#scream by thousand foot crunch

[the-kr8tor]

Bloodbath

Pairing: Vampire! Hobie Brown x fem! Reader

Word count: 2.3k

Summary: Your vampire roommate accidentally gets drunk off of blood.

Tags: no use of Y/N, no specific physical description of the reader, vampire hunter! Reader, wwdits au, mockumentary trope, vampire au, set in the pursuit of blood au, cw blood, cw injury, cw suggestive, fluff.

In Pursuit of Blood Masterlist

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Octobie 🎸

A request from @al1x00 — May I have garlic cloves in a heart shaped bottle please? IPOB!Hobie accidentally drinking the blood of a drunk person and now R has to deal with an incoherent tipsy vampire.(Make sure you get some proper rest and drink lots of water! Ly😽❤) --- i could not pass this one up for the halloween theme it's literally so perfect! Thank you for requesting, angel!!!

“Hobie, no!” You yell just as when he's about to lunge at a poor runner, who's unfortunate enough to jog at night, who just happens to run past you and your very drunk vampire roommate in his enormously large bat form.

The camera pans towards the yelling, lenses zooming in, spotlights shining brightly on the man in the shortest running shorts known to mankind and his entire body floating five feet off the ground as Hobie's claws latch onto his shirt. His screams echo around the park, and Hobie's bat shrieks sound above it like an endless click of a ballpoint pen.

You glance at the camera with your wide desperate eyes, mouth agape and hand pointing at the situation. “Put. Him. Down!” Yelling, you jump up, trying to grab hold of the stranger's trainers. “You've had enough blood!”

The scene shifts to you looking disheveled, hair messed up with your cheek having an unmistakable claw scratch while you hoarsely talk to the camera crew.

“Motherfucker drunk from an incredibly inebriated CEO of a shady tech company.” You explain bluntly.

The lens zooms out of your exasperated face, camera showing you hugging the large shrieking bat in your arms with your jean jacket wrapped around his flailing form whilst he tries and fails to bite and scratch you. “I tried to warn him that the fucker had every drug and cocktail flowing in his veins. But noooo, no one ever fucking listens to me!” You shake him in your arms, making the annoyed and adrenaline filled bat yell in his high pitched shriek.

Hobie's face escapes his denim prison, long ears fluttering in the breeze and fangs in full display as he tries to take a chunk out of you. You manage to dodge his attacks, face turning as far away as you could.

With a crunch of leaves underfoot, the cameraman backs away when you accidentally shove your face in the lens. Panting, the man behind the camera makes sure to keep his distance away from you and the angry bat as it zeroes in on the bleeding corpse right behind you. The body's foot twitches, and the producer takes that as a sign to anonymously call an ambulance.

“Fuck!” You stomp your foot down, and the thousand year old vampire stops his twisting and turning to look up at you with his big red button eyes. Hobie makes a sound akin to a chirp, fangs sticking out from his lip. “We're going home, Hobie.”

He trills in your arms, fuzzy head nudging your chest. You can feel how incredibly warm he is under the denim jacket, a sure fire way to tell that he is still under the influence of…everything.

“Don't flash those pretty eyes at me, you little shit.” You start to walk towards his street, hugging him tight against your chest like a chihuahua gone wild. He sneers, and you realize that he's taking a peek into your head and he did not like that thought one bit. “Get out of your head!” You squeeze him in your arms.

Smirking, you flash an image into your mind of him wearing a fancy three piece suit with a look of sheer egotistical pleasure while counting wads of dirty money. He shouts gutturally, now regretting the little peep inside your mind. The sound makes a few passers by look at you weirdly. The entire camera crew following you around doesn't help. “It's a toy, mind your fucking business.” You say to one of them, making them walk faster away from you.

Sighing, you finally see the dark gothic house around the corner. Its spires just screams ‘there’s a vampire living here!’ and its stained glass windows, circular topiaries, and wrap around porch says that the person living inside wasn't born in the same century as anyone else living in the same street. You still have no idea how no one has noticed their thousand year old neighbor. You love the place though, it's home and you wouldn't have it any other way. Even though the pipes need to be replaced with ones that don't give you some type of rusted water related disease whenever you take a drink from the faucet.

Your trainers stomp on the porch, juggling in between carrying Hobat and getting your keys from your pockets. He tries to escape your hold, head wiggling out of the denim burrito you wrapped him in. You can feel his toes wiggling on your stomach. “Don't you dare, Hobart.” With a stern tone, he falls limp, chirping, sounding like a whine. “Don't be cute with me,” you struggle to find the right key in your carabiner. “we're almost there.” You say much softer this time when the door unlocks.

The second you open the door, Hobie wiggles out and then flies off into the house. He zigzags, making questionable turns as he flies under the influence with his large wings flapping about and accidentally swatting away hundred year old vases and furniture.

“I'll let him empty his energy before I try to sober him up.” You pinch the bridge of your nose, arms crossed as you watch him fly around with endearment. He looks and sounds adorable just squeaking and flying about.

Closing the door, the crew stands just behind you, capturing the perfect moment when Hobie, again, a thousand year old vampire with abilities beyond human comprehension and years of forgotten knowledge from fallen civilizations inside his mind, flies into the far end of the hall. Crashing into the mauve wallpaper, leaving a Hobat shaped mark of dried blood from his unfortunate victims.

His claws try to keep him on the wall but his bat body has run out of steam. He slides down the wall, claw marks dragging down and scratching the wallpaper.

You briskly walk towards him, concerned, you walk a bit slower to feign nonchalance in front of the camera. Once you make it to him, you bend at the waist to look down at his stretched out form. His wings are unfurled, belly up, and ears perked as he sees you in his vision.

“You done now, Hobie?”

With a puff of black smoke, he returns to his form. His legs are sticking up and folded against the wall, arms stretched out next to him with his lopsided grin thrown at you.

