#partthree

[saintsnsinnersbdb]

Entangled Fates: The Call of the Black Window (Part 3)

Written by @Sox_Goose_Tech.

Vishous leaned against the bar, the low thrum of the club buzzing around him like a swarm of bees. The intoxicating mix of scents—sweat, perfume, and the faint tang of blood—filled his nostrils, but his mind was far from the revelry. It was locked on her: Zaerael. She had slipped away like smoke, leaving him alone with the electric tension that still crackled in the air. His heart raced, a primal hunger coiling in his gut. He didn’t like it; he didn’t like her.

A shot glass filled with a deep, dark liquid sat in front of him, untouched. He stared at it, willing his mind to clear, but the truth loomed larger than any drink. She knew him—knew his name, his vision, his darkness. It made his skin crawl and yet… there was something about her, a magnetic pull that was impossible to ignore.

He pushed off the bar, his tall, muscular frame cutting through the crowd with purpose. The pulsing beat of the music thrummed through him, a relentless reminder of the chaos that surrounded him. But he was far from chaotic; he was a predator in control, a master of the dark arts. He needed answers.

As he moved deeper into the club, he spotted a familiar face—a contact from the Brotherhood known for his connections within Caldwell's underbelly. Sael was leaning against a wall, a thin, wiry man with a penchant for gossip and a nose for trouble. Vishous approached him, his presence commanding respect, the air around him shifting with an unspoken authority.

"Sael," Vishous said, his voice low and steady. "I need information."

Sael's eyes flicked to Vishous, widening slightly at the urgency in his tone. "About what? You know the price, brother."

Vishous felt the tension coiling tighter in his gut. He was willing to pay whatever price was necessary. "Zaerael. What do you know about her?"

The change in Sael’s demeanor was immediate. He straightened up, the casual bravado slipping from his features. "You’re asking about the Black Widow? Dangerous territory, my friend. She’s not just a pretty face."

Vishous folded his arms, leaning in slightly. "I’m aware. Tell me everything."

Sael swallowed hard, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "She’s a siren of sorts, Vishous. Draws people in with her beauty, but there’s more—much more. She’s got power, a kind of magic that’s twisted and dark. The kind that leaves you… changed."

“Changed?” Vishous echoed, his interest piqued despite the warning bells ringing in his mind. "How so?"

"Those who get too close often don’t return the same," Sael continued, his eyes darting around the room as if afraid of being overheard. "Some say she can weave fates, manipulate dreams. She’s rumored to have visions of her own. Some even think she can see into your soul."

Vishous felt a chill run down his spine, the weight of Sael’s words pressing against him. This woman was more than just a passing intrigue; she was a force to be reckoned with. The connection they had felt—was it a bond, or a trap? "And what’s her endgame?" he pressed, not wanting to let the unease settle in.

"Power, control, influence. It’s all a game to her, Vishous," Sael said, his voice barely above a whisper. "She wants to be at the center of it all. And she’ll use anyone—or anything—to get there."

Vishous' jaw tightened, the growing sense of unease blossoming into something more visceral. This was exactly what he didn’t need—a powerful woman who could manipulate him or worse, make him vulnerable. He needed to tread carefully.

As if summoned by his thoughts, Zaerael reappeared, gliding through the crowd with an ethereal grace that made it hard for him to breathe. Her presence filled the space around them, a dark magnetism that drew the eye. She looked right at him, her gaze piercing and knowing, as though she could see through the layers of his defenses.

"Vishous," she said, her voice a silky caress that sent a shiver down his spine. "I see you’ve been busy."

He could feel Sael retreating into the background, the energy shifting around him as he faced her. Zaerael stood closer now, her dark aura palpable, a seductive darkness that wrapped around him like a cloak. "I don’t play games," he stated, his tone edged with warning. "What do you want from me?"

Her lips curved into a tantalizing smile, one that spoke of secrets and seduction. "I want you to understand the connection we share. The bond that was forged in the vision."

"You can’t just waltz into my mind and take whatever you want," he countered, crossing his arms tightly. "What you did was… invasive."

She stepped closer, her presence overwhelming. "But it was necessary. You needed to see, just as I needed to find you. We are entangled in ways you cannot yet comprehend."

Vishous held his ground, refusing to let her invade his space, even as his body betrayed him with the urge to pull her closer. "You think you know me? You don’t know a damn thing about the darkness that resides within me."

Her gaze darkened, an electric tension sparking between them. "And you underestimate me. You think you can resist this—this pull between us. But it’s futile."

His heart raced, the primal hunger threatening to overwhelm him, but he fought against it, determined to maintain control. "Why should I trust you? You’ve already proven you can manipulate my visions."

Zaerael tilted her head, an amused glint in her eyes. "Trust? Such a fragile thing. But think of it as an invitation to explore the darkness together. You may find that you enjoy the descent."

As she stepped even closer, he could feel the heat radiating from her, the intoxicating scent of her perfume wrapping around him like a drug. The hunger inside him surged, and for a moment, he was torn between wanting to push her away and pulling her closer, merging their fates in a whirlwind of desire and danger.

"You think you can control me?" he murmured, voice low and dangerous.

Zaerael's eyes flashed with something primal, and in that moment, it was as if the air between them shimmered with possibilities. "I don't want to control you, Vishous. I want you to embrace the darkness we both hold."

Just as their lips were mere inches apart, the atmosphere shifted—a crackle of energy that sent an electric thrill down his spine. He knew they were standing on the edge of something profound and dangerous, a precipice from which they could either soar or plunge into the abyss.

With a last, lingering gaze, Zaerael stepped back, breaking the spell that bound them. "The choice is yours, Vishous. But remember, every choice has its consequences."

And with that, she turned and disappeared into the crowd, leaving him alone in the swirling chaos of The Black Widow’s Web, the echoes of her words lingering in the air like smoke. The pull of her presence remained, a dark, seductive reminder of the fate that awaited him.

Vishous clenched his fists, uncertainty mingling with desire as he faced the abyss. The game had become more intricate, and he could no longer deny the truth: their fates were entangled in ways that could not be undone.

[faeromancenovels]

Bodies Call (2024) Part Three

“I told you you could talk to him.” Miani swirled her wine in her glass, smugly looking at Aira as they made their plates.

“We barely talked.”

“He ain’t spending that money on just any ole’ body and you know it.”

Her eyes shifted from Mia to Zen, already in the conversation pit rolling up while Johari told another one of his stories. She felt that jealousy again, the wine letting her mind wander so far that she barely noticed their eyes meeting until Mia said her name. 

“Oh bitch.” Miani clutched her pearls, quite literally. “You know I ain’t stupid, right? Y’all fuck before you got here?”

“Mia! No!” The two whisper yelling broke their eye contact. “I swear we didn’t, he waited downstairs.”

        If she had, Aira was sure she wouldn’t have shown up. She reached for a chocolate covered strawberry, biting into it to settle her nerves. 

“Well, you need to handle that, it’s like I can smell the horny in the room.” 

“You’re the one who requested red wine.”

The night carried on harmoniously. Everyone was stuffed, drunk and on their second jay, enjoying the music and each other’s company. The other two guys, Roman and Derek, Johari’s friend’s from back home, were playing uno on one side, and Mia was busy entertaining Kia and Isabella.

It was then that Zen leaned over and passed the jay to her, his hazy eyes slipping down to her lips, a moment she caught. She took it from his hand, muttering her thanks and looking at him with shy, but equally hazy eyes. The smoke in the room made his skin look like velvet, and as soon as he looked away long enough, she took her chances eyeing his lips in return.

Another hour went by everyone eventually getting sleepy, the blankets and pillows coming out of all sorts of storage containers. Aira got cozy on the far end of the pit, pulling her bonnet over her curls and pulling out her phone to scroll on for awhile. The cushions next to her sunk down, and her eyes yet again met Zen’s.

