#salt in wounds

[crimsonlyinglilly]

Day 15: salt in wounds / phobia / revenge

Still days behind but here’s day 15 for @augustofwhump. Would help if i stuck to my plan outlines but youtube fed me Saving Hope clip and this was born.

Also thanks to @theotherworld97 for listening to me ramble about this.

Spoiler for season 3 finale Saving Hope.

Saving Elijah - as a working title, after having his memory wiped instead of going to France, Elijah ends up becoming a surgeon in Toronto.

That was going great until something forced him to remember everything, leaving him missing his years without the weight of centuries crushing him.

—--

He had been happy, he had been good, a dick but good; saving people, helping, making things better.

He was human.

He had almost had a family, there was a little boy he should have gotten to raise, a woman he loved.

It was everything he wanted.

Dying had been quick, sudden, boom! and he was gone, far quicker than father’s blade in his heart or that damn thorn.

Waking up is worse.

His body regrowing because few things could kill him, but there was no escaping the damage that had been done.

He couldn’t scream or move, no air in his lungs or working vocal cords and his muscles were shredded.

Shrapnel was a bitch.

So he was awake as he slowly remembered why he wasn’t dead.

What he was.

Who he was.

Remembering is salt in the wounds.

And giving his complete body is a wound, raw and charred, that was saying something.

Because Joel Goran had died years ago, a stupid accident ending a life that should have brought hope to people, a bar fight ending in a knife to the heart.

Like his first time.

He didn’t appreciate the irony.

And Amalia, the brilliant loyal friend she was, who had been keeping something from him, a witch because magic and the supernatural were a thing apparently.

It had to be through luck that she just happened to find a vampire who looked like him, her lost friend and decided to use them, to give her friend another chance.

Why not? A Dr was better than a bloodsucker, helping people instead feeding and killing them, an improvement.

She hadn’t expected her victim to volunteer.

But what else was the amnesiac vampire going to do, after months of not knowing who he was, struggling with hunger and an ache in his chest he didn’t understand. If he couldn’t remember who he was, he’d take being someone else, someone better, who clearly had someone to miss him.

Elijah remembered now.

Everything.

He wasn’t truly Joel Goran, just given all his memories and skills, or maybe he was, for her to be able to interfere with him, an Original Vampire tainted by a piece of the Hollow. She was an exceptional witch, who's to say she hadn't brought her dead friend's soul back and placed it in the basically empty body, because that's what he had been. 

No memories, no desires, just a name that had meant nothing.

Now he was both Joel and Elijah and Elijah Mikaelson.

He would prefer the nothing back now than Elijah Mikealson. Nothing instead of the craving to check on his sibling knowing he couldn’t, instead of the hatred in Marcel’s eyes and the fear in Hayley’s.

He wanted just to be Joel again, with Alex’s love, his friendships in the hospital and a future.

All Elijah had was the loneliness and the crushing weight of his past.

Joel who felt worry for every life placed in his hands, who was haunted by the death that happened to him.

Elijah who felt nothing, nothing but self loathing and guilt, who killed as easily as breathing.

---

He’s not sure how long he had been trapped silent in his body as he healed-regrew but it was poor timing that it was after he heard the door open that he felt his muscles start to twitch.

He had enough thought to pray the person would leave before it spread, they hadn’t.

He couldn’t have stopped the noise but he managed to stifle it to a choking wheeze instead of the full scream.

He’s not sure how long he had been trapped silent in his body as he healed-regrew but it was poor timing that it was after he heard the door open that he felt his muscles start to twitch.

He had enough thought to pray the person would leave before it spread, they hadn’t

He couldn’t have stopped the noise but he managed to stifle it to a choking wheeze instead of the full scream.

There was a muffled swear as the person jumped and realised where the sound had come from, he focused on the sound of them coming closer to try to ignore the feeling of his muscles twitching as they woke up.

The cover- body bag because of course he was in a body bag, he pitted whoever was the one to gather him up, was unzipped and he found blue eyes staring down at him in shock.

What the hell! He should be with Alex and the baby. He thought in anger before he reminded himself that out of everyone Charlie Harris was perhaps the best person to find him.

Joel-Elijah used his twitching muscles to sit up getting a glimpse of his still healing skin, he shivered despite himself and hand caught his shoulders gently before he slumped back.

He had been blow up before- no Elijah had blow himself up to get at Finn, he had managed before, walking to find Cami and Hope, in the cold night ignoring the stinging pain of the too sensitive-all new skin.

He could manage now.

“How??” Charlie asked, looking shocked but not as shocked as most people would be, but then there had been something off about him since he woke from the coma some of the rumours had said.