“‘ello, lovie.” He chuckles, or giggles more like, as he makes grabby hands up at you. “What am I doin' on the floor? We havin’ our fun time on the floor now?”

The camera crew looks at each other with furrowed brows and questions swirling in their heads. You spare them a look of embarrassment that quickly morphs into fake ignorance.

“Not today,” you say gently, his red eyes sparkling in the yellow light of the hallway. You always wonder why he chose yellow bulbs in some parts of the house including his room. You have a feeling it's because it reminds him of the unobtainable warmth of the sun. “You need your coffin.”

“Will you join me?” He asks, fingers flexing about as he beckons you over. You indulge him, leaning down to let him grasp at your jaw. Surprisingly, he holds you carefully like you're the most valuable thing in the house instead of all the artifacts he gathered throughout the centuries just laying about the home.

“You need to sober up, and you can't do that when I'm hogging all the space in the coffin.”

“That's why I keep tellin' you that we should get a bigger coffin that can fit the both of us together.” He brushes his thumb across your cold bitten lips. Gasping like he got a brilliant idea, he pats each of your cheek, squishing it in his hands, careful not to scratch you with his sharp nails. “We should buy one tomorrow!”

You chuckle, hands reaching up to bracelet your fingers around his wrists, grabbing them to make him unlatch himself off of you. “Okay, sleep first then we'll go out to look for one.”

A wide grin spreads across his face. “Really?”

You subtly (or think that it's subtle enough) kiss his pulse point where you would feel his heartbeat if his heart still beats against his chest. “Really, we'll get a red velvet lined one.”

“How about a coffin with a telly in it so you could watch your shows?”

You smile, “I'd like that. For now, shower first because you smell like the floor of a pub.”

“Still fit though, hm?” Hobie winks, but with his drunkenness, he looks like he's spasming. It earns a guffaw from you, finding it adorable.

“Very handsome, my—” you glance sideways at the camera still recording, you've forgotten about them for a second. Clearing your throat, you help him up on his feet. “Let's go before I puke.” Playing it cool, you still look like your pants fell down to your feet.

Even drunk off his mind, Hobie sees through it, arms snaking along your middle, putting a show in front of the camera by shoving his face into the crook of your neck. Not biting, just smiling against your flushed skin. You can feel his fangs poking and prodding at you playfully.

You curse silently, holding him properly and hiding your flustered expression from the camera as you turn your back from the crew.

—

Locking the bathroom door, you made sure that the camera crew had enough tea and biscuits in the dining room before walking upstairs to check on Hobie. The crews’ chatter echoing from the vents prove that they're well occupied and distracted. Turning around, you face Hobie with a soft smile as he lounges in the bubbly bathtub that smells like Halloween incarnate.

“How's the water?” You ask, closing the distance and sitting down on the closed lid of the toilet to look at him fondly.

Hobie places his cheek on top of the edge of the black bathtub, cheek squished on the porcelain. “Just right, love.” He smiles as steam rises from the water, condensation rising up to the forest coloured tiles, “and the children?”

“Occupied with my expensive biscuits from my godmother.” You place your chin on your palm, eyes flicking from his wet face down to his shimmering torso. “You seem to be having fun with my bath bomb.”

He chuckles, fangs peeking out from his lips. A sign that he's extremely happy, you know it well. “It's red!” With a handful of bath water, he pours it from above to show you its crimson hue. “You're such a big fan of me aren't you? Mimickin’ a fraction of my power.”

“You bathe in a tub full of blood? I don't remember you ever doing that, Hobart.” With a roll of your eyes, you stand up only to sit back down next to the tub. Sitting cross-legged, you place your arms on the cool edge of the porcelain, eyes staring up at Hobie with pure affection while your index finger swirls patterns in the glittery red water. “Sounds like a great bath though.”

“Says the vampire hunter.” He dabs a droplet of water onto the tip of your nose, watching it slowly drip down into the tub. “Stop it with the bloody Hobart, thought we got past that months ago.” He seems completely sober by now, the blood juice box (that may or may not have come from your veins) helped a lot in flushing his system. You always kept them fresh in his freezer next to your orange popsicles.

“Whatever you say, Hobat.” You wink, feeling relaxed with the warmth from the water and the cinnamon pumpkin smell.

Hobie smiles softly instead of scoffing like you thought he would. A single fang peeks out from under his lip, reminding you of an adorable cat. He reaches for your hand closest to him, and then slowly, he puts his head atop your hand, nuzzling close to you. Thumb brushing along your scratch mark on your cheek, he looks apologetic while he heals it with his touch alone. Literally, it's nonexistent now that he poured a fraction of his power atop your warm skin.

Your heart squeezes in your chest. “Just curious, can you turn into a cat?”

“Is that not in any of your tomes?” He raises a brow, red eyes hazy from the hot water and tender affection from you.

You shrug, laying your head down on your arm so that you're facing him adjacently. “I remember reading that it's a rare ability.”

“Yeah?” His eyes soften, leaning ever closer to you. You can feel his cold touch amidst the warmth of the water as his lips gently caress your jaw. From the tip of your jawline down to your chin, he kisses you with so much affection that your breath hitches in your throat and nothing in your mind remains but his lips upon your own. “Tell you what,” he says against your waiting lips. “I'll tell you in exchange for a proper kiss.” He didn't need to open his mouth to say those words to you, you can hear his deep voice in your mind. Whispering those words only for you.

“Deal,” you reply in your mind, and he grins, showing you his fangs that have never scared you. Sharp ends that have always been gentle against your soft skin, fangs that were meant to leave you bone dry, but he never does. Only leaving you woozy on your feet, happy that you've helped him, content in the arms of someone you were meant to kill— taught to kill. You're glad you didn't that day, that day you got close with your wooden stake mere inches away from his heart that you now adore.

He kisses you, and you don't mind the copper taste anymore as the kiss gets sweeter than ambrosia and as saccharine as nectar whilst he pulls you into the tub with him.