“You hitting this?” She didn’t understand how he rolled so quickly, she couldn’t get the hang if it.

“Sure.” She sat up, letting him sit closer to her, Zen taking his chance to get comfortable, his arm thrown over the back side of the couch while he lit the third and last jay of the night.

  Aira sat quietly, admiring the amount of heat coming off of him.

“You really ain’t got a man?” The question caught her off guard, turning more to face him.

“Why do you keep asking me that?”

He smiled, took a drag and passed it to her before he looked at her and muttered,  

“Just surprising. I thought you had one.”

“What’s surprising about it?”

“I only ever see you with Miani. You don’t go out or somethin’?”

            Aira passed the jay back to him, watching him take a longer hit than she had. She could’ve sworn he was getting closer, feeling their sides meld together, she realized he had. 

“Sometimes. I don’t come over on your side of the city that often though.”

“Mm.” He took a moment, blowing the smoke through his nose,  “Slide with me tomorrow night. Miani’s already coming since Johari’s going.” 

“Where? The club?”

“Yeah. Come out, I gotchu,” He passed it back to her, a small smirk on his face, to which Aira looked away from his eyes. 

“You don’t have to do all that, I can pay for my drinks.”

“I know, but I aint ask.”

    She paused, her eyes meeting his again, half of her was a little turned on by his assertiveness, and the other half didn’t want him to know that. She took a hit, maybe two before she spoke again, trying to put her words together. 

“Okay, I’ll go.”

“Here, put your number in my phone.”

Zen wasted no time, and Aira felt a wave of confusion as she took his phone and put in her number. When she handed it back, Zen handed it back again.

“If you don’t gon head and save your number.”

Their silence was, surprisingly, comfortable. Aira felt the space fill with his cologne, sandalwood. She picked the scent out quickly, having recognized it from her  childhood. He always smelled so good, she hated that she broke her neck every time he walked past her.

She hadn’t noticed his eyes on her, a smile on her face that seemed almost accidental.  She couldn’t deny it, she felt the tension between them building, but she wouldn’t make a move, opting to test the waters by leaning into his side. 

  His arm dangled down from the couch, fingers grazing her shoulder before they came to her arm, a new type of heat emitted from her face. The wine was catching up with the weed, a yawn coming from her.

“You mind, if I stay over here?”  

Aira shook her head, closing her eyes for what she thought was only a second. 

[bitsandpiecesaworkinprogress]

The Green Dragon Part Three

He didn’t know what to do. The princess would not be budged, and his knighthood had essentially depended on him being able to bring Beatrice, to her father. And in this foreign land he was nothing but an out of work squire with a horse. And so, after a while he was employed by the stable where he had previously been stabling his horse. They needed somebody to look after the horse and clean up after him. He was quite good at this, so he settled quickly. Sometimes he saw Beatrice around town doing errands. Looking at the town with new eyes, he realised why they’d been wary. Other knights and princesses had wandered this way before. But they liked Beatrice and the dragon well enough and came to accept that Richard also belonged after a fashion, all were outsiders. The armour that he’d spent so many energies sat in the corner of the room that he lived in.

Town gossip was quick and the news that there was another knight in town caused everyone to gawk at him. When Richard heard of the news, he realised that it was his old master. Sir Lewis picked him out of the crowd and demanded for him to have a drink with him.

As they sat down for beers at the tavern, Sir Lewis started immediately: Lewis roared at him, 

“What are you doing boy? You didn’t rescue the princess?” At that Richard shook his head, and Lewis continued.

“What was the point of knighting you if you couldn’t even rescue the princess? And now you are doing work not even a squire would do?”

Richard was taken aback with this outburst. He had been thinking a lot about the way that it had worked out in the long days of manual labour. And he asked Lewis why it had been him to take the princess?

Lewis’ round head almost exploded, and he turned red with a heady combination of alcohol and anger.

“No knight was stupid enough to take on the Green Dragon, but the King and I thought that you would be up to the challenge. I recommended it to you, and you couldn’t even do it. If you come back to the kingdom, you’ll never get work as a squire. You don’t show the appropriate gumption to listen to your king and your knight.”

Richard exploded in return. He’d listened and been deferential. This time was the regroup and consider, and almost then any chance that he felt that his feelings could be trusted were ripped away from him.

“You set me up to fail. If other knights couldn’t defeat the Green Dragon, why did you think that I would? I was a squire that had another year on my apprentice hood and sent me out with that in mind.”

Lewis slammed the rest of his drink into his mouth and walked out. Richard just sat there in disbelief and the barman who had never talked to Richard before this point looked at him and pursed his lips. The barman helpfully told Richard that it was probably a good time to leave as well. Richard was so steamed up from the encounter and the fact that he was the centre of attention that he complied. The brisk air outside on the quick walk home actually helped. And by the time that he made it home he never wanted to go back to the kingdom again. 

In some regards he had been given more information and he could see the silences in all his conversations. He also reconsidered if the princess had been used like him and if she had really been all that happy. If he was a pawn in the king's game to rescue Beatrice, then he realised she was treated like a pawn as well. If anything, she was more of a pawn, but he still felt helpless. Her actions were more understandable. Though empathy was activated, he was still worried about his future. He worked aimlessly, no plan. Watching the various people understand that he was around for longer helped him develop more substantive relationships.

Sometime later the green dragon in his human form was spotted walked around town and Richard was just sitting there. He walked to the stable and asked for Richard.

“You’re still here.” He leaned over the railing as sweat dripped off Richard’s face moving the soiled straw into a wheelbarrow.

“Yep”

“You’ve never talked to Beatrice since you’ve been here.”

“Yep.” I mean what could Richard say.

“Heard about your interaction with the other knight.”

“Yep.”

“It takes guts to stick around.”

At this point, Richard turned around and looked like he would walk out.

“I do not have anywhere to go. I have no knighthood; I don’t have a knight to vouch for me. I’m now without a home because my parents effectively sold me in a bid to keep their house after my father had a gambling debt. Beatrice was my ticket to something more. I was a pawn like she was.”

He sank into the remaining straw and just sat there in silence.

And the Green Dragon offered up a soft reply.

“Sounds like you were just as lost as Bea.” He paused and introduced himself. “My name is Landsbide, but you can call me Lan.”

In something that seemed to defy all rules of normalcy, Lan went through the door and was sitting there with Richard. Arm over shoulder and then all dams broke loose into sobbing. Richard tried to speak, to explain himself and Lan told him repeatedly that it wasn’t useful. And then they sat there in silence.

Finally Richard had sobered up and said without many sobs.

“I want to do great things and I want to change the world." A sob came out before he continued.

"But everything that I thought was right turned out to be the wrong way.”

Fresh sobs engulfed him,

“I don’t know what to do Lan”?

And with that Lan had a small smile and wrinkled his nose and reached out his hands and spoke

“How do you think people feel about dragons?”

Richard took his hands and held them.

[livingfast04]

Monster Au? - Part 5

partone parttwo partthree partfour II partsix TW: Panic attacks, references to past/current child abuse, a little bit of body horror (as always), mentions of disordered eating. ---

Steve whines loud and distressed even with his Mama cooing into his hair, his sides hurt- and he wants Dad too. But Dad isn’t here- and it’s not safe. 

She’s running her fingers through his hair, he knows she’s trying to calm him into shifting down, making himself his shapeless form. He can’t he’s not supposed to be and, and everything hurts- and- 

“Shhh, come on Baby. It’s okay, just relax it’s okay. Mama’s right here.” She clicks, and Steve pressed his face harder against her stomach, tucking his legs up. Mama dragged her fingers through his hair, cooing and talking softly. 

