#pls feel free to block the 'pale live read' tag

[shsl-heck]

Pale Live Read Part 1. Blood Runs Cold + Brochure

Just finished the prologue plus brochure thing of Pale, and these were my thoughts. I kind of took screenshots of bits that stuck out to me as I read then am going back over those in chronological order as I write this. Also, gonna do bullet points for now because I think they're convenient and an easy way to structure this, but I'm open to suggestions. Beware of spoilers for Pact ahead if you havent read it, because I love it a lot and this is set in the same universe, so I assume knowledge of it is going to affect my reading of Pale.

I'm immediately a big fan of Louise. Very relatable to me, I too am frequently unsure if I've taken my meds. She just like me frfr. 

Gonna go ahead and predict the moon bleeding isn't good. But this is the Carmine Beast thing I've heard other people mention in relation to Pale right? Also I love the way he described the bleeding moon here.

The Otherverse/the stories set in it are maybe so compelling to me because I too come from a fucked up small town? Like Jacob's Bell and Kennet aren't special, small towns are just like that actually. The way everybody knows everybody's family even if they don't know the individual person is so accurate. I'd be surprised if Wildebeest wasn't from a place like this tbh.

So are the chimpanzee shaped things Goblins? Actual hallucinations? Something else? My money is on goblins because we did see one in Pact fucking with a chronically ill girl so it would be in character for them to pretend to be a dying woman's hallucinations.

Louise would be a great practitioner. She very skillfully has omitted key info about what she's doing in her convo with Lincoln.

The grief she feels when this thing disappears is so palpable, and no one around her shares it, no one even realizes it happened. Idk I think it really captures the feeling of being alone with your loss in just that tiny section.

Okay so at least two practitioners are here now, along with what I'm certain is a humanoid other with a messed up face. Like her face was hidden three times, which matters in this universe. Then there are some kids?

It sounds like something has gone wrong with the Carmine Beast, and these people are trying to deal with it, but don't want the outside influence of what I assume is the lord or council members of a nearby city.

Is this theoretical nearby city Toronto? That's kind of what I'm hoping for. I'm curious what happened to the Astrologer, the Elder Sister, Paige, Fell's niece, and Jeremy. Like I assume the Eye is still just hanging out, and the shepherd is obviously not in the picture, so those five are the ones I have questions about. Isadora is presumably dead based on what the demons said, but what's Paige up to? She was drawing power from Isadora while fighting vestiges, so can she still do that? The Astrologer was nice and I want good things for her. How's tending to his former demesne going for Jeremy? Have the Sisters managed to keep lordship? (I'm gonna guess no since I assume their clout took a big hit after abandoning the fight in Jacob's Bell) How's Fell's niece's training going? Tbh she's the one I think is most likely to appear in Pale out of this group, but I want answers about all of them.

The little notepad thing in the brochure is like a shopping list for an Awakening right? Whoever L, V, and A are, they're gonna try awakening at 5:30. The knife, the thread, the time piece, the skull, and the coin all being doodled on there along with wine and stuff (presumably to offer the spirits) make it basically impossible to imagine it's anything else

It being in a brochure also makes me think these three are new to town.

[kbstories]

impression//expression

"It’s not like Kirishima had come all this way to U.A. to immediately break the promise he made to himself upon arrival.

It’s just that Bakugou is as feral as they come, and the moment Kirishima recognizes it’s fear he felt crawling up his spine that day, he makes it his personal mission to face it head-on until it’s gone."

(Or: Being friends with Bakugou Katsuki is anything but a linear experience. Kirishima Eijirou would have it no other way.)

Tags: Kirishima POV, Developing Friendships, Protective Kiri, Soft Baku, Chatting

Chapter 1. No additional content warnings apply. Chapter 3. Chapter 4. Chapter 5. Chapter 6. Chapter 7. Chapter 8. Chapter 9.

***

The routine goes as follows:

Bakugou waits for Kirishima at the front door, arms crossed and a varying degree of pissed off depending how late he's running. Kirishima complains about the train being postponed or too full or delayed in some way – which is true, damn it, it’s like the universe has doomed his train line and none other in all of Japan to be the statistical outlier in an otherwise spotless record of punctuality – and begs for forgiveness, usually by bribing Bakugou with some post-workout coffee.

It works surprisingly well. A month into this and Kirishima is about ready to join one of those conspiracy theory servers Kaminari is so fond of because Bakugou is actually pretty lenient, death threats and crackling palms aside.

