have predicted Charles’ death. I know maybe it’s...daunting, seeing the task you’ve got up ahead, and how badly you want it, and maybe now you’re alone and confused about what you’ve done with your life so far and it’s all because of William—” She paused, the name making her heart beat loudly in her ears before she went on again. “But Charles always believed in you, all of us do. Sir, look at me.”

“What?” James glanced at her out of the corner of his eye.

“Every Disciple believes you will be the leader to take us to victory,” she said. “You will be the best leader we’ve ever had. Maybe you’ll live forever, who knows? But know, sir, it’s just as Maria said— you’re never alone. I will serve you, kill all of our enemies, as will Anne...”

Devils below, I hope so.

“...and Maria will use her powers to make you the most powerful man in history. We’re with you always. Please don’t be scared anymore, sir.” She leaned in to kiss his cheek, feeling the Over-marks there hot with tears.

“I was never scared.” His eyes were dull now, cast downwards.

“Of course you weren’t,” she said. “There’s nothing to be scared of when you have us.”

“I wouldn’t have been scared even if I was doing this alone.” He looked up, glaring at her, and she swallowed back a retort. He could be so impossible sometimes.

Still, I love you, with all your hatred and ambition. She had learned from Maria, however, as Maria had sometimes learned from her, how to melt back all his fears and cruelty until he was simply James, loving father and husband. It didn’t always work, it wasn’t always predictable, but Mary knew how it calmed everyone’s nerves to see him as a man of his family.

“Charles always liked his brave little brother.” He was quiet now, speaking in the same tone he used when interrogating or threatening a hostage. “I can show him that.”

“He’d expect no less,” Maria said.

“Mary.” James brought her closer to him, stroking her hair and twining his tail around her arms. She shut her eyes, letting his warmth envelope her. “You will serve me?”

“Yes, sir.”

“You will kill William?”

She shuddered, closing her hand around the cut on her palm.

“You reek of his blood.” Her father’s voice was in her ear now.

“And I will spill it again,” she said. “When we meet again, only one of us will survive. I promise.”

“Good.” James leaned back and smiled at her. “Now get out of my sight, you murderer.”

🝰🝰🝰

He kept seeing her face, every time he closed his eyes. She loved him and then she hated him, or maybe she had always hated him but knew how easy he was to play with.

He’d had his schedule cleared for the day, no one needed to see him shaking like a leaf. That was what had been happening, even though the life had taken all the wounds with it. If he thought about it hard enough, he thought he could still feel where she had stabbed him on his thigh, and it hurt to swallow as if the knife was still buried in his throat.

“Hey, William.” He felt Bentinck nudge him, and his tail twitched at the touch. “Do you want to go inside? You’re shaking again.”

“I’m not,” William said, clearing his throat. They were standing on the balcony, the faint fog around them obscuring the view of the city below. That was good; he always wanted to laugh at the worshippers who stopped at shrines to leave offerings for their favorite Allies. The only Ally that mattered was Bentinck, he would run his horns through all the others if he could.

“Thinking about it won’t make it better,” Bentinck said. “She was playing with you, William.”

“But then why didn’t she just finish everything off right then?” William asked the question he’d already asked a thousand times, but in silence, where Bentinck couldn’t reach. “She knew I was an Overlifer, she saw my eyes. It was only her father she wanted to please.”

“Well, she didn’t,” Bentinck said sternly. “She failed as miserably as all the other attempts on your life have.”

“But she didn’t! I lost a life—”

“It was only one,” he broke in. “You’ve got four left. The more lives you lose, the more powerful you get. I’d say this is a good balance. She just made herself a terrible enemy, that’s all.”

“I didn’t want to be her enemy,” William said faintly.

“You’ve never been that kind of person,” Bentinck said, stepping closer to William. “You were drunk and she knew it. It’s nothing, William, don’t think of it anymore.”

“Why didn’t you kill her? When you went back for me?” William looked up at him, briefly meeting the gaze that dripped like tar before turning away again. “Anyone who tries to kill me-”

“Oh, you know.” Bentinck shrugged. “I was tired after fighting Marly and Monmouth. She wasn’t worth the trouble. I can kill her later, if you’d like. If it’d make you feel...safer.”

“No, no, not now. You know what, I can do it myself.” William waved a hand in the air. “That honor is for me.”

“I’d like her dead as soon as possible.”

“Well, you don’t call the shots, do you?” William snapped, turning to him. “I’ll kill her myself, when I please and how I please. But you will not touch that girl without my permission. You missed your chance last night. More than anything, though, you know what you lost? Me. Where the hell were you that you couldn’t come for me when you realized I was missing at a party the Disciples were hosting?”

“I thought Marly was the danger...”

“When someone is clearly trying to kill me, you stay beside me!” William batted his tail against Bentinck’s face. “If they attack, then you can fight. But because you left, Mary had her chance, and I was waiting for you to come for me when I lay there bleeding out like a calf!” He stepped towards his friend, who stumbled back in surprise. “That was the worst moment of my life, Bentinck! I couldn’t do anything! Think of it, a helpless Overlifer! Because of you!”

“I didn’t kill you,” Bentinck said.

“No, but it feels like it.” William could hear his own voice shake, and he cursed himself for it. “And then you couldn’t even do anything useful when you finally came for me. Why couldn’t you just get it over with, just kill Mary? It’s not like you, Bentinck, to leave my enemies alive!”

“She- she only-”

“Do you seriously think that because I slept with her, I’d want to spare her life?” William laughed bitterly. “Maybe that’s how it works for other freaks like Charles. Not me, you know me better. Don’t you?” His tail lashed behind him, curling at the end as if it could strangle someone. “What’s the point of making you an Ally if you can’t even use your powers to protect me? That’s the only reason, Bentinck! I hate Allies, you know they’re all going to die when I rule them all!”

“I’m sorry, William, calm down,” Bentinck said, nudging him back with a hand on his chest. “It won’t happen again. But maybe you shouldn’t yell that you’re going to kill all the Allies out here.”

“I can say whatever I please!” William shoved his hand away. “You have to protect me. It’s what you promised!”

“I know, and I will—”

“Then promise me again! Say it, word for word!”

“I don’t need to do that,” Bentinck said gently. “You know you can always trust me.”

“Do I know that?” William tasted salt in his mouth. He knew he was crying. “You could be conspiring with them, for all I know, at this point. First you willingly left me alone, then you don’t kill Mary, and somehow you’re not caught on your way out even though anyone could’ve heard me coughing from miles away!”

“No, William. I wouldn’t do that.”

“I didn’t think she would kill me,” he growled, “and then she did. Anyone can turn against you these days.”

“William, look, I’ve got to go, you know I have an event today with a few other Allies,” Bentinck said. “And I think you need some quiet. Maybe take a nap, you had a long night.”

“Wait, that’s not right now, is it?” William’s eyes widened.

“Pretty soon.” Bentinck smiled apologetically. “I’ll be back, though! You won’t have to be alone for long. Besides, no one’s ever tried to kill you here.”

“But- but we don’t know that they won’t try—”

“It’s fine, William.” The beginnings of impatience were starting to show in his voice, and William hated it, how it made him feel smaller inside. “I have to go. Just rest, alright? And...please don’t call me, I’ll be rather busy.” He knelt before him and kissed his hand, showing him the ancient respect that was due to the Overlifers.

William said nothing, only watched in silence as Bentinck stood and walked past him. He was still crying, and the way it blurred his vision was making his head ache.

No. No, Bentinck wouldn’t betray me. He knew that with every ounce of logic in his head, but he was still afraid, more afraid than he would have liked to admit to anyone.

He walked back inside, looking up at the high ceiling that made the house feel even lonelier. Empty it was not, for there were always some of the Devils’ servants here, the occasional hostage as well. They all knew of his true intentions, but no one knew him like Bentinck.

He wiped at his tears, hurrying into his room before anyone saw the state he was in. Only Bentinck knew he’d lost a life, and that was how he intended for it to stay.

Maybe he should take a nap, like Bentinck suggested, though he knew he’d only lie there and just think about Mary. Mary, who had deceived him and loved him, and he had loved her all the same.

Do I still love her?

He flicked his tail dismissively. He wouldn’t know what love was. He was drunk, delusional enough to believe that someone like Mary would even glance at him, and that had been blissful. But he was sober now, he had died. The only love he had ever known was Bentinck’s protection, and that was fine. Everyone needed a good one-night stand to smack them over the head and make them question their relationship status.

He didn’t even have a good enough model for how to treat a partner, should he ever have one. At the very least, he knew the way his father ran things wasn’t the way to go, but that was it. And his solution to that problem had been...less than ideal.

He sat back on the bed, a chill running up his spine when he remembered doing just that before Mary, while she took a startling amount of whatever medicine had been prescribed to her. He could understand that, he had enough prescriptions as well, and for a moment he thought they were the same and destined for each other.

But we aren’t! He stood back up again. No, he couldn’t lie in bed now. He had things to do! Orders to give! He had bled out on a bed last night, never again.

Never again. I need to survive. I can survive for as long as I want to.

Oh. He blinked. Perhaps there was a way to guarantee his safety even when Bentinck wasn’t there.

He left his room as it was, walking down the halls, down the stairs, to one of his offices. This one was a little different than the rest, though, nothing to do with business or his public image or even just the Devils of Orange-Nassau by themselves. This one was far messier, but it was important.

It was dark, it had to be. This was where, theoretically, William could summon the more intelligent dwaallicht spirits, creatures of the night and servants of all devils, Allies, and Overlifers, depending on who they believed would rule the world at the end of time. Most devils and Allies saw them as pests, so they were hardly worshipped with the same fervor. But Charles, when he lived, had liked the spirits, and the spirits had adored him as well.

William himself didn’t mind the dwaallicht remnants. The ones who had served Overlifers in the past had done so with a devotion that rivaled that of Bentinck’s. They weren’t worshipped like the Allies were. And they were no threat to his plans, not usually. Not unless they were tied to the Disciples of Restoration.

But he had never summoned one to him, simply because he couldn’t. It was easy enough to summon devils in dreams, to go to their realm when the time came, but the dwaallicht spirits were unpredictable, and most of them didn’t even have the intelligence of a human. He knew some would show up, but only to take his offerings and then leave in the middle of the night. He never caught a glimpse of them.

Still, he kept his notes updated, kept the nests clean should they decide they wanted to speak to this illustrious Overlifer. They were the only ones who could tell how many lives a person had left, and usually that was just one. When they spotted someone with more, though, he hoped it would interest them.

He stepped over the faded summoning circle painted on the floor. It’d glow ever so slightly if he stepped on it, but that was all it did. He brought a chair closer and stood on it, looking for a list he’d made a while back and had stuffed in a book.

He found the old paper in a book about the history of the Allies and pulled it out, narrowing his eyes to read it in the darkness. The writing was faint, but it was only names, so he could guess what he had written at the time. Hopping off the chair, he walked over to a stand decorated with offerings and artwork for one particularly famous dwaallicht spirit, and held the list up to a candle there.

It was a list of all the known spirits that could offer him something valuable if he ever managed to speak to them. Most things he really didn’t care for; what they offered were little conveniences he could pay for if he ever wanted them. Those were the idols of the middle-class.

At the bottom of the list there were three names he had highlighted, labeled Prostitutes of the West. These were famous, sometimes beloved because they offered different gifts, life-changing gifts, but only if you had sex with them, which was the most annoying feature in the history of dwaallicht remnants and devils. Why couldn’t it have been something easier?

I know the best prizes are the ones you worked hardest for, but...seriously?

Two out of three on this list were out of the question. The Earl of Rochester, who gifted you romance, and Nell Gwynn, who gifted you fortune, had both been allied with the Disciples of Restoration. He wasn’t sure if they still were, as he hadn’t seen them at yesterday’s Celebration, but it didn’t matter. None of these things did William need.

The last name was as legendary as it was mysterious.

The Earl of Albemarle will give you life. That was what he had scrawled here, but the sentence failed to describe everything the fox spirit had done. Countless souls had sought him out throughout the ages, begging to touch his body and gain a longer life. But unlike the other two, he was not a benevolent spirit. He would let them beg, let them come to him, and then he would kill them and take the time they were supposed to have on this earth for himself, adding to his own lifespan. There was constant debate about him: was it okay to worship someone who had killed literally thousands, did he actually look like how everyone portrays him, did he use his ability to shapeshift into a fox to lure more people in, where is he now, can we kill him, is he dangerous or a blessing, all that and more. He had taken more years than he had given.

But William was confident that he could take on the dwaallicht spirit. Sure, to the average human they were formidable, but for an Overlifer or Ally, it was easy to neutralize their powers and make them submit out of fear or even just respect. No, power wasn’t the issue.

The issue was that he had no idea where Albemarle was. No one did. He was already a legend, a power out of reach, when William was born; he hadn’t been seen in at least a century. He was a little afraid that meant that Albemarle was dead, but even with just the estimated number of his victims, he wasn’t supposed to die for thousands and thousands of years.

He was the only hope, though, if William wanted to survive, secure in every fight with the knowledge that a spirit had blessed him with the guarantee of a very long life. And that was just for one.

I have to find this spirit. He looked up from the list, over at the small bronze sculpture on the stand. It was Albemarle, he realized, sitting in the glass case and grinning with three foxes sitting beside him. This was only his rumored appearance and demeanor, as not many people had met him and survived to tell the tale. But he was known, at least, to be as beautiful as he was vain. Numerous other carvings and sculptures of foxes surrounded the stand, his guardians and messengers.

“Will you come to me, little spirit?” William lifted the glass and began to trace the bronze sculpture with a finger. “I’m no lover, but I will try to please you.” Truth be told, he had never understood the downright creepy obsession with the Prostitutes of the West. When he had heard as a boy that they were beauty and desire personified, he was disappointed to find that even they didn’t arouse any interest from him. They were nice to look at, sure, but nothing to drive a whole world mad with lust. No, these spirits were desirable for other, more practical reasons.

Especially you, Albemarle.

“With your blessing, I can fight endlessly against the Disciples of Restoration.” He slapped the summoning circle on the floor with his tail, the paint briefly flickering with light. “And, with my blessing, you can stay beside me, serve me, as a dwaallicht spirit was created to do. No one will ever kill me, if only you stay with me.”

Even Mary won’t succeed. He waited for a minute longer in silence before bringing the glass back down on the sculpture and turning to leave, tail twitching in disappointment. No one ever showed up, even if he suspected some of them heard him.

Looks like I’ll have to kill her with my own lifespan. Thanks for nothing, you insolent dwaallicht. He lifted a hand to his horn. No matter. The more time that passed, the more reason he’d have to punish the spirit for disobeying him.

🝰🝰🝰

Bentinck was sure he wasn’t the only one who thought New Amsterdam had the prettiest shrines and Hoerenkasten in all of Altos Diablos. Though not the capital of the nation, it was widely regarded as the capital of worship, where the most famous Allies lived. The Hoerenkasten where they took their visitors were huge, with no shortage of decorations and offerings. He wasn’t usually one for all the splendor, but he did like all the flowers and vines that seemed to be omnipresent in the Hoerenkasten. His own shrines were overflowing with them.

My followers know me well.

He was currently dressing in the Hoerenkast he frequented the most when he didn’t use the Mycenae’s room. He visited enough so that he had been given his own office, but it was less of an office and more of a shrine in its own right. There were always new flowers when he came in, new jewelry for him to wear left on the vanity, slips of paper left from some worshippers in hopes he would fulfill their wishes.

For love, for fortune, for luck, for a cure, for the Master of the Devils to choke and die on his next meal…

He chuckled at the last paper he read from. Politics were beyond his power. Really, most of this was, but even so, he kissed each wish in the hopes that the devils below would see them. Even the last one. It would make William’s job easier.

He looked up, at an offering of a necklace that had been left for him. He wondered if he should wear it for the occasion; on one hand, he was known as one of the more modest Allies, but on the other hand, these kinds of gatherings were always just subtle competitions of wealth and love. The necklace did look very expensive. Were those real diamonds?

Ah, very well. He lifted the necklace and hooked it around his neck, glancing at himself in the mirror. William would say it didn’t suit him at all, but it did hide the bandages around his shoulder.

“My lord.” He heard a nervous knock on the door from one of the servants. “The Ally visitor has arrived.”

“I’ll be there in a second, thank you,” he called back. It would have to do. Maybe it would show this Ally the kind of company he was in.

He stepped out, past the tiny waterfall by his room meant to drown out any noise from within and give him privacy. He ran his fingers through it just to feel the cool water. It was always so hot here, like they’d created a tiny tropical rainforest here just for the Allies.

It was even hotter downstairs, where there were usually no visitors allowed. It was a single large room, with images of the most revered devils painted on the walls and weaved into tapestries from decades ago. A small stream had been built into the stone floors, but this water was never cold. If he sat in it for relief from the heat, it’d only make him warmer.

And of course someone’s smoking. He wrinkled his nose and looked up, seeing Marly standing amongst the other Allies gathered here. It wasn’t every Ally who lived in New Amsterdam, just the ones who came here a lot— only about fifteen, including himself.

“It’s nice to see you again,” Marly greeted him coolly. “How’s your shoulder?”

“I don’t wanna hear it,” Bentinck muttered. He was tempted to mention how Marly was clearly hiding the bite marks on his neck with his own necklace, but he decided he didn’t have time to stoop to his level. “You’ll scare off the Ally with that stench.”

“He does have asthma.” Marly shrugged, kneeling down to put his cigarette out on the stone.

“You didn’t care that much for my master,” Bentinck said, glaring at Marly as he stood again.

“I don’t like him.”

“If you would please keep silent until it is your turn to speak,” a servant announced as she walked in, trailed by a few others. “With all due respect, of course.”

The Allies spread themselves out evenly across the room, with Marly standing directly across from Bentinck. He didn’t seem to have a weapon on him, but Bentinck didn’t have much time to see before the lights shut off, and it was only the lights by the tapestries and the ones hidden under the water that remained. He heard the servants take their places behind the Allies, and he suddenly felt vulnerable. He ran his tongue over his fangs.

“With our deepest respect and admiration,” said Marly, of course it was Marly, who acted like he ruled all the Allies in New Amsterdam, “we welcome our newest arrival to our community, and to our city. You all know we’ve only ever worked in the interests of our worshippers—”

I’m sure you have. Damned Disciple.

“—of poor lost humanity, who could have never found their way without us—”

“Poor humanity,” my ass. If they were ruled by James, then pity them, indeed.

“—and now another guide comes to us, not new to the whole business at all, but new to the people, and to us. Please enter, Ally George.”

The door opened slowly, the Ally clearing his throat and pausing before the stream. “Am I supposed to walk through that?”

“It’s your choice,” Marly said.

“Nice. I’ve got shoes on, so...probably not. Cool. Um, actually, it’s not very cool here. Why’s it so hot?”

“Get in and maybe we’ll tell you,” Marly said, not a hint of impatience in his voice.

“Right.” George stepped in, walking over the stream and stopping in the middle of the room. He was wearing a suit, Bentinck noticed in the darkness, not any usual Ally attire. From all he’d heard of George, he seemed to defy all the typical expectations of an Ally, but not in a breakthrough kind of way, more like he just thought it wasn’t necessary. And, well, it wasn’t, but it was encouraged, and a show of respect towards the traditional clothes of the devils.

“What do I do?” George asked.

“Praise the devils. Since you already were an Ally, there’s not much else.” Marly laughed. “Lucky you.”

Do they know each other? Bentinck wondered as George began to speak. He couldn’t tell; Marly had always acted as if everyone knew his name and therefore he could decide the familiarity he treated them with, and George was just asking too many questions.

He realized it would be the rest of the Allies’ turn to speak soon, so he pushed the thought back and focused on George’s words.

“...and we thank the dwaallichten everyday for creating mankind, for creating the world we live in,” he was saying. “We pray that you may one day take the spirits you left behind back to the darkness from whence they came, so that humanity will prosper without them.”

The N isn’t pronounced, you idiot. Bentinck shifted on his feet. Even the youngest, dimmest child knew how to say dwaallichten.

“Grant me the power to fulfill the wishes of my followers,” George went on, giving him a puzzled look for a moment before staring ahead again. “There is no human without vice.”

What was that about?

“And without vice there are no devils,” the rest of the Allies murmured, Bentinck quickly joining in. It always filled him with pride to say those words, to know that out there, a couple was having sex or drinking, all to honor his name.

“Give them ambition.” Marly spoke above the rest, stating the trait most associated with him by his followers. The others began to speak as well.

“Give them bravery.”

“Give them success.”

“Give them curiosity.”

Bentinck lifted his head when it was his turn. “Give them loyalty.” He thought of William, watching him through his sunglasses, and his pride burned even greater. He had fought a devil to become an Ally for him, and he would do it a thousand times over, if William so wished it.

At last it was George’s turn. He bowed his head, smiling to himself.

“Give them peace.”

Bentinck was relieved when they finally went back upstairs, where, by comparison, it was cooler. He wanted to go back and dip his head under his little waterfall, but he still had to stay with the others, to help George receive his visitors. He didn’t understand why; couldn’t Marly stick around to help? Why did the others all have to stay?

He had a feeling it was just so people would actually come and see George, if they knew that they would have the opportunity to see so many more beloved Allies in one place. That was a bit unfair, considering they would all have to receive their visitors later today.

Except Marly, he thought, as always. He had far more worshippers than he could see in four hours, so he dedicated two days of the week just to receive them, but today was not one of those days.

I have tons of followers too, Bentinck thought bitterly as he ducked below the curtains, into the room where he saw George hopping over the rushing pool of water surrounding the throne in order to avoid getting wet. What kind of arrogant, Disciple-sucking Ally thinks he needs two whole days for himself?

He settled down a few spots beside the throne, staring at his reflection in the water. He looked bored, a little tired from staying up most of the night with William, but hopefully the visitors wouldn’t notice through his makeup.

“You think about him a lot.”

“Hm?” Bentinck jolted, looking up at George. He was the one who had spoken.

“This William. Who is he?”

Bentinck was so startled that he didn’t know what to say. How did this dim Ally know who William was? How did he know Bentinck had been thinking of him?

“It’s my power,” George said. “The devils let me read minds.”

Oh. Bentinck didn’t know why that made him feel so disappointed. Why on earth would the devils give such a useful gift to such a- to a-

Don’t finish that. Bentinck shook his head and smiled, trying to clear everything from his mind. Just think about...the water. He lifted a hand and ran it through the water, focusing on the ripples his fingers created.

“Charming,” he said, clearing his throat.

“You’re fun, Ally Bentinck,” George said, leaning in to look at him. “So, who is this William? What was going on last night?”

“Um...”

“Quit bothering Ally Bentinck, can’t you see he’s reflecting?” Marly broke in. “Besides, he’s got nothing thrilling to say.” He raised an eyebrow at George, who narrowed his eyes before nodding slowly.

What the hell did you just tell him? Bentinck suddenly felt trapped. He would never doubt the wisdom of the devils, but how powerful he would be if he could read minds! He’d have known the thoughts of all his enemies, the moves of every opponent before they attacked, and most importantly, he’d know what William was thinking, how his mind worked to make every decision he did.

But no, instead I got stuck with these. He ran his tongue over his fangs again. William was right; on the spectrum of powers an Ally could have, these weren’t that great. Mind-reading given to an Ally with no effect on the world whatsoever. To an Ally that’ll only die when we take over, what a waste.

He realized George was staring at him again, and Bentinck laughed nervously.

I mean, Allies! We have all sorts of effects on the world. Including you. Nobody will die. What a crazy dream I had last night.

“Yes, crazy indeed,” George murmured. “I’ve never had my friend cling to me with blood all over his face like that.”

Am I seriously still thinking about that? Bentinck shook his head. It was- it was just a nightmare! William’s fine. Nothing ever happens to William.

“Maybe you should get some sleep,” George said. “A nightmare like that would keep me up too. It’s quite warm here, isn’t it? Good place to take a nap.”

I don’t take orders from you! But Bentinck had to admit, he was tired. And the heat here always made him feel drowsy.

“I don’t need you here,” George said calmly. “I mean, not to be rude, or anything like that. But I’ll be fine! I have Marly with me and all these other Allies. I appreciate your concern, though.”

“It’s fine, I can stay,” Bentinck said, waving a hand. He wasn’t going to allow a mind-reading Ally scare him off. He could control his thoughts.

He was starting to drift off, however, his head drooped over his hands, when the first two visitors came in. He looked up, blinking at the brightness, and realized he was looking at two women. They seemed to only have eyes for Marly and George, ignoring the others.

Bentinck leaned forward. He could’ve sworn he’d seen one of these women before. Recently, he was sure. The one on the right had hair similar to that baffling girl who’d murdered William, perhaps shorter and it fell over her eyes more, but in those very eyes she had the same wariness. Unlike Mary, though, she wasn’t doing a good job of hiding it. He could see detailed tattoos underneath her rolled-up sleeves, reaching down to her hand in a design much like the rays of the moon. They couldn’t be the sun; they didn’t feel bright in the slightest. The rays trailed down to her fingers, where her dark green nails glistened under the light, matching her shirt.

But he knew for sure that he’d seen the other one, and that would be Sarah Jennings, Marly’s partner. Of course she had connections with the Disciples, perhaps for longer than Marly had. Bentinck suspected that she was the reason Marly was with them now. He’d fought her as well, sometimes when she was alone and sometimes when she had Marly with her. She was no assassin like Mary, but she clearly knew how to handle Allies.

So this girl...

He glanced at the other one. Unnecessary tattoos, suspicious eyes, and right beside that Sarah. Oh, no, this one wasn’t just any normal Disciple with the small R stamped on their neck; this one, in all her painted glory, was part of James’ family.

“You came!” George blurted. He jumped off from the chair, splashing water into Bentinck’s face, and ran to the woman. She stepped back, glancing at the Allies before he embraced her, his eyes wide with worry. “Was it safe to go today?” Bentinck heard him whisper.

What? Bentinck shook the water off his face, straining to listen.

“How’s it going, Ally Bentinck?” Sarah stepped in front of him, her eyes and faint reddish aura glittering with amusement. “I heard of what happened last night.”

“Of course you would,” Bentinck said, rolling his eyes and shuffling back. “Show some respect. When you enter here, you kneel as a greeting.”

“Well, I say she doesn’t have to,” Marly said. “Especially not to you.”

“Everyone must!” Bentinck spat. “Partners don’t get a special privilege.”

“Like William does?” Sarah asked.

He’s an Overlifer! Does James kneel to greet Marly? But he didn’t say that out loud, only gritted his teeth and glared up at her.

“He doesn’t believe in our authority,” he said simply. “But if you do, and surely you must, then you must kneel. Have you ever fought a devil? Do you happen to be chosen by one?”

“I don’t need to be chosen by anything to end you,” she growled as she knelt before him, making sure only he heard it.

Behind her, he could see George glance back at him for a moment, his eyes wide with horror. Bentinck wondered if he had heard, but then he remembered what he had just been thinking.

Wait— NO. Stop that. You didn’t hear anything. Stop being nosy.

“I thought we weren’t allowed to do that,” the Ally Huygens said, thankfully interrupting Bentinck’s train of thought. “Meet our partners during this time, I mean. Ally Bentinck is correct, and I suggest you leave.”

“I find that hard to believe,” Sarah said, standing up again and walking over to Marly. “If anything, we are more loyal than any other worshipper.”

You sure are, Disciple. He didn’t care if George heard that.

“The way you’re all thinking about each other is, uh, kind of disturbing,” George said. “How about less murder? Try that.”

“Less murder always sounded good to me,” the woman with him said, her eyes flashing over to Bentinck.

I’ve never attempted to murder anyone in my life.

And if I have, they don’t count as attempts, because I succeeded.

George coughed. “Maybe you should go, Anne. Apparently you’re not supposed to stick around for so long. And your, you know...boss would probably like you back soon.”

Boss. He means James. Bentinck watched George lead her out, murmuring in her ear. So you know what kind of business we’re all caught up in.

“If he has a problem with it, tell him I wanted you both here,” Marly was saying as he ushered Sarah out as well. “I can deal with him myself.”

“Aren’t you supposed to part with the proper words?” Bentinck asked, standing up.