The door cracked open, and another body joined them on the bed. Steve curled towards his Dad like he was the sun. Big hands pressed against his skin- “Hey Bubba, deep breaths.” And Steve listened, sucked in a sharp breath, hard enough to start coughing. If Steve had thought his sides had hurt before they burned now, he whined, the noise scraping across a throat that wasn’t used to making any kind of noise.  Mama crooned, and Dad just, Dad just rubbed circles against his skin, over the edges of his spine. Over the scarring over road burns on his back. Down each visible knot of his bones, the way his skin was pulled taunt over a frame that it wasn’t built for. Steve sobbed, his body wrung out, exhausted despite the hours of actual sleep he had gotten for the first time in probably years.

Everything hurt, and he just wanted it to stop. 

His ears were ringing, and his head hurt, Steve choked on a sob. A hand cupped the back of his head, curling through his hair, Dad- Steve whined, pressing into the touch, craving the soft affection, deprived and desperate. Please, please- he warbled, pressing his face further against his Mama’s stomach. 

They were talking, he could tell, not that he could hear them, or understand them even if he wanted to. Everything was supposed to be safe, and now it wasn’t- and the house was violated- and he just wanted everything to be normal. 

Steve didn’t want to be like this, didn’t want to live like this. Maybe, maybe if he was human it wouldn't hurt so much, the isolation, and lashing out. He let out a soft cry, his lungs rattling at the force of his distress. He felt like someone had shoved him against something too hot, too warm. 

Lips were pressed against his ear, and Steve wished, wished he could understand- before.

Fingers closed around the back of his neck, pressure. It was, scruffed. His mind went empty, his mouth opened soundlessly. His Mama was still running her hands through his hair, lengthening hair, curling down his neck a little more, over his face. His body falling limp under the gentle pressure of his Dad’s big hands on the back of his neck. Ears still ringing, but the comfort was pleasant and- and, and familiar.  Steve was a frantic child, anxious and nervous. He cried easily, which wasn't that un-normal for young shapeshifters, dependent on parents, and gathered pack, Cubs were normally shuffled away for years before anyone outside of a close knit group would ever see them.

It was harder for Steve when he was really small, carried a lot, scruffed when tears and panic couldn’t be quelled with words. If the body and mind were distressed enough, it would calm, a simple level of pressure around the back of his neck.

Steve cooed, the first comfort noise he’d let out in months. It soothed over the rough treatment of his throat, he cooed again, letting out a soft click, relaxing down against the bed. His fingers curling and uncurling.

His body relaxed for the first time in months, slipping shapeless and more monsterish. Steve hummed, shifting his face against the warmth of his parents and blinked sluggishly. 

Mind pleasantly quiet. It was just as easy to fall asleep as it had been last night, fuzzy around the edges, calm. Empty of anxiety. Sure Steve knows logically he was about to have several uncomfortable conversations with his parents, and the anxiety was going to come back. And Everything would be bad, because the Party- Pack, was going to be so fucking upset with him. Steve would be lucky if they even wanted anything to do with him ever again- 

But, his Dad gave his neck another gentle squeeze. 

It was fine right now, it was fine, and it would continue to be fine because his parents were here, and they’d make sure it was fine. ---

It had been three weeks since anyone had seen Steve. 

Robin had been inconsolable. Eddie wasn’t fairing much better. 

The Harrington’s where staying in town indefinitely apparently, their fancy as hell car seen around town. Eddie only really knows all of this because the Kids won’t stop bitching about how they won’t leave so they can go back to the house. No matter how many times someone tells them that they can’t go back. 

Shit, Eddie had to bodily remove Dustin from the Hopper-Byer’s house for being a dick to Hopper for no reason. Loud and angry, yelling about how they can’t just lose their spot, and why did they even leave, it was theirs. 

Eddie doesn’t think that any of the kids get that Hopper could have been murdered in that house. That they didn’t see just how not human the Harrington’s had appeared. Almost half feral and more than ready to kill for their baby.

He glances at the group of adults sitting around the small table in the kitchen. Their voices were low, but- Eddie makes eye contact with Wayne, who stares back at him for a long moment before jerking his head in the most come here motion Eddie’s seen his uncle make to this date. He’s quiet, moving in the room, at least of all the whole group in the living room goes back up in arms over something that isn’t an easy fix. 

Joyce’s mouth snaps shut the second she catches sight of him, and Eddie rolls his eyes a little, sinking down slightly to rest his arms over the back of his uncle's chair. “Yeah Pops?” Eddie stares at Hopper over the top of Wayne’s head. Wayne grunts, lifting his head slightly, just slightly- to look up at him. “How’s Harrington doin’?” There’s a tone in his voice, rough but also defiant. Hopper growls, the noise quiet, but enough that his displeasure at Wayne’s question is known. Eddie snorts softly. 

His Uncle was older than probably anyone in this town. Wayne wasn’t even a part of “The Pack” not really, and he was only here because Eddie asked him to be. Well, because Hopper wanted another opinion on what to do about the whole “Harrington Family, and House” Situation. And Murray had been very loud in his displeasure at their actions. 

The Human had yelled loud enough that the whole house had been set off. Ranting on about laws, and how they could literally face so many legal issues due to their actions against Steve. The Harrington’s had a lot of power. A lot. 

Hopper had yelled back, it ended with Murray shouting about how they didn’t even know what kind of Creature- Supernatural Steve even was. And depending on that, there would be fucking hell to pay.

They all wanted to go back into the house, the kids were just being shits about it.

Eddie twisted his head to the side, he unfocussed on the boy’s in the living room. For a moment, he was a little overwhelmed by the almost sudden silence, but latched on to what he remembered Steve’s heartbeat sounding like. It was a steady thump against his ears. 

A little fast, but given that the boy was almost always anxious- it was a good sound. Some of the tension in his shoulders he didn’t even realize was there soothed out. Eddie hadn’t given himself the chance, or even the thought of checking in on Steve. Anger burning under his skin, but now- 

He slumped forwards a bit more. “Sounds good. Better,” He ran his tongue over his teeth, pushing flat against the sharpness of his canines. Eddie works his jaw, thinking over, focusing a little more on the faint thump. “It’s better than I remember it being.” 

Which really doesn’t say anything, Eddie focused in when Steve was dying, and clearly he’s been dying this entire time. So yeah, Steve’s heart beat is incredibly strong compared to what it had been three weeks ago. “Why’d ya wanna know Pops?” Wayne for all his years, and for all he puts up with Eddie, always makes that face when Eddie mimics some of Wayne’s accent. 

Or maybe he made that face because he doesn’t want to share with the rest of the table. “I just remember the Elder Harrington Boys bein’ rather cruel pair in School. Worried about the boy s’all.” Eddie blinked at his Uncle but nodded, that made sense. Part of him curled guilt, hot, angry. 

Steve felt so outcasted, so desperate for affection- that he possibly put himself in danger by calling for his parents. Steve’s heart gives a soft thump against his ears, if he focuses enough he feels like he should be able to hear the younger boy’s laugh. Ghost over his ears, make them twitch. 

Eddie’s chest feels empty when he realizes he can’t even really remember what it sounded like. Can’t remember the last time he heard it. 

“Could mean nothing,” He shrugs, making eye contact with Hopper across the table. “I mean, he might be, fine. Or the steady heartbeat is because we aren’t stressing him out so badly he’s self isolating.” Eddie’s not bitter. Not really, he can’t be mad at Hop, this isn’t his fault, and it’s certainly not Eddie’s. Sure it’s a group collaborative effort that they apparently all banded together to accidentally try and kill Steve-

All the blame isn’t going to fall on one person, no matter what Dustin wants to think. Steve was dying. From what they have gathered, Steve’s of course some kind of Supernatural. What kind, they really don’t fucking know. He’s not a Witch, they are all far too human for that.

Something a little less human, from the sounds, to the reactions- the noise Steve made when his mother opened that door. The clicking- Steve had hidden himself away to die, like a cat does when they know it's time. And they were going to let him. Because they were too caught up in thinking Steve was human. Eddie was too angry to even think about the fact that Steve smelled so distinctly like death- and sickness. Too used to the scent clinging to him- to his skin, to his blood, to his heart. 