(That being said, Kirishima enjoys life and living and chasing after his dreams, so he will never breathe a word about that particular observation to anyone, least of all Bakugou himself.)

They usually got the gym to themselves, the employees on the early shift always looking vaguely relieved that at least someone is making use of their opening hours. Kirishima’s never been a regular anywhere aside from perhaps the manga store a few blocks from his home, so it feels a bit special to have this implicit claim to the training area made for heat-based quirks every Saturday morning.

Bakugou snorted when Kirishima told him that, muttering what sounded like fucking nerd under his breath.

The rest is pretty straight-forward. Kirishima’s been on a daily workout schedule for a good year by this point, and it’s clear Bakugou is used to it too. They stretch, do some warm-ups (in Bakugou’s case, quite literally) and off they go.

The thing is: It’s fun. Like, really, really fun. Really loud, too, especially when Bakugou’s got his sweat on and comes at him point-blank and flashy like fireworks personified. By the first session, Kirishima already realized it’s a lost cause trying to talk during training because all Bakugou replies with is an exasperated “Hah?!” no matter what he says.

It’s not like Kirishima could’ve heard himself speak anyways, his ears always left ringing something fierce from all the close-quarter explosions. Bakugou is a stranger to the concept of holding back or taking things by half measures, that much hasn’t changed.

Elsewhere, it might’ve taken a while for Kirishima to push his quirk to the point where his skin breaks out in cracks and ridges, his arms and shoulders and hair turning unyielding and clear-cut like miniature mountains. Not here, though: Not when the choices are to put his best foot forward with every move, or have Bakugou tear his throat out for daring to waste his time. There’s something so freeing about letting loose like that – a thrill that sends Kirishima’s heart on a war path and his pulse soaring until all that’s left are his instincts and quick reflexes.

Like this, every time he gets a hit in or a blast manages to leave a mark on his body, Bakugou grins and Kirishima grins back. Like this, the bruises and lost hours of sleep pale in comparison to just how bright Bakugou’s eyes can shine.

*

Kirishima brushes off the last traces of carbon dust off his arms to start massaging the sore muscles there. With U.A.’s Sports Festival a mere handful of days away, both of them kept going until their quirks started to sputter.

A strange comfort, to sit in mutual exhaustion like this. It’s not even noon but Kirishima could totally go for a nap, right there on the black, fire-proof tiles. Leaning back on his hands, he hums and asks:

“So. What’s the deal with Midoriya?”

A few feet from him, Bakugou pauses in rolling his shoulders. The black tank top he’s wearing is positively plastered to his body with sweat, his track pants saved from the same fate by how bulky they are.

“What?”

Too late, it occurs to Kirishima to feel nervous. The sensation is dim against the warmth still clinging to his skin though, that minute ache that comes with becoming stone for too long. “Being around him pisses you off. What’s up with that?”

Bakugou stares at him. His expression is hard to read, firmly within the realm of his default frown. “The fuck, Shitty Hair. What’s it to you?”

Uh oh. Kirishima sits up, mostly to raise his hands in a placating gesture, palm-up. “Just curious, bro. Honest. Been wondering for a while so I thought I’d ask, y’know?”

As bold as Kirishima aims to be, lying Bakugou in the face when his gaze is sharp enough to cut a bitch would be a monumentally stupid move. Bakugou seems to come to the same conclusion, even if his scoff is plenty aggressive.

“None of your fucking business, that’s what’s up with it. Fucking… Deku, bah.”

To say the silence that follows is loaded is the understatement of the century. Kirishima chews on his tongue, about a thousand questions balancing on its tip; it’s like the Midoriya he sees is the polar opposite of the one Bakugou blows a fuse over on a regular basis, and the why behind it is kind of starting to haunt him. (It doesn’t help that everyone in 1-A treats him as some sort of expert in all things Bakugou instead of interacting with the guy directly.)

One glance at Bakugou and he swallows it all down. Only now, with any and all traces of it gone, does Kirishima realize how calm he had looked. “…Coffee?”

Bakugou picks himself off the ground and leaves without another word.