“Not to you,” Anne said, looking back at him. “I actually need a word with you...my lord.” Her burning eyes told him, though, that she meant no respect with the title.

“Really? Are you sure?” For once, George looked suspicious. “This one?”

Anne gave him a meaningful look, and he stared at her for a moment before backing away. “Fine. Just be safe. He was thinking...weird things.” He kissed her once on the head and cleared his throat. “There is no human without vice.”

“And without vice there are no devils,” Sarah and Anne replied. With that, they walked through the curtains, Bentinck awkwardly following them out into the hall and past the few people gathered there.

“What did you need?” he asked. “What was that for? You’re not technically allowed to visit your partner during these hours. I mean, Marly is maybe an exception right now, but George is...” He trailed off, realizing they were both glaring at him with a startling fury. “What? Are you going to take this chance to try to kill me?”

“No,” Anne said. “I just wanted to ask you. Did you kill Charles?”

Now it was Bentinck’s turn to stare. “Is that seriously your approach? What’s the right answer? If I say no, you’ll think I’m lying. If I say yes, you’ll still be angry...obviously.”

“I don’t believe you killed him.” Anne’s suspicion seemed to melt back, her eyes flicking to the side. “I mean, of course it’d make sense if you did. William couldn’t have taken on him and won, so he would have sent you.”

“Is that what you all think? That William killed Charles?” Bentinck shook his head. “I truly can’t defend myself from that accusation. You have every reason to believe it was me or him, but we’d admit it if it was us.”

“That’s just it,” Anne said. “Do you admit it?”

“No.”

She looked at Sarah, then back at Bentinck. “It’s all very hard to make sense of, you know. I think James- my father-” She paused when Sarah nudged her. “Nevermind. I just wanted to tell you that that’s why my sister killed William last night. Because we all believe you guys killed Charles. I don’t feel bad for it, but in case you were wondering why James suddenly sent his best assassin after him...that’s why.”

“Mary? Seriously?” Bentinck laughed. “She’s- I mean, she’s all-” He shook his head, looking down at the floor. “She’s really messed up.”

“You have no idea,” Anne sighed. “Well, that’s all. Don’t tell anyone I was here, alright?”

“I...will have to tell William.”

“If you must,” she hissed suddenly, her tail flicking behind her, “then swear him to secrecy!”

“Why?” He realized as soon as he had asked. “Oh. It’s about George, isn’t it?”

“That isn’t-”

“You don’t want your father finding out,” he went on, “that you’re seeing an Ally. Is that why George came here? To be closer to you. I would say that’s sweet, but...it’s pretty funny coming from your family.”

“You don’t know anything about us!” Sarah broke in, her own tail whipping about. “And you have no right to guess. If you were in such a position, if you were in the Disciples, you—!” She stopped, turning around to take Anne’s hand. “Come, dear, these Orange-Nassau Devils can never look beyond their own noses.”

“Don’t tell anyone,” Anne said as they walked past him. “My sister isn’t the only one trained to kill.”

And you think you could kill me? Bentinck raised an eyebrow, watching them walk out the doors. He had to admit, Mary unnerved him, and her sister was no less intense, albeit in a different way. For one thing, she wasn’t as ready to follow James’ orders, if she didn’t believe that William was the murderer and she was willing to go under his nose to meet her dim little Ally lover. There was none of that fearful obedience of Mary.

Still, there was fear.

Was it safe to go today...he would probably like you back soon...don’t tell anyone I was here...

He couldn’t blame her. James had always been the worst of the two brothers. Charles was a nuisance, but James was the threat he would make when he was annoyed. Now James was the only threat left, and with his brother dead, no one held the reins to jerk him back.

What’s it like? Living under that monster?

He had no idea, but he shied away from that thought. He went back into the room, settling down beside George again. Marly glanced at him, but said nothing.

George. Can you hear me?

George looked over at him as he spoke to the worshipper kneeling in front of him.

Why are you here?

George turned away resolutely, and Bentinck sighed. He could almost see why William was so nervous. There were enemies everywhere!

🝰🝰🝰

Bentinck had not come back, only texted him that he would stay at the Hoerenkast for the rest of the day. So William was on his way there now, muttering the whole time to his driver about how religion clouded the eyes of even the best men these days. If only it was all for him, rather than for the useless Allies who only lived once and then their influence faded away as quickly as it had appeared.

He stepped out of the car without a word, pushing his way past the people already gathered around the entrance. Some of them were here for Bentinck, and he knew which ones they were, because those were the ones that looked at him the most. He was wearing his sunglasses, but he still felt as if the markings on his face were as visible as they had been last night, when Mary had shoved off the glasses with a knife and his heart had stopped.

She knows now. She’ll tell everyone.

He shuddered and tried to focus on the long hallways in front of him. The servants were greeting the visitors, same way as they always did, letting him pass through without objection. They knew him well already. He made no secret of his disdain for them; the servants of his enemies.

He followed the sounds of the distant fountains, fanning himself with his tail. It was warmer here, and though he liked it in the winter, right now he found it uncomfortable.

The small, winding stream led him to a waterfall spilling down from the high wall, right next to a door decorated with flowers that brushed at his horns as he stopped in front of it. He knocked on the door with his tail. “Hanni! You in there?”

It was a second before Bentinck opened the door, blinking down at him. “Hello, William.”

“Hey.” William pushed his way through, shutting the door behind him. “You left me all alone.”

“Yes, I know.” Bentinck tilted his head to the side. “Did anyone try to kill you today?”

William stared at him before turning around, sitting down beside the stream that ran even in here. He ran his tail through the cold water and lifted it over his head, shaking it out despite the pain that it sent down to the base. “No. But imagine if someone had! The blood’s on your hands, Bentinck.”

“It’d be indistinguishable from the blood of everyone else I’ve killed,” Bentinck said. He sat beside William, playfully splashing water at his face. William leaned back with a hiss.

“No, because unlike everyone else, you like me.”

“So I do.” Bentinck grinned, bringing him close in his arms and laughing. “Today was unbearable, William, you have no idea.”

William twitched his tail at the added warmth, but didn’t protest at Bentinck’s sudden show of affection. He felt safer suddenly. “Really? What’d you even do?”

“This clown came to us,” Bentinck said, releasing him and lowering himself into the water. William looked away with a huff. He knew Bentinck wasn’t wearing anything underneath all the gold and silk down at his legs. “Another Ally. He’s the complete opposite of Marly, really boring, and as stupid as all the remnants, but get this. He can read minds, and he’s dating one of James’ daughters.”

William thought about that for a moment. “That would have been useful, Hanni.”

“Ugh, I know.” Bentinck sighed, leaning back and resting his head on William’s lap. “He seems to know plenty about the Disciples, though. He might be connected to them in more ways than one..”

“So there’s another guy, huh...” William took off his glasses, rubbing at his eyes. “Haven’t we enough enemies? Can this guy fight?”

“I don’t know. He might be able to.” Bentinck shrugged. “But listen, that’s not the most important part. He was acting like his whole relationship with James’ brat had to be kept secret. Isn’t that wild? I think it is. I talked to her, by the way. She came to see him with Sarah Jennings. You know Sarah—”

“Unfortunately.” William ran his tongue over the golden tooth near the back of his mouth. She’d knocked out the original.

“Well, this girl, her name’s Anne. Mary’s sister.”

William jolted. “And- and what did she say?”

“Came to question me about Charles’ death,” Bentinck said. “She...doesn’t seem to believe it was you. Said if it was, we wouldn’t be hiding it.”

“By the devils, I wish it was us,” William muttered. “Wipe that stupid smile off his face.”

“Well...that’s why James sent Mary after you. Because he thinks it was you.”

“Are you kidding me?” William slammed his tail onto the surface of the water, wincing away at the splash. “I died for nothing? For a false accusation? How unfair is that, Hanni? How about I blame the next assassination on them and kill James for it? What a fucking idiot!”

“I know, I know,” Bentinck said, sitting up again. “But...that’s not what’s bothering me. We could have guessed that, you and me. It’s just...the whole situation seems weird. The two sisters act as if their father’s wrath would be the worst thing to happen to them. I mean, I guess it’d be the worst thing to happen to us, but they’re his kids. And they’re adults, no- no one is scared of their parents by then.”

“Why do I care about what happens to them? One of them tried to kill me,” William grunted.

“Yes, but see, William—” Bentinck hesitated. “It just felt off. We know James is fucked up, yes?”

William twitched his tail lazily.

“Can you imagine what it’s like being his kid?”

At that William fell still. Of course, he’d never expected a great father out of James, and he’d seen as much when he realized that the best assassin of the Disciples was James’ daughter. He couldn’t imagine what that was like, how someone could view their child with such detachment, enough to send them into danger time and time again to kill people since...well, who knew how long she’d been in that business.

He shook his head, waving his hand dismissively. “If it was really so bad, Mary wouldn’t have been so happy to obey him. You know how it was with my— with my own father.” He looked down at the water. “I was supposed to kill you, and I didn’t. If she really didn’t like her father, then she would have spared me.”

“But you were afraid, William,” Bentinck said. “Afraid of what would happen if you didn’t kill me.”

“I was afraid, yes, but I was more afraid of losing you.” William closed his eyes. “I know it’s different. She had just met me. But she chose to obey her father. There must be a reason for it.”

“William, look-”

“Why are you defending her?” William snapped, opening his eyes. “I thought you wanted her dead. What changed so fast?”

“I’m not defending her,” Bentinck said hastily. “I just- well, seeing Anne...you say that Mary would have rebelled if something was wrong. But that’s what Anne is doing. She told me that James believed it was you, but she doesn’t. Doesn’t that count for something?”

“I’m not discussing this,” William said, standing up. “If you dare suggest that they’re the same as I am then you clearly don’t-”

“There’s something I didn’t tell you,” Bentinck interrupted. “About Mary. When she killed you, I went after her, but she told me- begged me— to let her live, because in the end, she wasn’t going to take all your lives. She would let you live, so I could come back for you. That’s what she told me. But she didn’t want to anger James.”

William blinked, not saying anything for a long moment. She didn’t want to kill me after all! He didn’t know why he was so happy to hear that.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” he asked at length, his voice tense.

“Because I don’t like her anymore than you do,” Bentinck said, shaking his head. “She hurt you, William. She twisted your heart around. I didn’t want you overthinking it, I thought it would be easier if you just thought of her as an enemy.”

“I- I don’t know what to think.”

“I thought as much.” He looked back down. “But there it is. She went against her father in the end. I know we just met them, how would we know what goes on behind closed doors...but I don’t know. I just wanted to tell you, it’s been on my mind all day.”

“Of- of course the Disciples of Restoration would be harsh,” William said absently. He was too shaken up by what he had just heard to really be mad at Bentinck for keeping it from him. “It’s nothing. She’s an adult, she can do what she likes.”

She wanted to let me live. She- she basically saved my other lives.

Had his drunken little speech really had such an effect on her? Could he inspire someone who had been told all her life that he was the enemy?

“Yeah,” Bentinck said, standing up beside him. “An adult. I’m sorry, I don’t know- I’m probably looking too much into it.”

“You are.” William nodded. “She’s still our enemy, alright?”

She still killed me, she still hurt me. He took a breath, tasting the blood in his mouth all over again. Why would she care?

“Yes. Yes, sir.” Bentinck looked to the side, to the clock on the wall. “It’s almost time.”

“Right. Let’s go, then.” He nudged Bentinck’s chest with his tail as he put his sunglasses back on. “And take off that necklace, it looks dreadful on you.”

Bentinck made a face, something like a cross between triumph and dismay. “You want them to see I got shot last night?”

“Please, you Allies heal quickly.”

“Not quickly enough,” Bentinck said. “You can still tell—”

“Very well, very well, keep it on.” William waved a hand, opening the door. “Everyone will think you look ridiculous, though.”

“Good thing they love me enough to politely ignore it,” Bentinck said, walking past him. He reached a hand into the waterfall and flicked a bit of water at William again. “Keep your mind clear. I don’t know if George is still here.”

“George?”

“The mind-reader.”

Ugh, of course. William stared at Bentinck as they made their way to one of the meeting rooms. Mind reading! If Bentinck had been able to do that, they could have avoided so many messes throughout the past years. Including the most recent one.

He would have read Mary’s plan in her head and killed her, and then none of this would be happening.

Ooh, how delightful. A world without the confusion and pain Mary had caused him. Still was, actually.

She’s insane if she thinks I’ll ever love her again as I did in that moment. He was drunk, he was desperate, and she too was desperate, for whatever reason.

He stopped in front of the curtains, before the line of people as Bentinck ducked inside, waving at all his beloved worshippers. They watched him go in with shining eyes, and William shifted uneasily. This was usually a much different crowd from the Mycenae one. Over there, every visitor was dignified, well-dressed, but the Hoerenkast let just about anyone in. And these worshippers loved Bentinck fiercely. Not so much William.

It’s fine. I don’t need them to love me. He lifted his head, glaring at them under the darkness of his glasses. Just try and kill me. Hanni can end you all in a heartbeat!

But none of them tried. He let the first one through, leaning on the wall and shutting his eyes despite his wariness. The heat here was giving him a headache. Bentinck was always telling him to dress with less layers in here, but he had yet to give up on the colorful shirts that matched perfectly with any black sleeves.

He wished he could just dive into Bentinck’s little waterfall. It was so cold. It’d have him shivering right away; what a relief. He heard the murmured greetings of the visitors as they passed him by on their way in, but he ignored them.

It was only when he heard a cheerful voice greet him on her way in, and he opened his eyes with a shock. He barely caught sight of her as she walked through the curtains, but he saw her unfocused gaze rake over him and then turn away again.

Mary. She wouldn’t be here to pay her respects to Bentinck. She was either here to kill him...or kill William.

No. He curled his tail in, the sudden movement causing an odd jolt of pain to spiral up to the base and to his spine. He gritted his teeth. Now’s not the time!

Was she here to kill him? Or did she want to speak to him, to clear things up? Part of him hoped that was the case, but he had seen how unfortunately devoted she was to James. If she had failed once, she would not want to fail again.

Why did that feel so familiar?

I wasn’t so blind, though. I knew he was wrong.

Maybe you should see it too. He’d made up his mind. He turned and entered the room, wiping the sweat from his face. It was hotter here, reminding him how exhausted he was. He’d fallen asleep here before, his head resting on Bentinck, with the sound of water surrounding them.

But he couldn’t sleep now. He saw Mary kneeling before Bentinck, who was staring at her in astonishment.

“Mary,” William called out. “Come to pray?”

“Pray?” Mary asked incredulously, standing up and turning around to face him. She looked so delighted to see him, he could almost smile right back at her. “The only prey here is you!” Her voice was high and excited, but the words might as well have been in Infernal, slurred as they were.

“I was never easy to hunt down,” William said. He met Bentinck’s gaze and nodded, hoping he got the message. Prepare to fight.

“Don’t be like that, honey,” Mary said. “I never wanted to fight you. They tell me you’re bad at it, that it’s your Ally here doing all the work!” She laughed, her eyes drifting to the ceiling. “I don’t believe that. You’re an Overlifer. Put some work in, William!”

“I can fight you, no problem,” William said through gritted teeth. “I thought you wanted to believe you were someone else.”

“What?” Mary looked back down at him, shaking her head. “Someone else? I’m Mary Stewart, the most beloved girl on the internet, the greatest assassin among the Disciples of Restoration, the heir of humanity’s future, and, most importantly, your downfall.” She laughed, reaching into her pocket and pulling out the vicious knife she had shoved into William’s throat.

Shit. He suddenly felt dizzy, staring at the dirty blade. Why hadn’t she cleaned it? That was his blood.

“William,” he heard Bentinck say. “Come over here.”

William began to back away. Mary was still looking at him, advancing with lurching steps, running her finger over the point of the blade. In fact, she was doing it so much to the point where her finger was now dripping blood, down to where she had cut herself on his horn. But she didn’t seem to mind.

“No, William,” she said. “Come with me.”

“You’re going to kill me,” William huffed out.

“Is it possible to kill someone you love?” Mary wondered out loud. “How many times have you done it, William? Does it come to a point where you view everyone as a target, because that’s just what may become of them? So many times you’ve been asked to kill your friends, so you heed your father’s advice: stop making them. The friends you do make are all the same as you. It gets boring! That’s why I like you, William. No, that’s why I love you.”

“I told you that’s not possible,” Bentinck growled behind William.

“And I told you why it is!” Mary rolled her eyes. “You’ve never been in love, what do you know? I feel it when I’m sober, I feel it when I’m high! That’s how you know it’s real. That’s how you know you don’t want to kill him—!” The last sentence was said in a sob, and she clutched the knife to her chest as she began to cry, which was so unexpected William was tempted to run to her and hold her tight, the way Bentinck would.

“You don’t have to,” he said instead. “Just go, Mary, we never have to see each other again.”

“I-I want to see you!” she gasped out. “William, please, just die— do it for me, so I don’t have to do it myself and so my father doesn’t hate me forever.” She was shaking, just as she had last night, and she lifted her bloody hand to push the hair out of her face. “Oh, by the devils! I can’t lose this now! Not someone like you!”

“Is that all I am to you?” William asked quietly. “Mary, I thought more of you in that moment.”

“Yes. Yes, I know.” She closed her eyes, trying to steady her breathing. “But I promised him. So I must kill you.”

“That means I must kill you, too.” He was strangely saddened by the notion. He’d killed countless enemies with Bentinck at his side, some of them not really enemies but more like people he should have loved but didn’t. He didn’t regret it, but being faced by the possibility of Mary’s death...he didn’t know why it made him want to cry out in rage.

“Yes,” Mary repeated. “Yes, yes, yes. I wouldn’t have it any other way.” And with that she leaped forward, pulling William down by his tail and kicking him hard in the chest as he fell.

William cried out, his body jerking up at the agonies that sent down his tail and to his lungs. He looked up, just in time to see Mary shoving her fist into Bentinck’s mouth as he snapped his jaws to bite into her neck, as if he were nothing more but a rabid dog. Bentinck shuffled back, spitting blood, and she flung her knife at his neck and took William by his horns, swifter than a dwaallicht.

“Hanni!” William tried to call out, but he was too winded to say anything. Bentinck caught the knife and threw it right back at Mary, who simply whipped William’s head up and caught the knife in his horn. It didn’t hurt, but it landed so abruptly and forcefully that his head shook with the impact.

Let go of me! He clawed at Mary’s face, and he felt her pull the knife free. She pinned him down, her knee resting hard on his chest.

I can’t die again! He gasped, trying to catch his breath, to summon any strength in his trapped muscles, but she ripped his head to the side, still holding on to his horns.

“What useful handlebars,” she said, her knife glinting at the corner of his vision.

No! He struggled harder, only for the weight to lift off of him when Bentinck yanked her off, biting into her neck.

“Ah—!” He heard her cry out, and he looked up, his eyes wide with fear.

“Don’t- don’t kill her!” he managed, stumbling to his feet.

“I wouldn’t steal from you that triumph,” Bentinck said. “Relax.” He dropped Mary, and she fell to her knees, her eyelids fluttering as she fought to stay alert.

“Mary?” William knelt beside her, holding her close to him. Her head dropped to his chest. “I’ll let you go. Just- just promise me you won’t try again.”

“My father...” She was still shaking, running her fingers down the side of her blade over and over again. “William.”

“Look at me, Mary, you...you scare me.” He was shaking too, he knew what it meant if he held her for too long. She was still gripping her knife. “And I don’t know what I feel about you but I know that I don’t like people who try to kill me. But you also saved me.”

“You don’t understand,” she said without looking up. “You don’t know James. He’s fought so hard all his life to bring about our rule, the rule of the Disciples of Restoration. He’s lost so much for it. And it’s all because of you, you Devils of Orange-Nassau. You killed his brother.”

“I never killed Charles,” William said. “I would have loved to, trust me. But it wasn’t me.”

“No. No, it wasn’t you.” She finally looked up at him, her eyes misty. “I know who it was. William, I’m so sorry. I’m s-so—” She broke off and then she was crying again, intertwining her fingers with his own. “I want you to stay!”

“I know,” he whispered, wrapping his tail around her. “I want you to stay too.” Don’t let her see you cry. “Mary, neither of us know love like this...do you really believe in it?”

“This isn’t love,” Bentinck broke in, exasperated. “William, love is...well, it’s not exactly the same, but you and I— that’s love.”

“And what do you know?” William narrowed his eyes.

“I’m- listen, William, I’m sorry, but you’ve always valued me for my rationality,” Bentinck said. “Because you haven’t always been...” He trailed off, seeing the glare William was giving him.

“What happens if you fail again?” William asked, looking back down at Mary.

“I don’t know.” She was lifting her knife again. “I can’t let it happen...”

“Bentinck, release her.”

“What?” Bentinck looked up. “You’re not serious. She- she looks like she’s about to try again!”

“Damnit, Bentinck, I’m not arguing right now!” William twitched his tail in annoyance. “Release her!” He felt the pressure of the knife on him, but he didn’t let go of Mary.

“Fine.” Bentinck glowered down at her. “The sun has risen.”

Mary blinked, and William gently pushed her off, letting her support herself. She only looked down at the knife, then stood, her eyes wide as she looked down at him.

“You’re only trouble, William. You know that? You know what my father will do now? Actually, do you know what all of the Disciples will do? You know that we needed you dead. I was their only hope. I still am. And what will I tell them when I come back? That I killed you? I didn’t. They’ll know immediately that I didn’t. And then James is going to be furious. I’m supposed to be helping him secure our kingdom. What kind of kingdom will we have if you’re allowed to live? An insecure one, that’s what. And you-”

“Alright, alright, enough!” William said, getting up. “I’m sorry, but it’s the way things have to be. I’m not going to roll over and let myself die.”

“You would do it if you cared!” she spat.

“You wouldn’t be killing me if you cared!” he retorted. “Go. Tell your father that if he wants something done right, he should come do it himself.”

“Oh, I can’t do that.” She smiled ruefully. “It’s disrespectful.”

“And you think this isn’t?”

“He loves me. You don’t!”

“How can I?” William exclaimed, his tail lashing wildly behind him. “You’ve now tried to kill me twice! One of the times you’ve succeeded! Do you know what that’s like, Mary? That fear?”

“I know enough of fear!” She turned around and shoved her bloodied hands in her pockets with her knife. “You know I’ll come back again, and next time, I’m not going to lose.” Her voice went quiet at the end, slurring and falling off as if they were running off a cliff.

“Keep telling yourself that,” William said. “It’s not going to end, Mary. The Devils of Orange-Nassau will always be here to oppose you, to defend the world from your Disciples.”

“And it’s all because of me.” She was even quieter now, but he heard it. He didn’t have time to say anything, though, before she walked out through the curtains. He heard her apologizing for the wait, that she’d had a bit of an episode, but she was fine now, no big deal, haha, next person go in!

There was silence, and then Bentinck turned to look at William. “You two make no sense. I’m starting to think you both don’t know what love is.”

“She...she saved me. Doesn’t that count for something?” He knew he was trying to convince himself, but he didn’t know why he still wanted to believe it, that she loved him.

“No.” Bentinck sat back down. “It’s something, something strange and sort of...sort of awful, but it isn’t love.”

“I don’t want to hear anybody else’s definition of it.” William settled down beside Bentinck, sitting on the arm of his chair to avoid getting wet. “I’m staying here. You know, just in case she isn’t gone.”

“Right.” Bentinck looked up at his visitor, who stared at them both in bewilderment.

“Is he- is he supposed to be here?”

“Pay him no mind.” Bentinck waved his hand. “Pay your respects, dear.”

William watched Bentinck receive all his worshippers as if nothing had happened. He didn’t like this Bentinck; acting as if he cared about these nameless people and their blind devotion. And yet, Bentinck truly gave them advice, consoling them when they spoke of their problems, letting them kiss his hand if it made them feel better. William hated it.

Of the two of us in here, my presence is the most divine. He twitched his tail distastefully whenever a follower would look up at him as if they expected to see something from him as well. They couldn’t possibly know he was an Overlifer, so the only thing he could think of was that they just knew him as another rich man with opinions.

I’ll be much more than that to you soon. It won’t be long now.

He had drifted off on Bentinck’s shoulder by the time the hours were up, and the worshippers had left. He was prodded awake by Bentinck, nearly falling into the water as his friend stood.

“Watch it, damnit,” William said, shaking himself out. “Are we done here?”

“Yes, we’re done.” Bentinck smiled down at him. “You were snoring so loud, it was hard to listen to what they were saying.”

“It probably wasn’t important.” William stretched and followed Bentinck out of the room, rolling his eyes at the way the servants bowed respectfully as they passed.

“To them, it is. They believe in me, William. I’m here to help them.”

William looked at his face, expecting to see a glint of humor in his friend’s eyes. But there was only a serious determination, and he laughed nervously.

“You’re here to help me, not them. I didn’t make you an Ally for that reason.”

“Yes, but...at least let me pretend.” Bentinck nudged him as they came up to his room. “Just like you do with Mary.”

Who says I’m pretending? William waited outside for him to change, nodding with satisfaction when he emerged fully clothed again. That’s better.

As they walked out of the Hoerenkast, he narrowed his eyes against the faint wind, covering his nose and mouth. The bad air around here was always more visible at night, and it reminded everyone, including William, not to feel so safe breathing it in.

“Do you want me to run in and get you a mask?” Bentinck asked. “It looks terrible.”

“N-No. I’ll be fine.” William cleared his throat. He looked down at his phone with a sigh. “Ride’s late again.”

“Well, there is a lot of traffic around here tonight. It’s the first day of the Western Kingdom’s reign.”

“Ugh, that’s today?” He looked around at the roads. They were a little more crowded than usual, the cars no doubt having to wait for the parades to pass through in the inner city. “A little inauspicious for James to choose the end of Eastern Kingdom to celebrate his six lives.”

“I thought you Overlifers didn’t celebrate these things.”

“No, but I wouldn’t put it past James’ arrogant face to choose it for symbolism.” William snorted. “The end of the devils marks the beginning of his rule, or whatever he wanted us to think. Come on, actually, I want to see what it’s all about this time.” He hurried down the sidewalk, Bentinck following and covering his own nose with his arm.

It was all very convenient— the reigns of the Four Kingdoms were split up throughout the seasons, usually starting a week or so before the season changed. But as always, religion clouded the minds of the people, so that the reigns were used to refer to the change rather than the name of the seasons themselves: Eastern Kingdom for spring, Western Kingdom for summer, Southern Kingdom for fall, Northern Kingdom for winter.

To William, and perhaps to many others, the whole thing was obsolete. The reigns were some old system from back in the day, when the devils were still here and ruling humanity. Apparently they would switch their reigns out on earth throughout the seasons because there were Four Kingdoms in the realm of the devils but they actually hated each other or something or other. It was all very complicated, and William had never had a history class in his life, so he didn’t know and frankly didn’t care. All he knew was that the Kingdoms were no longer here.

Still, the symbolic transitions were always celebrated, and throughout the reign there was special attention paid to the most famous devils of that kingdom. But there was no reign more celebrated than the Western Kingdom, with the parades and festivals lasting a month into the season. Which meant, of course, more traffic, more noise, and more contamination in the air.

Up ahead he began to see the streets that had been blocked for the parades, as well as the parade itself, though it was evidently one of the last ones, as it was less crowded than William expected. Their outfits were a little strange, he noted, as some of them were wearing fake fox ears and tails, and there were more dogs here than there were at any other festival William had seen.

“Looks like a parade for the dwaallicht spirits,” Bentinck said with a sniff. “Why anybody worships them, I will never understand. Pests, William, they’re pests!” “Not everyone thinks that, I guess. You know how everyone’s obsessed with the fucking Prostitutes, but then they’ll put a gun to an old dog spirit’s skull.” He was no friend to the remnants, but if anyone deserved the wrath of humanity, it was those mass murderers, not the innocent animal-like spirits whose only crime was stumbling into houses and not looking cute enough.

“They’re all annoying.” Bentinck rolled his eyes. “We should go back. It is an insult to see these lunatics fawn over spirits that deserve none of their respect.”

“Ally Bentinck!” A woman’s voice called out from the crowd, everyone around her turning to see him. Their eyes lit up in recognition and delight. “My lord! Are you here for the parade?”