“I still don’t see why we can’t approach the Harrington’s.” Joyce’s voice is quiet, she’s human enough to get away with not knowing everything the rest of them do. Eddie’s kind of jealous of the Witches in their group, they aren’t as torn up about the loss of the House as the rest of them are. But he’s grinding his teeth flat every time they try and offer what they think is an easy and viable solution.

Hopper makes a grunt-like noise, “It’s not that easy Joy. The Harrington’s have every right to kill me if I even get close to the house.” Hopper takes a deep breath, “And I’d let him.” It’s there, that point. They know, they’ve failed Steve. And it seems only a handful of people really want to accept that fact. 

It took Hopper a little, he’s still rougher about it, gruff and very Chief-like about it. But Eddie thinks he gets that just Hopper realizing he’s failed Steve. 

However Eddie has to hear “Friends don’t tell Lies” one more fucking time about Steve not telling them he was supernatural. He was going to start biting people. Better yet! Maybe actually sacrifice something to a higher power. Just to the kids to shut the fuck up. Better, better yet! Eddie might just kill Mike, just because. 

They sit in silence for a long moment.

Eddie stares at his hands, curled over the back of his uncle's chair. At the adults trying to pick apart the situation. “What, what if we didn’t bother with the house right now. Sure, it would be nice to go back.” Not really, Eddie can almost still smell the ghost of the depression that coated the surface of everything the second you left the communal living areas. “But, I-” Everyone is just looking at him. “I’d rather be talking to Steve again, than go back to that house. It’s not like we, you, don’t have space.” The Byers-Hopper house was more than big enough, they didn’t need all the extra rooms of the Harrington house, they didn’t need the room, not really. Eddie taps his lips with his shortened fangs.

Murray, who was surprisingly silent, for all that Eddie knows about the human. “No one in this house is getting back into the Harrington’s Home.” His voice was dry, but strangely firm. Lacking its regular holier than thou’ tone, Eddie stared at him for a long moment. “Legally or otherwise. The Harrington brood are mean, and vicious. With or without the high paid lawyers. Digging I can do to figure out what kind of Monster I’m working with here, but there’s not enough dirt I can dig up for that Shitshow. Not if I want to get out of it with my life, and I am rather attached to my life.” 

Hopper snorts, and Joyce laughs. Both noises are a little bitter. But at this point in these people's lives, after what Eddie has seen, they are a little entitled to bitterness. His tongue is heavy, anger is coating his teeth he can’t stand it- and his gums itch. “Russians of various origins, but unknown Supernatural is the line?” Joyce’s tone was teasing, but also sharper. Eddie wouldn’t want to do anything like that either. They’d already tested the limits, especially Steve’s limits.

Murray scoffed, “Yes, because Russians are all distinctly the same, they want to kill me. Supernatural? With unknown origins, I didn’t sign up for that shit. Not outside crossing dimensions.” No one said anything for a moment, and Eddie shifted. Listening to the thump of Steve’s pulse a little more. It was a faint noise from the distance, and sure. Eddie would never be able to actually track it. Not like this. 

But it was nice to actually feel like he could still listen to it. Eddie doesn’t want to say how many nights he spent listening to it before going to bed. He works his jaw again, grinding his teeth together. Wayne shot him a look, and he paused. Right, he ducked his head, bangs falling in his face to hide behind. Eddie picked at the wood on the back of the chair, running his bitten down nails over the chipping gloss on the chair.

Wayne taps his leg, and Eddie draws his attention back up. “Buckley’s too-” His uncle works his jaw, Eddie can tell his teeth never touch. “Hysterical,” Eddie snorts, just slightly, the drawl of his voice, and the way Wayne shapes it around his teeth. “about it’all.” Eyes are on his skin, and it feels like they are trying to worm their ways into his skin. “But Eds, Steve might, might- letya around.” 

He gives a slow nod, Wayne’s not asking in a way back into the house, he’s telling Eddie this in a make sure Steve’s going to be okay when his parents leave, way. Not alone and dying without anyone knowing, way. Eddie wouldn’t even let any of these people in this house use that against him. Not against Steve, not in this way- never in any way actually. Imprinting is special. And Steve probably knows Eddie’s imprinted on him anyway. Supernatural and all, even if he’s never actually acted like he’s imprinted on Steve. 

A mistake, a mistake that Eddie desperately needs to rectify. To fix. Un-fuck up. “Imprinted.” Murray says, and Eddie hisses, low at the tone. The bald man tends to have a rather crashness, when it comes down to it. And while Eddie appreciates it, he doesn’t in this sense. “That could work.” Eddie gnashes his teeth, standing up, Wayne makes an aggressive, displeased noise. Clearly whatever Murray is implying wasn’t what his uncle was going to talk about.

Murray looks unphased, but Hopper’s tensed, and so has Joyce. The fucking Russian guy that hangs around hasn’t said a word, and he doesn’t now. He smells distinctly Wolvish too- but Eddie’s never paid him mind, he is now. Threat- threat. 

“That, could get you back in the house.” Eddie snarled, and so did Wayne. Tension was heavy, and the living room had gone silent. He could care fucking less, what the hell was wrong with this man. His teeth itched. “Like Hell-” Wayne’s tone was sharp, smoother-

“How fucking dare you.” Eddie would apologize for cutting his Uncle off later- “I know you get off on riling people up, and generally just being a fucking prick. But jacking off to this? Playing with it? I’ll rip your throat out with my teeth.” It’s not a threat, it's a promise. The older man pales, and Eddie grins, he knows he looks half feral, knows he looks like he can follow up on this request. And it’s, it’s so good. 

Maybe, maybe, the feeling of regret will show up later, mixed in with the heavy coat of guilt, and bitterness, and anger, that already coats his bones. But right now, now Eddie’s protecting something sacred. Do not touch. 

“Never, like hell. I would never do that. Using someone else. What is wrong with-” “Munson.” Hopper’s voice is sharp, low. Eddie curled his lips back further. “No ones going to ask anyone to do that.” Eddie watches the wolf cut his eyes over to Murray, who jerks his gaze away, embarrassment written in his features. Good. His teeth itch, and so does his skin- blood pooled on his tongue. Wayne was on his feet now, slower, and he tried not to think too hard about how his uncle positioned himself in front of him. 

Eddie snapped his jaw, teeth clicking together hard enough they rattled in his skull. Pain flaring across the roof of his mouth and over his jaw. Eddie hisses at Hopper, knows that the other probably thought about it, knows that they all probably have.

“You could get us back in the house?” Mike’s voice is high, loud- Eddie’s going to kill him. He snaps his head around to stare at the teenager, Hopper Growls lower- maybe he’s now realizing just what Murray set loose in his house. Wayne answers the noise sharply with his own snarl. Eddie’s old man is sharp, and protective without question.

“You could have done that this entire time, and you haven’t? What the fuck Eddie.” Baby Wheeler’s voice is accusing, angry- and Eddie isn’t dealing with this. 

Dustin is by his side, looking at him with almost the same expression, and all the kids are poised for a fight- And Eddie hates being like this, but he’s also not doing this- not like this. He spins on his heel, and pushes past the kids, shoving Mike a little harder than he needs to, as he moves past.

The doorknob is frigid under his touch, and he slams it behind him. Eddie climbs into his van and waits for Wayne to follow him out. Doesn’t remember the drive back to the Trailer, doesn’t remember any of it.