He looked up at the older man- no he was a thousand years old, unable to even think of how to explain, wincing as he felt the skin of his cheeks heal, nerves suddenly awake to the cold of the room.

Charlie’s hands tightened on his shoulder digging into regrowing nerves that he couldn’t stop the groan of pain, causing Charlie to let go and Joel-Elijah fell from the table to hit the floor, body bag following to present what little dignity he had.

He wheezed a muffled whine as everything in his body struggled to adjust, various areas of his body fighting for the attention. He had been human for years, this level of pain and awareness wasn’t natural and the centuries as a vampire were reacting too slow.

He didn’t want to become used to it again, he wanted to remain human. 

“Shit! Joel?” Charlie swore, crouching down in front of him.

“Give me a minute.” he managed to gasp, before Charlie could touch him again, sounding much like the corpse he still pretty much was.

He stayed there for a moment ignoring the others’ eyes on him as he thought.

He was hungry, he needed blood considering how much he had healed.

He needed to know how he had been human.

How he hadn't needed blood for the last few years, how he had managed to walk under the sun without a daylight ring.

He had his one in a box back at his place, the only thing he had kept from the nothing Amalia had met and remade-

He needed Amalia, she could fix this, return him to just Joel, wipe away his rather more public death this time, he’d again start elsewhere.

Safer for Alex and the baby to be away from him. It would have to be Charlie’s anyway since he couldn’t have- 

He was human, somehow, no hunger for blood, no weakness to sunlight, slow healing, scarring. It could be, he could have had a child after a thousand years, thankfully Dahlia was gone but that would mean they would be in danger, if his blood was ever discovered.

He really needed Amalia.

“Phone.” he demanded, not sounding as gruesome, but the effect was likely ruined as he was still laying on the floor.

“Are you going to explain how this is happening?” Charlie asked, still sounding far too calm.

“After I make a phone call, ” he said, “and blood.” he added. For a brief moment he thought about explaining and compelling it away afterwards but if the child was his then Charlie would need to know everything to protect them better.

“Blood?” Charlie cocked an eyebrow at him, annoyingly unflappable, Joel wanted to be annoyed but the sight was helpfully calming, Charlie, like Alex, Maggie and Zach was Joel’s not anything to do with Elijah.

‘You're a thousand year old vampire, you shouldn’t need a human to calm you down.’ half his mind snapped at him

‘I don’t want to be.’ he snapped back

“Bag of it and my phone- from my locker.” he explained, ignoring how pitable he likely looked, staring up at Charlie from his position laying on the fall. 

—

By the time Charlie returned most of his skin had healed leaving him feeling raw and over sensitive, but he had managed to sit himself up leaving him curled on the floor with the body bag wrapped around him as he set the remains of the bomb that had been embedded in him to the side.

He returned with the asked for blood and phone as well as a set of blue scrubs.

Elijah-Joel had never been more happy at the sight of them, nine thousand dollar suits could burn for all he cared.

He had lived without the need for that armour, he preferred his jeans, shirts and scrubs.

[willosword]

ABSOLUTELY GAGGED.

[between-myself-and-me]

boygenius - Salt in the wound / Pukkelpop, Belgium / August 18, 2023 / source : mattyhealysmellss tiktok

[jacksnotmyname]

“I’ll save you the pain of watching your demon b die”

Lute thinks it is a mercy to die rather than see the one you care for most die.

Vaggie let Lute live.

Lute saw Adam die.

[formulanni]

Daniel Ricciardo as Judgement:

The Judgement tarot card symbolizes the arrival of absolution and the culmination of a significant undertaking, often related to past and life lessons.

Judgement indicates the cusp of rebirth.

In order to achieve that, you must look back upon your deeds and come to an honest evaluation of yourself. This leads to the awakening that signals a new way of life.

Tag list: @st-leclerc @rubywingsracing @saviour-of-lord @three-days-time @the-wall-is-my-goal @albonoooo @ch3rubd0lls

[shanastoryteller]

Thirteen Magpies

Dean’s pissed and trying to act like he isn’t. Sam’s head is throbbing and aching, there’s still blood crusted in the corner of his eyes, and he doesn’t have the energy to try and fix this right now.

It’s not that he doesn’t want to tell Dean. He’s thought of telling him ever since his brother pulled him from the fire, since he opened his eyes and realized he was living in his nightmare. But he can’t, the risk versus the reward is too great.

There’s no point, anyway. Jessica’s dead. Whatever freaky dreams he had, whatever he should have done to prevent it – none of it matters.

Letting his brother know that he’s a freak, that he might be something like the things they hunt, won’t get him anything. Dean thinks he’s mad now? If he knew Sam’s secret, mad wouldn’t begin to even cover it.