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[danikamariewrites]

Hello! Could you please write a story where the reader disobeys orders given by Eris, and then she is hurt and Eris is angry? Thank you!

Didn’t Listen

Eris x reader

A/n: over protective scared Eris

Warnings: some angst and blood

The current situation you and your guard, Alfie, are in is your fault. You had talked Alfie into going out to the rock wall just behind the Forest House. Eris had told you a thousand times, ‘stay off the rock wall, it’s dangerous.’

You were currently hanging from a ledge on said rock wall, your foot slipping. Alfie was yelling at you to get down, but you honestly didn’t think you could get down. It also didn’t help that you were hanging over the Deep Lake. Another part of nature in Autumn you were told to never go near.

The myth of the Deep Lake was that the bottom was never ending. Not even the water nymphs came back from exploring the blackness of the bottom.

You were trying to your hardest not to panic and to do that you needed Alfie to shut the hell up. “ALFIE! I need you to be quiet so I can focus!” “Yes my Lady!” You rolled your eyes at the sarcasm lacing his tone. You inched one of your hands over slowly. Feeling the rock crumble you snap your hand back, you let it dangle before putting it back on the ledge.

“I’m getting Eris!” Alfie yelled, sprinting back to the house. You were panicking because now you were alone. And if you fell alone, with no one to potentially pull you from the lake before you drifted into the darkness scared the living hell out of you.

Your heart was thundering. You were doing everything to keep from shaking. If anything, you were disappointed in yourself right now. You knew Eris could climb the wall no problem. But that was because Eris and his brothers climb it when they were younger.

You just wanted to prove to Eris that you weren’t some fragile thing that always needed to be watched over. Lost in thought, you feel your hands sweating causing you to slip. “Oh no, no, no no.” You couldn’t get your grip back. You tried with all your strength to grip the rock, your nails breaking from scratching at the hard surface. You feel blood leaking from your cracked nails.

The mix of blood and sweat coating your hands forced you to let go. A blood curdling scream leaves your lips and your stomach drops. All you can do is close your eyes and try to force your body to a safe space.

As you fall a few more feet you hit a wide ledge. You hear your bones crunch, landing on your side. You let out a whimper. Tears prick your eyes as you roll onto your back, clutching your arm to your chest. The pain was burning your skin.

Your vision was going in and out, your eyes threatening to close. You force them open. If you closed your eyes you were afraid you would die. In your battle for consciousness you didn’t hear Eris and Alife sprinting to the wall.

The last thing you saw before you closed your eyes was Eris’ face.

When you finally opened your eyes you were in bed. Eris was sitting in a chair holding your good hand. His long red hair tousled from the amount of times he ran his hands through it from stress. Tears ran down his cheeks silently. He hadn’t noticed you were up yet. You could tell Eris was zoned out, his eyes had a distant look.

You squeezed his hand, his head snapping to you. His mouth set in a frown as he focused on you. “Hey,” you forced out, your throat dry from screaming, “Eris I’m ok.” He shakes his head slowly. “No. How can you say that? Why? Why did you do that? I’ve told you so many fucking times to stay away from the wall. And you blatantly disobey me.” His words were too calm. You went cold at his tone, the realization finally hitting you of how dangerous the wall truly was.

Eris’ tongue darted out, wetting his lips. He turned his face from you, closing his eyes and squeezing out unshed tears. “Eris, I’m sorry. I just wanted to show you I was strong…b-but it didn’t go how I wanted.” Eris scoffed his eyes opening. “Really?”

You swallowed the lump in your throat. “What did the healer say?” You wanted to change the subject before it turned into another fight. Eris takes a deep breath. Trying his best to stay calm. “You have a few bruised ribs, a broken arm but she fixed it, and a concussion. A few scrapes. Other than that you’re ok.” You nod against the pillow.

“Have I ever told you why I wanted you away from the wall?” Avoiding his gaze you answer, “No.” still clinging to your hand he rests his forearms next to you. “When my brothers and I were younger our father made us climb it. He told us whoever got to the top was the strongest and would be worthy of inheriting his power and title. We knew it was another bullshit competition he had come up with between us, but we couldn’t risk not participating.

He didn’t tell us that the rock was frail in places. It looked like it would hold us but was unnaturally thin. If we didn’t climb fast enough or grab the right places we’d fall, like you did. All seven of us were climbing one afternoon, I was almost ahead when Lucien slipped. I couldn’t let him drop. So when he slipped again I went back down and helped him.

I lost and was punished that night for showing compassion. For not taking what was rightfully mine and letting my heart get in the way.” Now you were crying. You had no idea. There was a lot Eris still hadn’t talked about when it came to Beron. There were decades of trauma he was working on sorting through.

You hated how this was how it came out. You scared him, probably sent him back to that moment when he saw you laying on that ledge. “I -“ His voice cracks, you cut Eris off by bringing his hand to your lips leaving a gentle kiss on the back of his hand.

“I’m sorry I scared you. That wasn’t what I wanted. I was just mad about yesterday and I didn’t know that was why, about the wall. And I’m so sorry he made you do that. But thank you for telling me, I know it’s hard to talk about it. Any of it. It’s just another weight off your chest my love and I’m proud of you.”

Eris gives you a small smile. “And I’m sorry about yesterday. You are strong, I’m just so scared to lose you.” You scoot over patting the spot you were just in. Eris climbs into bed and you rest your head on his chest.

“You’ll never be rid of me my love.” He lets out a breathy chuckle. “Good.”

tags: @nyotamalfoy @auggiesolovey @bubybubsters @baybay123455 @msiecrane

[sunlightmurdock]

Safe Zone | Prologue | Bradley Bradshaw / Jake Seresin x Reader AU

Masterlist | Next Chapter

Synopsis: A team of elite naval aviators holding down the fort at the North Island Air Base while they wait for reinforcements after a virus sweeps the continental U.S. - only, it’s been three months and no one has shown up.