Eddie’s not sure if he wants to. All of this is just bad. IT's bad, and he's so fucking angry it's not even funny. How- how. Wayne doesn't say anything to him

--- I lied about part 5, I procrastinated literally all of my work because I didn't want to do anything for a long weekend. Nothing was done, not for anything. I also didn't post, or work on anything for ao3, shocker. I was going to have this posted like hours ago, but my laptop died in the middle of class... which was fun. This part is also not my favorite of the parts if Imma be honest. I hate Dialogue, so much- and there's so much dialogue. You know, this has like an actual title... but I'm also a Long Title enjoyer. So for now I'll just stick to Monster Au? Because it works. At least for now. If it ever goes up on ao3, which it probably will; it'll be under that title. I'd like to actually post a Steddie One-shot that stays a one-shot. *cries over 138k words* (And yes I'm going to keep pushing this link because that fic is my motherfuckin baby-) Anyway, I'm going to go see if I can get a few hours of sleep. That would be nice. I again, ask, where the hell did all of you come from???? You are all incredibly sweet. <3 (I Think this is all who asked to be tagged? I think? They also messed up halfway through making this- so I might have fucked something up possibly) @theghostinmymachine @sadcanadianwinter @failedstarsandgoldenclouds @a-huge-nerdy-nerd @bisexualdisastersworld @intergalactic-president-awesome @vampireinthesun @estrellami-1 @raysreads @knightofthieves @sassysleeplord @gezell-igg @ledleaf @haluton @h0n3y-dw @thegingerrapunzel @finalmoondragon @warrior-616 @lexyvey @thesuninyaface @whalesharksart @two-faced-biatch @plasticcrotches

[greatsharklamia]

PartFive of Rivusas relationship through their friends (and each others) eyes. 

Riven, Musa, Flora and Helia get lost when they leave the school on an assignment. It's not all bad.

PartOne PartTwo PartThree PartFour

[rebelssvy]

master list!!

- trainer reader x daichi

satus: ongoing

links below!!!

partone

parttwo

partthree

partfour

partfive

partsix

- obsessed bokuto x reader

part one link here! (smut)

part two link here! (smut)

-always on my mind ushijima x reader

link here!

-fuck buddy ushijima x reader

link here! (smut)

-skinny dipping kuroo x reader

link here!

-drunk and needy atsumu x reader

link here! (smut)

-embarrassed kageyama x reader

link here! (smut)

[paranjothipandian]

நன்றி தினமலர்❤️

 நிலம் உங்கள் எதிர்காலம் ரியல் எஸ்டேட் அகராதி புத்தகத்தின் விளம்பரம் 20-10-2024 அன்றைய தின மலர் நாளிதழில்… நன்றி தினமலர்❤️ #dhinamalar #newspaper #paper #advertisement #nilamungalethirgalam #partthree #realestatedictionary #book #tamilbook

[remingtyn]

Part Three.

I rolled onto my side with some effort and a lot of groaning. The bed that I woke up in was much bigger and a hell of a lot softer than the one that I had been sleeping on in the stable but I barely registered much more than that. Pain lanced through my skull and my mouth felt like I had eaten and gargled with roofing nails. I managed to get my eyes to cooperate with me and open to mere slits but that came as almost instant regret as the aching intensified.

‘Don’t go moving around too much, Haus. You’ll rip them stitches out and it took me a damn long time to sew you all up.’

A labored breath passed through my cracked dry lips as I struggled to say something, a glass of water was pressed against my mouth then.

‘Come on, drink up, you need it right now.’

I focused what blurry vision I had on Bud as I gave what I hoped resembled a nod before I tried swallowing some of the cold liquid. There might have been some sputtering and a little spitting before I managed to swallow some and then a little more and croaked out a couple words.

“Thank you.”

My voice sounded foreign to my own ears and at first I glanced around the room to see if someone else was in thee with us. Bud must have read the confusion on my face because he was quick to clear things up for me.

‘Don’t worry, you’ll be singing like a blue jay in no time. Not that you could carry a tune but at least you will be able to still run that mouth of yours.’

I would have cracked a smile if it didn’t hurt so fucking much.

‘The Boss wanted you comfortable and taken care of, that’s why you’re in the big house.’

I relaxed back against the extreme softness of all the pillows and let my eyes slide close and Bud continued to fill in the blanks.

‘When you didn’t come back the other night from fixing those posts, Clay and I rode out there and found you…’

I didn’t bother opening my eyes to see why he had paused, the deep breath I heard him take in and let out was answer enough.

‘We thought for sure you were a dead one and you should be dead after that beating. Even doc said he didn’t know how you were still breathing. You were in bad bad shape, Son.’

I gave a single nod, kept my eyes shut and took another drink from the cool glass that greeted my lips again.

‘As soon as you get your bearings, we need to know what happened out there, who the hell did this to you and why.’

I gave another nod and still no words.

‘The boys are itching to go hunting, Gauge. We take care of our own and one way or another, someone is paying for this fucking shit.’

That had my swollen eyes darting open and moving much too quickly before thinking.

“Fuuuckk...Bud, no.” I licked my lips, taking a couple seconds to catch my breath. “This was a warning. They all had ski masks on and no horses...They came out of the woods. So that means that they were given a heads up that one of us was going to be out there at that time.”

I knew what I was saying and how fucked up it was but nothing else made sense. This ranch was thousands of acres and the chances that those bastards knew that someone would be out on that particular part of the land, wasn’t a coincidence.

‘Damn Son, you know what you are saying?’

I was trying not to groan too loud as I spoke. “I do and I don’t like saying it anymore than you wanted to hear it.”

‘Well then it seems we have some work to do but for now, you need to rest and heal. All that talking that you just did has those stitches around your mouth, threatening to break open. Shut up and sleep.’

I huffed out an annoyed breath but kept my mouth closed.

‘I’ll fill the Boss in on what you said and we’ll go from there but right now you aren’t any good for anyone until you get done with this vacation of yours.’

I almost laughed at that last bit, vacation, yeah right. I’m not even sure if I could stand, hold my dick and piss all at the same time. That’s not my idea of some fun downtime unless I had partaken willingly in alcohol or the substances that got me to an inebriated state of mind. This was definitely not one of those times and the drug chapter of my story was a closed one and I planned on keeping it that way. Liquor was never an issue, pills and other avenues, well that was a different matter.

I didn’t want to fuck things up, especially with this being the most solid I had been on my feet and years. When the courts first placed me here, I instantly rebuffed it, fought against the men here and the land. I also got my ass handed to me more times than I could count and I deserved each one of them.

The bedroom door opened and Bud came back through with a tray of food in hand and placed it on the bedside table with a smirk on his face.

‘Don’t go getting used to this shit because it only happens when you're on death's door.’

That had me chuckling but I instantly regretted it when pain seemed to explode from the top of my head to the souls of my feet.

“You fucker, you shouldn’t be making me hurt more and here I thought you actually like me.”

Bud laughed and winked at me right before he slipped back out the bedroom, closing it behind him and leaving me in there to do too much thinking.

[kingky99]

So about last night 😏😏😏

[masharkawy]

All the guilt. It's lazy energy. It doesn't change the past, and it doesn't shape the future. It's a waste, and we got no time to waste. We gotta live.

[chrislebrane]

VINYL UPDATE!!! (APRIL 2019, PART 3) As bought on Record Store Day. @parkavecds 🔺️Various Artists - Ghost World (Original Motion Picture Soundtrack) 🔺️The Parliaments - Baby I Owe You Something Good (10" EP) 🔺️The Style Council - It Didn't Really Matter (Maxi-Single) (Not an RSD release, but merely a find) **SPECIAL RSD CASSETTE BUY** 🔺️Prince - The Versace Experience VINYL COUNT: 684 #vinyl #vinylpost #vinyllife #vinyldopeness #vinylporn #vinylblog #aprilvinyl #partthree #parkavecds #orlando #rsd19 #rsd #ghostworld #theparliaments #thestylecouncil #prince #dopeness #chrislebrane https://www.instagram.com/p/B4FgkPkhwOk/?igshid=15mop6uodwu41

[saintsnsinnersbdb]

Down the Rabbit Hole We Go: Pound of Flesh Part 3 CROSSOVER Submitting to the Darkness Part 26

Written by @SinsSecondComin.