So he lets Dean make jokes he doesn’t mean, ignores the twitch in his jaw, and falls asleep fully clothed, boots still on right there on the covers. He really is that exhausted, but mostly it’s to gauge how angry his brother really is.

If he wakes up with his boots still on, no blanket thrown over him, he’ll know to tread lightly for the next few days.

~

“We got a live one.”

Dean flicks his eyes up from the map to Risa is leaning against the doorway. When she doesn’t say anything further, he raises an eyebrow. She knows better than to waste his time.

She shrugs. “He’s pretty freaked, it’s weird. He doesn’t seem to have any idea what’s going on, but he’s not infected from what we can tell.”

Well, she usually knows better than to waste his time.

“Probably better to gank him just in case,” he says, already focusing back on the map. There’s nothing around here but the infected, the military, and them. Soon there won’t even be that.

She hesitates. “He’s pretty young. And scared.”

So what? Aren’t they all? Hell, he’s thirty five. He’s still young, although he hasn’t felt it in years.

There’s a crash, and then Chuck is pushing Risa aside, eyes wide and panicked. Tension coils in Dean’s gut, even before Chuck says, “You need to see this.”

Fuck, fine. Whatever.

He’s so tired. Of this, of them, of everything. His only solace is that he won’t have to deal with it much longer.

He tucks a gun in the back of his waistband, giving them both a dark look as he stalks past. Does he really have to do everything around here? With his luck they’ve brought a crote right into camp who’s about to feral and start bleeding on people any second and they’re going to have to deal with a damn outbreak right in the middle of the base –

What the hell.

His chest is tight. He should be doing something, shooting him, giving orders, something, but just then all the air leaves his lungs.  

“Dean!” Sam shouts, relief breaking out over his face.

This isn’t the Sam of a couple years ago, or even five years ago when he saw him last – really saw him, saw Sam. This is how Sam looked when he picked him up at Stanford, broad and tall but still gangly and young, the strength of his muscles long instead of bulging. There’s a sweetness to his face that hunting had carved away within the first year, or maybe that was visions or the demon or whatever else Dean failed to protect him from. Sam breaks away from the hands gripping his elbows to the shock of James, who probably thought he’d had a good grip on the kid, and hurries towards him, which is when he sees that Sam is in dirty socks and a pair of slides that look to be a couple sizes too small. What the hell? Dean should stop him. It’s not really Sam. It can’t be.

“Thank god, I woke up alone and I thought, uh, never mind. What the hell is going on…” He trails off as he gets closer, squinting. He looks Dean up and down then reaches out and pokes him in the corner of his eye by his temple.  

Several people gasp. He can’t make himself look away, even as all the ways this is impossible, all the tricks it could be, run through his mind. It looks real. Is this a trick from Lucifer? But the base is warded against angels and demons and anything in between. No one but a human could walk in here. A witch? If there are any witches left, they’re hiding somewhere nowhere can find them. What would they gain by looking like his little brother at twenty two?

“You’re old,” Sam says, half delight and half incredulity. It makes him think of when he fell into that swamp when they were kids and Sam laughed himself sick after he helped him out. “Dude, did you piss off a witch or something? Were you trying to sleep with her? You really have to learn when to love them and when to leave them.” His gaze rises a little higher. “Got any grey hairs?”

He sounds like Sam.

“Okay, buddy, that’s enough,” James says, stepping forward gun first.

Sam reacts automatically, no longer hunched next to Dean, but straightening to his full height of nearly six and half feet and as he steps in front of him. He knocks Dean an extra inch behind him even though he doesn’t have a weapon or shoes or any clue what’s going on.

Something inside of him that he thought was long dead breaks and resets.

Yeah, that’s Sammy.

People always got it wrong. If this were someone’s idea of a trick, they would have had Sam looking to him for protection and asking for his help. Dean was notorious for being over protective, after all, always taking the hit, always making himself a target. That’s what people remembered.

Sam tolerated it at best.

He let Dean take the lead when he was comfortable. When he felt safe. He didn’t argue about Dean going in first or playing bait only because it wasn’t worth the effort, only because it meant that Sam was at his back and could cover him if something went wrong. He put up with Dean’s control freak tendencies until he didn’t, until he got stressed or pissed or scared, and then all bets were off and good fucking luck to anyone that got in his way.

But the Sam in front of him looks like shit, he clearly doesn’t know what’s going on, and he apparently woke up in apocalypse alone and somehow managed to get here. He’s probably a great combination of stressed, pissed, and scared right now and Dean may looks older, but he’s still him, the only familiar thing in this unfamiliar world.