“Uh- ah, no, not me,” Bentinck said, laughing nervously.

“Aw, that’s a shame.” She walked over to him, sliding out a flyer from the small stack she held in her hands. “Then take this, my lord! The Prostitutes of the West are particularly active around now, and they always appreciate it when humanity enjoys themselves to their name.”

“Thank you?” He took the flyer, smiling down at his follower. “But ah, honey, the dwaallicht remnants are our servants, and they’ve never—”

“Precisely!” She bowed low. “Servants like all of humanity. They deserve our love too. Thank you, my lord!” She rushed back to her friends, and Bentinck lifted the flyer to read it.

“What’s it say?” William asked, standing on his toes to read it over Bentinck’s shoulder.

“Fuck if I care.” Bentinck thrust the paper into William’s hand. “Come on, let’s go back.”

William followed him down the street, trying to read the fancy flyer under the street lamps. It wasn’t just some printed graphic; the gold letters were raised, the drawings textured. Clearly they’d worked hard on this.

Here come the Prostitutes of the West! it read. For love, for life, for fortune— we make love to show love.

William was half-tempted to crumple it up already, but the words at the bottom caught his eye.

The first weeks of Western Kingdom are when they are most active, and therefore much more likely to answer your prayers! They will always watch you. And beside the words, faint, gold outlines of the Prostitutes had been drawn in. Albemarle was grinning up at the viewer as always, his eyes glinting under the light.

“William? Hurry up.” That was Bentinck calling. “You know how it is around here.”

“Right.” William folded up the paper and pocketed it, looking over at Bentinck.

So right now...is when they’re most active. He remembered the words at the beginning: we make love to show love.

“Something bothering you?” Bentinck looked down at him.

William shook his head. “Just— can you stay with me tonight?”

“Of course.”

That was it. Maybe William just wasn’t getting through to Albemarle. Maybe he needed to worship the fox in his own way, in the way he knew best, in the only way he would notice. And an Overlifer and an Ally— that was bound to catch his attention.

He inhaled sharply at the thought of seeing Bentinck that way again, only to start coughing, and when he didn’t stop, Bentinck rubbed his back as they walked through the beautiful and noble city.

🝰🝰🝰

“Two days in a row you got to speak to him?” Anne Villiers’ indignant voice rang out in the call. Mary stifled her laugh, glancing at the stream chat before looking back at her game. “I knew I should have gone to your father’s, uh...party.”

“Trust me, he didn’t do anything interesting there,” Mary lied. “He just sat around and acted all divine and stuff. You know, like Ally Marly.”

“I bet Ally Bentinck is better at looking divine than Ally Marly!” Anne said. “Actually, I know he is. Ally Bentinck is wiser, too, and he actually cares about his followers. He’s not in it just for the money.”

“Careful,” Mary said. “You’ll start a war in chat.”

“They’re all agreeing with me!” Mary heard her chair squeak. She guessed she was leaning forward to read the chat. “Ally Marly is overrated...they really like him in my area...can we talk about how he only shows up in movies just to die— yeah, I was just about to say that! It’s like the only thing he knows how to do. They should just put him in more horror movies if all they want to see is him covered in blood.”

“He was in that one movie three years ago,” Mary said, searching her mind for the name. “I think it was MENHERAMEN.”

“Oh, did you like that one?”

She shook her head. “I remember hating all the romance.”

“Says the most hopeless romantic I’ve ever met!” Anne laughed.

“I am not,” Mary said. “I have romance all figured out, you.”

“Then explain it to us,” Anne said. “Tell all the viewers, how do we make someone absolutely fall for us? How do we make sure they never leave us?”

“Oh, um...” Mary’s mind inevitably went to William. What had she done with him? “Listen to them, I guess? Be nice?” And then try to kill him? she finished silently.

“You don’t sound very certain,” Anne teased. “What if that hasn’t been working?”

“You say you’re not a hopeless romantic but you switch up on us when you play any visual novel,” a donation read out loud, and Anne laughed again.

“See? What hope is there if even you can’t find someone?” she asked. “You’re hot. You’re rich. You should have found someone ages ago.”

“My standards are very high,” Mary said, batting her eyelashes. “I’m looking for maybe a politician.” She only realized that it was sort of true once it was out of her mouth.

Terrorist...politician...eh, there was never a distinction with the Overlifers.

“Ooh, so you want to control the world,” Anne said. “Imagine you marry a Master of the Devils. First lady Mary, now that’s a thought.”

You have no idea. Mary swallowed. Anne knew a lot about her, her connections to the Disciples of Restoration were very close, but William was the one thing Mary vowed to keep hidden away for as long as she had to. For as long as William was alive.

Which won’t be for long, I guess.

She heard doors open downstairs, and she looked down at the time. It was almost nine, around the time her father usually came home when he didn’t have matters like murdered brothers to attend to. She thought he would stay out for longer.

Oh, dear. She suddenly felt dizzy. She would have to tell him how she failed to kill William, again. And this time, there was no excuse. She hadn’t even taken one of his lives.

“Well,” she said, pausing her game, “I think I’ll end it here for today. I may or may not stream tomorrow, we’ll see. It depends on—”

How angry James is.

“—how quickly I finish up with all these things, weird business.” She made an attempt to laugh. “Alright, ‘bye, Anne. See you tomorrow?”

“Yeah, that’s fine. Good night, Mary!”

“Good night,” Mary said. “Good night, chat.” She ended the stream and closed out all the tabs, stepping out of the office with a frustrated sigh. She had no idea how she was going to phrase it. She’d had a headache all day, and she wondered if it was because of Bentinck’s venom, or if it was just her own worry.

Well, it can’t be the venom, she thought. My head hurt the exact same way yesterday. And the day before...

She stumbled back into her room, remembering with a pang of annoyance that she’d stripped off all the sheets and blankets. She could wash the blood out of her hair and hands, but the stains on the blanket were there to stay. Not pretty, not clean, and they stank.

She fell back on the bed. Maybe she could pretend she was sleeping and delay the inevitable. Maybe she could invite someone over and James would get the clue not to go into her room until the next day. Maybe she could just go out and kill William right now.

I can’t. She felt her breath quicken at the thought. It had been dark last night, but today, inside the Hoerenkast, she had seen his face illuminated with terror. There was this wild hope, too, but mostly it was just terror. And what kind of person was she, to scare the person she loved?

This isn’t love. That was what Bentinck had said. William had asked him what he knew, but then, what did Mary know? No, what did anyone know? William said they could define it by themselves.

Besides, as far as she knew, aggression was part of love. Maybe not the whole murdering part, but James was just as dangerous as she was, and he loved her. He loved Maria. Anne could be mean, but she loved her sister. She loved their father. At least, Mary thought she did. Sometimes it was hard to tell.

William’s right. What does Bentinck know?

“Mary.” She heard her father’s voice outside of her door. “My angel. How are you?”

“Fine.” She held a hand up to her head. It suddenly felt too hot in here.

“Good. Did you kill William?”

Should she lie? No, he would figure out soon enough, and she’d be in worse trouble. There was nothing she could do. She had to tell the truth. She sat up, seeing her father’s face peeking in through the slightly open door. His eyes were as bright as ever in the darkness.

He’s not going to forgive me.

“See, I went to do that,” Mary said. “But, you know, he had his Ally with him, and I tried to make the whole thing quick but it was impossible. And they almost, um, killed me, so I had to leave, otherwise I wouldn’t have a chance to, ah, try again...” She trailed off under James’ gaze. “So, no. I didn’t.”

“Not even one life?”

“No...”

“Come over here.”

“Why?” Mary’s heart leaped to her throat, but she tried to keep her breathing steady. “S-Sir, I can try again tomorrow, it’s—”

“Stop talking and come over here.” James tilted his head slightly to the side, so that his horn pushed the door open and Mary could see his face in its entirety. Oh, he was furious; his lips had curled back into a snarl, as if he still possessed those huge tusks that Mary had heard so much about. She would never say it out loud, but she was glad they’d been knocked out before she was born.

She stood and walked over to him, bracing herself.

“Why are you here, girl?” he hissed, and she flinched back. “I never failed when I was your age.”

“I hardly ever-”

“Shut up,” he broke in. “Shut the fuck up. I brought you up to be our best assassin! I have given you the world, I have given you everything, and all you do is take from me and never give back! All I’m asking is for you to eliminate the one enemy that actually matters, and here you are, fucking it up twice now! What did I waste time on you for, if you can’t even finish what you were supposed to do since you were born?”

She tried again. “I will, sir, just give me—”

“I told you to be quiet!” He stepped forward, and she shuffled back as he advanced. “By all the fucking stars, Mary, you never learn! You can never do anything right! It’s so easy, it should be easy— what are you even doing? It’s William! He’s the weakest of all our enemies! I would have finished it right from the start, I would have sawed off his horn just like-” He paused, giving her a bewildered look. “How can you spare Charles’ killer?”

It wasn’t him, you monster. It wasn’t him, it was you, you killed your brother. She could only stare at him, feeling all at once that she had never known her father at all.

“I- I’m not-” She shook her head, but she regretted it immediately when she saw James lift his hand, and it came down across her mouth, his rings scraping across her lips. She gasped, stumbling back and looking up at him in shock, only for the pain to set in and then she was angry.

“Why don’t you do it, then?!” She wiped at the blood on her lips with the hand she had forced into Bentinck’s mouth; she knew because all the cuts on it still hurt. “You say you were the best assassin of your time but not once since I turned fifteen have I seen you kill somebody! I don’t believe you!”

“How dare you? You have no idea how many people I’ve fucking killed!” James shouted back. “Your job is to help me! I’m not going to do everything for you for the rest of your life just because you don’t want to get your hands dirty!”

“I don’t care about that!” Mary protested. “I’m just saying because you always talk about how good you are! So do it, don’t rely on me!”

“I’m not asking for a lot! You’ve done everything right up until now, what is going on with you?” His tail lashed behind him, as if it wanted to strangle her.

“What- but you just said- you just said I can’t do anything right! If you’re gonna make shit up then I don’t wanna hear it!” She knew that was the wrong thing to say, but she continued anyway. Her head hurt too much to let it go now. “I’m not killing William! I’ve killed so many people for you, you can do this one yourself if you’re so tired of me failing! Send Anne, send Maria, I don’t care, but I don’t want to-”

“You will kill William because I order it!” James spat out. “I am an Overlifer! I am doing everything I can to secure the future of the Disciples of Restoration! You don’t do any of that! You just sit around on your computer all day, you don’t fucking do anything! Streaming’s the easiest shit in the world!”

“Ally Bentinck could have killed me! That shit isn’t easy! You’ve never fought an Ally!”

“Churchill-”

“You never fought Ally Marly!” Mary went on. “It was me! I’m the one who captured him! You just tortured him; that isn’t even fighting, and he wasn’t even an Ally yet! It was cowardly! All your torture is! You have to tie them down because you’re afraid of anyone fighting back!”

“Really? Is that what you think? You can fight back when I do this!” He slapped her again; this time not a careless backhanded blow, but one with full force behind it. She fell to the side, more because of the impact that it made on her already aching head. She hardly had time to look up before she felt a spiteful kick land on her side, and this time she cried out.

“Why don’t you, Mary?” her father jeered. “I’m not afraid. Go on!” He sounded breathless, almost as if he were laughing at her, and that was when she knew she was really in trouble.

“Alright, I’m sorry!” she let out. “I’m sorry, sir, just leave—” She started to stand, her hands held out on the ground to keep herself steady, but James stepped forward rapidly and deliberately, onto her fingers. She yelped, wrenching her fingers out from beneath his shoes, turning her head away only for it to meet his tail, lashing across her face with its hard rings just as his hand had. Now there was blood on her cheeks, and she was so dizzy with pain and fear that she began to cry, even though she knew that it would just make him angrier.

“You don’t fucking tell me to leave,” James said. “You don’t tell me anything.”

“I was g-going to say—!” She could hardly speak through her sobs; they felt as if they were going to tear her apart. It’d been so long since she had cried like this, in front of him. It scared her. “L-Leave me alone!”

“That’s no way to fucking answer.” James paced around her, his tail reaching up to brush at the wounds on her lips. “Why are you bleeding? Who did this?”

She would have laughed if it were anyone else, if she didn’t hurt so much. You did it! Are you too fucking stupid to notice that you made me bleed?

“It- it doesn’t matter,” she said, glaring up at him through her tears.

“Oh, it matters to me, I’m your goddamn father, unfortunately,” he snapped. He knelt down beside her, and she dragged herself back, trying to push him away. But he held her wrists to keep her there, leaning in to look at her face. “Who did this, Mary?”

You did! Don’t tell me you don’t remember! It was you! It’s always you!

She looked up at him. “You.”

“I didn’t fucking do that.”

She stared into his eyes. All the anger in them had abruptly gone, and now he was looking at her with such apathy that for a moment, she wondered if he’d simply reopened some old wounds when he hit her.

But when she looked down at his hands, she saw the faint drops of blood on his rings, and she knew then that he must know it too. He knew that she could see the blood. And she realized that she also knew the look in his eyes— not apathy but the cold satisfaction that appeared when he was almost done with a hostage, when they were on their last legs and they were begging him to stop, telling him anything he needed to know.

He thinks it’s funny.

“You did,” she said. She was still crying, her breaths still unsteady and quick, but she could speak coherently. “Just like you killed Charles!”

“You and I both know,” he said simply, pulling her closer by her hair, “who really did it. Don’t act like you’re fucking better than me. Don’t act like anyone here would believe you.”

“We all know- we all know.” She tried to pull away. His breath, for some reason, always stank of flesh, like the beaks of vultures. She closed her eyes, her tears falling to her open mouth and stinging the wounds on her cheeks and lips. “Let go of me—!”

Behind James, she saw Maria tentatively walk in, then her eyes widened and she rushed towards her husband. “James, that’s enough!”

“Enough?” James stood, glaring over at her. “Are you going to start, too?”

“Start what?” Maria twitched her tail nervously. “I’m only telling you to stop. What’s gotten into you? She isn’t a child anymore.”

“She is still my daughter,” James said. He stepped closer to her, and Mary swallowed. “And she still lives under my roof, so she will follow my rules. They’re simple, Maria, I only expect her to kill who I tell her to kill.”

“And she’s done that very well,” Maria said.

Oh, please don’t get in any trouble for me! Mary could forgive herself for making her father mad, even if it took a while, but not if Maria got hurt in the process.

“Not today.” James leaned in, his teeth still bared. “William still lives. After last night, that is inexcusable. And then she comes here, acts as if I could never be as good as she acts she is! She disrespects Charles’ memory. She disrespects me.”

“I said I was sorry,” Mary muttered.

“There, you see?” Maria looked up at him. “She’s sorry. Now leave her alone.”

“This is why she acts the way she does,” James said. “Because people like you coddled her when she was young. But she isn’t your daughter, Maria, so you have no right to treat her this way.”

“I have every right to be kind to her,” she said quietly.

“What?” James barked out the word like a rabid dog. “So what am I? Do you think I’m being cruel? I have given her everything all her life! This is- this is nothing! The least she could do is kill the miserable Devil and be done with it! It’s all I’m asking! But you two— you think it’s too much! But you don’t know what it’s like, you don’t know what it’s like to fight all your life for the same purpose, to lose everything for the same reason! I’ve gone through agonies you will never know!”

Maria sighed, and Mary thought she heard a bit of impatience in it. “I know, James, I’ve heard. But she’s learned, alright? Just let it go.”

“Let it go—?” James’ eyes widened in disbelief. “William killed my brother. I’m not going to let that go. I’m not going to forgive her for letting him walk away. And I’m not going to forgive you for letting this happen!” He raised his hand again, and Maria shuffled back, her hand and tail held out defensively.

There was a pause, and then James snorted, putting his hand back down. “That’s right, run away to the safety of your power. But the ancients won’t protect you for long if you continue to displease them.”

“I will- I will please them soon enough,” Maria said, her head bowed.

“Good.” James glared back at Mary. “As for you, come here.”

She shook her head instinctively.

“Mary, please.” Maria sounded exhausted.

What is he going to do? Mary took a breath, and, still shaking, she stood, walking over to her father.

“One day you will have to fight for your own six lives,” James said. “If you last that long, that is. But, I mean, look at you.” He batted his tail at her face. “You’re on drugs half the time and trying to kill politicians the other half. How can an angel like you live like this?” He was mocking her with the word this time, no affection like usual.

“I don’t know how else you expect me to live,” Mary said, looking down at the floor. “The Disciples of Restoration come first, so this is where I’ll stay.”

It was kind of this tiny despair in her, every time she said something like that. She’d thought nothing of it when she was young, when she didn’t have to go to school because her father insisted she stay with him to learn only the necessary things. Her friend Anne had always told her she was lucky, and sometimes, Mary thought she was— who else had been learning how to fire guns and throw knives when they were seven? Only her, and she was proud at the time.

The other things she’d learned more or less on her own, reading the books that Charles allowed her to look through only because he didn’t have a use for them. That was a better way to learn, in Mary’s opinion; there was no annoying teacher telling you how to interpret the history of the devils. She could do it by herself, by the way of the Disciples.

That was all there was to her life, really. The Disciples of Restoration and their goals for humanity. She’d always assumed that she would stay with them forever, when she was younger, and she had been proud, but as she had grown older, the despair began. What about her own life? What about everyone else, who went on to become great politicians and scientists and engineers?

That life isn’t for you, James had told her on the night of her fourteenth birthday. Don’t worry, Mary, there will be plenty of glory for you in the future. Just be patient.

And she had been patient. Yet here she was, twenty-three years old, and no more glorious than she had been at fourteen. Still the same helpless girl, with the same blood staining her soul.

The soul that William had seen. That he thought could be better. Which was funny coming from him, now that she thought about it, considering that he was probably worse than she was.

If the only people who have faith in me are these Overlifers, she thought, looking up at James, then what hope is there for me? I’m going to stay here forever, aren’t I?

She blinked, new tears washing out the old ones in her eyes, and James tilted his head to the side.

“Don’t start again,” he said. He took her hand and looked at Maria. “Go. No one called you here.”

This time Maria didn’t argue. She nodded, glancing worriedly at Mary, and then turned and left them alone.

“Oh, Mary,” James sighed. “I don’t know what I’m going to do with you. You have promised me, again and again, that you would do everything for me and for the Disciples. But this isn’t everything.”

“I’m sorry,” she whispered.

“After all I have given you?” he asked. “You are the most ungrateful person I have ever had the displeasure of meeting, and worse still because you are my daughter. If you’re going to treat me like shit then I have full rights to do the same with you.”

Like shit? Mary didn’t answer; she knew better than talking back now. I’ve never hit you in my life.

“You just don’t get it,” James went on. “You’re too stupid to look beyond your own world, to understand the hardships I have gone through. My brother- my brother is dead. After everything- after all that we’ve gone through together, after he promised to never leave me...” He shut his eyes, his voice catching. “But you don’t know that pain, Mary. You have no empathy for anybody but yourself.”

What are you talking about? She had no words to answer, so she didn’t. I’m sorry.

James looked over at her, then sighed again, shaking his head. “You will never understand anything I tell you. Go, you’re hopeless.” He turned around, leaving her standing alone in the doorway, swaying on her feet.

She wiped the blood from her face. She was so dizzy and tired that all she could do was flop back on her bed, the room twisting before her eyes.

You’re so stupid, she thought. You knew this was coming. So why did you spare him?

William didn’t care about her. He had asked, of course, he’d wondered out loud what her father could possibly do to her— well, not much, not anymore, but it was still something. Her fingers still stung. And William wouldn’t care; to him, that would be nothing, and if she was punished for attempting to kill him but not succeeding, well, she probably deserved it.

William doesn’t love you, she told herself as she stood up. He would have saved you from all this if he really cared. He wants you to be better, but won’t help you to be? Please, what a joke.

What a joke. Unbelievable. She thought the same thing as she lit her favorite pipe and pressed it to her lips, though the smell of the smoke really didn’t make her feel better. She knew none of this really would, but at least it would take her mind off of her father and what he was asking of her.

Just kill him. It’s not that hard. He doesn’t love you.

She soon realized she didn’t feel that awful about herself anymore; she was calming down. That was good. But her thoughts were still all about William, how he had looked at her and had spoken to her and how fun he was even if that didn’t seem like his intention at all. How he had told her that she could choose who she wanted to be, that was fine.

Yeah. Yeah, maybe I can choose. She looked out the window, at the seemingly starless sky. Why shouldn’t I be able to? James always told me I’ll rule the world when he dies. If I have this much power, why am I still here? She brushed the hair out of her eyes, twirling her fingers around it and digging her nails in. You said I could be anyone I want.

She had to go see William again. But there was no way James would let her out at this hour.

Anne always sneaks out through the windows. She paused. Oh, why not? She began to open the window, but her hands were shaking too much to get a good grasp on it. Ugh, why are these so heavy?

“Mary?”

She stopped, turning around wildly to face Maria. “Oh. Hey, Maria. It’s kind of hot in here, isn’t it? Yeah, I think it is. And by the stars, it stinks. I’ve killed so many people in here, it’s absurd. I mean, I was also just smoking, you know. Just opening a window to let all that out. Because, you know, smoke doesn’t smell good. Yeah, you should probably go now, ‘cause one time I had a friend who was in the same room as me while I was smoking ice, you know, and she breathed in some of the smoke and had the worst nightmares for weeks. I mean it was just awful. She’d wake up shaking and shit. And with your powers, that would suck extra. Like, imagine the devils coming to you but this time they’re, like, full of chemicals or something! I mean I don’t know. I don’t have nightmares. I mean, I do, but like, not because of the drugs. The last one I had was a few weeks ago. Weirdest one ever. It was about James, I think. I don’t remember it well, but I remember thinking it was so weird—”

“Alright, alright, Mary,” Maria said, waving her tail. “I’ll leave you alone in a second. I was just worried about you.” She walked over to Mary, taking her hands and gently pulling them out of her hair. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” Mary blurted. “Great, actually. You know, for someone whose head hurts like the devils themselves split it. Hey, have they ever done that? I don’t remember. They fought wars with each other, didn’t they? But did they ever split human heads? That’d be-”

“They did, yes, they did,” Maria interrupted her. “Not anymore, though. Mary, why did you fail to kill William? I know you, there is no way you didn’t see the markings on his face. And even if he expected you to try again today, it should make no difference. You’ve killed people who have been expecting it for a long time.”

“I like William,” Mary said ruefully, running her nails over the cuts on her hand. “He’s not as terrible as everyone makes him seem. He seems a bit lonely to me, if the only person he ever hangs around is his Ally. Imagine an Ally being the only person that can tolerate you. Devils below, that would suck, especially if you’re an Overlifer. But I like him. I think he likes me too. Everyone believes the best of me, but he believes something else, you know? I want to be that something else. I don’t know what that is. I’m just thinking maybe killing people isn’t for me. I’m thinking that maybe I want to be nicer. I want to get paid for making people happy and that’s it. That’s why I’m a streamer. An assassin’s the complete opposite of that. I destroy lives and families. James always says I’m an angel, and I think that’s accurate because didn’t they used to do that?”

Maria seemed to shudder, but Mary couldn’t tell if it was just her trembling vision. “It was the angels that were destroyed, in the end. Mary, you don’t want to end that way.”

“No, I don’t.”

“No,” Maria repeated. “And I understand very well why you’re thinking this way. Just- just reassure me of one thing. It isn’t all because of William, right? You’re not going to give up everything you’ve ever known just for one person.”

“No, of course not,” Mary said. “I’m just thinking that sometimes when I’m on ecstasy, I kind of feel terrible about what we’re doing. We’re all seriously going to destroy lives, Maria. We already are. Ally Marly, his whole glorious life now ensnared and tangled with an Overlifer’s— Maria, we kidnapped him. He was never supposed to be here.”

“I know,” Maria whispered, lifting a hand to her head.

“And we’ve tortured people, and then let them go again— what kind of trauma are they walking away with?” Mary shook her head. “Who are we to do that? Is all the pain worth it? Is losing Charles worth the power that James has now? I mean, I guess I could see it, ‘cause if Anne died maybe I would be a little sad but it’s alright because she was never an heir to our world anyway, so-”

“Oh, it is to him,” Maria said, her eyes darkening. “Worth the power, I mean. Anything is for him.”

“You think he doesn’t care?” Mary asked. “I mean, I don’t think he does, either. There’s just something about Charles dying and then blaming it on William that doesn’t sit right with me. William didn’t kill him. That’s kind of unfair.”

“No,” Maria said. “James did.”

“He didn’t,” Mary said. Almost without realizing, she lifted her nails to her teeth, running her tongue over the chipped edges and biting down occasionally. “It’s because of him, sure, but he didn’t kill Charles.”

“Mary, look at me. He told me.” Maria took hold of her shoulders, almost shaking her. “He told me he killed his brother.”

“Did he?” Mary frowned. “That’s just rude, taking the credit for something he didn’t do.”

“He isn’t lying,” Maria insisted. “He was almost proud of it, it was- it was sickening. Mary, he did it. He’s not above murdering his own family to get what he wants.”

“He is, actually. He didn’t kill Charles. Someone did it, but it wasn’t him.”

“Then why would he tell me?” Maria said. She took Mary’s hand that wasn’t in her mouth, squeezing and then looking away with a shaky sigh. “Mary, don’t tell anyone I told you this. If he finds out I told you...” She trailed off, but the fearful, uncertain look in her eyes told Mary enough. “Just know that if you don’t kill William, that’s fine. You’re not disrespecting Charles’ memory. If anything, to obey James is disrespectful!”

“Yeah.” Mary nodded. “It really is.”

Maria paused, then looked up at her, into her eyes. “Why aren’t you surprised?”

“It isn’t true. James didn’t kill Charles.”

“I-” She looked down helplessly. “I know it’s a lot to process, Mary. But your father is dangerous, not just to his enemies but to us, too.”

“I’ve always known it.” Mary yawned, tugging herself away. “It’s alright. You didn’t have to tell me.”

Maria twitched her tail. “You...won’t tell him, right? I know you love him very much, but—”

“It’s fine,” Mary said. “I won’t tell him.” She meant it. She’d hardly remember the details of this conversation, anyway.

“Good. Thank you.” Maria nodded firmly. “Yes, thank you. I love you, Mary.” She nudged her shoulder with her tail. “I’m sorry about all of this.”

“It isn’t your fault.” Mary blinked at her.

“If only that were true.” Maria looked down, then leaned forward to kiss Mary’s cheek and left the room.

That hadn’t really been anything new. Mary had always known who had killed Charles, and it wasn’t James. It wasn’t just rude that he’d taken the credit when he told Maria, though; it was downright insulting. He’d been too scared to do it himself, terrified of both his brother’s power and his love. So someone else had to do it.

“I heard all that, you know.”

She didn’t have to turn around to know that it was her adoptive dwaallicht cousin. Monmouth, who heard everything from the ceilings, or from the walls if he was small enough. She had always loved him for it; he told her things no one else knew. But now she only stared at the ground, unmoving, and her heart felt as if it would fall right out of her.

“Is it true? Did James kill my father?”

“He wasn’t your father,” Mary said. She knew that was a subject that riled him right up; maybe it would distract him from the revelation.

“Out of everyone else here, you were one of the few who was always happy to say he was.” She heard him crawl over her, dropping himself gracefully in front of her. “Don’t even start.”

“Maria very politely asked me not to tell anyone,” Mary said. “You oughta respect her wishes. Do you want her getting hurt?”

“Of course not!” Monmouth said. “But if someone doesn’t stop James, then we will get hurt. All of us. You heard Maria— he’s not above killing any of us.”

“You will get hurt if you try to stop him!” Mary said, accidentally nicking a cut on her hand with her teeth when she spoke. She winced and set her hand down. “Is that what you’re planning to do? I know you and I know it isn’t going to go well. Don’t play the hero, he’s an Overlifer and you’re a spirit. The difference between your power is too great!”

“It’s nothing!” he protested. “He only has like five extra lives and that’s it! He can’t shapeshift! He hasn’t been around for literal centuries! I can defeat him!”