The night draped over Caldwell like a heavy cloak, suffused with the primal scents of decay and desperation. Rehvenge prowled the labyrinthine streets, a ghost in the darkness, his movements fluid and silent as he navigated the city's underbelly. The neon lights of ZeroSum pulsed like a beacon in the night, casting an ethereal glow that illuminated the damp pavement below, drawing in the lost and the forsaken with its siren call. 

As he approached the club's entrance, the thumping bassline reverberated through his bones, a visceral reminder of the raw energy that thrummed within its walls. The bouncers, mere sentinels in the realm of chaos, nodded in recognition, parting the crowd to allow him passage into the heart of the storm. Inside, the air was thick with a heady mixture of sweat, arousal, and something darker—an unspoken tension that crackled in the atmosphere like electricity. Rehvenge's eyes, twin pools of amethyst flame, swept over the crowd with predatory intent as he wove his way through the throng of bodies. Each patron was a pawn in his game, their desires and motives laid bare before him like pieces on a chessboard. He could feel the tension building, a palpable sense of anticipation that hung heavy in the air like a storm on the horizon. 

Ascending to his office in the upper echelons of ZeroSum, Rehvenge's mind churned with the twisted fantasies that awaited him in the hidden chamber below. In the depths of his depravity, he relished the thought of what was to come, a dark hunger gnawing at the edges of his sanity. For once, he was grateful for Xhex's absence, her absence sparing him the prying eyes of his own security detail. He craved the solitude of his sins, the intimacy of his darkest desires laid bare. 

An addiction had taken hold of him from the moment he laid eyes on Drake, a man destined to pay for sins he had yet to commit. Unlike Slohane, Drake would not have the luxury of salvation at the hands of Rehvenge's allies. No, Drake would face the full wrath of his vengeance, alone and unrepentant.

As Rehvenge approached the hidden safe room within his office, he could feel the anticipation building like a crescendo in his veins. Drake lay bound and helpless upon the cold steel table, a symbol of everything Rehvenge despised. And in that moment, surrounded by the echoes of his own darkness, he knew that there would be no mercy—only the cold embrace of retribution, and the sweet release of his own twisted desires fulfilled.

As Rehvenge stood over Drake, his heart pounding in time with the sickening rhythm of his victim's screams, he felt a surge of raw power course through his veins. The safe room, a chamber of horrors hidden beneath the polished veneer of his office, seemed to pulse with a malevolent energy—a twisted sanctuary where the boundaries of morality blurred and the darkness within him reigned supreme.

The air was heavy with the scent of blood and fear, a metallic tang that clung to the walls like a miasma of despair. Every sound, every whimper and cry, echoed off the soundproof barriers with a chilling clarity, bouncing back to envelop them in a cocoon of torment.

Rehvenge's fingers danced with a macabre grace as he wielded the tools of his trade, each strip of flesh peeled away with a precision that bordered on obsession. Drake's screams, once sharp and piercing, had become a symphony of agony—a cacophony of pain that fueled the fire burning within Rehvenge's soul.

His eyes, once the cool hue of amethyst, blazed with a fiery crimson as he reveled in the exquisite torture of his victim. With each agonized cry, he felt a perverse sense of satisfaction wash over him—a primal urge that drove him ever deeper into the abyss of his own depravity.

But beneath the facade of control, there lurked a darkness that threatened to consume him whole—a gnawing hunger that could never be sated, no matter how deep he delved into the shadows. And as he stood amidst the carnage, bathed in the sickly glow of crimson light, he knew that he had become something more than what his kith and kin saw him as.—something monstrous, something beautiful in its own twisted way. 

As Rehvenge stepped into the scalding embrace of the shower, the hot water cascading over his skin like a cleansing baptism, he felt the weight of his sins bearing down upon him. The echoes of Drake's screams still reverberated in his mind, haunting him like a ghost that refused to be exorcized.

The steam filled the bathroom, swirling around him in a haze of heat and humidity, a veil to shield him from the harsh realities of the world outside. With each drop of water that fell, he could feel the tension in his muscles slowly begin to unravel, the adrenaline-fueled high of his actions giving way to a bone-deep weariness.

Leaning against the tiled wall, he closed his eyes and let out a ragged breath, the events of the night playing out in vivid detail behind his eyelids. The sensation of flesh yielding beneath his touch, the symphony of pain and anguish that had filled the air—it was a tableau of horror that threatened to consume him whole.

But amidst the darkness, there lingered a glimmer of something else—a flicker of doubt, of remorse, that refused to be silenced. For all his power and influence, Rehvenge was still a man haunted by his own demons, tormented by the choices he had made and the lives he had destroyed. As the water continued to cascade down his body, washing away the stains of blood and sin, he couldn't help but wonder what awaited him on the other side of this cleansing ritual. Would he emerge from this baptism reborn, purified of his sins? Or would he remain forever shackled to the darkness that lurked within his soul? 

With a heavy sigh, he reached for the soap, lathering his skin with a mechanical precision that belied the turmoil raging within him. The scent of sandalwood and musk filled the air, mingling with the steam to create a heady cocktail that enveloped him in its embrace. But even as he scrubbed away the physical remnants of his sins, he knew that the scars they left behind would never truly fade. For Rehvenge, the path to redemption was a treacherous one, fraught with pitfalls and perils at every turn. And as he stood beneath the torrential downpour of the shower, he couldn't help but wonder if he would ever find his way back to the light; or if he even wanted too.

[edenbdb]

Unexpected: Summons Part 3

“You’re playing with fire Chosen.” [He growled as I stepped into the humid glass enclosure. I could see the strain in his body, the veins in his muscles surfacing from the tension I knew he wanted to release. He was hard all over. Beautifully sculpted abdomen and shapely V hips leading to his pherarsom member that stood straight and tall. He stood eerily still on thick legs and calves waiting for me to answer. I licked my suddenly dry lips.

A low snarl resonated the space. He needed this and I realized in that moment that I did as well. It’s been years since any of us Chosen were used for our purpose until recently. I have never been able to use my training … and now I had a chance.

I looked into his eyes and never losing contact as I slowly went to my knees. The tile flooring was slightly cold but the warmth of the water surrounding us was slowing steaming up the surroundings. I waited, waiting for his command as I saw his eyes dilate and begin to glow. He deemed the lights with his mind so I didn’t have to squint up at him and brought his hands through my dampening hair and pulled me forward.]

“Open.” [He rumbled low and deep and I carefully and slowly licked up his hard staff and watched as he fangs descended from his upper mouth. I could feel myself dampening for his use. I opened my mouth and engulf him in one swallow and watched as his eyes glazed over and then his head fell back on a grunt.

Embolden, I doubled my efforts and started to practice my learnings and lick and suck at his phallus. Enjoying the taste of male and feeling his smooth skin.]

“Fucking Scribe!” [I heard echoing above me. As I used my hands to continue to rub on him and played with the sac below. Bringing them into my mouth and rolling them with my tongue.] “Fucking hell!”

[Seeing as he did not stop me but continues to pull on the strands of my hair. I returned to fellitiate his phallus until I could him grow larger inside my mouth and then a loud cry thundered through the space as I tasted his essence and swallowed as I continue to administer pleasure up and down his still hard member.]

“Jesus Christ …” [He pulled me up from the arms and his mouth slammed into mine in a kiss his tongue tangling with mine. My body softened immediately and I could feel myself grow wetter as his hands ventured over my soaked body. His hands found the intimate folds and I felt his fingers gliding over the nub of nerves causing a gasp breaking the kiss to my surprise. Pleasure unknown to me permeated through me at lightning speeds as continues his exploration and penetrated me with his thick fingers.]

“You surprise me Chosen. You’re fucking soft and wet and ready for me, aren’t you? Yea, you want to climb on my cock and ride me, don’t you? Look at you all flush and pink. I can’t wait to get my dick in you and fuck you in all kinds of manners this night. This is just the beginning little one. I hope you’re ready for it because I have yet to have my fill.”