Of course Sam sees a gun pointed in their direction and steps in front of him. Of course he doesn’t bother playing small like usually does, using ever scrap of intimidation he has even though he’s weaponless.

His brother at the end of his rope wouldn’t do anything else.

He’s not going to be an idiot about this, he’s still going to check, but every instinct he has is telling him that this is Sam.

How the fuck is it Sam?

He's drowning, he's suffocating, he wants to get his hands on Sam, wants to shake him, wants to bruise him just so he knows he's real.

He's practiced at not getting what he wants.

“Down,” he says to James, his voice coming out even and steady despite everything. He points the gun to the ground almost before Dean’s finished speaking. “Everyone, as you were. Sam, with me.”

“Who died and put you in charge?” Sam bitches, still glaring at James. He sticks close, looking around the camp curiously, eyes catching on all the symbols that he doesn’t recognize.

You did, he thinks, and almost laughs, except for the way it’s not funny at all. They head to his cabin and he pointedly ignores all the looks they’re getting. Little hard to bring a giant back without anyone noticing. He points the table. “Sit.”

“Do I look like a dog to you?” Sam asks, crossing his arms and not sitting. “Dean, what the hell is going on! What is this place? Where is everyone? What’s wrong with the people out there? Why are you old?”

“Just,” he lets out a harsh breath. For fuck’s sake. “Can you not argue with me and do what you’re told for one minute?”

Sam glares at him, but must see something in Dean’s face that sways him because he huffs and nods. Then he ruins it by literally setting his watch and saying, “One minute.”

He still doesn’t sit down.

Christ. He’d forgotten how much of a little shit Sam used to be. He should probably restrain him for this, just in case, probably shouldn’t have brought him back alone, it’s just.

He thinks it might actually be Sam. A Sam, anyway. He goes through salt, holy water, iron, and silver. It takes longer than a minute, but Sam seems intrigued enough to go with it. Some of these tests are brand new to him. In the end, all it gets him is an irritated eye roll. “If you’re really Sam,” he says, “tell me something only the real Sam would know.”

“If?” he repeats, rolling back around from intrigued to irritated. It’s the same little brother annoyed face that Dean knows so well, lips pursed and eyebrows pushed together.

He’s missed Sam so much.

“If it’s occurring to you that you should have been concerned about me being me, don’t worry about it,” he says tiredly. “You can test me too.”

Sam’s nose scrunches. “Don’t be stupid. You’re you. Just old and sort of bitchy.”

His lip almost twitches at that.

Sam looks around again, chewing on his bottom lip. “Dean, what year is it?”

He thinks a lot of things in his life would have been easier if he’d had a dumber brother. “What year is it for you?”

Sam glares. For a moment Dean thinks he’s going to refuse to answer until Dean tells him what’s going on, but he says, “2005. We just finished dealing with Bloody Mary.”

Fuck. That’s barely a month after Jessica.

It could still be a trap. He doesn’t believe it, hasn’t believed it from the moment he saw him. “Tell me something only Sam would know.”

He throws up his hands. “How would I know that? I’m clearly in the future, somehow, or crazy, and either way I don’t know what you or other people don’t know. Ask me something only I would know. You’d know better than me.”

Dean thinks that makes sense. Maybe. But he’s drawing a blank, trying to go back ten years in his memories to remember what secrets they’d shared then, and if any of them are still a secret now, and nothing’s coming to mind.

Sam softens, holding his hands open. “Come on, Dean, it’s me. I know that you’re you. Can’t you tell that I’m me?”

Yes. But Sam had always been better at that than he was. He'd known within three seconds that the skinwalker hadn’t been him, even though they’d only been back on the road together a few months at this point. Sam had never been able to explain to him how he’d clocked it so quickly, only that it had been obvious.

No one else knows him that well. Never have, never will.

It’s obvious to him that this is Sam. But it’s stupid to rely on his gut. It’s betrayed him before.

“Fuck,” he groans, running a hand over his face. This Sam hasn’t even faced a skinwalker yet. “Okay, fine, Jesus.”

Sam grins, smug in his victory in a way that makes Dean want to go over there and give him a noogie like they’re kids again. He wants to pretend for one second that not everything is misery and shit.

Christ, Sam basically is a kid right now. He’s only twenty two. Dean’s hit just then with the enormity of what Sam doesn’t know. They haven’t even met Missouri yet. He doesn’t know about Azazel, about the other psychic kids, about his powers, about what the demon did to him. He doesn’t know about angels, doesn’t know about Lucifer, or all the terrible fucked up things waiting for him.