Warnings: throughout the fic - gore, death, violence and pretty graphic mentions of all things zombie related, love triangle, smut (18+, minors dni), angst etc. No specific warnings for this chapter other than someone briefly being threatened with a knife

…

Javy’s supposed to have a gun on him at all times now. All of them are. Any time they leave their rooms, they should have a loaded weapon with them at all times. But he’s just going to take a piss.

It’s three in the morning, according to his watch, and he’s almost done with the night watch. He sighs softly to himself, rolling his shoulders back and craning his neck side to side. The days are long but Coyote swears that these night shifts are getting longer and longer.

He and Jake are posted by the warehouse. Used to be for everything for the planes, now all of that stuff is in the empty buildings and all of the supplies are kept here. Well - most of them are.

It works kind of like a commissary. You show up during the day, tell the people staffing it for the day what you need, they’ll let you know if you can have it or not.

Food’s kept elsewhere. There’s another shift to watch that. More at each point of the island. He’s pretty sure it’s Bob and Phoenix’s night to man the control tower. That’s an easy job, but it always makes Coyote feel a little sick. Seeing the skies so empty now.

Reminds him of what the world is now.

It’s easy to forget on a day to day basis. Sure, he does the perimeter every day just like everyone else, he clears the fences and moves the bodies - but it’s still a heavy feeling to look at the radar and just see nothing. To know that there is nothing coming again that day.

Being posted at the warehouse is Coyote’s least favorite role. He’d truly rather be posted by the fence than here. It’s out in the open, and always cold in the middle of the nights, and there is never anything interesting.

So far, of the maybe two thousand people on the base, none of them have been stupid enough to try to steal. They’re grateful for the protection they receive.

He walks around the side of the building and unzips his pants, leaning his head to look back at the sky. It’s only been a couple of months, but he didn’t ever seen this many stars in the sky over North Island before the world fell apart.

It takes a second, but then he’s peeing. He glances around him at the now empty runway.

What happens next is a blur. His face hits the metal first, before he even has time to register the palms pressing into his back, throwing him forwards. Now, he’s in a difficult situation, because he’s still pissing.

He tries to turn his head, grunting as his temple is pressed into cold metal sheeting. He can’t see his attacker, or hear them. He has no idea if it’s infected or not.

Jake’s right around the corner. Javy should yell, but he freezes up.

Then, a foot presses into the back of his kneecap, kicking hard and bringing him to his knees. He cries out in pain, trying to tuck himself back into his pants with one hand, throwing his elbow back with his free arm.

It connects with something, Coyote hears a crunch and knows it was a nose. That’s good, because if there’s cartilage still to break then that means whatever’s behind him isn’t decayed. The smell alone tells him he’s dealing with the living - he can smell the dead from a mile away in this summer’s heat.

He tries to stand up, having startled his attacker. There’s a swift, firm kick to his ribs and Coyote’s on his front and there’s a boot between his shoulder blades. He feels cold metal touch the side of his neck.

“Scream and I swear to god, I’ll kill you.”

His brows furrow. It’s not a man’s voice. He pushes against the pressure on his back but relents as the boot moves to rest firmly against his shoulder. In about the right spot to break it. He stills.

His attacker leans down and reaches into his left pocket. They unclasp his keys from the fob and take them expertly. Coyote swallows, he’s going to be in so much shit for this.

“Now close your eyes and beg me not to hurt you.”

“What? - Fuck you.” Coyote answers, face pressed into the cold tarmac.

“Do it.” His attacker applies pressure to the back of his shoulder and Javy damn near whimpers. They take their foot away. “Now.”

Javy closes his eyes and swallows. He’s always been good at following orders, there isn’t much point in switching up now. He goes on for a while.

“What the fuck are you doing?”

His head shoots up and he’s looking at Jake. He leaps up and looks around him. “I was just — there was just- fuck!”

Coyote takes off running, unsure how much of a head start he has just given his attacker. Jake’s brows furrow, he takes off after his colleague. They round to the front of the warehouse. Javy’s keys are placed neatly in front of the door, on top of a piece of paper.

Jake checks around. Whoever it was is long gone. He crouches down and grabs Coyote’s keys and the paper. They both frown as Jake turns the paper over.

Thanks, got what I needed - sorry for making you piss on yourself. Signed with a small heart under the message.

Jake, still crouched, turns slightly and finds himself eye-line with the unmistakable wet droplets on Coyote’s pants. He groans and stands up, shaking his head.

“What the fuck happened?” Jake frowns.

“I have no idea, one minute I’m taking a piss and the next thing I know someone’s got their foot on my back and a knife to my neck.”

“They had a knife?” Jake raises his eyebrows. Civilians aren’t allowed weapons, but this could have easily been a kitchen knife. He looks down at the spots of blood on the scrap of paper in his hand. “Is that what this is?”

“Not from the knife, no — I think I broke their nose.” Coyote explains.

Jake hums, slipping the walkie-talkie from his belt, “Well, that’ll make them easier to find, so at least you did something right.” Coyote frowns at the insult. Jake presses the button in on the walkie.

“This is Hangman over by the warehouse, we just had an attack - no injuries, likely to have been a civilian. We’re gonna figure out what they took and we’ll get back to y’all. Over.”

He sets it back on his belt and unlocks the door, shooting an unamused look at his best friend, “Can’t believe you were on the ground crying like that, man.”

“I wasn’t crying.” Coyote bites back, his ego fatally wounded as he follows Jake inside.

It takes a while to pass through all of the stock and figure out what’s missing. Two weeks worth of antibiotics. That narrows it down even more, which is good. In the morning, they’re looking for someone with a broken nose and a fever - or someone that they love that has a fever.

At shift change, Coyote’s ordered to Admiral Cain’s office to learn a thing or two about keeping an eye out for himself. Jake should be headed to bed, or to eat, but he catches up with the morning crew to make sure they know what they’re looking for.