[He whispered seductively in my ear as he played with my body like no other. I could feel something build inside me radiating from my belly button down through my clitoris. My mind going completely blank as my body pulsates with sensations. I felt as if I was on a brink of something phenomenal and unfamiliar. My hands gripped his hard biceps as tried to find purchase to hold myself in the here and now. Trying to anchor myself from flying somewhere my body was longing to go.]

“Hmmm, you never cum before have you? Unbelievable. Well hang on little one, and /not/ until I say.” [He chuckles against my throat as he leaned down and placed his mouth on my nipple and started to suckle me. I could feel this his mouth as if his lips were connected to my clitoris. I could hear myself loudly panting as I climbed higher and higher.]

Cum Chosen!! [He growled and bit down on me while using the heel of his hand on my nub and penetrating me with three fingers and I screamed reverberating the sound over and over in echos and then blackness.]

To be continued …

[greyhson-bdb]

Directrix’s Advice

Greyhson: *It had been a few weeks since that night with Dhare. I felt nervous about approaching the Directrix but I knew she would be sensitive and provide useful advice. Something so different from the purpose of the Chosen and something I was very excited to experience and push the boundaries. We all have been trained to be a blood source to the Brotherhood as well as for them to … relieve ... themselves if they were so inclined. A few of us were also trained as #Ehros for the purpose to entice the Brothers to breed with us. It has been years since I have copulated with a male. I had butterflies in my stomach as I approached Amalya.*

Amalya: *Fixing myself a mug of tea and a small snack, I take it out to the front porch of my little cabin and sit in the moonlight, soaking up the lovely smells drifting over from the gardens of the main house here at the Camp. Sitting back in my chair, I smile as I see Greyhson walking towards me across the lawn from the big house.* Good evening, Sister! How fare thee?

Greyhson: *As I make my way up the path to Amalya’s cabin, I smile and wave as I approached.* I am doing well? And you?

*I asked as I sat in a chair next to her with a small table between us. I wondered how I would broach the subject as we spoke about inconsequential matters such as the weather and various hobbies and activities the Chosen find themselves occupying their time. Once there was a long pause, I decided to go ahead and mention my issues.*

So, as you know … Dhare and I went out on a … date. Though, unfortunately is was cut short. A civilian had appeared injured by lessers and Dhare had joined the others in battle. He was injured during the struggle and is resting now in the infirmary. *I spit out and watched as Amalya’s eyes widen and comprehended my statements.*

Amalya: *I nod as Greyhson tells her tale, remembering helping her get dressed and prepare for her evening out with her trainee. She looked so lovely … Then I feel my eyes pop wide as I understand what she’s saying next. I sit straight up in my seat, heart racing, thoughts of everything that might have happened to her whirling through my head.* Wait, you’re saying that you … you were present during a lesser attack?! Sister, are you alright? *I reach out and lay a hand on her arm.*

Greyhson: No, no, no. I wasn’t. *I quickly corrected myself as I see the panic in mine sister’s eyes.* I was just there when the civilian came into the restaurant. There was no way Manny would allow me to follow Payne, iAm and Dhare outside. Once they came back and Dhare was injured we came straight to the Compound.

*I contemplated on all the things that could have gone wrong. It was scary to be on the edge … so close to the war like I was. The Chosen were mostly shielded from the fight. Phury saw to that, as well as the Brotherhood which is way we are always escorted and not allowed to leave and venture off very often. The Brotherhood was stretched too thin these days between their daily rotation on the streets of Caldwell, with the King at the Audience House, at the Training Center, with their own families and then the Chosen. It was a wonder if they didn’t feel burden by us.*

Amalya: *I take a couple deep breaths to calm myself down, and sip my tea to ease my mouth that had gone dry in my panic. Then I set the mug down again, and smile again at mine sister. I decide to try to focus on good things right now, and try not to worry about what might have happened, or think of how unprepared we and all the rest of our sisters are to deal with such events.* So, up until things … got a little too interesting, how was your meal?

Greyhson: We didn’t technically get to eat really. We had just ordered when everything happened.

But I have not heard from him in a while. It’s been weeks and he should have healed by now. Perhaps I did something wrong? *I nibbled the bottom of my lip in nervousness. My doubts were slowly seeping into thoughts as days had passed since I last heard from him.* Mayhap, I misunderstood the dynamics of the entire night?

Amalya: *As I look at mine sister’s worried face, I debate what to say. I hate that she might feel abandoned, or that she might have done something wrong, but I think giving her false hope would be mean.*

I do not believe that you did anything wrong, sister. Perhaps the trainee was afraid for you, worried about how close he’d inadvertently brought you to the war. Maybe he decided that it would be best to keep his distance from you for your own sake? But then ... even if that were true, I don’t understand why he would just leave without even a goodbye … *I break off my musings and shake my head.*

I’m sorry sister, I’m just not certain what to think about this situation. But perhaps his silence and distance are an answer in itself. For whatever reason, he has chosen to distance himself from you and whatever may have been starting between you. Perhaps you should give some thought into letting him go as well, and maybe just concentrate on your duties for a little while? I’d love to see us all happily mated eventually, if that’s what you want. Or at least settled and happy in our lives here. But I think that finding a hellren should not be all we are concerned with. Perhaps we should all think about exploring and developing other interests, activities beyond our duties … what do you think, sister?

Greyhson: *Her words made sense and started to clear my worries as fast as they had appeared. It was probably best that he had distanced himself. It was one date and it was disastrous.* You’re probably right. Perhaps I am making too much of a deal on one date. *Mayhaps I just wanted something there wasn’t really there. Seeing all the happy couples inside the manse must have provoked something inside me and that I was trying to project on my own life.* Yes, I should continue to explore to find what I want to do with my time.

Amalya: *I reach out and take my sister’s hand, smiling as I give it a little squeeze.* There you go! I know that I’ve wondered myself what it would be like to be mated, and perhaps even a mahmen someday. But we shouldn’t forget that, for the first time in our lives, we have the chance to explore our own interests, and become true individuals rather than simply interchangeable pieces of a single whole. Don’t give up on the idea of finding a hellren someday if you truly want one, but take the time to find out who you are beyond a Chosen, or a potential shellan. Whatever happens after that, happens. After all, we could all meet our future hellrens tomorrow, or a hundred years from now. It’ll happen when it happens, so try not to worry about it so much, alright?

Greyhson: *I nod and agree as we hug as I left her cabin. I went back to mine own and decided to change into some jeans and blouse that Cormia had us order from the something called the internet. Once dressed, I stepped outside my door into the fresh night air. I concentrated and dematerialized to the back alley of the restaurant Sal’s. I wanted to try the dish I had ordered on my date and never got to try.

I thought this would be a great task to try first by myself without the assistance of my sisters, the Brotherhood or someone else. Something all on my own. I felt nervous but liberated at the same time as I reappeared near a grouping of trees in the corner of the back parking lot. But as I heard voices from most likely the employees, I discreetly moved down the side alley to avoid explaining how I arrived without a vehicle.

I was making my way around the front, when all of the sudden I heard a crack of a twig but when I turned around I was hit in the head and all was dark.