“The more lives you take from him, the more powerful he gets,” Mary said. “You can get him to his last life, sure, but by then he’ll be impossible for you to stop. It isn’t worth it. Do you think Charles would want to see his son and his brother at each other’s throats?”

“He wouldn’t care,” the spirit hissed, “because the last sight he ever saw was probably his own brother holding a knife over his throat.”

“James didn’t kill him!” Mary cried. “By the stars, it wasn’t him! I don’t care what he said, he’s lying! Say what you want about him, but he could have never killed Charles. It wasn’t him, it wasn’t, it—!” She felt her eyes warm with tears again, and her shaking rendered her so unsteady that she had to sit back on her bed.

“Why do you want to defend him?!”

“I’m not—!” Mary covered her mouth, trying to slow her breathing. “It’s true! He didn’t kill Charles! He ordered his death, but he wasn’t the one that went through with it!”

“How do you know this?” Monmouth shifted into a small black dog, much like the spaniel spirits that his father had loved so much. He whined and hopped onto Mary’s lap, licking at her tears. “Did he tell you, Mary?”

“I- I don’t-”

“Look, whether or not James was the one to actually end his life doesn’t matter,” he went on. “You said he ordered his brother’s death. It is still because of him, and I intend to avenge my father, whatever happens.”

Mary shook her head, clutching on to her cousin’s fur. “I don’t want you to get hurt. I don’t want him to get hurt, and I know if you try to do anything, he’s not- he won’t show you any mercy. It’s just like you said— if you think he can kill his brother then he can kill you.”

“I’m a remnant, there’s nothing he can do to me.”

“You don’t know that. You don’t know that.” She was starting to cry again, and her head felt too heavy with the drug and with her fear. “Don’t hurt him. Oh, devils below, don’t hurt him, he’s my father. He’s the only one who ever stays.”

“Calm down, Mary, calm down,” Monmouth said. He nipped at her shoulder, pushing her down on the bed. “Shh, it’ll be alright. Everything will turn out alright, I promise. I know what to do.” “He’s my father,” she breathed out, wrapping her arms around Monmouth and burying her nose in the fur. “He’s my father, he can’t die, he’s my father...”

#six lives won't make you happy #the next one will be more lighthearted i pROMISE.....#i mean just a bit

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fanfiction-dot-rec · 2 years ago

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One Thousand, Three Hundred, and Nine Hours

READ HERE

Author: TheSilencer

Fandom: DCU, Batman - All Media Types, Batman (Comics), Nightwing (Comics)

Word Count: 17, 822

Chapters: 1/1

Part of a Series: Part 1 of Counting the Moments

Rating: M

Category: Gen

Archive Warnings: Graphic descriptions of Violence

Summary: Dick's family got stuck in a nightmare Groundhog Day.

Dick has to deal with the aftermath.

CONTENT WARNINGS, TAGS, AND MY OPINIONS UNDER THE CUT

CONTENT WARNINGS: General Death and Dismemberment, Kidnapping, Restraints, PTSD, Past Rape/NonCon

TAGS Batfamily Members & Dick Grayson Dick Grayson & EveryoneDick Grayson Bruce Wayne Jason Todd Tim Drake Stephanie Brown Cassandra Cain Duke Thomas Zatanna Zatara Damian Wayne Slade WilsonSpecial Guest Aquaman Angst Hurt/Comfort Past Rape/Non-con Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con Near Death threatened amputation Kidnapping Dick Grayson Needs a Hug Dick Grayson Gets a Hug Dick Grayson-centric Dick Grayson Tries to Be a Good Older Sibling Good Sibling Jason Todd Good Sibling Dick Grayson Bruce Wayne is a Good Parent Groundhog Day Dark no editing we die like robins Good Sibling Tim Drake Aftermath Recovery Mutilated body Dead Dove: Do Not Eat Jason Todd Has a Heart

MY OPINION My heart. I love a good time loop fic and the way this one was handled was not only unique but superb. I love the format, the delivery of relevant information, the characterizations etc. This story made my heart break for every single one of these characters. That all being said, the content warnings I put up there are no joke. Seriously. Read with caution. I usually have a very strong stomach for all the content warnings I put up there, but this works Dead Dove tag is well deserved.

On a more cheerful note, I didn’t realize how many works I had read by The Silencer until I was scrolling through their account. I will definitely be recommending some more from them in the future.

#dcu #dcu batman #batman fanfiction #bruce wayne #damian wayne #jason todd #Dick Grayson #Tim Drake #stephanie brown #cassandra cain #tw temporary character death #tw dismemberment #tw restraints #tw mentioned rape/noncon #tw kidnapping #tw ptsd #rated m #17k words

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ao3feed-brucewayne · 8 months ago

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Darkest Secrets

read it on AO3 at https://ift.tt/tb69Udz by WingsOfTheDamned Captain Marvel has many secrets, the League is aware of this. A face from his past turns up, threatening to kill the League and accusing them of things they can't understand or remember ever doing. Or the one where Captain Marvel has lived through dozens of universes, thousands of lives, some of which had the Justice League being his friends, family, and in some, even the protagonist of his nightmares. He gets stuck in these memories, and as the League goes into his head in hopes of finding him, they instead get to see many things that will change their view of him completely. Words: 25937, Chapters: 5/?, Language: English Fandoms: Justice League - All Media Types, Shazam! | Captain Marvel (Comics) Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Categories: Gen Characters: Billy Batson, Diana (Wonder Woman), Clark Kent, Bruce Wayne, Hal Jordan (Green Lantern), Barry Allen, Shayera Hol, J'onn J'onzz, Arthur Curry (DCU), Mary Batson | Mary Bromfield, Shazam the Wizard | Mamaragan Relationships: Billy Batson & Justice League Additional Tags: Angst, Billy Batson Needs a Hug, Billy Batson-centric, BAMF Billy Batson, Justice League as Family (DCU), Past Character Death, Past Violence, Past Torture, Mild Blood, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Hurt/Comfort, Protective Diana (Wonder Woman), Memories, Past Lives, Magic, Not Beta Read, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, I'm Bad At Summaries, Like, seriously bad, Protective Billy Batson, Protective Mary Batson/Bromfield read it on AO3 at https://ift.tt/tb69Udz

#IFTTT #bruce wayne #batman #the caped crusader #the dark knight #dcu #ao3 #ao3feed

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liz-allyn · 3 years ago

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shudder; part 2/6 [agent mobius x gn!reader]

Mobius heads back to his apartment to find you in the midst of a nightmare.

Part 1

Summary: Pre-Loki series. You are one of the most dangerous variants the TVA has ever recovered, but Mobius knows what makes you tick. Five times he made you shudder, and the one time you returned the favor.

Words: 930

Tags/warnings: Referenced canon-typical violence. Brief reference to past child abuse, strong language. Hurt/comfort; soft!mobius; protective!mobius; power dynamic; reader has a morally questionable background

II.

The next time he noticed the shudder, it was right after you took a swing at him. He barely dodged your feral punch as he reached out to grasp your arms.

“Easy, easy!” you could hear his voice say, but you couldn’t tell where you were. “Hey, easy! I gotcha. You’re okay.”

You quit thrashing, but your body trembled and you were gasping for air.

It was the damn drowning nightmare again, a relic from a repressed memory of your mother trying to drown you in a bathtub when you were little.

You blinked and observed your surroundings, realizing you weren’t lost at sea. You were at TVA headquarters, in Mobius’ modest studio apartment. You were afloat in the darkness sitting up on his standard-issue mattress. You nearly tore the sheets apart during the nightmare.

As he tended to you, he at the edge of his bed, still wearing his work tie. It was late - or early? - but he was just returning to his apartment from an all-nighter of paperwork when he found you screaming in his - or what used to be his - bed.

It was a contentious agreement - you taking his bed while he slept uncomfortably in the sitting area on a small leather couch. But he had vouched for you as a TVA asset, therefore you were his responsibility. Ravonna pointed that out when he’d petitioned on your behalf for proper sleeping quarters.

For weeks prior, you had demonstrated trustworthiness under his leadership, but some Minutemen still held a grudge with what you did to their partners. After you had been jumped and beaten while in your “temporary” holding cell, Mobius had had enough. (You we’re outnumbered, for the record, and you only lost because you didn’t fight back. Whatever. Not your first rodeo. B-15 pressed you for names, but you stubbornly stayed silent. You were many things, but you weren’t a snitch.)

But in this moment in the dark of his apartment, you were weak, crumbling in the older man’s arms. You hated it. Wet streaks of tears rolled down your cheeks. Beads of sweat dripped down your skin, binding your cotton tank to your back. Pathetic.

“It’s okay,” Mobius repeated placatingly. His large hands were fixed to your shoulders, holding you up above the dark water of your fears. Those warm brown eyes held steady on you. You found yourself searching for them in the dark.

“You’re safe,” he whispered. “I gotcha. It’s okay.”

You tried to slow your heart rate as more tears threatened to gush from your eyes. He was staring again, you noted, intently studying your features. He watched you with the familiar look of sincerity and wonder he gave you each time you saved the day and stopped the bad guy. It wasn’t a look you were used to. It made you feel… special, even if you were supposedly a mistake.

But there was something else in his eyes. Gentle. Mourning. Pity.

He knew.

You clenched your jaw and tore away your gaze. How did he find out? Were you talking in your sleep? Not only were you crying like a bitch but you were babbling all of your traumatic baggage for the world to hear. Fuck. Now he knew. Now they could use it to their advantage. Just one more page out of your horror story that they could use to manipulate you.

Your heart was racing again, but this time you were enraged.

Fuck this fucking time-tax collector and his smug smile.

He loved reading you, didn’t he? Like a book.

He was invading you with that look. The way he gaped at you, like the words were printed on your skin. Now you were sitting there in front of him - open wide, falling apart at the spine.

“You’re shaking,” he whispered.

Why was he whispering? It’s not like they were in a play? Did he think this was some kind of movie?

Your breath hitched as the realization hit you.

The film. Your life saga and all your sins preserved in celluloid. He showed you brief glimpses of it in the beginning of your relationship, shortly after he talked you down from certain deletion after you had managed to wrap your chains around his neck in an intense standoff with six angry Minutemen.

He was calm. Compassionate. He treated you like a human, even as you were learning that you were a pawn. That every scar, every pang, every bruise, every atrocity that had been done to you and by you were all part of The Plan™. And the one time you detoured away from your dark path, you in fact, had made a mistake.

He showed you the highlights of the film, but you got the picture. However, at the time you didn’t quite understand that he’d seen it all. Every graphic detail. This unassuming, mild-mannered, steely-eyed man knew you more than anyone ever had. Maybe even more than you knew yourself.

Here he was now, eyes fixed on you, patiently waiting. Nothing other than your cooperation in hunting variants had been asked for or expected. And if he was going to force you to comply by waterboarding you, or trapping you in a time theater where you could relieve your greatest (horror) hits, why hadn’t he done that already?

He gently spoke, releasing you, “Can I get you anything—?”

“I’m fine,” you bit off, steeling your soul.

He paused and considered you. Watched you. His gaze softened with a gentle nod. “Okay.” He stood from the bed without another word and left you alone.

Where you wanted to be.

Part 3

A/N: Like this story? Reblog!

#agent mobius x reader #agent mobius #mobius x reader #mobius #mobius m mobius x reader #mobius m mobius #mobius imagines #loki tv show #mobius fanfiction #loki 2021 #mobius m. mobius #mobius imagine #owen wilson #Lizzy writes.#mcu

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0aurelion-sol0 · 3 years ago

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"There's no place like gnome."

Stranger Things 3: The Game.

Gnomes 1-10. 🧙‍♂️

IT'S FINALLY HERE!

It's no secret that the Duffers take a lot of inspirations from Pop Culture. From the most well known movies to the more obscure comics, they are always able to sneak a reference somewhere everytime. And they are also able to make it connected to the story.

I've bragged about how the Stranger Things expanded universe in media is one of the best out there compared to many others. I think that the Duffers, the writers or people in the highest places of the marketing are really paying attention to what comes out of the ST franchise because there is no way to have such content with so many details without someone looking into them.

And ST3: The Game is a very good example of that.

So let's start! The first 10 Gnomes out of 50 that you have to find in the game.

BE AWARE THAT THERE ARE SPOILERS BELOW!

"There's elements that could please those who makes metas/analyzes or theories. Especially things related to possible future plot points, easter eggs, references in previous seasons mainly season 3 like unsolved mysteries or unanswered questions and for future seasons such as season 4 like foreshadowing or teasers, trailers or as of lately the sneak peek."

If you have anything you'd like to add, might think I have missed or think it might be referencing something else don't hesitate to share it by commenting or reblogging.

(Say thanks to @hawkinsschoolcounselor for having helped me with some of them. )

_____________________________

Gnome #1: Johnny

"He's here... with an axe."

Overall plot:

"The film's central character is Jack Torrance, an aspiring writer and recovering alcoholic who accepts a position as the off-season caretaker of the isolated historic Overlook Hotel in the Colorado Rockies. Wintering over with Jack are his wife, Wendy Torrance, and young son, Danny Torrance. Danny is gifted with "the shining", psychic abilities that enable him to see into the hotel's horrific past. The hotel cook, Dick Hallorann, also has this ability and is able to communicate with Danny telepathically. The hotel had a previous winter caretaker who went insane and killed his family and himself. After a winter storm leaves the Torrances snowbound, Jack's sanity deteriorates due to the influence of the supernatural forces that inhabit the hotel, placing his wife and son in danger."

So I assume a lot of you know The Shining by Stanley Kubrick. A movie which was adapted from the novel of the same name by Stephen King in 1977.

There's a lot of things that could have served as an inspiration for ST.

A boy/child who has psychic abilities = Eleven has psychic abilities such as telekinesis. Will has his True Sight which consist in seeing what the MF was seeing and feeling.

Now there's also the theme of family and parenthood that is also a big theme in Stranger Things. Especially abusive parenthood such as Brenner, Lonnie and even Hopper to a smaller degree.

In Shining, Jack tries to kill his family with an axe due to supernatural forces that are in the hotel but there's a difference between King and Kubrick. While King specifically said that Jack was heavily influenced by the Hotel, Kubrick shows that Jack always had that sinister violence in him even before they arrived at the hotel.

It's interesting to draw a parallel to Billy and Will, both characters called William who tried to kill their families and other people while being possessed. But Billy compared to Will was shown to have been abusive even before that. Dacre Montgomery also said that he was inspired by Jack Nicholson's performance in the Shining for his character Billy.

Joyce and Jonathan were shown to get ready to fight the monsters by taking an axe.

It's also interesting to note that Jack dies in the snow while a blizzard is happening outside the hotel. Much like the storm of the Mindflayer who is in the Upside Down, the same Mindflayer who "likes it cold". While in the book, the Overlook explodes and burn.

(Cold vs Fire much like everything Upside Down related not liking Fire.)

Also "Johnny" = "Jonathan", it's kind of similar and Jonathan did wield an axe before. Maybe this is teasing parts of Jonathan storyline next seasons ?

The gnome was also found in Mike's basement, Mike who wants to be a writer when he's older just like Jack.

Let's just hope that Jonathan and Mike don't get the same fate as Jack.

_____________________________

Gnome #2: Christine

"Two bright, beaming lights for eyes."

Overall plot:

"Written by Bill Phillips and based on Stephen King's 1983 novel of the same title, the movie follows the changes in the lives of Arnie Cunningham, an awkward and unpopular teenager, his friends, his family, and his teenage enemies in Rockbridge, California after Arnie buys a classic red and white 1958 Plymouth Fury named Christine, licence number CQB 241, a car that seems to have a jealous, possessive personality – and a mind of its own, which has a bad influence on Arnie. After working on a car in a junkyard owned by Will Darnell, Arnie drops his glasses, starts dressing like a 1950's greaser and develops an arrogant and paranoid personality. He than decides to invite and date the most beautiful girl in highschool, Leigh, who will soon become the next victim of Christine."

I was actually quite surprised by how this story parallels Stranger Things a lot.

First off, Christine is very much like The Mindflayer, a dangerous supernatural being set out to destroy anyone who is in her way, the people who tries to take the things that she thinks belongs to her or threatens her. This is very much relevant to The Mindflayer who after being hurt by the Fire created by the Hawkins Lab was upset and attacked everyone he could. Or as Will putted "Not me, everyone else."

This is very much like Christine who tried to kill Leigh because she was taking her place in the life of Arnie. Christine also tried to kill the bullies of Arnie who after a conflit with him, tried to destroy the car which angered Christine heavily.

The Mindflayer has been described someone who views himself as superior to other species and wants to conquer them, even if it's not his real "goal", the description fits anyone who is possessive and paranoid.

Both the MF and Christine are associated with the color red. Red storm = red color of the car.

Arnie ressembles Will and Billy alot. Will is an awkward and unpopular teenager who after being possessed by the Mindflayer became very different and more violent. Billy was shown to be paranoid, jealous, violent and his look even ressembles the one Arnie takes after repairing Christine.

Both of these boys have the same name as Will Darnell, the owner of a junkyard. Just like the boys in Season 1 who takes shelter in a junkyard, or in season 2 where they fight the Demodogs.

Billy dies, killed by the Mindflayer just like Arnie who was completely possessed by Christine who tried to kill Leigh and Dennis, his best friend after they tried to destroy the car when they realised the supernatural nature of it.

Billy's car ressembles a lot Christine with those lights on. Especially with shots like in the Void or at Starcourt during the night.

Chrissy, a new character that will be in season 4, the most popular girl in Hawkins High like Leigh, has a name that is the diminutive of Christine. It is said that under the perfect surface lies a dark secret. Much like the car Christine, while a beauty is actually a dangerous supernatural being. We'll see if the both of them actually connects in the show.

Also it is set in California where Billy and Max come from and has been rumored by many people due to set leaks (The Surfer Boy Pizza Van.) that it is where the Byers went. I won't get into it in this post but this could be a tease or hint of that IF the set leaks ARE true and not fake to mess with people and the fandom.

Arnie also dies in a car crash having been completely possessed by the evil powers of Christine which is something we see in the sneak peek of ST4. It also reminds of Carrie who has a bully named Chris who she kills in a car crash with her boyfriend Billy aka William.

So will someone die from that car crash ? Who is it ? Chrissy, Joyce, Lonnie ? We can only speculate.

The gnome is also found outside the Wheeler's house where Karen lives near the community pool where Billy works and where the car of Billy is located during the first few chapters of the game. Again, a "bad boy" hitting on the beautiful girl in town. (with a lot of creepy subtext all over it.)

_____________________________

Gnome #3: Doc

"Always mumbling something about being late."

Overall plot:

"Set in 1985, in the town of Hill Valley, California, the story follows Marty McFly, a teenager accidentally sent back to 1955 in a time-traveling DeLorean automobile built by his eccentric scientist friend Doctor Emmett "Doc" Brown. Trapped in the past, Marty inadvertently prevents his future parents' meeting—threatening his very existence—and is forced to reconcile the pair and somehow get back to the future."

So I don't think I need to explain why this is here given how much it has been shown and mentioned in season 3. But few things are interesting here, the fact that California is mentioned is a big deal for me again. I know you are aware of the set leaks just as I am aware, if we can trust them than this could be a hint of that location.

Next, we have the theme of Time. Now ever since ST4 was announced, clocks and times have been a key feature in the promotion. Who know what this might mean but again, we're not going to develop that in the post.

There is also the whole funny scenes of Robin realising that indeed Marty's mother had tried to "bang" her own son. Now given the nature of the shown, certain images in the show during certain events and certain stories, you know to what it connects and to which theories it connects. Won't develop further on it but it can be used as an element that can go into those theories.

The gnome is also found outside of Starcourt Mall where Robin and Steve talk about "Back to the Future". It is also where Billy has his "Back to te Future" moment with his car going extremely fast just like the DeLorean.

_____________________________

Gnome #4: Indiana

"Master of Adventure."

Overall plot:

"After arriving in India, Indiana Jones is asked by desperate villagers to find a mystical stone and rescue their children from a Thuggee cult practicing child slavery, black magic, and ritualistic human sacrifice in honor of the goddess, Kali."

Fun fact, on Twitter for ST3 promo, a parody poster of this same movie has been posted here of the official ST account.

Jim is obviously Indiana Jones, the look speaks for itself and when he is in the Tunnels in season 2, there's a lot of Indiana Jones imagery.

And of course Kali as 008, a Hindu goddess but as we will see here, it parallels more the Mindflayer.

In 1935, Indiana Jones survives a murder attempt by Lao Che, a crime boss in Shanghai who has hired him to retrieve the remains of Emperor Nurhaci. With his young orphaned Chinese sidekick, Short Round, and the nightclub singer, Willie Scott, in tow, Indy flees Shanghai on a cargo aircraft. While the three of them are asleep, the pilots (employed by Lao Che) dump the fuel and escape via parachute, leaving the plane to crash over the Himalayas. The three narrowly manage to survive by jumping out of the plane on an inflatable raft.

(I wonder if this could be something we see in season 4 with Hopper where he tries to escape on a plane and ends up crashing somewhere or is betrayed by someone who he asked the help of. Now it's a trio and in season 3, Jim, Joyce, Alexei and Murray are the main group that fits this trio. Jim for all the fighting and crazy shit, Joyce and Alexei are kind of like Short Round, they are the sidekicks of Hopper. Murray the role of Willie Scott since she speaks Chinese and him Russian and that Jim just like Indy finds annoying sometimes. Alexei is also kind of like Willie since he kinda goes along with them.

But if we also look at season 2, El is alot like Short Round since she is kind of an orphan too and has a father figure later on. It could also be Will since Hopper is with him a lot of times through season 2. Also Willie did felt out of her element like Alexei because of course he is Russian. Willie in itself doesn't have a lot in common with Joyce but still it's another connection to Will since she has a name close to the one of her sons. Something that does fit a bit more is Jim and Hopper both escaping death, of course Hopper at the end of season 3 but also during season 3 at the farm where he's being shot at by Gregori and than the car doesn't work and explodes and they have to make their way through the forest.

Willie Scott could also be referenced when El disguise herself as this pretty blonde girl in season 1.

Now however, Scoop Troops does fit certain parts of these trio. All the fighting with Steve like Indiana Jones but Robin got his brain because she cracked the code. Dustin and Erica are kinda like short round (especially Dustin who has kind of the same hat as short round.) and are referenced with all the others as children by Robin. Steve doesn't feel in his element like Willie with the three of them who are nerds just like Erica who also doesn't want to accept it. And Robin just like Willie speaks some languages.)

They ride down the mountain slopes and fall into a raging river, eventually arriving at the village of Mayapore in northern India. The villagers plead for their aid in retrieving the sacred stone (shivalinga) stolen from their shrine, along with their missing children, by evil forces in the nearby Pankot Palace. Indy agrees to do so, hypothesizing that the stone is one of the five Sankara stones given by the gods to help humanity fight evil. (It's kinda like Alexei who turns his back on the Russians, for his life of course and agrees to help Hopper close the gate to save Hawkins and their kids before monsters start to appear or may attack one of their kids. Now the stone could be something similar to the promethium or the two keys who opens the gate and is a highly valuable ressource. It also may be the Flayed who are needed to create the monster for the Mindflayer.)

The trio receive a warm welcome at Pankot Palace and are allowed to stay for the night as guests, attending a lavish, but revolting, banquet hosted by the young Maharajah. The officials rebuff Indy's theory that the Thuggee cult is responsible for their troubles. Later that night, Indy is attacked by an assassin. After Indy kills him, he discovers a series of tunnels hidden behind a statue and sets out to explore them, overcoming a number of booby-traps.

(This could be like when Hopper, Joyce and Murray disguised themselves as Russian soldiers but was than discovered by Grigori who attacks them.

The tunnels could be both groups discovering that there is a secret russian base underground and a gate which explains why there are monsters again in Hawkins but it also be the Source, Brimborn Steel Works, where the Mindflayer is lurking underground where he has cult-like followers who makes sacrifices for him to grow bigger and bigger.

It's also like the Tunnels in season 2 who explains why the soil of Hawkins seemed to literally rot. )

The trio reach an underground temple where the Thuggees worship Kali with human sacrifice. They discover that the Thuggees now possess three of the Sankara stones and have enslaved the children to search for the last two, hidden in the palace catacombs. As Indy tries to retrieve the stones, he, Willie, and Shorty are captured. Thuggee high priest Mola Ram forces Indy to drink a potion that puts him into a trance-like state in which he mindlessly serves the cult. (It's very much like Robin and Steve who after discovering the gate are catched by the Russians and than drugged to answer their questions. But also like the Flayed who drinks the chemicals and serves the Mindflayer like a mindless cult.)

Willie is prepared for sacrifice, while Shorty is put to work in the mines with the other children. Shorty escapes and returns to the temple, where he first frees Indy and, later, the Maharajah from the effects of the potion. Indy saves Willie and retrieves the stones. After freeing the children, Indy fights a hulking overseer and leaves him to be killed by a rock crusher. (Basically Dustin saves Steve and Robin. Willie being prepared for sacrifice is kind of like El prepared for sacrifice by Billy in 3x08 but also frees Billy from the effects of the Mindflayer by making him remember his mother, a pretty blonde woman like Willie and sacrifices himself. And Hopper fights Gregori, a "hulking overseer" and kills him.)

The trio escape from the temple, pursued by Thuggees, and barely escape Mola Ram's attempt to flood them out. They are again ambushed by Mola Ram and his henchmen on a rope bridge above a crocodile-infested river. Indy cuts the bridge, causing several of the henchmen to fall to the crocodiles and leaving the survivors to hang on for their lives. As Mola Ram and Indy struggle, Indy invokes the name of Shiva, causing the stones to glow red-hot and burn through Indy's satchel. Two of them fall out; Mola Ram tries to catch the third, but burns his hand and falls from the bridge and into the river, where he, too, is eaten by the crocodiles. (This can be connected to all the kids fighting in Hawkins with the Spider Monster. But the bridge could also fit for the key in the secret base where Hopper and Gregori fights. The gruesome death of Mola Ram is similar to the gruesome death that Gregori has.)

Indy catches the stone safely and climbs up just as a company of British Indian Army riflemen, sent by the Maharajah, arrive and open fire against the Thuggees to drive them away; the surviving Thuggees are soon cornered and arrested by more soldiers. Indy, Willie, and Shorty return safely to Mayapore with the stone and the missing children. (While it may end well in the movie, we know Billy and multiple people die, the Thuggees unlike the Russians have been captured while the Russians where all able to flee before the US Army arrives and Hopper is presumed dead. Only the children in both stories are alive but are probably traumatized for life.)

All in all we can see that this movie might have had a big influence on the plot of season 3 through many characters and more. It may have some hints about possible events for Hopper in season 4 or even beyond but that's about it for. It's a nice package of comparaisons and references though.

The gnome is found in the Hawkins Community Pool where Billy is. The same Billy who obeys mindlessly the Mindflayer and sacrifices people to it. Just like the Thuggees with Kali.

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Gnome #5: Chunk

"Posed in some odd dance maneuver."

Overall plot:

"In the film, a band of kids who live in the "Goon Docks" neighborhood of Astoria, Oregon, attempt to save their homes from foreclosure and, in doing so, they discover an old treasure map that takes them on an adventure to unearth the long-lost fortune of One-Eyed Willy, a legendary 17th-century pirate. During the adventure, they are chased by a family of criminals who want the treasure for themselves."

So first, let's get this out of the way, Sean Astin who play Bob Newby, our beloved who plays a character named Mikey.

The Goonies is a 1985 American adventure comedy film co-produced and directed by Richard Donner from a screenplay by Chris Columbus, based on a story by executive producer Steven Spielberg. In the film, kids who live in the "Goon Docks" neighborhood of Astoria, Oregon, attempt to save their homes from foreclosure and, in doing so, they discover an old treasure map that takes them on an adventure to unearth the long-lost fortune of One-Eyed Willy, a legendary 17th-century pirate. During the adventure, they are chased by a family of criminals who want the treasure for themselves.

I wonder if this might hint at some Season 4 plot right here. The Hawkins gang faces the threat of Hawkins becoming a literal ghost down and might need to find something to save it. Also Willy like William, again Will is still there.

The Goonies include optimist lead Goonie Mikey Walsh, his older brother Brandon, the inventive Data, the talkative Mouth, and the overweight klutz Chunk.