*

Baku 💣💥

it’s bullshit dude (sent 18:23)

u know that right? (sent 18:23)

right? (sent 18:48)

like the whole chains + muzzle thing was ass i’m still fuming (sent 19:10)

and the press can go duck themselves lol (sent 19:12)

fuck** (sent 19:12)

it’s ur right to refuse the thing if u don’t want it (sent 19:15)

idk man it just sucks (sent 19:20)

baku? (sent 19:35)

:( (sent 19:55)

-

i know (received 19:56)

stop blowing up my phone (received 19:57)

-

baku!! ❤️  (sent 19:57)

sry haha (sent 19:57)

u ok tho? (sent 20:00)

-

fuck off (received 20:01)

-

sry sry (sent 20:01)

(my moms say hi btw 💪🏻💪🏻) (sent 20:32)

((and congrats but i told em u don’t wanna hear it lmao)) (sent 20:33)

-

hi back (received 20:40)

 -

💪🏻  (sent 20:42)

*

Lord Explosion Murder?? (Baku 💣💥 )

so like (sent 6:20)

ur hero name (sent 6:20)

-

? (received 6:21)

-

oh! morning lol (sent 6:22)

ok so. it’s a bit of a mouthful (sent 6:24)

manly! (sent 6:24)

but y’know (sent 6:24)

-

k (received 6:25)

-

what about nitro? or smth (sent 6:30)

it’s snappy and cool! like u hehe (sent 6:33)

WAIT NO (sent 6:33)

LIKE (sent 6:33)

UM (sent 6:34)

 -

kirishima (received 6:34)

-

yea? (sent 6:34)

OH SHIT DID U JUST (sent 6:36)

pls don’t kill me (sent 6:36)

bro? (sent 6:40)

bakubro? (sent 6:48)

nitro? 👀  (sent 6:53)

… (sent 6:57)

at least lemme say bye to my dog man (sent 7:00)

-

no (received 7:00)

-

RIP in pieces me (sent 7:00)

*

Nitro!! (Baku 💣💥 )

oi dipshit (received 8:02)

-

?? 👀  (sent 8:02)

-

you owe me coffee (received 8:03)

-

!!! (sent 8:03)

[train_view.jpg] (sent 8:18)

omw 💪🏻  (sent 8:19)

-

k (received 8:19)

>>Chapter 3

[whumpqin]

The Open Window, Part One

Splitting this up into two parts. I thought it would be better because part two has some really, really bad stuff in it, and I wanted to let people read without worrying about accidentally reading it! So Part One is bad, but not That Bad.

Also hi, I’m back.

Taglist: @faewhump @imagination1reality0 @galaxywhump @castielamigos-whump-side-blog @insanitywishes @spiffythespook (If you want to be added, just let me know!)

CW: Pet whump, creepy/intimate whumpers, conditioning, brainwashing, failed escape attempt, barbed wire, dehumanization, monster whump, abusive language, threats, and perhaps others that I’m missing. Let me know if something needs to be tagged!

Word Count: 2,598

For one, breathless minute, Elisha was merely feet away from the exit to his cage.

Don’t fucking move Caleb, you understand me?

Yes, Sir.

It felt like agony to be forced to stare at it, back stood straight and perfectly still like a toy soldier. Jeremiah had left him there to aid Aridai in their reshuffle of the living room - they had been talking about getting a TV for a while and needed to make room for it - leaving the air of a threat hanging from his stern tone. At this point it had only been a moment since hands had left the leash and the hot breath of one of his captors wasn’t crawling down his neck, and already Elisha felt like the air was being choked out of him.

Minutes turned to seconds. Unconsciously, he counted them.

Elisha’s leash hadn’t been tied down to anything. It had just been untied from the kitchen sink, forced to stand as punishment for dropping some heavy and very breakable earlier. In the moment tears had sprung to his eyes, as Aridai had told him how disappointed they were in him, how bad he was being. So, when Jeremiah had untied him and was initially going to take him to the basement, it was a welcomed relief instead of its usual dread of being alone again. 

Now, the leash hung down, swaying lightly against his skin as if it were reminding him that he was technically free right now. He could leave if he wanted. The door was right there, all it would take would be a couple of long strides, twist the knob, and run outside to feel the dirt on his feet after what seemed like an eternity.

Do what you’re told, no matter the consequences.

Elisha wanted to be good, wanted to be still, like Jeremiah had told him to be. If he was good he didn’t get hurt, sometimes they were even nice to him. If he was really good they might let him have the crumbs off of their plates and he was always so hungry. Even forced to sit on his aching feet, facing towards the only barrier between him and a normal life again, he could be good.