[gtypewins]

Finally getting to the cover of #thescientists #partthree. Got a lot to do before the #kickstarter #indiecomics #comicart #comicartist #wip #makecomics https://www.instagram.com/p/Bwu8Bq4hq66/?utm_source=ig_tumblr_share&igshid=1bxevn5oz8eby

[s-j-rayne]

The Windowless Tower, Pt. 3

It had all happened so fast, Alice was not even sure she remembered every detail correctly. The lights had turned off the second the door behind them had locked her mom, Jason, the policemen and herself inside. However, Jason had managed to secretly give some of his power back to the current, and managed to at least turn on the emergency lights; they through dim blue shadows on the walls and floors, and made the slightly frightened faces look even paler. While one of the cops tried kicking the door in by mere force, the other looked for another way out; he was gone for twenty minutes already, roaming the floors above them with his little flashlight. They had looked for Keith's corpse, but it was no where to be found; all that was left was the stench of grilled human flesh, and the horrific memory that had burned itself into Alice’s mind. Her grandmother, Sister Josie, was also gone, and Alice was not sure it was wise to call out her name in front of Helena - it had taken years of therapy for her to get over her mothers early parting - and she did not want to open up old wounds by telling Helena that her mother was still here, looking young as ever. Alice’s mother had asked more questions, but soon must have realized that Alice did not feel like talking. She stood close to the door now, talking to the policeman who still tried to break the door, sometimes glancing over to Alice and Jason, who stood at the reception, in silence. Alice kept looking at Jason, trying to take him in completely; she had not have time to properly look at him. He was younger than she had thought at first, maybe eighteen or nineteen, not much older than herself, although his three-day beard made him look mid-twenties. He had long, dark lashes, and dark hair that fell into his forehead. His eyebrows were pulled in in the middle, making his whole face look sad and anxious, and he had nervously bitten his lip to the point of bleeding. He had only stopped when Alice took his hand again, and he had smiled at her mildly, thankfulness in his blue eyes. They were normal again now, now silver streaks or lightings, and fixed on her with a look that Alice had never seen anyone use on her. “Are you alright?“ she whispered to avoid unnecessary attention. He raised his head slightly, trying to look less messed up than he was. It was weird; she felt as if she knew exactly that he was not alright, feeling his guilt over killing his colleague, his angst over his own powers, his confusion and irritation about this whole situation. When he answered, his voice was hoarse and raspy. “How could I be? I killed my friend, I killed him, and Sister Josie covered it up. I should tell them what really happened, but they would never believe me and…. I just wanna know what’s going on.“ Tears filled up in his eyes, and he tried to keep his voice down as much as he could in his state. Again, Alice took his hand; it was soft, but rough, and she felt a little scar on the back of it. He squeezed it, and it was as if he relaxed immediately, his anxiety level decreased and his tears stopped running down his cheeks. Jason took a deep breath, and thanked her again. “Why?“ she said, and to give him more content she quickly added:“Why d’you keep thanking me?“ He shook his head slowly, an unconscious movement while he thought of the right words. “You seem to calm me down.“ He shrugged, unsure. “Every time I’m upset you take my hand, and I feel less frightened, less sad, more confident and strong. Maybe that’s your gift,“ he added, “you calm people down the way I fry them with electricity.“ She pulled her hand away and took a step back, shocked at his harsh words, but he gently grabbed her wrist and pulled her back towards him. “Sorry, that wasn’t okay. I make jokes when I’m scared, I didn’t mean to be so inappropriate.“ They were still whispering, but her mother must have seen the way he held her hand, because she kept eyeing them more suspiciously now. Alice did not answer, but she felt his sincerity, and gave him a little smile. He grinned back at her, half apologetically, half relieved. When she was just about to ask him whether he actually thought they were gifted with something, a painful and crashingly loud cry went through the tower, echoing through the five floors and making everyone turn around in horror. The police man who had tried to break open the door drew his gun now, and used his walkie talkie to contact his colleague, but all that came as an answer was a rustling sound, like leaves in a strong wind.. “I’ll check it out,“ he said, overly confident, but Alice felt how frightened he was. It was weird, she thought to herself, how much she could tell now how the people around her felt. She tried to enhance it, to take in more feelings in the room, when suddenly a wave of something unusual hit her - a feeling so intense, it seemed to crush her. She let out a cry and held her hands over her ears. Everything turned black, then, and she heard herself yell for her mother. The next thing she knew was that a voice appeared in her head. “Breathe, Alice. Try to get up,“ the voice said, and Alice recognized it as her grandmother’s. She breathed now, the way she had seen Jason do before, forcing her mind and body to calm down. Finally, she got up, the wave of pain she had felt locked away somewhere in her soul. When she opened her eyes, Sister Josie was standing at the far end of the west corridor; Helena stood close to her, tears in her eyes, but she was not scared. Neither was Jason. He just looked at Josephine as if he had known her forever. And the thought hit Alice, that maybe Jason had actually known her that long. “You need to get out of here,“ her grandmother said calmly. “This institution is closed for a reason, and the longer you stay, the lower your chances are of staying alive. Follow me; there is a cellar, and it leads into the garden. You will be able to escape there.“ Jason and Helena immediately followed after nurse Josephine, but Alice was unsure. She did not move, and after a few seconds the others noticed. “What’s really going on here?“ she asked, without giving anyone else the chance to speak. “If you don’t tell me now, I’ll refuse to come with you!“ A glimmer of what seemed like anger flashed over Sister Josie’s eyes, but it was gone so quickly that Alice thought she might have imagined it. “You are right, Alice,“ her grandmother said, waving her arms reluctantly. “You all deserve to know the truth. The truth of this building, the truth of me. The first thing you should know is that I am immortal.“ She looked at Helena now, with sweet eyes. “And I was one of the Odds who opened this Nursery." And so Sister Josie told them the story of the Saint Adolfo Nursery for Odd Children, from it’s first opening, to the first incident, and from the reopening to today, and her voice seemed so calm and steady that it was as if all three of them fell into a trance, forgetting everything around them and everything that had happened, and they relived what had happened in this very building, years and years and years ago.

Alice’s fists were still clenched when Sister Josie finished her story. She tried to process every information she heard, waging whether it made sense or not. She did not trust Sister Josie, but she could not say why, yet. A noise from one of the floors above made Alice jerk her head up, but she could not see anything. Just when she wanted to go and see if anyone was still there, Helena’s shy voice interrupted her thoughts. “So that‘s what happened?“ Alice‘s mum asked carefully. It seemed as though the shock of seeing her own mother alive and young had gone by quicker than expected, and she was now a young girl again, trying to understand why her mother had left. But Alice was still unsure; and she did not want her mother to go with Sister Josie, not to the cellar, not anywhere. “I don‘t believe your story,“ Alice said now, ignoring Jason‘s surprised face. He clearly believed every word that came out of Sister Josie‘s mouth - even the part about the demon child, Peter, who burned down the whole nursery in 1883, even the part about said child reappearing after the nursery had reopened, and the part about that child being now locked up in one of the rooms on floor five. “Why would you have stayed if that was the case?“ she confronted her grandmother. ”You could have left him here and come back to your daughter.” Sister Josie smiled now, a mild, understanding smile. “I‘m a nurse, Alice, and Peter was one of the children I was responsible for. I survived the fire, because I am immortal... and so is he. When the nursery reopened, he came out of his hiding spot and joined us again. I thought I could help him with his struggles, teach him how to control his powers, but he grew too strong to quickly, and the hellish power took over once more. I saw it coming, this time, and so I built a special room in which he should live without ever harming anyone again. And he still lives there, but he draws power from us, from everyone who is gifted. It is his nutrition, and soon he will be strong enough to break through the seal, and when he does, all hell will break loose.“ Alice took several seconds to go over her grandmother’s words. ”So all these years you gave him enough energy to survive, but not enough to gain his full power?” Alice’s concern grew even stronger now, and she concentrated even harder on her ability. ”Yes, Alice. And you have brought not only yourself, but two other gifted in here. Come with me, please, so that I might save you, and get you out of here before it is too late.” She felt it now; Alice had tried to get more time, to focus merely on Sister Josie’s emotions, to feel what the woman in the nurses dress felt. She felt it now. Behind a wall of pretentious care and false fear for Alice, Jason and Helena, there was mischief, chaos, and rage. Sister Josie did not want to help them; she wanted to hurt them. But the nurse saw the knowledge dawning in Alice’s eyes, and before Alice could warn her mother or Jason, the outline of her grandmother shifted, and transformed into the black shadow of a boy, with hellish red eyes.