Rummaging through the Walshes' attic, they come across a 1632 doubloon and an old treasure map purporting to lead to the treasure of legendary pirate "One-Eyed Willy", believed to be located somewhere nearby. Mikey considers One-Eyed Willy to be the original Goonie. (It kinda reminds me of Mike who got mad at Max in season 2 and told her they didn't need another party member. And he mentionned Will first right after him.)

The kids overpower and bind Brandon and make their way to an abandoned restaurant on the coast that coincides with the map; Brandon soon follows alongside Andy, a cheerleader with a crush on him ( there has been cheerleaders that have been reported in season 4 such as Chrissy.); and Stef, Andy's friend. The group quickly discovers the derelict restaurant is a hideout of the Fratelli crime family: Francis, Jake, and their mother. (Maybe it is both a reference to the Russians in season 3 who have a hideout under the mall who have many restaurants. Or the Lab who OBVIOUSLY does a lot of illegal activities. )

The Goonies find a tunnel in the basement and follow it (like the tunnels made by the Mindflayer in season 2), but when Chunk flags down a motorist to go to the sheriff’s station, he gets abducted by the assailants and imprisoned with their hulking, deformed, younger brother Sloth. (This is obviously like Dustin who befriends Dart in season 2, a literal Demogorgon in the making.)

The Fratellis interrogate Chunk until he reveals where the Goonies have gone, and begin pursuit. Chunk is left behind with Sloth, but befriends him. After Sloth frees both of them, Chunk calls the sheriff, and both follow the trail of the Fratellis. (This is very reminiscent of Hopper in season 1 who gets interrogated by Lab agents or Steve and Robin by the Russians.)

The Goonies evade several deadly booby traps along the tunnels, while staying ahead of the Fratellis. Finally, they reach the grotto where Willy's pirate ship, the Inferno, is anchored. (Will also has a ship, the rainbow ship he drew for Joyce, also Inferno literally means Hell just like what Hawkins has been called.)

The group discovers the ship is filled with treasure, and they start filling their pockets, but Mikey warns them not to take any on a set of scales in front of Willy, considering that to be their tribute to him. As they leave the ship, the assailants appear and strip them of their loot. They start to bind the Goonies and make them walk the plank, until Chunk arrives with Sloth and distracts the assailants long enough for the Goonies to jump overboard and swim to safety. (It's the opposite of the season 2 finale, where Dustin has to distract Dart so that the other could pass through the tunnels.)

The Fratellis proceed to grab all the treasure they can, including those on Willy's scales; this triggers another booby trap that causes the grotto to cave in. With Sloth's help, the Goonies and Fratellis barely escape.

The two groups emerge on Astoria's beach, where they reunite with the Goonies' families and the police. The Fratellis are arrested, but Chunk prevents Sloth from also being taken; he invites Sloth to live with him, which Sloth accepts. ("Unfortunately", Dart compared to Sloth probably died.)

As the kids describe their adventure to their parents, the Walshes' housekeeper, Rosalita, discovers that Mikey's marble bag is filled with gems he took from the ship and had not been seized by the Fratellis. Mikey's father triumphantly rips up the foreclosure papers, declaring they have enough money to negate the foreclosure. As the Goonies celebrate, they see the Inferno, having broken free of the grotto, sailing off on its own in the distance. (Could it be hinting at a possible happy ending for Stranger Things ?)

So Fratellis, is similar to fratello which means "brother, fellow, neighbor" which perhaps could be a reference to the Mindflayer who is kind of our neighbor since he is basically in the same places but in the Upside Down. The Mindflayer also has been paralleled to Billy and other abusive father figures. Billy who is the brother of Max. He has also been paralleled to Kali through his anger and him attacking people who hurted him or might hurt him. Could in itself The Mindflayer should be taken or seen as some sort of family figure ? Maybe him being always associated with Will The Wise especially in 2x04 or someone who has the name Will like Billy is a connection. The same Billy who also parallels Russians who just like the Fratellis have secret hideouts.

Though the Fratellis are more motivated by greed which fits Brenner, Lonnie (who tried to use his son's death to gain money.) or Russians most.

Now Willy, Willy is a captain. Maybe it could be hinting at the fact that Will has more importance to the story than we think. There's also Inferno, "Hell" which is Hawkins but also the name of the ship. And Will has a rainbow ship... Could Hawkins be the ship of Will where his adventures are taking place ?

As for the dance... well as you've seen upper in the post: it's the "Truffle Shuffle Dance". It's something that Chunk has to do before entering Mikey's house. It's similar to what Dustin do at the beginning of season 1 to the bullies when he makes his bones crack due to his medical condition, cleidocranial dysplasia.

As for where this gnome is located, it's in Weathertop where Cerebro is located which is fitting since Dustin has a lot of Goonies as inspiration for his character.

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Gnome #6: Elvis

"He's not dead!"

"Elvis Aaron Presley (January 8, 1935 – August 16, 1977), also known simply as Elvis, was an American singer and actor. Dubbed the "King of Rock and Roll", he is regarded as one of the most significant cultural icons of the 20th century. His energized interpretations of songs and sexually provocative performance style, combined with a singularly potent mix of influences across color lines during a transformative era in race relations, led him to both great success and initial controversy." - Wikipedia.

It is a lot known that people in the 80's thought that Elvis Presley was still alive due to his status and the aura he had as a celebrity. However, no matter how appealing this myth may be, he died of an excessive usage of prescription drugs which reminds me of Nancy who said she thought Tom was on drugs when he fired her and Jonathan while he an the Flayed were drinking chemicals. He also died in 1977, the same year "Heroes" by David Bowie came out which is a song that was used two times when we thought a character died when he was actually alive which are Will and Hopper. Will and Hopper both have a lot of rock in their Spotify playlist.

Also, I personally think that Steve has kind of an Elvis Presley aura to him especially in season 1. After all, Steve has a nickname "King Steve" and Elvis Presley is often nicknamed "The King" and both were popular with girls.

Fun fact: Dacre Montgomery who plays Billy who literally becomes the new "King" of Hawkins will play in the biographical music drama "Elvis" about Elvis Presley where he will play a character called "Steve Binder".

Also actor David Harbour also got married with singer Lily Allen by Elvis in Las Vegas.

It's also found hidden behind bushes near the Public Library. Maybe indicating that Elvis is still out there in the world and hiding.

Which also may be a reference to Brenner who has a similar haircut but also about the novel "Suspicious Minds", a prequel of ST taking place in the Lab when Brenner was doing his sinister experiments which is the same title as one of the songs of Elvis. Like Elvis, Brenner is still out there, hiding in Hawkins.

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Gnome #7: Jack

"All work and no play makes Jack a dull gnome."

Again another reference to Shining. So what you are seeing here is a proverb, it means: "It means that without time off from work, a person becomes both bored and boring."

In Shining, it represents Jack's slow descent into madness. But it could be a reference to Joyce, Jonathan and Nancy who all work their asses off and don't take a lot of time for themselves and so don't have the time to explore anything else than work which also cause for them not to be there when Will got kidnapped. It may also represent Jonathan's words to Nancy in season 1 where he "called out" the boring life she will have and that she will live like her parents so in this case the proverb becomes about societal norms.

Mike just like Jack is an aspiring writer, Mike just like other members of his family falls into these societal norms that are expected like work and overworking in this instance which makes them boring in the eyes of people like Jonathan. "No play" may also reference D&D which Mike started to ignore in season 3 and worried more pointless and superficial things.

Again, hope it doesn't foreshadow anything for these two characters.

This gnome is found in the Library which is fitting considering Jack wants to be a writer.

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Gnome #8: Flynn (Flynn Rider from "Tangled" (2010))

"Looks like he rides well."

Overall plot of Tangled (2010):

"The film tells the story of Rapunzel, a lost, young princess with magical long blonde hair who yearns to leave her secluded tower. Against her abusive foster mother's wishes who kidnappee her when she was young, she accepts the aid of an intruder to take her out into the world which she has never seen."

This story is literally what the boys was arguing about at the end of season 1.

1)The lost knight...

Flynn Rider is actually the son of a king and queen that were from a kingdom that got destroyed by a powerful opal. He was evacuated and placed in an orphanage. He made his reputation as thief.

So Mike and El both parallels this guy, well Mike is a palladin in D&D and he is the son of a wealthy family so he is basically a night. El however also lost her parents like him and has more attributes of a knight in season 1 than Mike.

Flynn is arrogant, which Mike can be a bit sometimes but the both of them can be extremely courageous and care a lot about the people they care about though they are not very strong, nor athletic. Maybe Flynn a bit more.

Also fun coincidence Flynn = Finn, the name of the actor who plays Mike. (almost the same name).

Both him and El run into each other in the woods. Just like Flynn who discover Rapunzel while trying to enter Rapunzel's tower but is knocked out by her who is none other than the...

2)The proud princess...

Well first Rapunzel = Eleven. Both of these girls have magical powers and are used by an abusive and evil parental figure who needs them for their own interest, Mother Gothel used the powers of Rapunzel to stay young forever (like an addiction, a drug) and Martin Brenner aka "Papa". They are both locked away somewhere. El in the lab and Rapunzel in the tower which they both seeked to escape out of. Both believed that these parental figures loved them while it was not true. El also has long blond hair in season 1 like Rapunzel. And both quickly form a relationship with a boy they just met. Both don't know who their real parents are and wants to find them. While Rapunzel has long blonde hair, El had a shaved head.

Also in season 2, El is locked in a cabin in the woods because of Hopper because he believe it is not safe out there which is exactly what Mother Gothel tells Rapunzel. Just like her El disobeys and seeks to discover who her true parents are.

Rapunzel seeks to know what are those floating lights that always appear on her birthday, it is actually her parents who are the king and queen of a kingdom not so far away that do that every year hoping one day she will come back to her. She is a "lost princess". It is very similar to Terry Ives who was communicating through the lights to El.

Rapunzel's power comes out of something that is also connected to something famous in ST.

3) Weird flowers in the cave...

Rapunzel's power come from a flower called "Sundrop flower". = Sunflower which is said by Terry Ives.

This flower can pretty much heal anything including mortal wounds. The Queen got pregnant with Rapunzel but was also terribly sick so she took this flower to heal herself and while doing so, Rapunzel got this ability.

This is very reminiscent of Terry Ives who was pregnant with El and took part in the MKUltra experiences that gave her these powers including certain drugs. She is also "ill" in a way as she is now stuck in a loop. At least from what we saw.

But Rapunzel also parallels another character.

Will Byers. Will could communicate through lights to his mother, just like the parents of Rapunzel and Terry Ives.

The weird flowers could be referencing the sort of vines that entered inside of him in the Upside Down which gave him his "now-memories".

Both had abusive parental figure that would lock them somewhere for whatever reason. (Lonnie with Will in his trunk.)

(Also Hopper may have tried to separate Mike and El but he wasn't like what a Lonnie or Brenner would have been. This is why yes, the situation in season 2 parallels but Hopper truly wished good for El while Brenner and Mother Gothel didn't care for any of these two.)

Same is for Lonnie, he doesn't care about Will.

Since Will is a cleric, both him and Rapunzel have the same time of power. Powers that El doesn't have:

To heal the sick and injured

To revive the dead

To work as a shield

Given this story, it may hint at the fact that Brenner and Lonnie may try to take El and Will for their own greed and purposes.

Since Rapunzel parallels both Will and El, you know what that means for Flynn who parallels Mike.

Flynn in the movie is stabbed by Mother Gothel and dies before cutting the hair of Rapunzel killing Mother Gothel in the process. Rapunzel mourns him and one of his tears heal him.

If Flynn parallels Mike, than something bad could happen to him. If Will does have powers and has feelings for Mike, a supposed death may reveal his powers.

And if he has the same powers as his cleric role, than he could heal those who get hurt or even bring the dead back to life.

If Lonnie sees Mike around Will, given he is homophobic. He may try to hurt him so that he doesn't go near Will again which could lead to him being in grave danger.

Of course all of that is just speculation.

This gnome was found on the parking lot of Starcourt where El decided to break up with Mike and we saw Will smiling in the background.

Also I don't know but... "Looks like he rides well", I mean there's certain undertones to that which are... I don't know how to process that but from what you've just read, Mike apparently rides well. I mean I have nothing against gay sex jokes but still...

Even if it's unintentional, it's how it'll sound on the internet.

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Gnome #9: David

"At 399, he's the oldest gnome around."

So this gnome was already in the first ST official mobile game. And this reminds me a lot of The Lord Of The Rings and The Hobbit but also and of course; Dungeons & Dragons.

The World of David the Gnome, originally titled David, el Gnomo (also known as David, the Gnome), is a Spanish animated television series based on the children's book The Secret Book of Gnomes, by the Dutch author Wil Huygen and illustrator Rien Poortvliet. The series was originally created in Spain by BRB Internacional (who were also responsible for the Dogtanian and the Three Muskehounds franchise (Like Dart in season 2 and Mike, Lucas and Dustin where very much like the Three Musketeers in season 1.) and other cartoons such as Bobobobs and Around the World with Willy Fog)

The series presents the gnomes as a kind species, of 15 centimetres (6 inches) of height, and between 250 and 300 grams (8 and 10 ounces) of weight depending on gnome body mass. According to their habitat, different types of gnomes are distinguished: the ones of the forest, the ones of the garden, the ones of the farm, the ones of the house, the ones of the dunes, those of Siberia (David = David Harbour = Hopper = Hopper is in Russia), and nomadic "gypsy" gnomes (commonly looked down upon by other gnomes). A gnome's lifespan is usually 400 years, though there is one example of a couple in the Balkans living 550 years.

Gnomes such as the main characters live in pairs in comfortable caves or holes under trees [kinda like Hobbits] (in their case in the company of a pair of mice and a cricket). Their diet is mostly vegetarian. They are helped by the animals of the forest (kinda like Radagast who is the password to Castle Byers who is located in the woods) when travelling long distances or when they need to arrive quickly at a specific location. Gnomes work in various ways to repair the damage inevitably caused by humans. They also have the power of telepathy and mind control. (kinda like El or the Mindflayer, or even Galadriel in The Lord Of The Rings.)

Their main enemies are the trolls, malevolent and clumsy creatures who always make trouble for the other inhabitants of the forest, as well as gnome poachers. They have supernatural powers that are really strong but they have a weakness, if the sunlight gets on them, they turn to stone.(could be referencing all the Upside Down creatures who don't like sunlight and everything hot.) [Also very much like the Hobbit.] Also one of the trolls was voiced by someone who had the name Henderson, like Dustin Henderson. I also think it references a comic where some bullies attack Will and Mike calls them trolls.

Here are the most important characters:

David is a gnome of the forest. David is 399 years old, making him the oldest gnome around (since gnomes live no more than 400 years exactly, except Franklin, the gnome from the west, who lived 550 years), although he possesses exceptional constitution. David is a doctor, and he uses his knowledge of many fields, such as hypnosis and acupuncture, to heal his patients, usually animals, such as his faithful friend Swift the fox, or other gnomes. David also befriends a bird that, when he whistles, immediately arrives to quickly transport him to wherever necessary. For longer trips, he sometimes travels in a basket attached to the neck of the bird. (It may be a reference to clerics who are known to heal their allies and travelling with birds reminds me of Gandald who sometimes has the help of Eagles in some stories.)

Paul is David's twin brother. Not only does Paul have a normal moustache in contrast to David's handlebar moustache but his jumper is a darker shade of blue, he has a bigger nose, his gnome hat is dark blue whereas David's is red, and his trousers and boots are an inverse of David's: David's trousers are brown and his boots are beige, while Paul wears beige trousers and dark boots. (Of course this is a reference to Will and El who have been compared a lot of times throughout the show and who a lot of people in the fandom consider them siblings and twins, Will has a lot of Red in his wardrobe while El has a lot of blue.)

This gnome was found in a secret Russian base underground in Weathertop where Dustin discovers the Russian transmission coming from their main base located under the mall like a cave (like where gnome lives.). There are also gnomes in Siberia and having the name David, the name of Hopper's actor creates a connection since right now Hopper is in Russia. It may also be a nod to the group of kids who are all little gnomes running around the forest with their magical powers.

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Gnome #10: Baskin

"Robin's favorite gnome."

Now this is a funny one.

This is a reference to the famous Baskin-Robbins which is a chain of ice cream restaurants that did special ice creams for Season 3 because of Scoops Ahoy. It is Robin's favorite gnome because they literally share the same name.

Baskin could also be a reference to the film of the same name where Five police officers, Remzi, Arda, Yavuz, Apo, and Seyfi, are dining at a restaurant, during which they have a discussion. Their meal is interrupted when they receive a distress call from Inceagac, a town known for being the focus of strange rumors. During the trip Seyfi has a terrifying vision of a bloody figure and accidentally drives their van into the water. Stranded, the officers eventually make their way to Inceagac, where they find themselves in an abandoned building (back in the Ottoman days, this used to be a police station), captured by cult members and are subjected to a number of increasingly bizarre and surreal scenarios. In the end, they realize they have all inadvertently wandered into Hell.

It has alot of similiraties with stories like Silent Hills or Hellraiser, two stories that inspired Stranger Things especially Hellraiser for Stranger Things 4. And it fully embraces the satanic imagery and themes which is something we are going to see with the satanic panic and also has the theme of time, dreams and visions.

We'll see how much season 4 decides to use those sort of elements in the show.

Well this gnome is easy to find. It's in the Scoops Ahoy parlor next to Robin. USS Butterscotch seems to be very popular there

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Gnomes 11 - 20 coming soon.

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aurabird · 3 years ago

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Desire Remains

Based off of this little thing from @theres-an-impulstor-among-us that I stumbled across~ Have some Empires!Joel angst with a happy ending.

TW: Mentions of blood/violence, implied/referenced self harm using video game respawn mechanics because Joel likes to kill himself for his head in Empires (nothing is described in detail though don't worry).

Now also on Ao3!

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When they had awoken in this world, none of them knew where they’d come from, nor how they’d gotten there. All they knew was their names, and that they’d come to this land to build empires of their own.

These other individuals seemed nice, Joel had realized that rather quickly; and yet he could feel something in his chest, something dark...something violent.

When he held a sword or bow in his hand the feeling only intensified. He wanted to spill blood, bask in the deaths of his enemies. It frightened him, had he always been like this? Did he kill others before coming to this land?

Joel’s instinct told him to kill the rulers of the other empires whenever he was with one...kill his newfound friends. But he couldn’t do it, not without provocation.

The mental turmoil was downright maddening.

It was the worst when he slept, flashes of events he didn’t know were from his unknown past or just conjured by his mind.

A group of fourteen, including himself. He could make out most of the faces, but two of them were blurry in his mind; the ones that looked eerily similar to two of the other royals.

A man in a hat and no shirt ordering another with a red jumper to set him aflame for gathering dead bushes in the desert, forcing him to give up the diamond sword he held as payment for a promise of saplings.

The same man, eyes red and now glowing with mischief and madness, threatening him for his enchanting table.

A blonde dressed in crimson and grey giving him a grin as they gestured to a stone box with timed lava streams pouring down from above, a chest in the back holding a lucrative award inside.

Himself getting caught up in the white-hot liquid, the laughter of the game’s creator echoing around him as he burned.

A man with white hair and a mask over his face asking him for something while holding TNT, a mischievous and satisfied glint in duel-colored eyes as the contraption was sent at a castle nearby.

His house being set ablaze as revenge by one of those that had lived in the castle, an inferno once more taking his life.

A banner stained with blood, an army of wolves at his heels as he joyously pursued a King and their Hand like a predator hunting its prey...

...and an arrow that killed him instantly.

Phantom pain would rack his body when he’d awaken, his face wet with tears. But the dreams did nothing to tame the unbridled bloodlust that fueled his every waking hour.

Killing animals helped with the constant urge, but after awhile even that proved dissatisfactory to him. When this happened, he would aim his bow at the sky, letting his own arrow strike him down.

The two things together seemed to help. The multitude of animal skulls and morbidly enough, his own, easing his desire to kill.

As time went on and eras of tension and peace came and went, Joel began to notice that when he spent time with Lizzie, ruler of the Ocean Empire, that the bloodlust would fade into the back of his mind. He rejoiced in these moments of mental peace and found himself feeling something new when in her presence.

Love.

But even his moments with the Ocean Queen were a temporary fix for the rage that boiled in his blood.

Caught up in his work, the Mezalean King hadn’t killed anything for awhile, so when he turned to face the one that approached him and his eyes caught sight of the golden crown atop the other royal’s head, something inside him snapped.

A crown stained by blood, the symbol of the Red King...

...the last thing he’d seen before a shot to the heart took his final life.

Joel couldn’t stop himself from the events that followed. Swing after swing, arrow after arrow; all he could see was red, all he could hear was his own maniac laughter as he attacked the individual without mercy or remorse.

Three lives to live...and all he had to do was take the King’s last one!

Then, at the back of his mind something pulled; a familiar voice calling out his name, begging him to cease his madness. Joel’s sword stopped inches above his target’s heart as self-control came rushing back.

The sight before him was horrific. Mythland’s King lay on the ground with a terrified expression; blood staining them, the terracotta, and the diamond blade that Joel held in his hands.

Oh God, what had he done?!

His sword clattered to the ground as he collapsed to his knees, sobs resounding from him as reality set in.

He was a monster. And the worst part of it all, was that he didn’t understand why. Why was he like this? Why did he have the desire to kill? Why did the very idea of spilling blood bring him pleasure?!

A hand clasped his shoulder and he panicked at the fact someone else was so close to him. (No! Get away! I’m dangerous!)

When they spun him around his brown eyes met blue ones, a gentle face full of concern and fear for him.

Lizzie...

He collapsed into her embrace, tears streaming down his cheeks as he stammered repeated apologies. He was sorry; so, so sorry. He didn’t mean it, he didn’t know what came over him!

But here, in the arms of the Ocean Queen, his mind was silent. No desire to spill blood, no nightmares of events foreign to him. Just peaceful bliss.

After the events that day, Joel made it a habit to try and sate his desire for bloodshed whenever even a fraction of the feeling reared its head.

He had good days, where he was able to keep it at bay. And bad days, where he’d lock himself within the walls of his empire until the feeling passed lest he hurt those he called friends and allies.

In his darkest moments, Lizzie would come console him. When he awoke in tears from the nightmares, she would come stay by his side until well after morning. In her presence, he could forget everything.

But it was the day he married her that he finally felt the bloodlust vanish entirely, never to return.

#empires smp #3rd life smp #3rd life x empires #video game mechanics #tw blood #tw violence #tw amnesia #tw implied self harm #empiresblr #trafficblr #My writing

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ashintheairlikesnow · 4 years ago

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Worth the Risk

CW: Referenced past domestic violence, memories of trauma, some PTSD references, vaguely referenced noncon, abuse survivor navigating relationship conflict, BBU politics

Follow-up to Akio’s Idea

The sun glances off Kauri’s shoulder, lights his pale skin in gold, turns one wide blue eye to a kind of shimmering precious metal. He sits on the bed, on the soft comforter that he helped Jake pick out when he started staying here, soft as down, as feathers, as the way Jake holds him. His stomach twists with cold nervousness, but he manages, his voice low, even deeper, with time, than when he and Jake first met, to ask, “What did you just say?”

“I said no.” Jake closes the door, Kauri listens to the click, part of him eternally on edge for the sound of a lock. There isn’t one, on this door. Jake bought door knobs without a lock, Kauri watched him install it. He can open this door whenever he wants.

He can leave, if he has to.

If he wants to.

“Yeah, I heard you. I think you should reconsider, Jake. This idea - it’s the best one anyone could have. It’ll be public, too public, not something they can come back at without it being really obvious it’s them. If they do this and Chris disappears… people will notice. If they do this, and we get raided, or the Nakamura kid gets threatened, people - the media, our fucking neighbors, the fucking government - will notice.”

“The government is why you all have to hide in the first place.” Jake groans, leaning back against the door. “The government passed the laws that keep you all hiding, that mean you can’t go to school, get paying jobs. The government made those raids legal in the first place! You can’t be serious, Kauri. You cannot be seriously thinking about going along with this.” He’s sincere, but Kauri bristles, too.

You can’t be serious, Kor-Bore. Those rocks in your head must be rolling around too fast.

“Well, I-I am. I think it’s a good idea, I think Chris should do it if he wants-”

“I don’t want him involved in this.” Jake’s voice is flat. It’s solid. It brooks no appeal, but Kauri isn’t ready to be ground down under it, no this time. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he remembers he wrote a poem once, not for a class just for himself, and the words were

I will say, more weight and take the stones you lay upon me still I will breathe in, out more weight

“Jake, I don’t think it’s your choice.”

Jake looks at him from across the room, tall and imposing, all muscles and bulk. His jaw works while he thinks, and Kauri has kissed that jaw, rubbed his own to redness on the stubble there, has watched it soften and relax at the end of hard days with him, just with him, alone in here with a door he can open any time he wants. “What do you mean?”

“Chris’s life isn’t yours,” Kauri says, pitching his already deep voice lower. “It just isn’t. Neither is mine. We-... Jake, I love you, but… if Chris wants to do this, he’s a grown man. He gets to make that decision, and we-... you… don’t.”

He sees the words hit Jake, and Kauri swallows the apology that he feels bubble up in his throat. He doesn’t have to be sorry, for saying something true.

Jake’s eyes move away from his, head shaking, a bit of his ash-blond hair falling over his forehead. It’s gotten shaggy, he’s overdue for a haircut. Kauri likes to watch him, sitting in the backyard with a towel over his shoulders, Antoni clipping centimeters with perfect steadiness, running the electric clipper up the back, leaving the remainder soft and perfect for Kauri’s fingers to run through.

“Kauri-”

“Jake. I’m not with you because you tell us what to do. I’m with you because you don’t.” Kauri’s voice stays low, and it’s not trembling, or faint, or weak. Just… soft, but in a way that still carries across the room. He sits back against the headboard, crossing his arms, and makes himself meet Jake’s gaze.

Blue on blue, always.

“I’m not telling anyone what to do-”

“You literally just said to me, in your own fucking words, Jake Stanton, I said no. Please, explain to me how that’s not telling Chris and I what to do. Yeah? Elaborate, I’m happy to hear it.”

Jake’s eyes narrow. He bristles, defensively, and Kauri’s heart beats hard, pounding against his breastbone. The old scar on his collarbone, still a twisted bit of skin that feels oddly silky under his fingers, begins to itch, to ache. It’s an old phantom pain, a reminder - don’t fight back.

But he won’t back down, or lower his eyes. Not this time.

“I’m not-... Kaur, I’m just saying no to Chris’s, to his friend’s plan, that’s all.” Jake moves towards him, hands out like a supplicant. Kauri swallows against the sense of fingers brushing over his throat, thumbs pressing to his pulse, pushing in. He pretends he can’t feel the push to forgive forget be good.

He only waits, gives the silence time to tick out between them, and raises one eyebrow in skepticism. He can feel his own pulse flutter, anxiety chilling the tips of his fingers and his toes, flipping his stomach. Jake won’t hurt him, for this. He won’t.

After the pause draws out, Jake drops onto the bed himself, sitting at the edge facing one of the windows, looking at the pristine cloudless blue over the tops of the neighborhood houses. His elbows rest on his thighs. He looks tired, in a way he hasn’t looked in years. Tired like he used to look, when he ran on coffee and the smallest victories.

He’s as handsome as Kauri remembers from his earliest blurry feverish memories, although his jawline is sharper now. Every year is written on them both, one way or another. Kauri has his own changes, that he can see in the mirror if he doesn’t look for too long, if he pushes past the headaches that still hit every time he sees himself.

Kauri sees the weight pushing Jake down, the way he feels like he carries them all, long after they’ve more or less learned to stand on their own two feet. He swallows - Jake isn’t his keeper, and never was. He’s meant to be love, the kind that doesn’t lock the doors, the kind that never says you’re so lucky someone will take care of you, you can’t take care of yourself.

“It’s just.” Jake sighs and puts his head in his hands. “Even if it does work for Chris - and who knows if it will - even if it protects him, it could put everyone else in serious danger. My new rescues, you, Antoni, even Nat… everyone.”