They know - of course, but Jake knows that if you want a job done right, you should probably just let him do it. This type of thing is becoming more frequent.

There are six buildings in action at the moment, each one can hold around six hundred, with families sharing rooms. It’s not built for that many people, but they make do - better off here than out there.

Each time there is an incident, the civilians are told to line up outside of the buildings and present their ID cards. It works the same when they visit the warehouse, the same when they visit the food hall. They’re checked in on arrival, spend three days in quarantine and then get assigned a room. The system works so far.

“I already talked to everyone in that line.” Rooster taps Jake’s shoulder as Jake looks over the left side line. It’s early and most people are still in their pajamas, yawning and talking amongst themselves.

“No harm in double checking.” Jake shrugs.

Rooster leaves him to it and moves on to the next line.

Jake walks along the line, making polite conversation with anyone that looks a little too warm. Nothing. He continues along, talking to the people lined up at the next line.

He comes across a small, older looking woman. She’s one of the only ones dressed for the day already, and it’s clear that she has put some effort into her looks. Jake knows what someone who slept with rollers in looks like. She’s wearing a little bit of make up, which surprises him.

It almost makes him smile - he wonders how insane someone has to be to grab their makeup bag when they’re being told to evacuate the city and move to their nearest safe zone.

But it’s clear to Jake why she’s wearing make-up. She’s sick. A definite fever. He can tell just from looking at her, it’s too early in the morning for the heat to be hitting her like it is. Just from looking at her, Jake also knows what the fever is from.

There’s a big bandage on her forearm. It’s an infirmary bandage so Jake knows it’s not a bite under there - she probably caught it on one of the pieces of jagged metal around base and is fighting off a nasty infection. Some antibiotics would clear it right up.

Something in the way she smiles sweetly and makes polite small talk with Jake tells him that she isn’t the one who apologized for making Coyote piss on himself with a cute little love heart.

Jake turns his attention to the person beside her. You look at the ground quickly. Jake looks between you and her, then follows your gaze down to the ground. His eyes land on the spec of blood on the toe of your converse.

Coyote definitely said it was a boot. But he also said he was attacked by a man. Jake stares at the blood on your shoe, then at the way your head hangs. He does the math in his head. Yeah, it’s about the right angle - that’s about where the blood would drop if you had gotten a nose bleed.

“I’m Jake.”

You look up and find Jake staring right at you, smiling politely. His hand is extended, he’s waiting patiently for you to shake it. Jake notices you’re wearing makeup too. Just a little, concealer around your eyes. Probably to cover up the dark circles that usually accompany a broken nose.

You reach out and slip your palm into his, introducing yourself calmly. A little too calmly, considering Jake knows what you did already.

“Nice day, isn’t it?” Jake looks up.

You look up too, squinting at the sun. Jake catches sight of the dried blood at the edge of your nostril, something you had missed. He looks back down at the blood on your shoe. You look down with him and realize what he knows. His green eyes are back on you in an instant.

“It was nice to meet you. Y’all stay safe.” He smiles calmly. Your brows scrunch just slightly, frozen in place as he turns and continues down the line. He continues to make the same conversation, ask the same questions. Like he didn’t already stand face to face with the culprit.

You stare after him, letting out a soft breath of relief.

“So, did anyone stand out to you?” Bradley checks with Jake, scratching the back of his neck as he finishes up with his questions. Jake shakes his head.

“Nope, did you?” Jake asks.

“Did Coyote say it was definitely a guy that attacked him?” Rooster frowns just a little, adjusting his sunglasses. Jake watches him glance in the direction of your line.

“Yeah, it was definitely a guy.” Jake answers.

“Then no. Guy over there has a broken nose but it doesn’t look recent, looks a week or so old.” Rooster answers him. Jake shrugs his shoulders.

“I’m sure he’ll turn up,” He says calmly. “Anyway, I’m gonna head to bed. See you.”

“See you.” Bradley agrees, waving Jake off and turning around to pull together his staff. Each time you work a day shift, you’re in a team. Rooster’s in charge of group Alpha, it’s his job to make sure they’re on task and doing a good job.

“Alright, the perimeter crew said things are good there today, so we aren’t needed out there. Does everyone know what they’re supposed to be doing?” He’s met with unenthusiastic agreement, but he doesn’t care much. “Fantastic. I’ll be in the hall, make sure your radios are on channel six.”

They nod and dissipate.

Rooster takes his sunglasses off as he walks into the hall, stretching his arms up and resting his hands on the top of the door frame. He sighs, then walks in. He shouldn’t say that things are getting boring, he should be grateful that things have been quiet the past few days.

He’s mad that he slept through Coyote getting attacked by a girl and pissing on himself. A man - Bradley had almost scoffed. They had all seen that note. She might as well have sprayed it with her perfume.

Rooster walks around behind the breakfast counter and grabs the checklist, flicking through what needs to be restocked in the kitchen after this morning’s service. He sits back against the shelving unit and watches quietly as plates are filled before him.

He turns his head and finds you in the line. His lips quirk slightly as he tucks the arm of his sunglasses into the collar of his black t-shirt, tilting his head slightly to get a better look at you.

He isn’t angry. The Admirals are. Admiral Cain was bright red and swearing into a radio when Rooster had passed him this morning. Admiral Simpson is outside right now, pinching the bridge of his nose and smoking a cigarette. The system is in place for a reason and petty theft makes a mockery of the whole thing. They want to make an example of whoever took the meds.

Rooster understands their reasoning. At a base level, he almost agrees with it. But he knows that if his Mom was sick, he would have taken the meds too. Plus, Rooster thinks that the note was a pretty funny touch.

You’re talking to a boy at your side. He’s much taller than you and skinny, wearing a t-shirt that looks two sizes too big. He’s lanky, but still handsome. The two of you look alike. Rooster can tell just by looking that you’re the boy’s older sister. The woman on the other side of your brother must be your mom.