Yet the consequences of missing yet another window of opportunity plagued him. Not turning the bathroom door and opening it to scream for help haunted his nightmares. Elisha had dreamt for days after being trapped in the bathroom with a horrible monster and the door locking because he couldn’t get to it fast enough. Neither of his Masters understood why he was so hesitant to go back into the bathroom after that.

A strained tear fell from his eyes, down paths they had already traversed. It didn’t take much for him to cry nowadays, but now it simply was because of the option of choice being dangled in front of him like a morsel of food.

Never go outside with explicit permission, he reminded himself. There wasn’t a choice. There wasn’t anything. He was simply waiting for his Sir to come back and take him downstairs into the darkness again. Away from the light of the outside world that he hadn’t seen in over a year.

It had been 45 seconds when he dared a glance over to his Masters. Jeremiah was holding the couch up while Aridai had crawled under it, only their legs visible while they worked. Busy enough that there would be a few second head start before they could properly react.

I could leave right now and they wouldn’t be able to stop me.

He could hear the sound of lazy crickets outside. Gentle birdsong in the distance that seemed to be practically calling him. He felt like his head was being ripped apart.

But, as the minute came to a close, ticking over into the second, he had made a choice.

Elisha had skipped out on the open window once. He wasn’t going to do it again.

He darted forward, clasping his hands around the doorknob, heart thudding in his ears with each painful millisecond. It took a quick twist and pull for the door to come open and allow him to slip out into the evening light. Elisha didn’t look out, didn’t listen to Jeremiah’s loud call as he darted onto the porch, down the wooden stairs and onto the dirt road that marked the driveway.

He still didn’t look, only squinting at the brightness, as his legs carried him down the road and towards freedom. Even without sight however, Elisha could smell the fresh air as it coursed through his lungs with each aching, tired breath, feeling the wind in his hair for the first time in over a year. It was exhilarating, and he couldn’t help the mad smile that crossed his face as his feet carried him further away from the house.

The road ahead continued to wind in a back and forth motion. Elisha knew that the main road was out and away for the most part after having watched one of his Masters drive down this road in that small car. Said Masters would likely take a more straighter path if they wanted to catch him. He couldn’t let that happen.

Elisha dug his feet hard into the dirt, ignoring the pain that blossomed from it, and cut into the wheat field.

With his long legs he was able to gain more ground that he’d thought, as he heard the shouts from his captors become fainter and fainter. A brief joy flitted through his heart at getting out, getting free, almost lighting his step as he continued in the golden field, blending in with his pale green skin.

He stumbled as his foot caught on something, pain flashing through it for just a brief moment as the adrenaline blocked it out for the most part. Elisha didn’t even look, instead vying to drag the damned thing with him if that’s what it took to get free.

In a cruel twist of fate, his other foot caught and he tripped, tumbling into the wheat. Sharp thorns wrapped around his body, digging into his skin and binding him in thick, pointed wire that prevented him from getting up again. Elisha twisted and struggled, crying out in pain as the spikes embedded into his skin. He forced his arms to stretch out. He was getting away. He was doing this, even if he had to crawl.

A hand grappled onto his horn and shoved his face into the dirt, knee pressing one of the spikes into his back.

“You run faster than I thought,” panted Jeremiah from above. Elisha whined as he attempted to reach for the hand holding onto him, only for his wrist to be grabbed and pressed onto the ground. “You stay right the fuck there, Caleb, or more of this wire’s going around your neck.”

Elisha’s tail thrashed in fury and pain, tears rolling down his cheeks. His voice cracked into a desperate sob as his free hand dug into the dirt.

He had been so close.

Aridai stumbled into the field, panting heavily. “Jesus, he runs fast. The hell’d he do, run track and field in school or something?”

“I don’t know. But I guess my traps weren’t a stupid idea then, huh?” he said, beginning to grind Elisha’s face into the dirt. “I thought I told you to stay fucking still, Caleb. What was so hard about that?”

As his Sir hissed in his ear, a boot slowly clamped down on his tail, pinning it to the ground. Elisha writhed, twisting his head to look up at Jeremiah with utter terror in his eyes. They were going to kill him today, he was sure of it. This was the worst he’d done by far, and it wasn’t like they were forgiving.