“Or,” Kauri offers, voice softening a little, “It could make us all safer by making everyone refuse to look away any longer. Make it harder to make us disappear. You don’t know-”

“That’s just it, Kauri!” Jake turns to look at him, genuinely distraught. Kauri’s fingertips itch to touch, to soothe, to fix. He doesn’t move. “Nobody knows. Nobody has any idea what will happen, no one’s ever done anything like this before!”

Kauri wants to run his fingers through that mussed-up hair, straddle his lap, kiss away his fears. He knows, instinct and training, how to fix unhappiness with his body. Seven years and still, still he knows, deep down.

Instead, Kauri swallows, raises his chin, and sets his jaw. He holds.

“We… we could be freed, Jake.” His voice is barely above a whisper, insistent. “All of us. All of us who run away, me-... Ant, yeah, but also the new ones, and the older ones still on the streets. We could stop hiding. We could-”

“Get thrown into a van,” Jake says, voice cracking a little. “You could be dragged back by fucking WRU into that fucking place. You could disappear, and I’ll never-” Jake’s eyes glitter a little, red at the edges. “I’ll never see you again. Not you… not Ant, not Chris, not anybody. Kauri, I can’t-... everybody who disappears into WRU, they don’t come back.”

“I came back,” Kauri says, voice soft. “I went back in and I came back out-”

“Because Owen Grant fucking paid them to take you back in!” Kauri doesn’t flinch at the sound of his name, not anymore. He doesn’t shiver, although he still feels the chill down his spine. His arms drop, hands back on the comforter, rubbing over a seam sewn in. The headboard makes his back ache where his shoulder blades press against the carved wood. He’s been tied up before, hands wrapped in ropes, his shoulders smacking back into the headboard with every shift of Owen’s hips, until he bruised, and Owen pressed his hand into the bruise and said, I did that, Kor-Bore. I made you look like this. You’re mine.

“But we can come back out without-... without losing ourselves,” Kauri says, voice starting to shake, now. He can feel the bruises that aren’t there. He can see the focus in Owen’s green eyes, too close, feel sweat that isn’t his dripping onto his skin. He can-

He can’t-

“If they want you to. But they won’t, Kauri. And if you get dragged back, after this long, after… after everything… I can’t fail you like that, Kauri. Not you, not Chris. I can’t fail you all like that.”

“You wouldn’t.” Kauri leans forward, now. When Jake leans towards him, he lays a hand over Jake’s, rubs a thumb over his knuckles. “It’s not your responsibility to decide if we speak out. It wouldn’t be your failure, either. But if it works… this could change everything for us. Nobody ever-... nobody ever wants to stand up for us, Jake, not like this. This could make me safer than I’ve ever been, and Chris, too.”

Jake is silent, looking down at their hands. Then he takes in a deep breath. “I think… I think you’ve seen good people for so long,” He says, heavily, words coming out only with effort, “that you’ve forgotten that most people are fucking awful.”

“I haven’t-”

“We’ve been… we’ve been really fortunate, Kauri...”

So fucking lucky.

“... and I can’t risk losing my rescues, just so Chris’s friend can make a fucking point.”

“That Nakamura kid had the idea, yeah, but… Chris wants to do this. He wants to, um, to take Tristan back from this, from these people who stole him.” Kauri curves his fingers into Jake’s palm, squeezes his hand. “He wants to do this for himself, sure, but also for everyone else like him. The, the underagers-”

Jake winces at the reminder and Kauri, always keyed in to the potential negative emotions of anyone around him, can see the old anger simmering under the surface. He wasn’t there when Chris came to stay, but he heard the fury in Jake’s voice when he described it, knows that Chris was Jake’s little brother long before the papers were ever signed to make it official.

“Right,” Jake mumbles.

He’s not mad at me. He’s not mad at me. He’s not mad at me. He’s not.

“He wants to make sure it won’t happen to other ones like him,” Kauri says, keeping soft, telling himself he’s not trying to sound sweet, or good. “Even if we can’t stop it, if all we do is make them stop taking kids-”

“Kaur, they’ll just get quieter about it. They won’t stop, they’ll just stop leaving tracks, stop making it so we can find them. Don’t you get that?”

Jesus, Kauri, don’t you get it?

Kauri’s breath catches. He has to force the exhale, it comes only with effort, through a throat closing. His scar itches even more. “Jake, you’re-... you’re n-not seeing that it doesn’t have to be the worst-case scenario-

“I can see just fine.” Jake pulls his hand away, rubbing at his face, his temples. Kauri sits there with his own hand still out, his fingers curved around nothing but air. “It’s you guys who just can’t see how this is really going to end. You, and Akio, and Chris, you’re all fucking convinced it’s going to solve itself, that we’ll, what? Tell everyone what happened and then you’ll get a standing fucking ovation and the credits roll, world changed, easy as that?”

“Jake, we-... no one is saying this is going to be easy, or-”

“You all are. You’re all saying that!” Jake’s voice is rising, not mad at me he’s not mad at me he’s not mad at me he’s not, and Kauri leans away. His scar burns, pain singing through it like the wires were never removed. He did it himself, he held the bloody things in his hand and stared at them before he passed out on a trashbag on some shitty motel floor, he did it himself and they’re gone but they hurt, anyway.

“You’re acting like one big show will fix it, and you know what it does? It starts it. It starts a whole new set of problems - not even for me, Kaur, for everyone else who runs a safehouse! You’re putting every fucking rescue in serious fucking danger, and you say it’s not my responsibiliy, but you are all my responsibility!”

“We’re adults!” Kauri snaps the words before he can think enough not to. “We’re not kids, Jake, and we’re all-... we’ve all been working for years to be people, and we are. If we want to take the risk-”

“For yourselves, sure, go ahead, fine. Go flying off the fucking cliff and I’ll be there to pick your bodies out of the fucking rubble after.” Jake stands again, pacing, stomping along the floor. Kauri wonders if they can hear him, downstairs. He briefly blocks the light coming in through the window, the room darkens slightly. Kauri’s breath comes faster. “But you can’t put everyone else at risk. You can’t. I won’t let you.”

“You can’t stop us, either.” Jake turns to look at him, and Kauri’s voice nearly falters, dies in his throat. But he pushes, he forces himself to keep speaking. His hand moves unconsciously to scratch at his scar through his shirt, the itch is driving him crazy. “We’re already all at risk, Jake. They pick us up on the street sometimes, if someone calls in a tip. They send vans to safehouses already - you got your ass kicked when they tried to come for Chris-”

“I protected him, then! I can’t protect him if he stands around waving a sign that says I’m a pet, WRU come get me!”

“Maybe Chris decides if he needs protecting, now.” Kauri can hear his own voice dipping into a plea, and he scratches harder, digging his nails into the cotton fabric of his shirt until the skin underneath is burning hot with the ache.

The little circles get hot when Owen sets them off, just a fraction of a second’s warning before the pain that follows on its heels.

“Maybe-... maybe I decide if I need protecting, too. I wish you would understand-”

“I wish you would understand, Kaur! But it feels like you just… don’t, or can’t. Like, it doesn’t matter what I fucking say, it’s just not sinking in, is it?”

There’s a silence, in the room, then.

You’re so fucking stupid.

“Jake-”

“I’m not the bad guy here,” Jake says, almost desperately. He’s not looking at Kauri - he doesn’t see the wrinkle between his eyes as his eyebrows come together, doesn’t see the look on his face, doesn’t see that Kauri’s eyes glitter now, too. “I mean, I’m not trying to be, I just-”

Don’t look at me like that, baby, I’m not the bad guy here. You’re the one who thought you could fucking cook. God, you’re lucky someone loves you.

“... want to keep everyone safe, and staying under the radar is the only thing that’s ever worked. You know, groups have tried going public before, and they get raided, they get hurt. All I’m trying to do is look out for you and Chris, take care of you-”

I’m taking care of you, Kor-Bore. Jesus, it’s not like you could take care of yourself.

“-and everyone else. I love you, Kauri, so much, I want you in my life more than anything-”

I love you, baby. Who else would want you?

“... Chris, too, and I’ve worked so hard to keep all of you safe, and I’m so scared to lose you, I just want you to get that. I can’t see this ending any way but badly, and I’m s-so scared. And you’re so busy staring into the sun trying to figure out how to fly there, and nobody’ll fucking listen to me saying your wings are made of fucking wax. It’s like talking to fucking walls.”

Talking to you is like talking to a gorgeous fucking brick wall, isn’t it?

There’s a bright flash of pain as Kauri breaks skin over his scars. He gasps, a little, for half a second he’s waiting for his muscles to lock, nerves to feel like fire right down to his fingertips, for it all to go horribly, painfully, agonizingly wrong. The shock doesn’t come, but instead Kauri feels new heat inside him.

I know I asked for you to be stupid, but Jesus Christ, Kor-Bore, this is something else.

“I’m not stupid,” He whispers.

Jake blinks and looks over at him, then. Kauri meets his eyes, and sees Jake’s expression shift, and change, in a way that feels like worry, the prelude to an apology. For half a second, Kauri wants to wait, to hear it, to forgive him.

But Owen apologized, too, over and over, and then he called Kauri stupid again anyway, or hurt him, over and over, until he begged for it to stop, until he pleaded, until he was quiet and soft and sweet and forgot how to be anything else.

Kauri had to fight, for his sharp edges.

He won’t let anyone take them away again.

“Shit,” Jake whispers. “Kauri, I didn’t mean-”

“Shut up.” Jake’s mouth snaps shut. “I’m not stupid, Jakob Stanton. I’m not. It doesn’t matter how many ways you or anyone else says it, you can’t make me think I’m stupid anymore!”

“I wasn’t-”

“I said stop talking!” Kauri pushes off the bed now, stalking across the room. He aches, all his muscles remember the aftermath of fighting back, but he ignores the pains he knows are being fed by his memories and not by anything real. “Just… just stop, and listen to me, Jake. Okay. Can you just. Can you just listen?”

Jake swallows, slowly sitting back down on the bed, and nods, hands where Kauri can see them, flat on the bedspread. “Yeah. You, uh. Go on.”

“Thank you for the fucking permission slip, Mr. Stanton. Go fuck yourself, I don’t need you to tell me when I can and can’t talk.” Kauri’s voice drips anger, it’s bathed in it, years and years and years of anger built inside him finally breaking through the cracks in his sweetness. “I’m less than two years younger than you, more or less, so stop treating me like I’m a fucking infant. Which, by the way, neither is Chris.”

Jake doesn’t try to speak this time.

Good.

“I’ve been on the run for seven years. I’m fucking tired. Antoni’s been gone for a decade. Chris has been out for, what, five years? Six? And we’re all still under the radar. None of us have our original names, our original lives. We can’t go home, because we don’t have one anymore! If this idea works, then there are hundreds - maybe thousands of us, Jesus fuck - who could go home again! Who could put our faces on papers and see if anyone knows who we are! We-we could ask for blood tests, we could do the DNA matches they do when they find our bodies, we could-... we could remind everyone who walks past us begging for change that we were goddamn people, and we can be people again!”

Jake swallows. Kauri watches his throat bob with the movement. His collarbone is on fire, but it’s only feeding the hotter flame inside him, the way it feels to just say what he thinks and not have anyone talk over or around it.

Jake watches him.

Jake listens.

“Chris has something we almost never get back. He has his name. He has Tristan Higgs and even more than that, Tristan Higgs had friends. Tristan Higgs had a family, and friends, and this whole life and-... and he found it again.”

“I would-... you know I’d help you find your family in a heartbeat-”

“Jake, that’s not my point. This isn’t about me, or my life, or any of it. I’m just trying to say… Chris wants to do this. He’s wanting to be so fucking brave, braver than I am, than a-any of us here are going to be, probably. He’s going to look WRU in the eyes and tell them Tristan Higgs isn’t forgotten. If you tell him not to, he w-won’t, but… but I think you should tell him to do what he thinks is right, instead. And prepare for it to not be the thing you want him to do.”

Jake nods, just barely. Then, he offers, “Kauri, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to imply-”

“I know. But you did. You said I’m stupid not to agree with you, and that’s not true.”

“That’s not what I-”

“Jake. Just listen to me.”

“Right.”

There’s power in this moment, in telling someone to listen to him, to stop, and having them just… do it. In his mind, Kauri shoves Owen up against a wall, throws him off the fucking balcony, drowns him in the bathtub, smothers him with a pillow locks him in the fucking box from WRU that he locked Kauri in for sensory deprivation pulls the giant TV over on top of him burns the fucking condo to the ground-

-cuts the wires out of himself, piece by piece, screaming with the pain even as his fingers twist into the pieces and pull them out, blacks out and wakes up and keeps going, again and again, until the only thing left is the blood-

Kauri’s chin lifts, and he holds out his hands for Jake to take, but it’s not weakness. He’s not appeasing the danger in the room, he is the danger.

He can be dangerous.

He can own himself so thoroughly that no one can take him away from himself, not ever again.

“You think I’m naive,” He says, softly. “Because we all start that way. You think that I don’t know what could happen to us after this. But I’m telling you… I know I could disappear. I could know that we could get hurt. I know how bad it can be. I know what it’s like, going back in there.”

Jake pulls his hands close, kisses the backs of them, slowly leans his forehead to touch there against Kauri’s knuckles. “I’m so scared to lose you,” He whispers. “All of you.”

“I know,” Kauri says, and his voice gentles, now. “I know you are. But… Jake, what I’m saying is… we’ve all already lost everything there was to lose. We lost our families, if we had any. We lost our memories. We lost our names. Chris, and I…”

He pulls his hands free, moves closer, lets Jake lean forward to rest against his stomach, his fingers running through his short blond hair. Kauri’s eyes light on a framed photo, one Jake has carried with him for years.

Jake with Chris at the beach, Kauri standing off to the side shading his eyes. All of them smiling.

“We know what it means to be lost. And we want to tell WRU that no matter what they do, the whole world is going to see what happens to kids like Chris in the system, and I-... I want you to trust me, Jake. Just for this. Trust me that I’ve thought through every single outcome, even the worst ones, and… I think the risk is worth it.”

Jake is quiet, his breathing warm on Kauri’s stomach, the hair at his nape soft under Kauri’s fingertips.

“I’m just scared,” Jake whispers.

Kauri nods, even though Jake can’t see it. Then he says, softly, “I’m not.”

Another pause. “Okay. I love you, Kaur. I-I’m scared shitless, but... I trust you. I need your help to plan for what we’re going to do to make sure my people aren’t here when it happens. I-I can’t-... I’ll help you, but… but I need your help, too.”

Kauri smiles. He tries not to feel triumph. He does, a little.

Mostly he feels like he could walk out the door right now and Jake wouldn’t stop him - but he doesn’t have to. He knows he can.

He doesn’t want to.

“I love you, too, Jake. Let me talk to Keira. I think-... I think I know what we can do to make sure if WRU tries to come for the safehouses, they won’t find a single goddamn one of us at home.”

---

Tagging: @burtlederp , @finder-of-rings , @endless-whump , @whumpfigure , @astrobly @newandfiguringitout , @doveotions , @pretty-face-breaker , @boxboysandotherwhump , @oops-its-whump @cubeswhump , @whump-tr0pes @whumpiary @downriver914 @vickytokio

#whump #speak out arc #bbu #box boy #box boy universe #box boy multiverse #erase to control #jake the shelter guy #referenced past noncon #referenced past pet whump #very brief vague reference to ableist torture #pet whump #trauma recovery #ptsd tw #abuse survivor tw

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eldrai · 3 years ago

Text

What It's Like (Morgan & Hotch)

Read on ao3 here

Summary: Everything was supposed to be over.

Everything was over.

Right until state troopers had cuffed him, read him his rights and left him in a cell to be interrogated by a snarky son-of-a-bitch detective. Right until the team just had to get involved. Right until Buford insisted it was his help which had made Derek into himself now. Right until Hotch and Gideon stood there and heard and knew.

OR: Buford is arrested; Hotch and Morgan have a conversation.

Warnings: implied/referenced childhood sexual abuse + domestic abuse, internalized victim-blaming (not actively blaming himself for abuse, but 'I should be over it' type thinking)

Words: 2.6k

Written as platonic, could be pre-slash if you want

It shouldn’t affect him.

He shouldn’t even be here. Derek had laid it to rest the last time he’d spoken to Buford, and though it took him a couple of years to work through the overwhelmingly intense emotions he’d never let himself feel, he had reached a state he’s content with. When it crosses his mind every now and then – much more frequently when they have a similar case – the memories aren’t so sharp and stay in their box most of the time. He’s accepted he’ll never live without it but as far as things go, he’s living with it as well as he can.

Everything was supposed to be over.

Everything was over.

Derek paces outside the rec centre, awash in flickering red and blue from the car they’d stuffed Buford into. It shouldn’t affect him but here he is, a tight knot of dread in his chest and a bitter anger burning hot in his face. His clenched jaw aches and it takes a conscious effort to stop. He’s a teenager again in the worst way – furious at the world, at Buford, at himself for caring about it.

And Buford is under arrest, his personable father figure persona falling through at last, but the smallest, most selfish part of him asks if it’s worth it. For him to be dragged out here and accused of murder and stripped of dignity and secrets.

(It is. Derek would do it again in a heartbeat if it stopped more boys getting hurt, but that doesn’t mean he can’t hate every last second.)

He’ll have to tell Mom and his sisters, but Mom—it’s going to destroy her. She will blame herself for letting it happen, for not noticing, hate herself for every late shift and early start and no amount of arguing will ever truly make her understand it’s not her fault. Derek just hopes she doesn’t find out before he can tell her himself, soften the blow a little; his mind conjures up the same cop who’d arrested him, exhausted and apathetic in the eyes, spitting it out with no regard to the damage it can do.

Better than winding up in jail for a murder he didn’t commit, Derek reasons. The victory rings hollow when the prize is stripping back his skin and muscle and laying his insides bare for everyone to see, his blood as ink spelling out the ugly story. Breaking his family’s hearts.

The worst part is he’s not supposed to be angry. All the team ever did was their jobs and if Hotch had listened to him, had backed off, Derek wouldn’t be here now to be pissed at him. But that does little to soothe the sting. His secret on display just like that.

He paces and he breathes and he swallows down the anger but it’s too much to store away for later, his next trip to one of his properties and a sledgehammer in hand. Too raw. Too real.

Because he thought he was over it.

(It’s not fair. Why was it him? Why was it the boy before? Why was it the boy after? What unfortunate string of experiences led to Carl Buford deciding he’s got the right to manipulate them and befriend them and abuse them? None of it is fair and nothing will change that.

Why isn’t he over it?)

Behind him, the footsteps aren’t the stomping gait of police standard boots. Derek doesn’t turn around. He doesn’t want to see how pity looks on Hotch. It’s one thing to tolerate it from well-intentioned acquaintances but another entirely from people he cares about.

He leans against the low fence running the perimeter of the parking lot. It is scabbed over with rough rust. He lets his vision soften, blur around the edges, content with the occasional car coming past.

“Morgan.”

“What gave it away?” Derek asks. “I bet it was real satisfying to figure out what was wrong with me. So what was it?”

“I’m sorry—”

Sorry doesn’t help. Derek’s sorry too that this ever happened but saying it doesn’t make a difference. He turns, and is momentarily relieved when Hotch just looks at him the same as ever, because it’s easier to handle pity if it doesn’t really show. “Don’t. Just don’t. I’m serious, though: what was it?”

“That isn’t what I meant,” Hotch says. Infuriatingly calm. An irritating mix of gratitude and anger just fuels the fire. He wants to feel one way or the other about it, not both.

“It doesn’t matter,” Derek protests. Uniforms glance in their direction. “You had no right to – no right!”

No, he had no right but it’s only because he ignored that they’re having this argument. It’s rational and irrational to be mad and he can’t settle on which is the right thing to feel.

“I know,” Hotch admits.

That strikes a nerve.

Because no, he doesn’t. None of them do. They can’t understand the raw humiliation from the type of abuse alone, let alone having his life picked apart and examined for cracks. And yet they did it all the same, without so much as the decency to include him.

“Do you?” Derek says, his voice cold steel. “Do you really? Have you got any idea what it’s like to go through that? To have his hands on you? And then just when you think it’s over, someone comes along and brings it up again! Don’t tell me you know that!”

Blood buzzes in his ears and a spark of pain in his palms come from his fingernails pressing deep into his skin. Derek breathes, feels the tension ease a fraction, the headache and stomachache and dizziness starting to melt away. He’s not good, but he’s not close-to-a-panic-attack bad.

They stand there for a time, just breathing and occasionally making brief eye contact, and Derek is beginning to think he’s completely screwed until Hotch joins him, hands on the railing as the low rumble of distant traffic ebbs and flows.

“You were right that I don’t know what sexual abuse is like,” Hotch says. It’s how he says it unflinchingly that sets him on edge; he’s used to euphemisms and avoidance and nobody ever wants to come right out and acknowledge what it really was. At the same time, it hits like a punch to the gut. “I should have worded it better. That’s on me. What I was trying to say is that nothing you did gave it away.”

His anger has mellowed out, not as sharp as earlier but there just the same, a heaviness in his stomach and an irritability he can’t shake and doesn’t much care to try.

“So what did?”

“I know how it felt to keep secrets like that,” Hotch says. He speaks slowly. Deliberately. “I know what it’s like to have spent half the time wishing someone would notice and the other half being terrified that they’d figure it out.”

Derek swallows but says nothing. He can recognise an olive branch when he sees one.

“I know what it’s like to have to listen to everyone praise him and know even if you told someone, they’d never believe it.”

That hangs in the air until he’s pretty sure Hotch isn’t going to say anything else. “It’s always the ‘upstanding members of the community’ and you’d think someone might realise.”

“That was why I suspected Buford,” Hotch says. “Aside from the initial accusation, the image he presented of himself was too clean.”

“He needed – hell, still needs – people to think he was good,” he says. “That what you meant?”

“Good people – genuinely good people – don’t work so hard to convince everyone that they are,” Hotch says. “They aren’t perfect. They have disagreements and make mistakes. They’ve got faults because they are real people, but we never heard a bad word against Buford.”

(For some reason he’s thinking of Garcia: her bright smile and the light in her eyes and driving away the darkness that threatens to drown them. Genuinely good people indeed.)

“Me neither,” Derek says, laughs without humour. Without the burning anger he’s cold and a little empty. Mellowed-out. “I used to think people did suspect something, you know? Because someone must have. All of us, the same ages, all boys…”

“People see what they want to,” Hotch says, more than a touch cynical. “They wanted Buford to have no ill intent, so they didn’t see it. They created justifications for almost anything.”

“How did you get from ‘something’s up with this guy' to the real thing?” Derek asks.

“Process of elimination. Nothing showed up on your records and nothing indicated something removed. If he killed those boys in a fit of rage, he’d have shown a history of violence and there would be evidence of previous domestic abuse. He went to lengths to maintain a reputation, and that gave him access to children and teenagers. He favoured a specific demographic but his status kept people from questioning it.”

It’s laid out bare and clinical. Just the same as an average profile: nothing personal to him or to Buford. Derek appreciates it, a good middle ground between avoiding the issue and being painfully, painfully open. He’d just rather not have to have this conversation at all. “The team’s gotta have some idea,” he says.

Because Gideon and Hotch did, and they’re all profilers as well. The more they think about it, the more likely they are to come to the correct conclusion, and Derek is equally as apprehensive about facing their reactions. A sick guilt sets in when he thinks too much about it: the response he’s afraid of is concern, pity, kindness – a luxury many aren’t afforded.

(Does he even deserve it if he doesn’t want it?)

“They knew Gideon and I were leaving but not what we thought,” Hotch says. “If they guess, it’s their own.”

Derek looks over his shoulder. Buford’s silhouette sits in the back of a car, its chin held high, commanding a respect it had never deserved. “Yeah, well, if they haven’t figured it out by now, they’re going to once they book him in.”

“They don’t have to know more than what they hear.”

“Good to know I can choose now,” Derek mutters. “It doesn’t matter. Either they know or they don’t.”

“I’m sorry—”

“Just don’t. Please.”

“No, not that it happened,” Hotch says. A beat later: “That wasn’t what – I wish you weren’t in that position, but I’m sorry that I had to bring it up.”

“I’d be in jail,” Derek says. More than any emotion, he is plain tired. What he’d give to be at home with Clooney and his own bed. “I don’t think I’m allowed to be mad.”

“You are,” Hotch says firmly. Perhaps more than a mediocre attempt at a joke necessitates. “It was an awful situation. You’re allowed to feel however you feel about it.”

It’s not that he needs someone to tell him that, but hearing it is – he’ll admit it’s nice, to know that someone else agrees and it’s not just his own head. Derek shrugs. “I moved on. It shouldn’t be – it was fine.”

Fine before Buford dragged him into this mess—god knows how many people are going to hear his name in connection to him tonight. And how many after that? They’ll think of him and see what a sick old man did to him. Not the work he puts in. Not who he fought – fights – to be. Not a profiler and a brother and a son.

Not Derek Morgan.

Just a victim or a survivor or whichever label they thrust upon him for their own comfort, easier to digest, easier to square him away in a neat box and tell themselves it won’t affect them because it’s only ever those children. Neighbours and friends and acquaintances but never their kids.

“It doesn’t mean you haven’t,” Hotch says. “I’d be more surprised if it didn’t affect you at all.”

“It doesn’t ‘affect’ me,” Derek says. Maybe he’s spoken too soon about the pity thing. “Look, just leave it.”

“Moving on doesn’t necessarily mean feeling nothing,” Hotch says. “If you wanted to tell someone, if or when you wanted, and how much to share – that was your choice and it shouldn’t have been taken.”

“Yeah, I know. Thanks for that, by the way,” he says, more bitterly than he’d intended. His thoughts return to his family. “The team are gonna know, who else?”

“Other than the officers making the arrest, nobody yet.”

Derek nods. He can work with that, has to. At the very least he’ll be the first one to tell his mom and sisters – silver linings, he supposes, no matter how thin – and it’s certainly better news to give than they’re taking him to trial for a murder he didn’t commit. This isn’t the type of thing he can just drop on them and walk away. “I’m gonna take a couple days to, uh, let things settle down around here.”

It’s not a question.

“It won’t come out of your personal time off.”

He lets go of the fence and brushes flecks of rust from his palms. Behind them the area is quieting down again, and in an hour or two there won’t be any sign of what happened beyond a handful of collective, awful memories. Well, Derek’s just glad there aren’t going to be any more kids knowing the place as somewhere bad—that it’ll never be more than a sports hall and cramped changing rooms and a stuffy old storage closet. That when they think of it, the memories are nostalgic, not thrown together into a nightmare steeped in fear.

Derek makes a move to go. It’s a short walk back to his mom’s and it’ll do him good to clear his head. Give him time to find not the right words – for there can’t be – but the most comforting.

“Morgan.”

“Yeah?”

“You know if you need to talk—”

“I know,” he says. “And no offense, but you have to say that, right? ‘Cause I don’t think either of us really want that.”

Hotch tilts his head. “I’m not saying it because I’m obligated to.”

“Yeah, I know,” Derek says. “And I’ll keep it in mind.”

He doesn’t intend to mention it. Just like how they aren’t going to mention what Hotch had told him. That’s never how they handle it. But the sentiment is there, and the team are reliable like a second family: they’d be there if he wanted to and until then, they’re not going to press it.

He’s not okay – he’ll admit that to himself if nobody else – but he’ll get there. Knowing their luck, they’ll have been thrown headfirst into a case so chaotic by next week that it’s all they can think of. Such is the job. It's crazy but he loves it.

“Thanks,” Derek says. “For not giving up.”

Hotch gives him a solemn nod.

“And sorry for the paperwork they’re gonna give you for me getting arrested,” he jokes. “Ever had to do that before?”

“Fortunately not.”

“Well,” Derek says, “there’s an early Christmas present. You’re welcome.”

That elicits something that’s almost a smile. “Take care.”

“I will. See you back home,” he says, and he walks away from Buford and the memories and this long, miserable day. Back to his mom's place with nicer reminders of childhood, the height marks pencilled on the kitchen door frame and the shower with a leaking faucet and home-cooked meals.

Back to his family.

