#parting song

[aggro-my-beloved]

Parting Song (QuinnxDarlin')

note: alt title is "tank is not okay" and (fun fact) this is the first piece i completed out of the entire Soulmate September installments. hope you enjoy!

pairing: QuinnxDarlin (post-romance), SamxDarlin' (romantic), DavidxDarlin' (platonic)

summary: *in which the last words your soulmate says to you are written on your skin, so you do not know it is them until they are gone* when you’re standing next to who you think is your soulmate, as you watch the real one whither away in a shitty steel department chair—how do you respond?

warning(s): mentions of violence and gore, past relationship trauma, mental health issues, a dickwad of an ex-bf, mature language

taglist: @ther3alsweetheart @darlin-collins @professionallyyappinabtangst @elles-roses @gremlin-writes-angst

“WHERE DO YOU THINK YOU'RE GOING?” Tank's knuckles are littered with bruises from this torturous rendezvous. They feel the viscous red substance of Quinn's DNA as it dries on their hands, pondering what true evil must taste like as the man behind them continues writhing in his cuffs. Bittersweet like their favorite coffee? A silver bullet flavor, maybe metallic? He has devoured them on so many occasions, stripping all the good from their aura, like licking icing on a cake he wants to have and eat too. Occasionally, they weighed: what withheld them from resorting to a disposition as brutal as his?

Sam. He sits on the other side of the one-way glass, observing every move of theirs and Quinn alongside David. Tank wonders if he noticed them licking their lips, pulling a deformed drop of blood below their nose to meet their tongue. Maybe he won’t see their thumbnail combing the side of their pointer finger for remnants—something for later, a souvenir of the man who made a game of his downfall. 

The red droplet is savory but salty from their sweat. A churning begins in their stomach as they start for the exit.  

When he commands them, “Sit", their footwork for the door halts. As David reminded them earlier, his core is muted. Tank only wishes they put a strip of duct tape over his mouth for good measure. Despite how many uppercuts they kissed his lower jaw with, his slow-swelling lips were unbeatable. “We’re not done here,” His voice echoes menacingly around the room. Though the vampire may not have sensed it, there was a finality to the way he spoke and the sound of Tank’s hand twisting the chrome knob. 

“You don’t get to walk away from me,” He strains again. 

They chuckle sadly, and swing the door closed behind them.

“COME HERE!” 

Then they choke. Every limb of their body becomes dominos as they crumple to the linoleum flooring in rapid breaths. David and Sam swarmed their hunched frame, instructing them to breathe between rapid questions. Pathetic, raspy pants and clammy palms against the floor clue the two in that something is not right. 

“Here, Darlin’ take that jacket off.” Tank refuses Sam’s request. They grip the cloth tighter against them despite a burning sensation in their arm and the melody of Quinn’s parting song coming from behind them. Maybe it is in their head. The lack of sleep this past week left Tank walking a fine line between reality and hallucination. 

David growls, growing pressed, “W-what happened? Did that fucker hurt you?” 

Oh, so many times of suffering beneath the vamp's thumb and fangs summon memories to flash across their mind. Tank, by default, was the one to writhe and plead in their relationship, while Quinn instigated. The burning on their forearm, where Quinn’s last demand stays etched onto the skin, fades into pins and needles. 

“I just don’t…feel well. Can we go home, please?” They look to Sam for assurance, but the sight of concern swimming in his blue eyes only causes a lump to swell in their throat. Their hands feel sweatier. Quinn is walking away with two black eyes, yet Tank’s orbitals already feel swollen from an onslaught of tears they are holding back. 

David and Sam exchange a glance, and the alpha nods approvingly. Tank knows it will not be long before Sam puts the pieces together; he viewed the script on their arm after the two formed their mate bond. This urged him to cast a compilation of scenarios in his mind where those would be his last words to them, and he struggled to picture them. Tank wasn't fooled either, but they never lost hope that Quinn would remain nothing more than a rotten egg in a bunch. At most, a lesson in dating. 

“So naive.” They whisper to themselves. Despite the thunderous rumble of his pickup truck, Sam’s ears perked up at their tone of disparity. 

“What was that, darlin?” They blink away the itchy-sweaty feeling tickling the surface of their eyes and hum. 

“Nothing. Don’t worry about it.” 

“Darlin’, with all due respect, telling me not to worry about you, right now or ever, is easier said than done.” His hands were at ten and two on the wheel, as if he aimed to display the constellation of bruises on his hands like trophies. The sight of his mate spiraling on the dirty department floor cued Sam to enter a hot, blinding rage. Escorting Darlin’ to his truck only took five minutes, except three were spent carefully storming into the improv interrogation room and laying even more damage into Quinn Fox’s dissatisfied expression. 

To cure the urge to scratch at the center of their forearm, where Quinn’s final declaration to them lies, they gnaw and bite and chew at their bottom lip until they draw blood. It’s warm and briny, mixed with salty ash from their tears moments before. The taste doesn’t enthrall them to the level that they expected. Quinn would lavish in the tang of their cells and skin pierced by his teeth like a prisoner granted his last meal. They peer at Sam in wonder. Would he enjoy the taste of them just as much? Bland gore mellows on their taste buds, imploring them to scowl and opt for their thumbnail instead. 

When they turn to view the landscape outside the window, Sam shifts his sight to the finger's edge dangling between Darlin’s teeth. He smells the dried blood caked underneath, and how their incisors desperately scrape up the evidence of Quinn’s clobbering. 

The two stay silent for the rest of the ride home. 

soulmate september schedule | main masterlist | abt author

[general-kalani]

Fellas does anyone know the full song to this:

I found it today while I was making gifs of one of the characters and it’s been living rent free in my mind because Linz has such a good singing voice and the song is so beautiful and it’s ANOTHER SONG I’m going to cry to in the future

[peacockstalemusicalstorytelling]

A wee sad one afore ye go. The most popular parting song until Burns wrote #AuldLangSyne So pretty they once believed it was written by Haydn. It wasn't.

[ylissebian]

WOMEN ARE MY FAVORITE GUY 💥

[pimsri]

In Defiance of Death

[juliangelart]

"I've been searching, all of my life,

Finally I've found my north star."

[rystiel]

i keep seeing people say the doctor shouldn’t have feelings for rogue because he’s married to river…? river song… who has also married multiple people… one of the most polyamorous characters in the show…?

[fence-time]

The creator

[loveexpelrevolt]

How about the winner get a kiss from the loser? Do you wanna end up in a coma? You can drain my energy any time, chère. Gambit has plenty.

GAMBIT & ROGUE | X-Men '97 1.03 "Fire Made Flesh"

[torsamors]

On Seatbelts and Sunsets - Hanif Abdurraqib

[hayden-christensen]

Death doesn't discriminate Between the sinners And the saints It takes and it takes and it takes

[teenbeachmovie3]

we're in love // boygenius ( ig: jayetart )

[astearisms]

fionna and cake drawings before and after watching the episodes so far. it’s nostalgic and somehow cathartic and poignant and relatable and—it just started

[catamaris]

loveit

[heartorbit]

figure skating set right now please. thanks

[pinacoladamatata]

you change.... everything