“Hey, I’ve got this - could you go check everyone’s doing okay at their tables?” Rooster steps forwards, taking the spatula and nudging one of his ensigns out of the way. They frown at him but do as they’re told.

You move along the line until you’re standing before him.

His intention is to introduce himself to you. To apologize for asking you so many questions earlier, but he doesn’t. He stares into your eyes and smiles softly as you end up passing by before he has spoken.

Rooster looks down and takes a look at your ID. He’ll be able to remember that name, and the room number. He makes a mental note.

He watches your brother chuckling at your side as your family walk away to find somewhere to sit.

You got away with it. You’re still thinking it over when you get back to your room, a shared one bedroom suite with your mom and Luke. You and your mother have the bedroom, Luke sleeps on the pullout bed in the living room. It’s not as comfy as home - but it’s better than out there.

The Lieutenant with the green eyes was on watch last night too. You had seen him when you were scoping out the area. It could have just as easily been him that you assaulted, if he had been in the wrong place at the wrong time.

You know that he knew what you had done, and yet, he didn’t say anything.

You know that the Admirals are practically out for blood, they’re so angry - and yet, Jake let you go.

“What’s this?” Your mother crouches in front of the door to the room.

You take the item from her and look it over. It’s a piece of paper wrapped around a small container with seven pills inside. You unfold the piece of paper to examine it.

Anti-nausea meds. Once every other day, it’ll help with the antibiotics. Next time, asking also works. Rooster. Signed with a small heart beside his name.

You know who he is, you’ve seen him around base a lot, he’s constantly working during the day. The old woman in the room next door adores him.

Luke takes the paper from you and reads it, laughing before he continues into the room after your mother. “Hey mom, one of the navy guys has a crush on-“

You groan, “Shut up, Luke.”

…

Tagging:

@momc95 @shawnsblue @thedroneranger

[therenlover]

Put Me Back In It (I Would Do It Again) Chapter Four: On A Wintry Evening

Pairings: Raphael/Tav

Word Count: 5,000~

Synopsis: Raphael shows Tav exactly what he thinks of her recent behavior after finding her in bed with a pale elf.

Rating: E (+18)

Warnings: Stockholm Syndrome, Emotional Manipulation, Mentions of Vomiting, Very Mild Body Horror

Tags: Emotional Manipulation, Memory Loss, Cunnilingus, Cum Eating, Vaginal Sex, Outdoor Sex, Betrayal, Raphael Continues To Be A Smarmy Bastard.

You can find this fic on AO3 Here or find the other finished chapters on Tumblr Here

-------

Haarlep’s body wasn’t on the bed anymore. 

They lay crumpled against the wall, features contorting as they took sharp, shallow breaths. One wing sprouted from their back but only halfway, twitching and thrashing as if it were trying to worm the rest of the way out from his flesh and spine. Their face shifted endlessly between thousands of faces, all twisted in agonized, silent screams as they flailed and pressed a pale hand to their abdomen. 

Death seemed to permeate the very room. 

It soaked into the sheets and the air and choked Tav with its sick pungency. She couldn’t move, not with Raphael’s eyes boring into her like flaming daggers. Her body sat frozen, even as she should have been rushing to Haarlep’s aid. Where was her training? Where was the bravery? Where was her gods-damned raging righteousness, swooping in and making the choice to protect the weak from the wicked before she could think about the consequences? 

Gone. Just gone.

She was all gone. 

Tav shivered in the shell of her self. It was all the movement her betraying body would allow. This was the first time she’d been faced with Raphael’s true rage since she’d stolen back her first contract. The thought of his punishment scared her far more than death. 

Haarlep groaned weakly. 

In a stroke of horrific luck, that’s what it took for Raphael to lose interest in her. His boots came down hard on the tile with each step. Thump. Thump. Thump. Crunch. The incubus screamed as Raphael’s foot came down hard on that strange, stunted half-wing, snapping some bones from the sound of the horrifying snaps that followed the initial fleshy splat. Their hair was still a shock of white, newly splattered with the black of their infernal blood. 

“To be betrayed by the one I held closest,” Raphael’s voice was low and even as he spoke. Without his words, it would sound commonplace. “To be subject to this brazen display of disrespect and disobedience… In thousands of years of your servitude, I have never been more furious with you, Haarlep. What pathetic excuse will you use to explain yourself? Hm?” There was a morbid playfulness in him, a deep boyish shimmer in his eyes like a small child smashing ants. His gaze was more petrifying than a beholder’s. 

Haarlep’s many mouths stammered, tripping on ever-shifting tongues, but Raphael just brought his foot down again. They stilled. 

“That’s what I thought,” 

Tav wanted to vomit. She could taste the bile at the back of her throat, threatening to bring up any remains of her long-forgotten last meal. Once upon a time, the sight of that much blood and violence would have been a call to action. Now, though, she was powerless. There were no friends left to protect her from her own mistakes, not even Haarlep. Had she ever had power at all or was it simply the lent power of her allies that brought her so far? 

All she really knew was that Raphael’s power was one she didn’t want to be on the receiving end of, especially now. 

Blood was running through the tiles now, filling the dips in the ground and running slowly downward towards the stairs and bathing pool. It puddled under Haarlep, still breathing now but gurgling, choking on every breath. They were shifting less now, faces settling on something that looked similar to their preferred demonic shape. 

“Tav,” Raphael spat out her name, so unfamiliar on his tongue from lack of use, looking over his shoulder at her, “Tell me, what was the meaning of all this?” His usual grandiosity was gone. For the first time, wings and horns and all, he looked like the archdevil he was. His true nature had finally snuck through the charming facade. Somehow, though, his eyes held no rage as they found hers. They were… curious; probing unknown waters.

A test. 

“I don’t… I-” Tav’s mouth was desert dry. Her tongue still tasted horrifically sour as she tried to find words. “I was lonely. Haarlep only wanted to help me. I promise, I never wanted… I would never want to upset you or disrespect you,” 

Raphael sucked in a breath, bristling. “Lonely?” 