“I don’t even have any of my tools with me. We’re gonna have to fucking drag him back to the house somehow,” Aridai complained. Elisha saw out of the corner of his eye that deep red hair, illuminated to fire as the sun beat down on it, as they pulled it into a ponytail. They leaned down to glare at him, all that fake warmth removed so that he could see the deep, emotionless chill underneath. “Maybe get some more barbed wire to tie him up.” Aridai’s expression sneered at Elisha, full of anger and hate.“You have something you want to say to us, you little devil?”

“‘M-’M sorry! Ss-sorry pl-ple-pleas-se!” He cried, squeezing his eyes shut as they grabbed onto his horns and pressed him into the ground while Jeremiah got off of him. Aridai grinded his face into the dirt, sending sparks of pain along his face. “Don’t-don’t ki-kill me, pl-please, ‘mm so-sorry Master!”

“You’re gonna fucking wish you were dead by the time we’re done with you,” they said, their fury barely held back. “I’m gonna make you regret being fucking born. I hope it was worth it, little diamond.”

Elisha was sure that by the time they were done, Aridai was going to make good on that promise, and that terrified him more than any threat being hurled his way.

He felt his skin press further into the barbed wire as Jeremiah  wrenched his arms backwards. The wire was wrapped around his wrists while Aridai kept him still, never relenting from the pressure on Elisha’s horns. Both of their hands were no longer gentle and soft, guidance said with falsely kind words as if he really was just a family pet. Now they were both so callous and angry, hissing and cursing like his very presence was offensive. Elisha was sure this wouldn’t be the last time he felt their wrath like this.

Aridai kicked him over onto his back and onto his hands, and he let out a keen of pain as sharp spikes dug into his wrists and made the bindings slick with blood.

From there, he could look up and see their angry faces as they got to work binding him like caught prey. They lifted his legs and tied them together with his tail so that he couldn’t run. They were set to literally dragging him back, Elisha realized. He wasn’t good enough to walk back. He couldn’t blame his Masters for not trusting him anymore, but could for how callous they were with him.

A feral sort of anger found itself bubbling in Elisha’s chest. He wanted out, wanted free, and they were never going to give it to him. His maw parted in a horrific scream, desperate and breaking from the weight of the strain he was putting it under. Maybe there was something, someone out there, that would be willing to hear and rescue him. When red filtered into his view he bared his teeth at it, determined to not allow Aridai anywhere near him for just the briefest of moments. A boot connected with the left side of his face, snapping his head in the other direction and stunning him. Then, it pressed against his throat as he inhaled, preparing himself to screech at the top of his lungs, cutting the air off before it could be used.

Above him, Aridai watched, a light grin tugging at the corners of their lips as Elisha choked on his own air.

“I don’t appreciate tempers, Caleb. Don’t you remember your newest rule?”

He did. He remembered. He knew he wasn’t supposed to be angry but Elisha couldn’t help it, he had been so close to being free and he failed. He was sure this was the last opportunity he would have because he was already so sorry for trying it in the first place.

None of this he could say of course, due to the increasing panic of not being able to breathe. Elisha let out a small whine, looking up to Aridai with pleading, watery eyes. Like always, they stared at each other for the longest time until the edges of Elisha’s vision were beginning to blur and fade, and then they relented and pulled their boot away. Elisha gasped for air, coughing and heaving, scratching his skin up more than he already had.

Aridai bent down, holding his horn so he couldn’t move his head. “Now pet, what’s your newest rule?”

“Pe-pe-p, hh pl-please- ah!” The hand slid down to his hair, wrenching his head back with a sudden force.

“All I want to hear from that fucking mouth of yours is that rule. I’m gonna give you one more chance, and I swear to god if you beg one more time with that stupid fucking stutter I’ll make sure you never speak again. Understand?” Aridai’s words were like poison rain, every drop stinging against his ears until they were nigh unbearable. But Elisha wanted to be good, so he nodded like a good pet and looked up to them, trying not to sob so hard he couldn’t hear them. “Say the fucking rule.”

“Pe-petss, pets don’t, don’t, nn-no, pets, pets wi-with ba-bad tem-tempers, ngk, ge-g… get pu-p-punisshhed,” he said, falling further into desperate tears. He could barely see anymore. With a whine, like a child crying for his mother, Elisha attempted to lean into Aridai’s touch for some sort of comfort, only to feel the hand draw away.

“Don’t try to be all cute now, it’s not going to fucking get you anywhere,” they warned, flicking his forehead hard to make him flinch back. “Now, do you think you deserved to be punished?”