“How did you get here?” he asks quietly, can feel the panic clawing at his throat. It’s too much. Sam is here. He was never supposed to see Sam again. His brother is long gone.

His brother is right in front of him.

Even if it’s not a trick, it is a trap. The day before he’s set to finally retrieve the Colt and kill Lucifer for good, a kid version of his brother appears? He doesn’t know the angle just yet, but he knows that there is one.

It was supposed to be over. He was going to finally be free.

But he can’t leave Sam in this piece of shit world alone. Not again.

“Beats me,” Sam shrugs. “I went to bed next to you and woke up in a different motel and met some rabid people and ran and ended up here and then I saw you. Nothing was weird or different before, or at least nothing I noticed. Will you tell me when I am now?”

“2015,” he says finally, watching Sam’s face, bracing for a freak out but also unsurprised when it doesn’t happen.

When the chips are down, Sam’s never been anything but steel.

“Huh,” he says finally, eyes downcast. He nods, more to himself than to Dean, than lifts his head to look him in the eye. “Where’s Dad?”

Will the thought of his father ever stop hurting? Probably not. Especially not now. He’s looking the baby brother he was supposed to save in the eye and he failed. He failed to save him and now he has to go and kill him.

If there were any mercy left on earth, Dean would have died the moment Sam said yes in Detroit.

He shakes his head.

Sam’s face crumples briefly before he rallies, swallowing down the grief that’s all too clear to Dean. “Yeah, probably should have figured that out as soon as I saw you barking orders. Okay. Where am I? Future me?”

Dean tries to control his face, to keep it impassive and empty, but by the way Sam jerks back like he’s been hit, he knows that he failed. He’s good at this normally. Really good, in fact. Maybe he still is, he’s just forgotten how well Sam used to be able to read him.

“Oh, man,” he says quietly. “I’m so sorry.”

He jerks his eyes to Sam’s, searching his expression. Does he know? Has the same thing that brought him here also told him something of what they were throwing him into?

“How did I – no, don’t tell me,” he decides. “Are you okay? I didn’t even like the idea of you hunting alone, never mind this.”

Sam thinks he’s dead.

It’s almost a relief.

“Fine,” he says.

Sam gives him a look. “Yeah, your whole family’s dead and the world's gone to shit, you’re clearly doing great. I don’t know why I even asked.”

Dean smiles. It’s been a long time. The muscles feel unused.

He still wants to touch him. But he can't. Once he starts, he doesn't think he'll be able to stop.

Sam stares at him for a long moment, eyebrows raised. “Are you crazy?”

“Probably, yeah,” he says, feeling the urge to laugh in his chest, another forgotten sensation. He’d forgotten how much Sam used to backtalk. The demon, Dad’s death, his deal, what Sam had gone through when he’d been gone, fucking Ruby. It had all worked to stomp out his brother’s attitude, to grind down Sam in a way that John Winchester had tried and fail to achieve for nineteen years.

In some ways it feels like he lost Sam long before he released Lilith. He’d feel guilty about it, but Sam probably feels the same way about him.

Felt the same way. Sam’s not feeling much of anything right now, with Lucifer walking around in his skin.

[daddiesdrarryy]

Draco: I’ve got everything I’ve ever wanted. I got a manor. I got a closet full of expensive robes. I got my parents who love me and my ginormous inheritance!

Pansy: Haven’t got Potter yet

Draco: I’m trying, Pansy!

[scalpho]

you'd think fabian would catch a break after bill's death but the second bill clocks out of giving fabian intense ominous speeches (sometimes borderline threats) embedded between "my darling boy"s and "i love you"s, hallariel comes out of 16 years of perpetual drunkenness into sobriety to clock IN to doing the exact same thing. first time we see her sober she threatens to duel fabian to the death. AND gilear is his stepdad. just L after L on the parental front for fabian aramais

[trickarrowsandbatarangs]

- Batman & Robin: Eternal (2015) #10

Jesus Christ, Tim. That was so unnecessary.

Bonus:

TIMOTHY. Let him LIVE!

[crimsonlyinglilly]

Day 18: came back wrong / unavoidable / muzzle

Day 18 for @augustofwhump.

Saving Elijah - still a working title, after having his memory wiped instead of going to France, Elijah ends up becoming a surgeon in Toronto.

Charlie went to the mortuary for closure, he got something else.

—----

Charlie had come down here for closure, after Zach had returned to the hospital in shock and with a tale he shouldn’t have been surprised by, because of course that that reckless fool would manage to get himself killed. 

At first he had waited expecting Joel to come by and say something; a goodbye, a threat to look after Alex and Luke but nothing.

Nothing but watching Alex’s heartbreak on what should be one of the happiest days of her life and the tiny perfect baby who had no idea what he had lost.