She had to seal the deal. It was now or never.

“Yes, lonely,” Tav sat up straighter. Blood was matted into the wool of her dress, sticking the heavy fabric to her skin and the sheets, but she peeled it away enough to scoot closer to the edge of the bed, throwing her legs over the side. She had never been charismatic enough to be a bard but if she’d ever had a chance to convince anyone of anything, this was the time to do it. “I missed you so much. When you’re gone I don’t have anything to do besides wait here for you to get back, and you’ve been gone so much lately… they were just trying to be nice, but I know it was wrong. We didn’t end up doing anything because I just missed you so much. Nobody else could give me what I needed. I guess you’ve finally ruined me,” 

It was a lie. Maybe not all of it, maybe kernels of truths Tav didn’t want to face wheedled their way in to strengthen the farce, but most of it was. Haarlep managed to open a swollen eye and give her a look that told her they couldn’t believe she was doing this, but she didn’t give them a second glance. All her attention honed in on the winged beast before her. She lured him in like he was the prey this time. 

“Do you have any idea what it did to me to see you in bed with him,” Raphael growled, “After everything I’ve done for you to keep you safe? The risks I’ve taken?” 

Tav shook her head. “I might not know everything you’ve done for me, Raphael, but I do know that what I did was wrong. This is my fault, not Haarlep’s. Let me make up for it,” 

The devil took a breath. His tail whipped against the wall, chipping the masonry and sending chunks of stone scattering to the floor. “Be glad that I am feeling forgiving, little mouse,” With one great red fist, he reached down to grasp Haarlep by the shoulder, claws digging into their skin, and tossed them like a great limp doll into the water of the baths below. The water filled with inky darkness. Sure enough, though, the incubus surfaced after a moment, sputtering and coughing water from their healing lungs. “I’ll finish my dealings with you later, Haarlep. Tav and I have business to attend to at the moment,” 

She looked down at her feet. “We do?” 

“You said you missed me, didn’t you?” He asked. “Well let us remedy that,” 

Tav opened her mouth to protest but swallowed it down. Haarlep was looking up at her from the water like she was the sun, fear wet in their eyes. She couldn’t let them down. “Just give me a second to get dressed and I’ll meet you?” Raphael raised an eyebrow and she tried her best to look demure. “I want to look nice for you,” 

He softened minutely. “Very well. Don’t take too long, little mouse.” And he turned on his heel to leave, watching her his whole way out. 

The second he passed the threshold Tav lost her stomach, vomiting violently onto the sheets. 

Shame burned in her chest. She was a monster. The kind that lied and let bigger beasts devour her kin in the process. Worse than the shame was the relief. Raphael had believed her. He still wanted her. There was still a chance to make sure her eternity at his side wasn’t a miserable one. All it would take was her dignity, or whatever shred of it she still clung onto at least.

She wiped her mouth with her sleeve and steeled herself. “Haarlep?” She called softly. 

The incubus was quick to reply, voice hoarse. “Yes?” 

“Who was that? The elf. Why was Raphael so upset?” 

They didn’t answer, and Tav didn’t have the time to wait for a reply. She pushed herself up from the bed and wandered over to her closet. Shaking fingers weaved through the laces at the front of her dress, pulling the ruined fabric away from her skin. She was desperate to be clean, desperate to be out, but no change of clothes or bath could do that, not in a way that would matter. She was filthy on the inside now. 

She chose something light and simple, a pair of leather trousers and a flowing linen shirt with a red bodice. It was fetching despite its simplicity, though, designed to play to Raphael’s weaknesses. He had seen something he liked in the adventurer she once was. Maybe he could find that fondness again. Her life might depend on it. The clothes slipped on like a second skin and her slippers followed. It was time.

On her way past she shot one more look towards Haarlep, who had come to rest at the lip of the bath. They were already watching her. “Tav, look,” they whispered, her nickname forgotten, “you deserve answers. I should give them to you-”

“It’s ok, Haarlep. I forgive you,” she replied. “But never do that again,”

She did not even pause to see how they reacted on her way out the door. 

———

Raphael was not difficult to find.

He was pacing the length of the fireplace in the dining room, back and forth, bloody shoes leaving a trail in his wake. The second Tav appeared, though, he stalled, greeting her with a broad smile that disregarded everything she had seen from him since his poorly timed homecoming. She found it oddly comforting. Her sins were not forgotten but they could be set aside and dealt with when the time was right. 

“Ah, there you are,” he said, voice musical and light. “Walk with me?” 

Who was she to refuse?

Tav took his arm without hesitation, practicing her smile. Her ribs felt far too small for her shuddering lungs and heart but she pushed through the terror as she had a million times before. In this human form he took, Raphael did not tower over her. Instead, he fit at her side like any partner would, monstrosity tucked away in his back pocket. Distantly, she wondered if he stayed like that for her comfort. It didn’t much to ease her now.

She followed blindly where he led either way. 

They paced a quiet circle around the house, stepping in tandem as they passed wailing souls and fine portraits. Raphael was gazing up at a portrait of himself when he broke the silence. “Have I ever been cruel to you, Tav?” She almost tripped over her own foot, only keeping her balance thanks to her grip on the devil’s arm. There was only one answer he’d want to hear. 

“No, not cruel,” Tav replied. “Firm maybe, but not cruel.”

“I would agree,” He nodded to himself, continuing their path down the hallway. “I feed you and clothe you. I bed you. I give lenience for your wrongdoings and praise when you succeed. Nothing within my home is withheld from you. You are taken care of.” 

The hand that wasn’t on Raphael’s arm clenched hard, fingers pressing crescents into her palm. “I am,”

“Good. I’m glad our minds are in the same place,”

The pair paused in front of a great, open doorway. The door to the portal room. 