#criminal minds #criminal minds fanfic #hotch #morgan #angst #oneshot #cm fanfic #cm fanfiction #criminal minds fanfiction #god i'm nervous putting this one out #but hey #also shoutout to sumayyah for letting me show her lines and generally being awesome <3 #mine

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inevitably-johnlocked · 4 years ago

Note

helloo! Do you know any good fics with ace sherlock because I am just getting t i r e d

Hey Nonny!

Check out these Lists:

Asexual Sherlock

Queer / Ace Relationships (Dec 2019)

And these fics on my MFL list, since I’ve nothing new to add to my original lists <3

ACE SHERLOCK Pt 1.5: Marked for Later

Their Safe Haven by SwimmingBird (G, 846 w., 1 Ch. || Queerplatonic Romantic Relationship, Straight John/Ace Sherlock, Fluff, Love) – Written for the prompt: "Asexual!Sherlock/Straight!John in a queerplatonic romantic relationship. It’s a bit of an oddball, but anything fluffy and loving and nonporny will be endlessly and forever adored. It’s always fun to see the two work out that 'hey, we’re in love, we don’t have sex,' but it’s still a wonderful and meaningful relationship."

Bless You and Keep You by aceofhearts61 (M, 2,047 w., 1 Ch. || Rape/Non-Con, Ace Sherlock, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Non-Graphic Violence) – In which Sherlock is captured and nearly destroyed for being what he is. Part 14 of the A Love with No Name series

I Just Want You to be Happy by Sini333 (T, 2,177 w., 1 Ch. || Asexual Sherlock, Biromantic Heterosexual John, Establish Relationship, Overthinking Sherlock, They Need to Talk) – John and Sherlock have been dating for a while, and Sherlock starts to overthink. All he wants is for John to be happy. Part 5 of the JohnLock One-Shots series

In These Words, There Is Healing by ImpishTubist (G, 3,110 w., 1 Ch. || Ace Sherlock, Sherlock/Lestrade [not johnlock]) – Sometimes, on the very worst of nights, the only thing that can calm Sherlock's mind is the sound of Lestrade's voice. Part 4 of They're Gonna Be All Right

A Regular not at all Terrifying-for-unknown-reasons Conversation by Dodoa (T, 5,506 w., 1 Ch. || Asexual Sherlock, Unilock, Best Friends, Coming Out, Self-Discovery, Dialogue Heavy, Self Acceptance) – Sherlock is trying to work something out and goes to John for help. John might not have all the answers, but he's determined to help.

The Adventure of the High Grade, Uncut MDMA; or, Sherlock Holmes Rolls his Face Off by redbuttonhole (M, 7,259 w., 1 Ch. || Drug Use / MDMA, First Kiss, Friends to Lovers, Fluff, Asexual Sherlock, Cuddling, Hair Playing) – Sherlock accidentally doses himself with pure MDMA and has a LOT of feels. John is with him to babysit, and has some feels of his own. Extreme fluff ensues, but no sex. This is rated M for explicit drug use, NOT porn.

A Study in Asexuality by ladyxdarcy (M, 8,082 w., 1 Ch. || Asexual Sherlock, Bisexual John, Acephobia, Mentions of Rape/Corrective Rape Therapy, Past Suicidal Ideation, Implied / Referenced Drug Use, Overdose, Past Mary/John, Emotional Sherlock, Insecure Sherlock, Vulnerable Sherlock, Est. Rel., Angst with Happy Ending, Fluff) – When Sherlock, asexual to his core, fears that John may grow bored of a sexless life, he decides to do whatever it takes to make John happy so he stays. Good thing John is already happy.

What Would Sherlock Do? by EinahSirro (T, 9,359 w., 1 Ch. || Fluff and Humour, Psychological Warfare) – John Watson comes to the conclusion that Sherlock Holmes should be his lover. But how does a (mostly) straight man seduce a (possibly) asexual genius who can spot any maneuvering a mile away? Well, John asks himself, what would Sherlock do? Part 1 of the What Would Sherlock Do? series

The Body by ButterscotchCandybatch (E, 14,751 w., 7 Ch. || Asexual Sherlock, Blow Jobs, Hand Jobs, Vibrators, Intercrural Sex, Asexuality) – Sherlock asks for John. Not to get him a pen, or make him tea, just John. He apparently wants John’s body. On the couch. Right now. For a case, of course. Asexual Sherlock. Not-so-asexual John. John’s POV (mostly).

Living Witness by ImpishTubist (E, 20,777 w., 4 Ch. || Past Sherlock/Victor, Past John/Mary, Sherlock/Mary, Angst, Language, Character Death, Asexuality, Sexual Content, Kid Fic, Fluff, Violence, Paternal Lestrade, Domestic Violence) – Alice Watson is four months old when her father walks out of her life. Part 1 of Living Witness

Indecorous by Basingstoke (E, 55,424 w., 25 Ch. || Asexual Sherlock, Bondage, Squirting, Hangover, Nightmares, PTSD, Threesome [J/S/Mary], Triggers) – In which John learns to balance a kinky girlfriend, an asexual boyfriend, a ten-inch cock, his sister, the neighbours, his friends, and his blog. Some are more balanced than others. Part 2 of the Yes Yes Yes series || Part 23 of the Author’s Favorites series

Horse And Carriage Series by flawedamythyst (T, 60,284 w. across 14 works || Asexuality, Proposals) – Sherlock proposes. John thinks the whole idea is ludicrous.

I'm coming home, John. -SH Series by Ranowa (M, 67,247 w. across 3 works || Post-TRF, Angry John, Idiots in Love, No Mary, Drug Use/Substance Abuse, Emotional Rollercoaster, Violence, Implied/Referenced Torture, PTSD Sherlock, Recovery, Sherlock’s Violin, Angst with Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, Asexual Sherlock) – In the two years after Sherlock throws himself off the roof of St. Bart's, crunches into the pavement below, and dies in John's arms, John starts texting. He doesn't know that his text messages are being read.

Winter's Child Series by Canon_Is_Relative and ImpishTubist (M, 116,608 w. across 26 works || Post-TRF, Asexual Sherlock, Asexual Relationship, Language, Paternal Lestrade) – Sherlock and John are in the process of becoming something more after the events of "Reichenbach," but a disagreement threatens all they are to one another.

All the Best and Brightest Creatures by wordstrings (E, 188,426 w., 33 Ch. || Case Fic, Action/Adventure, POV First Person, Alternate Canon, Romance, Hurt / Comfort, Love at First Sight, Asexuality, Kidnapping, Torture, Drug Use/Addiction) – Sherlock sent Jim Moriarty to prison for killing Carl Powers at age ten. This is the story of the consequences.

Shadow Child by Kourion (M, 288,426+ w., 42/? Ch. || WiP || Aftermath of Violence, Past Abuse, Sharing a Bed, Childhood Sexual Abuse, Injury Recovery, Eating Disorders, Asexual Sherlock, First Person POV) – What the hell does it matter if my words upset him, when he's so obviously out of control? “I think you know what this is. I think you know that you have an eating disorder. And I think you are scared.” Sherlock blinks at me, his throat still swallowing. He has a wild look in his eyes that I don't like, so I push back against my chair, stand up, and go towards him.

#steph replies #johnlock fic recs #asexual sherlock #ace sherlock #my fic recs #to read #Anonymous #bonus one for you today <3

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wherevermyway · 4 years ago

Text

like covalence // binchan // oneshot // 18+

❄ part of yuki’s favourites! ❄

pairing: bang chan x seo changbin | past lee minho x seo changbin rating: explicit! 18+ warnings/tags: friends-to-lovers, past character death, angst, hurt/comfort, insomnia, explicit sexual content. also, this fic is soft as hell and i love it, okay? word count: 9,746 also on AO3

originally posted: 09 december 2020

Waking up in the middle of the night to surprise phone calls always caused a panic to arise in Chan. The last time he received a call so early in the morning, it was his best friend, Changbin. He was panicking because his boyfriend was admitted to hospital and was dying.

This phone call, however, isn't nearly as horrifying. Changbin is having a bad bout of insomnia, nightmares preventing him from sleeping, and he needs a little help. So, Chan offers to talk him through it. Neither of them, however, expect for their conversation to take such a dramatic turn.

Sometimes, two people are meant to be together, their attraction pulling them into each other to make something greater, like covalent bonds.

disclaimer: this is a work of fiction! any reference to persons in this work of fiction are purely coincidental. the characters referenced from Stray Kids are interpretations loosely based on their personalities in the group and do not represent the real people behind the personas. if this, or any of the content included in the warnings above make you uncomfortable, please stop reading now.

Phone calls at two in the morning were never good. When Chan’s phone trilled, ripping him from his dream, he bolted upright, eyes still glued shut from sleep. He reached over to the nightstand, miscalculating the distance and mistaking it for his nightstand back home. A sleepy grumble rumbled in his throat as he pushed himself further and managed to half-open one of his eyes. The bright screen caused him to squint his half-open eyelid further closed in discomfort.

Changbin. Shit, why was Changbin calling him at two in the morning? The last time Changbin called him in the middle of the night… No, it was probably something minor. It had to have been minor.

Chan fumbled his thumb a bit, swiping his finger against the bottom of his phone to accept the call. “Bin? What happened?”

“Shit, I knew this was stupid,” a low voice echoed in Chan’s ear canal. “You…” the voice trailed off. The younger man cleared his throat on the other end of the line and sighed. “You said I could call you if I ever needed anything, right?”

“Did you get thrown in prison or something?”

“What? No, dude.” Changbin squeaked, then cleared his throat again, lowering his voice. “Why would you think that?”

Chan groaned, turning to the desk lamp on the nightstand, fumbling with the drawstring to turn it on. “It’s two in the morning. You don’t sound panicky, so I figured nobody died or some—” Oh. Chan’s eyes go wide, and he slaps his forehead as he realizes the gravity of what he just said. “Shit, sorry, I didn’t mean it like that.”

Changbin decidedly ignores Chan’s statement, and is quiet for an extended pause. “I can’t sleep, Chan.”

“Again?”

There’s a whimper on the other line. “It’s getting out of hand, dude. I’m starting to see shit, hear things that aren’t there. I try so hard to fucking sleep, but whenever I close my eyes, I just feel so tense. I can’t stop thinking. He’s there, he’s everywhere. The dripping of his IV, the beeping of the machines, the alarms, how fucking pale he looked. God dammit.”

Chan settles up against the flat pillow of his hotel bed, bringing the back of his hand to his forehead as he stares up to the ceiling. “You’re having nightmares about Minho again, aren’t you?”

There’s a bit of a sniffle that comes from Changbin. “Yeah. I know it’s only been ten months, and I can’t imagine what I’m gonna be like when the anniversary comes around. All I know is that I miss him and it fucking hurts.”

“You’ll get through it, Binnie. I’ll be there with you once I’m back from this business trip in a couple of days.”

“That’s not gonna help me sleep right now, though.”

“I’d get on a flight back to Seoul right now if I could, just to smack you upside the head really good and knock you out that way.”

Both of them laugh. “That might be the nicest act of violence someone’s ever threatened me with,” Changbin quips.

“I do what I can.” A soft laugh comes from Chan. “I mean it, though. I’m here for you, Binnie. Let it all out. Maybe it’ll help you sleep.”

“Can I,” Changbin pauses, and there’s some shuffling on the other line. “It’s gonna sound kinda stupid, but I wanna see your face. Are you decent enough for video?”

Chan’s face flushes, and he runs his lips in between his teeth for a moment, releasing them with a pop. “Yeah. Hair might be a mess, though.”

“Your hair’s always a mess.”

“Man, fuck you.” They laugh again, and Chan pulls his phone away from his face, tapping a couple of buttons on screen. “Gimme a sec and… okay, there.” There’s nothing but black on Chan’s phone for a bit. Shortly after that, there’s some shuffling and choice words coming from Changbin’s line as he turns a light on.

Chan sees what he assumes to be Changbin’s ceiling, until the younger man comes back into view, grabbing his phone, running fingers through his black hair. “I wasn’t expecting that without notice. You could’ve warned me,” he whines. There’s a bit of a glare reflecting on his glasses for a moment as he flops down onto his pillow. “Man, you look pretty out of it.”

“You woke me up at two in the morning, dude, what were you expecting?” Chan rolls his eyes, feigning irritation, but the way a smile creeps up on his face, showing off the dimple in his cheek, throws any sense of seriousness out of the window. “Those bags under your eyes aren’t helping you, either.”

Changbin frowns and flips off the camera. “You’re an asshole.”

“I could hang up the phone right now,” Chan shrugs.

“Please,” Changbin’s face twisted into a pout, “don’t hang up on me.” There was a sadness reflected in his eyes, something that looked like it had been building up for a while. The younger man turned onto his side, towards the light on his desk, and a tear fell down the side of his face. “Sorry, I know you were joking, it’s just… I’m tired of being alone, Chan.”

The older man pursed his lips, knitting his brows together as he shifted into a more comfortable position. “You’re never totally alone, Bin, you know? I’m here for you. I might not be able to be there right now with you, but I—”

“Can I move in with you?”

The question caught them both off guard.

“Wait, shit,” Changbin shook his head and groaned, burying his face into his pillow. “That was horrible timing. Fuck.”

Chan scoffed. “Of course you can move in with me. That sounds kinda nice, actually,” he smiled, showing off a bit of his teeth. “My apartment’s been quiet lately, anyways. Should probably try and settle down at some point, but I can’t seem to find the right person. While Jisung sure wasn’t good for me, I have to admit that it’s been so quiet since he’s been gone.”

“Oh, god,” Changbin awkwardly laughs, pulling his sweatshirt up over his chin and nibbles on the inner seam of the tip of the fabric. “You and Jisung,” his voice is slightly muffled through the sweatshirt, “you two were a clusterfuck of bad ideas. He was definitely not the right person for you.”

The older man scowls, staring directly at the tiny camera on his phone. “Come on, we weren’t that bad.”

“Chan,” Changbin stresses, rolling his eyes. “I really don’t need to remind you of the time you showed up at my apartment — unannounced, mind you — shortly after midnight, because you found out he was cheating on you the first time.”

“Alright, fine, I’ll give you that.” Chan shrugs. “That was over a year ago, though.”

“He cheated on you three times and you went back twice, dude. Twice!” They look at each other over the phone, and Changbin tuts, shaking his head in disapproval. “I’m glad you didn’t go back the last time.”

“Me too,” the older man huffs, then rolls on to his stomach. “He’s dating a new guy now. Some bakery owner. Think his name was Felix?”

Changbin drops the sweatshirt from his mouth and rolls onto his back. “At least he’s out of your hair now. You should seriously stop stalking him on social media.”

“I’m not stalking him!” Chan pleads, “Seungmin’s the one that told me when me met up a couple weeks ago. He thinks he’s doing me a favour by keeping tabs on my ex so that I don’t have to, or some shit.”

“You’ve got some weird friends.”

“You’re easily the weirdest of the group.” Chan smiles. “Kinda why I like you, though.”

Changbin’s eyes go wide for a very brief moment, easy to miss with how quickly it happened. He nervously laughs and looks away from his phone. “Yeah,” he says without confidence, rubbing his hand against his forehead.

“What?” Chan cocks his head to the side. “Should I not’ve called you weird?”

“Nah,” Changbin shakes his head and smirks, bringing his free hand down his face, covering his cheek and part of his mouth with his sleeve. “It’s fine, I am weird, it doesn’t bother me.”

“Why are you acting like it bothered you, then?”

Changbin waves his hand in front of his phone. “It’s nothing, dude. You’re reading too much into it. Anyway, don’t you have to work early tomorrow? I really shouldn’t be keeping you up so late.”

“Stop it,” Chan firmly presses and frowns. His tone causes Changbin to recoil and turn into himself a bit. “Don’t ever apologize for needing me. We’re best friends, this is what we do. So what if I’m a little tired for work tomorrow? I’ll get coffee and deal with it. You’re my best fucking friend and I’ll do anything for you. I can’t take away your pain, so this is the next best thing I can try to offer.”

“Chan,” Changbin starts, his eyes starting to turn glossy again. He opens his mouth to speak, but instead shakes his head, rolling onto his side and buries his face into his pillow. He drops his phone and Chan assumes that he’s about to start crying.

The older man stifles a sigh. “I didn’t mean to upset you, Changbin.”

“It’s not that, it’s just…” Changbin chokes a bit and muffles something incoherent into his pillow. Chan lets him unravel a bit, knowing that his friend clearly needs it.

The younger man never really showed his emotions to most people; Chan and Minho were likely the only two people that had seen Changbin cry so openly. He put on a tough exterior, only letting it fall just enough around their friend group. Until recently, Chan had only seen him cry a couple of times: once, when he got mad at Chan for going back to Jisung after being cheated on the first time; the second time was when Minho had died. Changbin had collapsed at his hospital bed and completely broke down.

Losing Minho really damaged Changbin. He had steeled himself further in never being outwardly emotionally vulnerable, but in response to suppressing his emotions so dramatically, he broke down like this more often than he would admit. There had been numerous times where Chan had called or stopped by, and it was obvious Changbin had been crying. His voice would be raspy, his eyes bloodshot, face flushed, and he was unusually withdrawn and reserved.

After a bit, Changbin cleared his throat. He didn’t pick up his phone, but continued the conversation as if nothing happened. “Sorry,” he chokes out, then clears his throat. “I don’t know what I did to get lucky enough to have a friend like you. I just,” the younger man sighs and his lips vibrate against each other with a hum, “you and Minho are the world to me, and now Minho is gone. I’ve only got you. I love you, man.”

“I love you too, Changbin.” There was a burning building up in Chan’s chest, almost like he wanted to cry because he knew that his friend was so miserable; it felt like he was going through the emotional turmoil himself. “If I could take away the pain of your loss, I would.”

“I couldn’t put you through that, dude.” Changbin picks up his phone, pointing it back down to his reddened face. “You know, I watched a movie once. Don’t remember what it was called, but there was a quote that stuck with me for a while.” He looks far past the camera, up towards the ceiling. “I didn’t really get it until after Minho died. The quote was something like, ‘there’s a poem at the temple called loss. It has only three words that the poet has scratched out, since you cannot read loss, only feel it.’ It hurts, but it’s true.”

“We watched that movie together, you dumbass,” Chan scoffed, then laughed. “Memoirs of a Geisha or something.”

“Oh,” Changbin laughs softly, biting his lip. “That was our in-house double date, wasn’t it?”

“Yeah,” Chan smiles, fondly looking back on the memory, and how Changbin seemed so happy with Minho. His smile was so bright, so carefree, so full of light and love, so much softer than it was now. “Minho picked the movie at random and none of us were really paying attention to it because we got kinda drunk. It was fun, though.”

A smile spreads across Changbin’s face. “That was a good time. Jisung was kind of annoying that night, but you looked really happy with him.”

“He was just awkward. Barely knew you two, so I can’t really blame him.”

A tsk. “Dude, you gotta stop defending him,” Changbin cocks his eyebrows and shakes his head. “Look, I should’ve told you sooner, but you always deserved better than him. I always thought he was so shallow and one-sided. Like, he never looked at you like you were his first priority in life.”

Chan tries to think of something to say in response, but simply shrugs his shoulders. “I guess you’re right.”

“I know I’m right, dude. You need someone that loves you like—” Again, Changbin’s eyes go wide, as if he catches himself about to say something stupid, then he shakes his head. “Someone that loves you like you truly deserve. Like you’re their reason for waking up in the morning, someone that’s always happy to see you and will accept you for who you are, no matter what. Chronically messy hair included.”

A gnawing feeling envelopes Chan’s abdomen, causing him to feel a bit uneasy. “Someone like a best friend,” he mutters, then quickly realizes how that comes off and corrects himself, “someone like Minho was to you, yeah?”

Changbin nods, but there’s a strange tension between them now. They stare at each other with slight nervousness behind their eyes. “Like Minho, yeah, or,” Changbin says each word as clearly as possible, looking like he was carefully thinking over what he was saying, “someone like a best friend.” The words came out slowly, with calculus. He knew what he had said, and exactly how it was going to be interpreted.

The feeling in Chan’s stomach had ballooned across his entire torso as he realized what was really happening between the two of them. “Changbin,” he manages to squeak out, nearly dropping his phone on his face from how badly his palms had started to sweat. “There’s something I’ve gotta ask.” Chan sits upright, too enveloped in the moment to pay attention to how he looks on camera.

Changbin sits up, too. He brings the hem of his sleeve up to his mouth and anxiously chews at it as he nods. “What is it, Channie?”

The older man tenses at the nickname rolling off his friend’s tongue. Changbin very rarely ever called him Channie, and that somehow made him all the more nervous. “I,” he stutters out, “maybe I’m just reading into this too much, but there’s something happening here, isn’t there?”

“Something…” Changbin shrinks into himself a bit, looking down at his sleeve.

They sit in awkward silence for several moments too long. The discomfort was overtaking Chan, and he felt like he was about to explode, until he decided he couldn’t take it anymore. He let all of his pent up thoughts spill from the bottom of his heart. “It started before Minho. Years before Minho, I know it. Back at the end of high school.”

The younger man peers over the frames of his glasses, but doesn’t move, nor does he say anything.

“I think we were too stupid to realize it when we were younger. Probably too afraid to act on it and fuck up our friendship. God,” Chan wipes his face, not realizing that the nervousness of pouring out all of his feelings had caused a couple of tears to spill from his eyes. “You started dating Minho after we started our senior year of university. I remember you being really scared about it, saying you were worried you weren’t the right person for him, but now I think you were worried he wasn’t the right person for you.”

Changbin buries his face into his elbow, saying nothing.

The burning in Chan’s abdomen starts to alleviate a bit, like a knot is unravelling, but the nervousness still courses through his veins. He was in too deep to stop now. “You got lucky with him, and I know you loved him as much as he loved you. You deserved someone like him, Binnie, you really did. It was unfair that Minho was taken from you so early.”

A choked noise comes up from Changbin as he drops his phone, the camera angled in such a way that Chan can see him pull his knees into his chest as he tries to avoid crying again.

“I know you miss him, and you should. But you’ve been running to me a lot ever since you lost him. I don’t believe it’s because you have no one else to turn to, nor do I think it’s an unhealthy thing. Clearly, we trust each other a lot.” Chan took in a long, deep shaky breath. There was no turning back, so he was going to pull out all of the stops. “You’re my best friend, Changbin. I love you and that’s never gonna change. But, it’s only fair that you know that I love you as more than just a friend, and I’m gonna guess that you love me like that, too, even if you don’t admit it.”

“Channie,” the younger man whines, still curled up in himself.

“You know I’d do anything for you, Bin. I’ve always said that, and I’m always going to mean it. I’m gonna say it again, and I want you to hear it clearly: I love you, Changbin.”

There are tears rolling down Chan’s face, now. Not tears of sadness, but tears of relief. The knot that had been coiled up inside of him for years had finally unravelled, causing all of the tension built up inside of him to finally release.

“I,” Changbin lifts his head from his elbow, then shakily reaches for his phone, bringing it up to his face. “I love you, too. I have for so long, but I didn’t realize that’s what it was until after Minho died. I just thought I was being an idiot about my feelings, and..” His voice trails off, and he closes his eyes, shaking his head. “I didn’t wanna lose you, Channie.”

“You idiot,” Chan scoffs, wiping his face. “It’d take a lot more than that to scare me away. We know too many dark secrets about each other to have something threaten our friendship like that.”

“You mean too much to me,” the younger man whines, tucking his chin into his chest. “It sounds nice, though.”

“What does?”

“You telling me that you love me. It feels different now, but I love hearing it.” Changbin flops backwards onto his pillow, turning his head to the side so he can rest his phone against the pillow as he closes his eyes. “It’s like the way a satisfying chord hits in a song and you just feel warm in your entire body.”

Chan hums, gently rolling onto his back, imitating Changbin’s positioning. “That’s oddly specific.”

A grin spreads on the younger man’s face. “I haven’t slept in thirty-six hours, dude. Let me be weirdly specific.”

“Changbin,” Chan whispers with a smile.

“Hmm?” Changbin cocks his head upward.

“Look at me.”

The younger man whines as he opens his eyes. “What?”

“I wanted you to see my face when I tell you that I love you.”

There’s a soft shade of scarlet that tints Changbin’s face as he parts his lips, mentally replaying the words over in his head. “Say it again.”

“I love you, Changbin.”

“Yeah,” the younger man closes his eyes again, smiling widely. “I love you too, Chan.”

“I suppose that does sound good, doesn’t it?”

Changbin softly nods his head and hums.

“Are you falling asleep on me?” Chan’s eyes grow heavy as he watches Changbin slowly melt into his pillow.

“No,” the younger man whines, pulling his brows together, as if he were going to protest. “Insomniacs don’t sleep, stupid.”

Chan smiles a bit and nuzzles his cheek against his pillow. “Yeah, yeah,” he closes his eyes and listens to Changbin’s breathing on the other line. “Insomniacs…” his voice trails off as he drifts into sleep.

“Fuck!” Chan bolts upright in a cold sweat as the soft rays of dawn start to pour into his hotel room. He looks over his shoulder at the digital clock, reading 05:47. Once he realizes he hasn’t slept through his alarm, like he did in his dream, a sigh of relief escapes his lips. He unceremoniously flops back down onto his pillow, grabbing his phone to watch Changbin.

The younger man is still asleep, covering his face with his elbow. Some soft snoring can be heard if Chan really focuses on it, and taking in the moment warms his heart. There’s a moment where Chan realizes something, and he gets a look of determination on his face as he taps around on his phone.

“Oh, that’s perfect timing.” He mutters some other words incoherently to himself as he continues tapping away until he sends off something and relaxes. “Well, that’ll take care of that.”

Changbin didn’t mean to pass out on the line, but it was inevitable. For the first time in months, he actually felt relaxed enough to sleep for longer than a couple of hours at a time. His eyes fluttered open, greeted by the sunlight from his window. It felt later than Changbin expected as he stared out at the Seoul skyline. He sleepily reached for his phone, not surprised that the call had been terminated.

It was 09:13. He had a mass of texts from Chan, which he immediately opened after he unlocked his phone.

06:57 | chan: ok so i’ll admit i’ve been up for a while just staring at you, watching you sleep and it’s just 06:58 | chan: holy shit that sounds really creepy without context… whatever 06:59 | chan: i don’t know what to say 07:00 | chan: i love you binnie 07:01 | chan: sorry i have to cut our video call short before you wake up but i’m glad you finally slept for once 07:02 | chan: i’ve got a busy day ahead of me but we should chat later, yeah? 07:02 | chan: gonna say it again just because i can, you can’t stop me 07:03 | chan: no, literally, you can’t because you’re asleep lol 07:04 | chan: wow that was a stupid joke. anyway! 07:04 | chan: i love you, text me when you wake up

“Oh,” Changbin whispers to himself. Memories of the night prior had started to flood back up, causing him to flush in slight embarrassment. He really admitted that he was in love with his best friend, and he hadn’t just dreamt of it. It was completely unexpected, but he welcomed it with open arms.

He shot off a quick “morning, love you too, weirdo” text to Chan, still nervous over what exactly to say. Honestly, the encounter last night felt a bit like a fever dream, caused by his insomnia. He figured that he had exaggerated a bit of it, but these texts confirmed how real it all was.

Changbin stared at the ceiling for longer than he’d like to admit, eventually shifting his way to his feet, shuffling away to his washroom to shower. As he stripped his clothes off, nearly ready to step into the warm shower, his phone vibrated against the porcelain of the sink. Normally, he would have ignored it, but on the off chance it was Chan, he didn’t want to risk missing it.

09:40 | chan: “insomniacs don’t sleep” huh? 09:40 | chan: are you working today?

A bit of a grin curls up on Changbin’s face as he reads Chan’s messages. He shoots off a “nope, stuck at home so you should call me when you’re free” text, then sets his phone down on the sink before retreating off into the shower.

His shower is brief, just enough to quickly wash off. It couldn’t have been more than maybe eight minutes before Changbin was back out on the cool linoleum floor, rubbing a towel around his head, then wrapping it around his waist. As soon as the towel is securely tucked around him, he grabs his phone to see he’s missed two calls from Chan. He wastes no time returning the call, surprised when Chan picks up on the second ring.