Elisha swallowed thickly, watery black eyes searching for the words so he wouldn’t fuck them up again. He had messed up so much already, he couldn’t risk anything else.

He nodded, breathing hard through the one nostril that hadn’t been clogged up with his crying. “I-I-I d-do, ‘mm… ‘m ba-bad. I-I, I de-des-deserve it.” 

There was something in Aridai’s gaze that was sharp and deadly, as they stared at each other, but still somehow pleased. “Good. Then let’s get this show on the road, eh? You ‘bout ready over there, Jeremiah?”

“Mm. I think we’ll be able to drag him by his feet if I tie the wire around his ankles and hold them out here, like this.” Jeremiah wound the wire carefully around Elisha’s ankles, then parted his foot so that it dangled.

Cambion legs - or at least Elisha’s legs, though he dimly recalled his mom saying once that there were others like him when he was young -were shaped a bit differently than human ones. His were more “demonic” as some said to him, animalistic in the sense that they had a second joint before ending in the clawed feet that his mom always used to reason why he was so tall.

Regardless, tying him by the ankles seemed like a good enough idea for his Masters, and they set to dragging him out of the wheat field and back towards the house. Back towards his personal hell.

There was nothing Elisha could do, wrapped in barbed wire, except cry out in pain and sob for some kind of mercy. He knew he wasn’t getting anything of the sort.

His blurry eyes tilted up towards the sky, seeing fluffs of lazy clouds drifting across an endless, blue expanse. The sun was somewhere else, somewhere hidden, offering him this perfect view he knew he wasn’t going to get for a long time, if he was lucky. If he was unlucky, he may never see it again.

With a special kind of twist in his heart, Elisha thought that the sky was beautiful.

[captiancap]

Man-eater

(this is more of a Prolouge I guess? know I said part 2 of I notice you was going to happen but ive also been wanting to shed some light on this particular boy so here you go pls forgive. TW: Arachnophobia)

Being a security guard means you've seen some odd things. It paid well and you didn't actually have to use the taser as much as you first thought, so you kept doing it. You got recommended to different places but never to far from home.

But seeing weird things was pretty normal. People making out in places they shouldn't be, people doing drugs in places they shouldn't be, people just generally being in places they shouldn't be. One time you actually managed to stop what you think was an attempted kidnapping in a warehouse.

That warehouse has always given you strange vibes even before that incident. It seems to attract all the weirdos, which made some sense because the guy who owned it was a big weirdo too.

Or well... Actually that's false. He wasn't a weirdo. A bit quiet, okay, very quiet, and an odd sense of fashion but he was always polite. Greeting you when you happened to cross paths and occasionally thanking you for keeping watch as well as you do.

You never bothered to ask his name. Why would you? Besides he was easy enough to point out to anyone who wanted to know for themselves.

He's a big guy. Very big. Towering over even your tallest coworkers at a good 7 feet tall at least. And as impolite as this may sound, he was fat, definitely. Dad bod on point, as the kids say. Lots of pitch black hair all over his body covering extremely pale skin , messy and unkept. But you could tell he was strong.

He has to be what with him constantly carrying large containers to and from the warehouse. You've offered to help a few times but he's always brushed you off. Simply saying it wasn't a problem for him.

Alright, whatever Mr. Strong Man.

That was all you really knew about him. He was polite, big, quiet, and could probably bench press two of you. It's not like you chatted with him everyday, infact he only came around about 3 times a month.

It's silly really but after awhile, around summer, you developed a bit of a crush on this mysterious man. You contemplated asking him out, if only just to get to know him more, but didn't want to seem like a creep. In all honesty it was probably very hard to creep him out.

One hot day while he was taking a break from un-loading a few of the usual large containers, you decided to make a move. If it could even be considered that. No dinner or movie offer but you did ask his name.

He turned his head to face in your direction, the dark hair covering his eyes swayed slightly. It felt like he was analyzing you. Like a highschooler analyzed a frog just before cutting it open to get to the real stuff. You waverd, thinking that maybe 'prosuing' him wasn't such a good idea.

"Mastiff." He replied. Russian accent thick, but not incomprehensible. You chuckled nervously and introduced yourself. "I already knew your name" He says. You ask him how that is, a bit confused.

He pauses, then smiles, the slightest twitch of the lips. He points to his own chest and says "Name tag."

You mentally face-palm so hard you get dizzy for a second. Laughing it off once again you apologize for being an idiot. The feeling of being picked apart by his eyes leaves and you two actually have a decent conversation till he finishes packing things away.