Charlie hadn’t really thought it would happen, that it would just be him. Some part of his mind he had thought they would just keep going on the way it had been, him and Joel both there for Alex, no matter who she chose in the end, and the baby.

Luke.

Joel was meant to be showering the baby in gifts and showing off how much more prepared he was.

Raising a child took work, accidents happened all the time they all knew that, more parents couldn’t hurt, and yet there Joel went proving it by getting blown up before he ever got to meet his-their son.

The mortuary is just as empty of a shouting Joel, he hadn’t thought Joel would just move on without a final word, it didn’t seem like him. 

Yet here he was alone with a bodybag.

He had tried not to look at it too much, he was familiar with death, it came with medicine even before his coma but this was different, Joel was too loud and annoyingly there, to be left in pieces in a bag.

Maybe if he had looked more he would have noticed something different instead of having a near heart attack as the bag jolted suddenly letting out a gasping scream.

After a moment of hesitation he had moved and unzipped the bag to meet wide pain filled dark eyes, but awake, a somehow alive Joel Goran.

“How??” he hadn’t been able to stop himself from asking as Joel sat up, wincing as he could see muscles move though the absence of skin, and then realising Joel could be just as much in the dark as him. 

He had thought for a brief moment this was Joel’s ghost but he had reached out and met bare skin- not skin, most of his body still showed signs of the explosion-  but the shoulders under him were warm and alive somehow, his tightening grip then pulled a noise of pain making him let go.

And watched as Joel toppled off the table, still tangled in the body bag.

“Shit! Joel?”

He would like to say he has grown to be accepting since his coma but this may have been toeing his line, apparently moving past ghosts and onto zombies, but he followed Joel down to crouch in front of him.

Within brain-eating reach, a little voice warned him but he ignored it, because somehow Joel wasn’t dead, Alex didn’t need to be in tears upstairs and their son had a chance of having Joel in his life.

Three parents are better than two, he hadn’t been this fixated on this idea before Joel had died but now he was.

“Give me a minute.” the not-dead groaned, pushing the chance of being a zombie down and Charlie had watched as the man or whatever just breathed as his skin and more slowly regrew.

Because he had been blown up, it just seemed whatever he was didn’t die that way. 

“Phone.” Joel demanded after some time apparently having grown more himself even while still missing much of his skin and hair.

“Are you going to explain how this is happening?” he asked as he realised Joel wasn’t freaking out as much as he should, meaning he knew at least something.

“After I make a phone call, ” Joel replied, adding more before he could argue, “and blood.”

“Blood?” he asked as he stood up, not a zombie then but vampire? Oh he hoped not he wasn’t getting into whether any of the fictional vampires were real, he was fine with just ghosts and the afterlife.

“Bag of it and my phone- from my locker.” Joel explained looking up at him.

Joel had never looked small but curled in the body bag looking up at Charlie, lost, in pain, he looked so young.

He had died, been blown up recklessly saving someone else, trying to do good and almost lost out of the best things in his life, Charlie had left before he let himself think too much more of that.

Joel wouldn’t appreciate the pity.

It took him about twenty minutes; going to get the phone, refusing to think about it when he collected a bag of blood and picking up a pair of scrubs on his way back. The sooner Joel was out of the bodybag the sooner Charlie could stop thinking about how he died.

Then he was hoping Joel had a way of dealing with the fact everyone knew he had been blown up, this was far more complicated than waking up from a coma, this was regenerating from brunt and bloody pieces.

When he returned Joel looked almost normal, right down to his hair, if not for the wide eyes shock which had quickly narrowed as he caught sight of the blood bag, he tossed it to him without another thought and watched as his face changed.

Blood red eyes, dark veins spreading from them and a parted mouth that revealed fangs before he sunk them into the blood bag.

Vampire, Charlie thought as he blinked down, as Joel drained the blood bag within moments, Joel Goran was a vampire, because they were real now.

Joel looked up at him as dark veins faded and dark brown replaced the inhuman red eyes that had been there for a moment, he pulled the empty bag away giving it a glance of distaste as he put down and held his hand up for the phone.

Right this was his new life now, at least he wasn’t alone and Joel seemed to have some idea what was going on.

“So you're a vampire?” he asked, withholding the phone and dropping the scrubs on him. “Get dressed first then you can have the phone.”

“I’d rather not.” Joel told him, making him blink as he noticed a complete shift in his accent.

“Why not?” 

“My skin’s still sensitive and i’m feeling things like a human.”Joel confessed,

“Like a human,” he raised an eyebrow, “How long haven’t you been?”