“Changbin!” The excitement in Chan’s voice startles Changbin a bit. “I thought you said you didn’t have to work today?”

“I don’t,” the younger man grumbles, “I just wanted to take a quick shower. Didn’t think you were gonna be so quick to call me.”

“You said you’re staying home today, right?”

Changbin squints as he looks at himself in the mirror, parting his hair with a comb. “Yeah, I mean, I usually do on Sundays. Why?”

“What are you doing right now?” Chan sounds a bit too excited over the phone, causing Changbin to feel a bit suspicious.

“I just told you, dude,” he sighed, setting the comb down on the countertop. “I was showering, saw I missed a couple calls from you, so I’m standing in the washroom, freezing myself half to death because I didn’t grab any clothes to put on right after.”

There’s a deep breath on the other line. “Changbin,” Chan starts, his voice a bit nervous.

“What?”

“You should go to your front door.”

Changbin furrows his brows in confusion, shaking his head a couple of times. “Why?”

“Would you just trust me? Go on, just go.”

The younger man opens his mouth to protest, but the line goes dead. Changbin pulls his phone away from his ear, staring at the “call terminated” message on his screen before it disappears. “What a fucking weirdo,” he grumbles to himself, but makes his way out of the washroom and towards the front door anyways. “This is dumb,” but yet, he still unlocks his front door and opens it. He looks down at the ground, seeing nothing, then pulls the door back, looking at the front of it and, again, sees nothing.

“The fuck? Goddammit, Chan.” Admittedly, Changbin had gotten his hopes up that something or someone would be there because, honestly, why else would Chan have called him to tell him that, then hang up on him? As he slipped back behind the door, moving to close it, a familiar voice stopped him in his tracks.

“You know,” the voice chirps up from around the corner, and Changbin’s eyes go wide, “I did say I’d come by and smack you upside the head to knock you out, but you already slept. Guess I’ve gotta come up with something new, huh?” Chan came around the corner, wearing a cocky grin as he made eye contact with a very surprised Changbin.

“I thought,” the younger man shakes his head in shock, “you weren’t supposed to be back for… how are you even?”

Chan shrugged his shoulders and waved a hand in the air. “I may or may not have fabricated a bit of a lie, saying that someone I knew was sick and I needed to come back to Seoul to take care of them. They didn’t need me there to begin with, anyways.”

The air between them is tense, but not with a nervous tension. There’s a pining energy between both of them, causing Changbin to take an inviting step back as Chan steps forward into his apartment. He swallows hard, letting go of the door as he backs up into the wall. “So, this person that’s sick, I assume you mean that’s me?”

The older man closes the distance between them, and the front door slams shut. “Yeah,” Chan lowers his voice. “Guess you’ve come down with something.”

“That’s a drag,” Changbin’s voice quivers a bit with nervousness, yet he confidently looks up at Chan. “Suppose I need someone to help take care of me with whatever I’m sick with, huh?”

Chan takes his hands, placing one on Changbin’s hip, and places the other one on the side of his neck. The touch causes the younger man to shiver and melt into his hand, softly exhaling. “Lovesickness,” Chan whispers with a coy smirk on his face, craning his head down next to Changbin’s ear. “There’s only one thing that cures that.”

Changbin wants to laugh at the stupidity of how cheesy that sounded, but instead, he found himself bringing his hands up to Chan’s back, digging his fingers into the soft cotton of his shirt. He gently rubs his cheek against the older man’s, whispering into his ear. “How are you going to cure me?”

“With this kind of sickness,” a quiet tsk comes from Chan, and it causes the hairs on the back of Changbin’s neck to rise, “the only thing I can do is give aggressive treatment.”

Before Changbin can make a proper comeback, Chan takes the hand around the younger man’s neck, sliding his thumb around his jawline to get a steady grip. The older man pulls back, making brief eye contact with Changbin before he hastily brings their faces together, crashing their lips against each other.

There’s soft electricity that bounces between the two of them, like this moment was meant to happen for so long, and there was finally a delicious payoff. Changbin expected more awkwardness between them for their first kiss, but everything just blended together. He drags a hand up to Chan’s neck, pulling him in closer.

Chan chuckles against Changbin’s lips, opening his mouth a bit as an invitation. The younger man wastes no time pressing his tongue forward, rolling it around cautiously against the older man’s tongue. He accidentally lets out a bit of a whine, which causes Chan to pull the two of them together, subconsciously grinding up against one another.

Changbin pushes up against Chan, bringing his hands down the older man’s body, down to his hands. He pulls away from the kiss, tugging at Chan’s hands. “Come on,” he whispers, “I don’t wanna wait anymore.”

“Impatient, are we?” Chan grins, not budging as Changbin tries to pull him along.

“It just feels,” there’s a pause as Changbin sheepishly looks down at his feet. “Feels like it should happen, you know?”

Chan shakes his head and scoffs. He pulls back, then ducks down and scoops Changbin up under his knees and pulls him off the floor and into his chest.

“The fuck are you doing?” Changbin practically shouts, eyes wide with panic as he’s hoisted up into the air.

“Working on giving you what you want, duh.”

Changbin huffs in embarrassment, but still wraps his arms around Chan’s neck. “Awfully brash of you, don’t you think? We’re not even dating, dude.”

“Oh, come on. You were thinking about this, too. You literally just said it feels like it should happen,” Chan scoffs as he maneuvers them both through the bedroom door. “Like not dating someone ever stopped either of us from sleeping with people in university. If you’re worried I’m gonna see you naked and be upset,” he pauses, gently placing Changbin onto his bed before crawling over him. “Well, I mean, really, every time we’ve gone to the gym together? Really?”

“Your arrogance truly knows no bounds,” Changbin frowns as he quips.

“Admit it,” Chan smirks, “it’s a big reason you love me, isn’t it?”

The words cause Changbin’s brain to short circuit for a minute before he rapidly blinks himself back to reality. “Yeah,” he sputters out, “yeah, I love you. All of you. Your stupid arrogance and all.”

It’s apparent that Chan wasn’t expecting such a serious response, but he smiles genuinely down to Changbin. “I love you too, Binnie.” He presses a quick peck to Changbin’s forehead, then pulls back and grins. “It’s way better saying that in person.”

“It’s better hearing it in person, too,” Changbin reaches his hands up to Chan’s face, pulling him back down for a proper kiss. “It’s not fair, though,” he whines in between kisses, “you’re a bit overdressed for the occasion.”

“That so, eh?” Chan pulls back, sitting on his heels. “Guess we’re gonna have to do something about that.”

Changbin sits up and cocks an eyebrow and smirks with arrogance. “Way ahead of you.” He reaches down to the bottom of Chan’s shirt and pulls it up, the older man easily complying with his nonverbal demand. Changbin haphazardly tosses the shirt to the floor, then catches himself staring a bit too long at Chan’s torso. “Oh,” he manages to breathe out. “I must not have looked at you close enough the last time we worked out, because this definitely would have gotten stored in my head for later.”

“For later?” Chan smirks.

“Wait,” Changbin vigorously shakes his head and his face reddens. “No, no, no, not like that. I mean, yeah, I would be lying if I said I didn’t think about it, but I wouldn’t just…” He stops speaking, and sighs heavily, burying his head in his hands with embarrassment. “Fuck.”

“You think about me, hmm? You only think about me, or is there something more to that blush you're trying to cover up?”

There’s an awkward pause between them, and Changbin grumbles something to himself before speaking coherently. “Goddammit. Fine, yeah. But only, like, a couple of times.”

Chan reaches forward, gently pulling Changbin’s wrists away from his face, forcing them to make eye contact. “Guess it’s only fair to tell you that the feeling’s mutual,” he whispers.

“What? Seriously?”

“Yeah, but that’s not important right now, not when I’ve got the real thing in front of me.” Chan shrugs and presses a quick peck to Changbin’s lips, then continues offering small kisses down his jawline to his ear. He takes the lobe between his teeth and softly nibbles on it. “Tell me about what you think about when you think of me. Maybe I’ll make it happen.”

Changbin squirms, gasping softly as a jolt runs through him when Chan rolls the sensitive flesh between his teeth. “All I can think about is the fact that you’re still overdressed,” he manages to speak, his voice airy and distracted. Changbin’s clammy fingers tremble as they dance down Chan’s shoulders, down his torso. “You wouldn’t be this dressed if I were to think something distasteful about you. Hypothetically, of course.”

“Hmm,” Chan steadies himself on his knees, reaching down to grab Changbin’s wrists. He pulls them up and brings the younger man’s arms above his head, looking down with confidence. “Have a little patience.”

“I don’t wanna be patient.” Changbin pauses, darting his eyes down, pursing his lips together. “I’ve been waiting for what feels like years, Chan.” His words come out at a low voice as he nervously mutters down into his chest.

Chan must have picked up on the nervousness the man beneath him was feeling. He takes one of his hands and gently lifts Changbin’s chin up. “Look at me,” he whispers as they make eye contact. “Trust me, I’ve been waiting for this for a while, too. I don’t wanna fuck it up,” he sighs and his confident aura drops a bit, “and I guess I’m a little nervous, too.”

Changbin frowns slightly. “Are you hesitating?”

“A little bit, I guess?” Chan shakes his head and shrugs. He scans Changbin’s eyes over a few times, then starts to pull back.

“No,” Changbin interrupts, taking his free hand and quickly pulling Chan in closer to him by the back of his head. They crash their lips together in an awkward, rough kiss. Chan lets go of Changbin’s wrist, softly caressing the younger man’s face as he pushes deeper into the kiss. “You wanna know what I think about?”

“What?” Chan’s response comes out muffled against Changbin’s lips.

Changbin takes Chan’s wrist, guiding his hand down to his neck. “I think about how your hands would feel here,” then he drags the hand down to his sternum, “how your fingernails would scratch against me here.”

Almost as if on reflex, Chan digs his fingers into Changbin’s skin, grazing them down ever so softly. “Like that?”

A soft gasp comes between Chan and Changbin in response. “Yeah,” the younger man breathes, letting go of Chan’s wrist. “I think about how your nails would feel as they dragged down my stomach, all the way down…”

Chan continues trailing his fingers down, as if Changbin’s words were a set of instructions. “Then what?” His fingers stop at the younger man’s hip bones, and he dips his thumb into the corner of the bone, causing Changbin to arch his back and break away from the kiss with a strangled cry.

“Fuck,” he whines, “I wasn’t expecting that.” He dips his head back down, looking up to the older man with nervousness and excitement.

“Well, what’s next?” Chan cocks his head to the side, brushing his thumb against the skin above Changbin’s hip bone. “What do you want?”

“Isn’t it obvious?” Changbin whines, rolling his hips up into Chan’s touch. “I want you, Chan.”

For a fleeting moment, a soft smile appears on Chan’s face, before he takes his hand and slides it down, hooking into the towel around Changbin’s waist. This causes the younger man’s eyes to go wide. He licks his lower lip, then nibbles on it as he anxiously nods. “Please,” he whines.

Chan tugs at the taut towel, eventually causing it to unravel. Changbin sighs in approval, letting his eyes flutter shut. He keeps his eyes closed until he feels the bed shift and sees Chan rifling through his nightstand. “What are you doing?” He grumbles, frowning at the distraction. “Why are you going through my shit? Are you looking for something?”

“Yeah,” Chan bites his tongue as he sifts through various papers and paraphernalia in the drawer. “Where the fuck is your lube?”

“Have you ever thought about asking, dude?” Changbin rolls his eyes and moves to the nightstand on the opposite side of the bed. “You really think I’m dumb enough to keep it in the nightstand that’s close to my bedroom door?”

“Come on,” Chan pulls back a bit, desperately trying not to let his eyes wander down. He watches Changbin rifle through his belongings, as he brings his fingers to the waistband of his jeans. The button pops out of the hole effortlessly, and he can’t help but feel relieved as he tugs the zipper down, giving his erection a little bit of relief as it presses up against his boxer briefs.

“Here,” Changbin says, tossing the bottle of lube over towards Chan, not realizing that he wasn’t prepared to catch it. The bottle smacks Chan in the chest and falls just to the side of Changbin’s legs, somehow, thankfully missing any tender areas.

“Ow,” Chan rubs his chest and glares at the younger man. “Why the fuck did you throw it at me?”

Changbin, however, doesn’t respond. He finds himself too distracted by the way the colour of Chan’s navy briefs complements his skin. His head slowly tilts to the side and he stares at the outline of Chan’s cock against his underwear and he blinks a couple of times.

“Why are you staring?” Chan tuts, resting his hand on his hip. “You’ve seen it before.”

“Context,” Changbin shakes his head and stares up at Chan in disbelief before he sits upright, getting into the older man’s face. “Yeah, I’ve seen it, but like, I’ve never seen it like this. Not hard, and definitely not hard for me.”

A bit of a smile creeps up Chan’s lips. “You don’t know that. Maybe you didn’t pay enough attention before.” He winks as he hooks his thumbs into his jeans and underwear, making deliberate eye contact as he slowly pulls the clothes down.

It’s obvious that Changbin is desperately trying not to watch Chan’s clothes sink to the bed, pooling down at his knees. “I’m paying attention now, though.”

“I can tell. Now,” Chan grabs the lube next to Changbin’s leg and takes a finger, pushing it against the younger man’s chest, “lie down, so I can give you what you want.”

Changbin rests back on his elbows, still trying to maintain eye contact with Chan. “What makes you think I belong down here? Maybe I’d rather ride you?”

“Oh, please,” Chan rolls his eyes as he squeezes some lube onto his fingers, then haphazardly discards the bottle to the side of the bed. “I know you too well. You’re an observer, not a performer. You’d rather be down there watching me put in all the effort.” The older man winks and slides his fingers between Changbin’s legs.

A frustrated huff comes from Changbin as he lies fully on his back. “Yeah, yeah,” he frowns. “I guess you have a point. I’m not always like that, though. Besides, this lack of sleep has me exhausted, so I really don’t wanna put in too much energy.”

Chan raises one of his eyebrows as he teasingly rubs a finger around Changbin’s entrance, eliciting a soft gasp from the younger man. “You know,” he whispers as his index finger slowly glides inside, “I did just get on an hour-long flight on very little sleep to come and see you. I even lied to my boss, saying you were sick. Maybe I don’t wanna put in effort either, and maybe I do wanna watch you ride me.”

Changbin’s eyes shut tightly as he loses himself in the sensation of how Chan’s finger explores his insides. “We agreed, though,” he breathes out and grips the sheets underneath him, “lovesickness, or whatever stupid cheesy thing you came up with. You said you were going to ‘aggressively treat’ me, or something like that.” He opens one of his eyes and looks up at Chan. “So do it. Show me what you’re gonna do.”

“Oh, I’ll show you what I’m gonna do, all in good time. I do have to commend you, though,” Chan tuts as he slides his middle finger inside, causing Changbin to choke on his own saliva, “you’re a lot bolder than I expected you would be in the sheets. Always pinned you as the pillow princess type, and you’re kinda proving my point.”

“Fuck you,” Changbin shakes his head and growls at Chan. “I am not a pillow princess.”

Chan slips his middle finger completely inside and grins as Changbin’s cocky demeanour falters a bit in reaction. “You totally are. You wanna roll your head back and let go completely right now, that much is obvious. You’re just pretending to channel some arrogant energy and I see right through it.”

“I hate you,” Changbin spits through his teeth as he reaches up to Chan’s shoulders, gripping them tightly.

“No, you don’t.”

Changbin rolls his eyes and shoves Chan back a bit, then rolls him around onto his back, causing the older man’s fingers to slide out of him. “You specifically riled me up because you knew I’d do this, didn’t you?”

Chan, while still a bit shocked by Changbin suddenly reversing their roles, manages to flash a cheeky grin. “So, maybe I did? It worked, didn’t it?”

“You’re insufferable, you know?” Changbin rolled his eyes, then grabbed Chan’s lubed hand as he positioned himself over Chan’s stomach. “I’m not done with you, yet, though.”

Picking up on Changbin’s intentions, Chan moved his hand closer to the inside of Changbin’s thighs. He worked his fingers back inside the younger man, causing him to stumble forward a bit and grab the headboard. “So nice of you to consider my exhaustion in all of this.”

“Yeah, yeah,” the younger man sighed. “I still can’t believe you think I’d lay here and do nothing, though.”

“Come on,” Chan scoffs and slowly works his ring finger inside, making Changbin dig his nails into the headboard a bit harder. “I don’t actually think that. Honestly, I have no idea what to expect from you. All I know is that you’re easy to rile up.”

“Seriously? Fuck you,” Changbin whines with insincerity, arching his back as Chan’s fingers stretch him out.

Chan licks his bottom lip, nibbling on it a bit as he watches the arrogance dissolve from the younger man above him. He rotates his middle finger around, offering soft, circular strokes inside of him. When he pushes a bit firmer, it causes Changbin to twitch and let out a bit of a mewl. The older man arrogantly smirks, circling around the sensitive spot a bit more before he pulls each finger out slowly. As Changbin stares down at him in disbelief, Chan shrugs his shoulders. “You could do that. You seem stretched out enough to fuck me.”

For a moment, Changbin looks like he was considering saying something unsavoury, but instead bites his tongue �� literally. He shifts back a bit, then grabs the bottle of lube, carelessly squeezing some of it into his hand, then works some of it on to Chan’s cock. “So much for ‘aggressive treatment’, if I’m the one doing all the labour.”

“Hey now,” Chan breathes out, clearly enjoying the way Changbin’s hand feels on him. “Sometimes, you’ve gotta put in effort to be fully healed. Besides, I did my part in stretching you out.”

Changbin shakes his head in feigned irritation. “Yeah, I guess you’re technically right. Makes you the pillow princess now, though.” He playfully winks, then rubs up against the head of Chan’s cock to prevent him from protesting. Once he’s lined up, he slowly slides down, electricity coursing through his veins as the sensation of being filled overtakes him.

“Fuck,” Chan slaps a hand down on to Changbin’s thigh, rolling his head back into the pillow. “Bin, you feel incredible.”

“You’re not even completely inside of me yet,” the younger man’s voice trembles a bit as he grits his teeth. Changbin takes his hand, placing it on top of the hand on his thigh. They both scramble around for a moment, fingers shakily interlacing into each other. “Other hand,” Changbin whines, “gimme your other hand, Channie.” The older man obliges, reaching out to Changbin. They tangle their fingers into knots, and Changbin finally takes Chan fully inside of him, tightly gripping the fingers interlaced with his.

Changbin looks down to Chan’s torso, catching his breath as he lets his body acclimate to the feeling of being connected. Chan presses his elbow down into the bed, releasing his hands from Changbin’s, as he sits upright. He takes his other hand and grips the younger man’s surprised face. “I wanted to be able to kiss you,” he whispers, then tentatively presses his lips to Changbin’s forehead.

“You could’ve just told me,” Changbin sighs, not from irritation, but from contentment.

Chan tsks, kissing a line down from the younger man’s forehead, down his nose, then softly presses his lips against Changbin’s lips. “Wanted to be closer to you,” he punctuates the space in between each word with a quick peck. “I’m not gonna fuck you like a one night stand.”

“Ah,” Changbin nods his head once, grinding his hips up, “so you’re a romantic type, huh?” His voice quivers a bit, and he presses his forehead against Chan’s. “Guess I should’ve known.”

“Doubt you’d complain,” Chan whispers, digging his fingers into Changbin’s back and gripping his neck a bit firmer. “Are you ready, Bin?”

The younger man nods rapidly, hastily pressing his lips against Chan’s. “Yeah,” he affirms, dragging his teeth against Chan’s bottom lip.

The movements are slow, calculated. Chan rolls his hips up into Changbin, letting go of the younger man’s face, placing his arm behind him to support both of them. Changbin leans forward, pressing his weight into his knees as he holds both sides of Chan’s face between his hands. He lifts himself off of his heels, slowly making his way up and down Chan’s length, both of them working in tandem with each other.

“Chan,” Changbin whines, trying to connect their lips together as he gradually increases the pace at which he moves. “Tell me you love me.”

“I love you, Changbin,” Chan complies, bringing his hand up from the younger man’s back, digging his nails into the soft skin as his fingers glide up. “You mean everything to me.” He brings his hand to Changbin’s neck, stroking his cheek with his thumb. Chan breaks away from their sloppy kiss and presses his forehead to Changbin’s.

“I’m thankful you let me be your best friend,” Chan continues. “You’ve been there with me for over a decade now, and I know I wouldn’t have been able to get through half of the things I’ve been through without you.”

Changbin sarcastically scoffs, breathing heavily as he keeps riding Chan. “I wouldn’t be here,” he shudders as Chan rotates his hips up, changing the way he feels inside of Changbin, “fuck, I wouldn’t have made it through this last year without you.” The younger man whimpers a bit, trying to catch his breath. “I needed you, and you were there. I just, fuck— I love you, Chan. I love you, I love you so much.”

Chan pulls Changbin in closer, trying to kiss the younger man, making a pointed effort to make sure their lips connect. They awkwardly kiss a bit until Changbin moves his hands down to grab Chan’s shoulders, allowing for a bit more control. He moves faster, getting more of a verbal reaction from the older man underneath him. Changbin opens his mouth and Chan wastes no time pushing his tongue into the open space.

They let their tongues dance around each other, exploring the new unknowns, trying to memorize the warmth and dampness of the other’s mouth. Chan drops his hand from Changbin’s face, and the younger man pulls away to protest until he feels the warm hand wrap around his cock, his protest being replaced with a mewl.

“Sorry,” Chan pulls away with a gasp, looking at Changbin with a bit of embarrassment. “I’m already close and I wanted to make sure you got there, too.”

Changbin twitches and rolls his head back, letting out a desperate moan. “Chan,” he whines, “if you keep going, it’s not gonna take me long to…”

“I don’t care,” Chan interrupts, “I wanna see how cute your face looks when you come all over me.”

“Fuck you and your stupid, ah,” Changbin grits his teeth, losing his train of thought as he tries to contain his emotions and fails. “I’m gonna… Chan, I—” He involuntarily leans back on his heels, his head rolling back as his back arches. His shoulders roll up to his ears and he lets out a whine as his body convulses, cum shooting up into the air and landing on both of their stomachs.

Chan bites his lip as he watches Changbin fall apart in front of him. “Can I come inside?” His voice is breathless, words caught between pants as he continues rolling his hips, haphazardly thrusting upward as his motions become slightly jerky and more erratic.

The younger man pants as he nods and reorients himself, bringing himself to collapse into the chest in front of him. “Yeah, yeah, come inside me, Chan.” Changbin nuzzles his head up into Chan’s neck, then firmly sinks his teeth into the sensitive flesh in front of him, eliciting a small gasp from the older man.

“Changbin,” Chan whines, drawing out the last syllable of the younger man’s name as he curls inward and his body trembles. He grips Changbin’s back tightly, squeezing him into a close embrace as he comes. His body quivers for a few moments, then eventually calms down. As his breathing slows to a normal pace, Chan shakily sits upright, exchanging a smile with Changbin. He kisses the younger man’s lips softly, reaching up to his shoulders and pulls them both down to the bed.

A tiny squeal comes up from Changbin as he’s rendered horizontal. “Chan,” he whines as he tries to sit upright, but Chan pulls him into a deep kiss.

“Shut up for a minute,” Chan whispers against Changbin’s lips. They exchange tender, tired kisses for several minutes, until Chan pulls back. He looks up to Changbin, smiling softly. “I love you so much. I really do mean it, Bin. Like, you mean the world to me.”

“I love you too, Chan. More than I could put into words.” Changbin smiles back, brushing some of Chan’s stray hairs out of his face. “You also look really hot right now, literally and metaphorically.” He sighs, taking in the way Chan looks, glistening in sweat and covered in his cum. “As much as I love looking at you like this, though, we’re gross and should absolutely shower.”

“Ah,” Chan shakes his head, trying to force himself to stay awake. “Yeah, good point. Sorry to make you shower again so shortly after you already cleaned yourself up once.”

“It’s fine, I’d say it was a fair trade-off.” The younger man dismissively waves his hand in the air. He shudders as he gets off of Chan, making his way to his feet and offering a hand to the man curled up on the bed beneath him. “You can throw the sheets in the wash and help me make the bed later to make up for it, yeah?”

“Deal.”

Changbin rests his damp head against Chan’s chest, listening to the way his heartbeat thrums against the walls of his ribcage. “As much as I love hearing you tell me how much you love me,” he whispers, “I think listening to your heart might be my favourite thing.”

“Why’s that?”

“Means you’re alive.” Changbin lets his eyes flutter shut. “I could record you saying ‘I love you’ to me and listen to it over and over, but it would be hard to capture exactly how your heartbeat sounds over a recording.”

Chan laughs, the sound blending in nicely with his heartbeat. “As romantic as that sounds, you sound like a bit of a serial killer.”

“You never know,” Changbin tuts, tilting his head up to look at Chan. “I could be. Maybe I hide the bodies in my laundry closet.”

“Oh, please,” the older man rolls his eyes, “you don’t have it in you.”

Changbin walks his fingers over Chan’s chest, towards his nightstand, but stops halfway. “I could keep a knife in there, you know.”

Chan deadpans. “Dude, I know you have one in there.”

“What?” The colour drains from Changbin’s face.

“Yeah,” a laugh bubbles up from Chan’s stomach. “I mean, I don’t know where exactly you keep it, but you told me you had one in your bedroom somewhere. Remember that one time you told me that Minho wanted you to do some kinky shit with a knife, but you both chickened out because you were too afraid you were actually gonna hurt him?”

Changbin’s forehead collides against Chan’s sternum with a thud. “Fuck,” he groans, “I forgot I told you that.”

“You were drunk and Minho was really fucking embarrassed. ‘I can’t believe you’d tell Chan that!’, he yelled at you, and you were all like, ‘Chan knows everything about my sex life, I tell you this all the time!’ and then Minho threw the last of his rice at you and missed.”

Both of them laugh so hard, recalling the memory. “Oh my god,” Changbin doubles over as he laughs. “I totally forgot about that. Then he cried because he couldn’t believe he threw something at me, but then he was more upset that he had missed.”

Chan calmed his laughter down and sighed. “He was quirky. I liked that about him.”

“Me too.” Changbin wraps his arm around Chan’s torso and closes his eyes. “Sometimes, I can still hear his laugh when I walk through the empty apartment. It’s like I can see him on the couch, cats curled up in his lap as he had his feet up on the table, working on some management proposal.

“He’d bite his lip until it bled,” the younger man continued, “he’d get so focused on his stupid work projects. ‘I can’t let them be lost without me,’ he’d tell me after I would’ve scolded him. ‘Gotta make the transition easy, since it could be any day.’” Changbin sighed and shook his head, burying it further into Chan’s chest. “That idiot was more concerned about work than his own health.”

Chan brought up a hand to stroke Changbin’s damp hair. “Concerned over work and you. I think you forgot that he was always so worried about you.”

“Yeah, I know.” Changbin rubbed the back of his hand against the underside of his nose as he sniffled. “He put everyone before himself, which is probably why he got so sick so fast.”

“Hey, no, stop it,” Chan whispered, rolling on to his side as he pulled Changbin into an embrace. “You sound like you’re about to start blaming yourself for something you and I both know was out of your control.”

“But—”

“Changbin,” the older man interjects, “it was terminal. Sure, Minho dying was out of the blue, but you couldn’t’ve stopped it. None of us could have.”

There’s an air of tension in the room, silence filling the void for several moments. “You’re right, I know,” the young man buries his head into Chan’s chest. “Doesn’t make it suck less.”

“It doesn’t,” Chan agrees, “but you’ve gotta live on, keep living the best life you can in his memory.”

“I suppose you’ve got a point.” Changbin nuzzled his way around Chan’s chest to hear the older man’s heartbeat again. “Don’t leave me, Chan.”

“I would never dream of it.” Chan whispers as he runs his fingers through Changbin’s hair. “I’m never gonna leave you. I love you, Changbin.”

“I love you, too, Chan.” Changbin whispers back, and the two men lay there in silence, wrapped up in one another, until sleep overtakes them.

For the first time in nearly a year, Changbin finally slept through the night without a nightmare haunting him.

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