You've never seen him smile that much before.

You've made a habit of talking to him when you get the chance. He doesn't seem to mind and is actually very good at conversation. You find out he's a writer and that some of the containers hold large amounts of books he has already read. Not all of the containers though.

He shows up more often, almost once a week. It actually catches you off gaurd when he's the one to ask you for a date. Of course the little crush hadn't gone away but you forgot about actively going after him in favor of enjoying conversation. You agree and he asks when you would be free.

You set up a time and date and for a while its all you think about. You two were going to see some old movie at a drive in who's whole thing was 'the movies are crap but hey free fireworks!'. Mastiff said he went there once as a child and it had scared the Jesus out of him, not the movie, but the fireworks. It sounded exciting.

On that night you tried to dress nice but not over dress. The line between which was very blurred that evening. Mastiff had picked you up at the park a few blocks from where you lived. His car was black, much like everything else he seemed to own.

He looked very nice, or that might be the fact that's you've only seen him in dirty jeans and T-shirts. He had on a simple undershirt and cardigan as well as some actually clean jeans. All of which were, of course, black. Maybe it was a goth thing. He could definitely be a goth.

The conversation as always was enjoyable and relaxed. You learned that he had many siblings, the exact number never specified, and two fathers. Of course he inquired about your family and you told him what you were comfortable with for the time and place.

You arrived after another half hour and parked in the nearly deserted lot. A few kids were running around waiting for the movie to start. Mastiff sets up the blankets on the trunk and you take a seat.

You pat the space next to you but he shakes his head. He says he needed to stretch his legs for a bit. 15 minutes later he's still standing. You scoot across the trunk to be closer to him.

Halfway through the movie you start to hear him mumble when certain things happen. You try to hear what exactly he's saying but it's rough and forgien. Russian probably.

The movie ends and people start to move around and set up fireworks. Mastiff goes to the back seat, bringing back a pack of rainbow sparklers.

"I didn't want to bring anything too illegal." He jokes. He takes a lighter out of his pocket and hands you the sparkler just as the colors start to change. Funny, you didn't take him for a smoker.

You two go through the whole pack while watching people who did bring more illegal items shoot them off into the sky. You look over and see the colorful lights illuminate Mastiff's profile. He should wear color more often, it's nice on him.

He drops you off at your apartment building after it's well into the night. You attempt to give him a small kiss on the cheek but he's so damn tall. He notices your attempt and instead of just bending down to make it easier for you, he lifts you up by the waist and places a soft kiss on your jaw.

You're a bit surprised, flustered, as he sets you down gently. He smiles, "I had fun tonight, when would you be available again?" You stutter out that you would be getting a day off next week, which you have yet to actually ask for. "Perfect. May I see your phone?"

You hand him your phone and he puts his number in. "Call me with the details when you have them alright?" You agree and take your phone back. You say you're goodbyes, he drives off and you head into your apartment.

You scream into your pillow with excitement. Why are you like this? You're an adult, you've had tons of kisses. No one has ever lifted you as easily as he did before but that wasn't so bad.

You spend a few minutes debating if you should text him tonight. No, no, can't be to clingy, plus he's probably driving still. Can't endanger a possible future boyfriend.

Sleep doesn't come easy that night but when it finally does it isn't pleasent. You have a nightmare, a very vivid one. You're actually in Mastiff's warehouse, peeking around with a flashlight. You look at one of the larger containers in the room. You remember this container, Mastiff had said that it held something that used to belong to his father. Something scuttles across the floor.

You whip around and shine your light across the room. Empty. It's just you there. You turn back to the box and everything in your body is telling you to leave it alone and walk away. But you don't listen.

You un-latch the sides and open it.

Suddenly you are hit with the horrid smell of rotten, burned meat. You watch as millions of spiders crawl out of the container and cover the floor. They crawl up your legs and bite you mercilessly. You're forzen as the spiderlings make thier way up your arms and to your face. They dig at your eyes and crawl into your ears and nose. You suffocate.

You jolt from your sleep and make a loud gasping sound. You'll never take air for granted ever again. You lay there for a few minutes, the sun barely peeking in from your window, still feeling frozen but thankful for the lack of billions of legs and tiny teeth scampering across your body.

The horrifying dream began to fade as you started your morning routine. Your shift didn't start till later in the day so you had a few hours to kill. Once again you debated texting Mastiff but decided against it.