“That’s the complicated part and the reason I want the phone.” he punctuated the sentence with his hand returning for the phone, normal accent back. “I need to make a call to see if she can fix this.”

“One answer and you get the phone, this isn’t new to you?” he gestured to Joel.

“Still not simple, but no this isn’t new to me,” Joel sighed, taking his hand back to straighten the creases in the body bag covering his waist, barely a trace of New Zealand in words, “A thousand ago my mother cast a spell and my father stabbed me in the heart. Then four years ago after having my memory wiped, for my family’s safety from me, I was found by a grieving witch who somehow made me human and Joel Goran, but today I blew up and woke up remembering everything.”

Charlie stared, looking between the phone in his hand and Joel- or not Joel, and placed the fact Witches were a thing to worry about now somewhere to think about later, after bringing Alex in on this.

“So you're not Joel?” he said, refusing to touch anything else.

“I am,” the vampire snapped, as Charlie watched him twitch, “that's why I want the phone, fix this, go back to what i was.”

“And the thousand years of memories before the last four?” he asked out of pure curiosity.

“Better off gone,” Joel snapped, “I was helping people as Joel.”

“And it got you blown up.” he countered, unsure why he was arguing besides the fact Joel looked far more himself half glaring at him than lost and confused.

“At least I didn’t blow myself up this time.” Joel said bitterly.

“You’ve blown yourself up before?” he repeated incredulously.

“I was trying to kill my older brother, he was trying to kill our niece.” Joel explained “Is it any wonder I'd prefer those memories gone?”

Charlie just looked at him there wasn’t anything to say to that, besides it sounded like something from a gothic novel so maybe vampire fit, even if it didn’t with the Joel he knew.

“And the person you are from them?” he questioned after a pause, only to be met with a wide smile.

“Trust me, I prefer the womanising bastard over the ruthless monster that destroyed everyone around him.” Joel shrugged.

He passed the phone and watched, he could almost see the flicker between centuries old vampire, all stiff sharp movements and Joel, loose limbed and nervous as he looked through the phone for whoever he needed.

Charlie decided then that it wasn’t a hard choice, in the end Joel was Joel, a few changes could be expected after being blown up.

Whether it was centuries of memories or just coming back wrong and trauma, he’d take what he could get.

[thorns-and-rosewings]

A certain development in Asylum AU happening in Canon Universe...

...translation?

I want to write something funny for Jack and Dazzle unintentionally creating a certain... Problem... For Solar; courtesy of Dark Sun.

(Happens right around Christmas time so... Jack gets to be home for Christmas this year)

(Warning for some VERY suggestive themes)

-Jack was at home by himself for a while. Everyone else had gone out Christmas shopping. Nobody was supposed to be in the house. So he was just watching a Cartoon show and mulling over some various holiday plans.

-Unexpectedly, Sun comes back early and very quickly greets Jack before saying he forgot something in the house.

-Jack stares...

-Before following 'Sun' around the house.

-He seems strangely interested in Solars room and tries to set up some sort of well concealed scanning device.

-But stops realizing that Jack is watching him.

Dark Sun: ...

Jack: You're not our Sun.

Dark Sun: (Sighs and begins very subtly begins activating a device to incapacitate Jack) No... I'm not.

Jack: Why are you in my dad's room?

Dark Sun: Oh just setting up a scanner to check something about your fathers new body... To see if it would be compatible... Nothing dangerous, just a curiosity.

Jack: Wouldn't his blueprints be more useful for that?

Dark Sun: (Pauses) Actually yes... Are you offering to get them for me?

Jack: You're a Sun, so it's not like you're a bad person. I could get you his blueprints. I know where they are... But...

Dark Sun: Yes?

Jack: Dad says that it's only fair that if somebody's done something nice for you, you do something nice for them... Could you help me?

Dark Sun: And what would you need help with exactly?

Jack: (Disappears for a second, before reappearing with what looks like an ad from a magazine) I wanted to get these for Dazzle! The 'Fairytale Princess Plushies' only they're all sold out and father says I'm not allowed to shank anybody for them... Can you get me them to give to Dazzle for Christmas?

Dark Sun: (Smiles... And it seems almost genuine) If you get me his blueprints, I will get these plushies for your friend for Christmas.

Jack: Yay!! (Disappeared for a bit before coming back with the Blueprints for Solars new body)

Dark Sun pat his head and assured him that the gift for Dazzle would arrive in time for Christmas...

...

(...About a week later...)

Dazzle was sitting quietly in the living room eating a PB&J sandwich as 'Sun' walked quietly past her, saying nothing but waving... Trying to just go up the stairs to-

Dazzle: Are you the other Sun?

Dark Sun: ...you know I am just going to give up trying to be sneaky about this, yes I am a different Sun than yours...

Dazzle: Why are you in our house?

Dark Sun: Oh just... Trying to figure out when Solar would be here alone. Nothing important...

Dazzle: Why don't you just call?

Dark Sun: (Very mild sarcasm) I don't have the number.

Dazzle: Oh... Would you like it if I just called you? So you can have a playdate with Mr. Solar?

Dark Sun: ...actually that would be very helpful...

Dazzle: (Fidgets a little)

Dark Sun: ...and what would you like in return?

Dazzle: (Pulls out a folded up picture from the pocket of her overalls) I wanted to get Jack the Dark Heroes Action Figures for Christmas, but I haven't saved enough money for them... Can you get them for Jack please?

Dark Sun: (Smiles, for real) This is the most adorable sellout that's ever happened.

Dazzle: ?

Dark Sun: If you just give me a little call for that... Playdate... I promise you that I will get your friend these toys for Christmas.

Dazzle: (Giggles) Thank you Mr. Other Sun.

Dark Sun: No, thank you sweetie. Thank you very much

...

The day came when Solar was indeed, alone in the house. Working on several of his own projects and his mind busy... Trying not to think of the more unpleasant things that have befallen the family in most recent times.

Until Sun calls him downstairs. Where he's lounging on the couch and asks Solar to join him... And he's holding not wine, but a bottle of Solars favorite alcohol. Crown Royal Whiskey.

Sun pours Solar a glass and they just start chatting. But over time and discussions of stress, gradually they depleted the entire bottle...

...and BAD DECISIONS were made...

Solar only realized what happened come the next morning when he sobered up... And found Dark Sun laying next to him, seemingly quite content with everything that had undoubtedly happened.

Dark Sun: You were a satisfactory partner. If this brings about an equally satisfactory result, I might seek you out again.

Solar: Did... We just...?

Dark Sun: I was under the impression you were a smart one... Also yes, not to mention that you were far more than willing throughout this entire session. If you hadn't been, nothing would have occurred.

Solar: Why...?

Dark Sun: Because your intelligence is appealing. Your personality isn't grating and your physical appearance is symmetrical and pleasing.

Solar: ...are you saying you find me... Attractive...?

Dark Sun: I said that you are satisfactory.

Solar didn't exactly get the chance to question what had just happened any more, because Dark Sun merely stretched and proceeded to leave through a portal he randomly opened in the room...

...well...

...After everything Solar WAS going to make him breakfast, but apparently that wasn't happening...

...

Christmas Day...

The family was all gathered around the large Christmas Tree that had been set up in the living room. Presents had been placed under the tree and Sun had made some wonderful treats for everyone to enjoy... And some spiced eggnog for the adults... Much of which Solar had been hitting kinda hard due to the troubling events he'd been through.

But amidst all of the familiar presents that were under the tree, there were two particularly large boxes that nobody could remember placing there... The boxes were wrapped in a beautiful, shimmering golden paper and topped with large black bows adorned in glitter that made one think about a starry night sky when the light caught it just right.

One box addressed to Jack, the other to Dazzle...

The kids opened the boxes up and there were immediately happy squeals of joy as Dazzle pulled out a set of beautiful plushies, while Jack now held multiple action figures that he clearly wanted quite badly...

Two cards that had been attached to the boxes fluttered between the kids. Merely stating 'To Dazzle from Jack' and 'To Jack from Dazzle.' which got the two best friends to hug and thank each other for the wonderful presents.

While the back of those cards bore a black colored Sun insignia that all of the adults could see...

Solar: (Looking a little deranged at this point...)

...I think they pimped me out for toys...

[thewisestdino]

rootspring with 30 hehe🥲

(for that spotify challenge)

They say the hearts and minds are on your side

They say the finish line is in your sights

What they don't say is what's on the other side

[airyal245]

d-d-desert duo pretty please 👉👈

Anything for you, Sparky

Have some soft desert Duo after their devastating defeat in the polls >:)

[jane-friend]

Me when I look at my friends

[keepin-it-on-the-d-l]

Is now a good time to post these drawings of them that I did literal months ago or

[shakespearean-simp]

exboyfriend!mattheo watching f!reader clean up her new boyfriend instead of him

when mattheo beat him up after hearing him say to his friends that he was using her and that she was a slut

m: *why doesn't she look at me like that anymore? he doesn't deserve her. i love her. i love her? i love her. i miss her. please come back. i need her. yeah i need her. why does she look at him the way she used to look at me? she deserves someone better. like me. he should eat shit. he looks like shit too. good job mattheo.*