You made food and checked all your social media while lounging on the couch. When that got boring you called your boss to actually ask for the day off next week. She agreed rather easily, though the comment about how you've been looking stressed lately wasn't very appreciated. You felt fine.

You did. You swear.

Work was the same as usual. Mastiff didn't show up which was also normal. You found yourself glancing at his warehouse more than usual. You weren't permitted to enter anyone's personal storage but you kept inching closer to it's entrace without knowing.

You stopped yourself before you could open the door.

Next week rolled around and you had finally gathered the courage to text Mastiff. You learned he preffered to call, that's cool, you like listening to him. He told you he was a bit concerned that he scared you off after you not contacting him for a few days. You reassure him that you are in no way scared off and that you were just, once again, being an idiot.

You two arranged to meet at a nice local cafe that Thursday. Once again the line between dressed appropriately and over dressed was unclear to you, but you managed. You walked in and immediatly you saw him. Gosh he sticks out like a sore thumb in a place like this.

Black, as always, is the preferred hue. But he looked good and comfortable so you suppose that's what matters. You walked over and sat across from him. He smiled at you, which still felt odd to see.

"You look nice, what's the occasion?" He asked. You joked with him saying that you had a date with a really cute guy and wanted to make a good impression. He chuckled, "I'm sure he already thinks you're great."

You blushed.

It was a nice brunch. Excellent conversation as always. You didn't bring up the dream but you did tell him about that one secret hobby you're embarrassed to tell most people about. He thought it was charming. You blushed alot that day.

You noticed he didn't eat much yet still paid for everything. You told him you felt a bit guilty about that but he brushed it off.

"It's no problem. Really." He would tell you. You weren't so sure about that but he shut you up real fast with another gentle kiss. You swore that he would be the death of you and he laughed.

That's how it went for a long time. Dates happened more frequently, you learned more about him but not enough for him to lose that mysterious air that drew you too him in the first place. You shared embarrassing stories, him admitting that before taking it seriously that he used to write for smut magazines, and you confessed that incident in school where it was totally you who did it but you just kept your mouth shut and someone else got blamed.

You got close. Not -let's move in together and have babies- close, but close enough that you've spent a few nights at his house and vice versa. It was one of those Saturday mornings in his kitchen that he officially asked you to go steady with him.

It didn't take much convincing for you to say yes. You really liked Mastiff, and from the sounds of it he really liked you. Being able to call him your boyfriend was like iceing on the cake. And you called him that alot.

'Boyfriend' often took the place of his name in conversations. It annoyed him a little but you were having fun so he let you get away with it. He had his fair share of nicknames for you as well, some of the Russian ones weren't all that appropriate but he wouldn't tell you which ones.

It was comfortable. Very comfortable. For awhile. He hid it well, but not forever. It actually surprised you that he told you of his own accord more than what he told you.

He realized one night while eating that if he wanted to be serious with you that he needed to confess something. You got the call and headed over to his house right after your shift ended.

He didn't look... Guilty. He looked calm and stoic, like when you first met him. You took a seat at the dinning table and asked him what was wrong. He said nothing. He just leaned over the table and kissed you. That's when it hit.

A strong taste of iorn. Of blood. You reel back and see the small stream of red coming from his mouth. Of course you freak out and start asking if he's hurt. He shakes his head and tries to explain but as he opens his mouth you see long, bulbous blood stained fangs.

And you're frozen again. You're standing frozen in your boyfriend of 8 months kitchen, watching as he tries to explain that he isn't human all the while small streams of blood run down his jaw.

That's the first time you see him get close to crying. He doesn't actually but he gets close. His voice wavers and his hands shake only slightly. But he gets through it. He gets through his confession of being... Something you can't remember... And waits for your response.

You run.

What were you supposed to do? Stay? Hug him and tell him it's okay and you still love him? He most likely just ate someone.

You can't go back home so you stay with a friend for a few days. You're still in shock for the most part and she's kind enough not to ask questions. It's on the 4th day of this hiding out plan that he contacts you. It's a simple text just saying 'Please'. Your heart hurts a little when you read it.

You know he prefers to call, to hear your voice.

You type back 'what'.

You and him talk but it's mostly him trying to explain again. He asks to meet up, somewhere public so you can be comfortable, and you stare at the screen of your phone.

You take a deep breath, then write out your reply.