Inside, shimmering mirrors towered over the floor, shedding their colored light onto the patterns already formed by the great stained glass windows on every side. Cold dread flashed in Tav’s body. She tried to keep her voice playful as he guided her past the threshold. “Where are you taking me?” Fear laced every word. 

If Raphael noticed, he didn’t show it. His demeanor was still casual and sunny as he brought her right to the rippling surface of the closest mirror, watching a landscape of great mountains and hills through enchanted glass. “It’s a surprise,” 

Tav did not want a surprise. In fact, a surprise was the last thing she would have wanted in that moment or ever from Raphael. There was no fighting it, though. He knew she was cornered. Her fear was probably just some sort of fucked up intoxicant to devils like him. He must have relished in the way her body shook at his side. 

“Close your eyes,” He said.

She let her eyes flutter shut. 

Despite everything she still clung to him like a lifeline as he guided her through the portal and into the unknown. 

The first thing she felt was cold. Overwhelming, biting cold that soaked through her clothes and straight to her skin. Winds whipped around them. Her skin burned from the sudden loss of warmth. Raphael’s body was a lifeline, leeching heat into her arm and hand even through the fabric of his shirt. Then came the wet. Her slippers were soaking in an instant, flooding her skin with freezing water through the leather. 

When Tav’s eyes shot open a sky full of brilliant stars was waiting to greet her. 

The whole world stopped. Thousands of lights scattered through the night without a single cloud in sight to dim them. Oh, the great vast sky. She had to force herself to start breathing again, letting the frozen mountain air rush into her lungs like a balm. It all smelled so crisp, with hints of salt and smoke wafting in from the chimneys of distant cottages along the coast. Far in the distance, shimmering like a sun on the horizon, Baldur’s Gate glowed yellow with torchlight, covered in a layer of snow. 

Raphael wordlessly unlinked his arm from hers. 

Tav ran. 

The field before her was filled with a pristine foot of snow. Not even the wildlife had had a chance to break the surface but Tav did, slippered feet crunching through the cold with reckless abandon. She threw her head back and laughed. Trees smattered the landscape, covered in their coats of winter white. Every once in a while a hard breeze would shake their branches and send a flurry of flakes drifting to the ground or off the edge of the cliff the field butted up to. 

She felt like she was flying.

Her heels could have sprouted wings and carried her anywhere. Any thought of Haarlep or the terror she had felt so soon before was instantly replaced by freedom. It was ecstasy. It was the childish joy of throwing herself into the cold and creating a snow angel, wet and giggling. It was Raphael, watching quietly as she threw herself out into the world, giving her the gift of life again. 

That’s what it was: a gift. Tav recognized that. Maybe a test too, but an easy one to pass. The moment he opened his arms she was sprinting back to him and throwing herself into his chest. “Thank you,” she whispered, face pressed close to his warmth. “I missed the snow,” 

Raphael gave a hearty laugh. “I suppose I have… neglected your mortality. I forget sometimes how finicky your kind gets when thrust into monotony. I hope this little outing can make up for some of that,” The way he said it, it almost sounded like he was apologizing, though Tav knew better than to ever expect an apology from him. But an olive branch? An olive branch she would accept.  

She savored his warmth for a moment more and then pulled away to begin her romp again, but not before reaching up to place a grateful kiss on Raphael’s cheek. Then she was off into the night again, cheeks flushed with cold and joy. 

His cheeks had flushed too. 

Tav ran her fill under the stars and only when her muscles were burning from exertion and her skin was pruned with the wet chill did she stop, returning to Raphael’s side. His warmth had melted a circle at his feet, exposing the damp grass below where he sat, and at some point, he’d laid down a blanket from the bag of holding at his waist onto the ground, sitting and watching her frolic with an amused expression. She sat with him then, watching the sky, lungs throbbing with exertion. It was almost romantic. 

Her head in his lap, he played with a lock of her hair. “One little field mouse running through the glade, free evermore from the rat king’s blade. Two little field mice, darting through the park, dancing with the grasshoppers, singing with the lark,” 

“Did you write that one?” Tav asked. 

He shook his head. “No, unfortunately. This particular song was a gift from my mother,” 

The thought that Raphael had a mother had never crossed Tav’s mind. She was a little ashamed of that. Was he not just a person too? A bad person, yes, but a person with a mind and a story. Of course he’d come from somewhere, from someone. “What was she like?”

“Lovely from what I can remember, though that’s not much,”

“Was she not around a lot?”

Raphael chuckled. “My father fed her to the imps as punishment for disobedience when I was no more than 10 mortal years old,”

“Oh,” Tav peeled her eyes away from the stars to watch the devil’s face. He looked unfazed. “Do you ever miss her?”

“Not anymore,” he said, “I was the eldest of many spawned by my father’s lust, she didn’t have much time for me once the next came along,” A faraway glossy look crossed over his eyes. “I carry her with me, though, in little ways. It is important to know where you’ve come from when deciding where you’d like to go.” 

Tav nodded and hummed a soft affirmative. She had never shared time with Raphael like this. There were a few shared meals now and again, time spent silently together in the study and nights spent laying quietly in the same bed. There was always a level of separation, though; the division of master and servant, cat and mouse. In the starlight, sitting on a blanket in the snow, Raphael seemed exceedingly human. Maybe an eternity at his side wouldn’t be so bad if she opened her heart to him. Relief extinguished the bone-deep disgust and shame at what she’d become that threatened to bubble up again. There was a tiny glimmering chance that things wouldn’t always be as bad as they had been. That was enough. 

“Did you always want to be a poet? Or was that second to gaining the power to usurp your father and rule the hells?” Tav asked. 

Raphael looked down at her, amused. “My my, you’re just full of questions today aren’t you?” 

“Sorry,” she shook her head. “I guess I’m just curious. I’ve sucked your cock hundreds of times at this point, we live in the same place, we sleep in the same bed, hells you own my soul and yet I know next to nothing about you,” 

They both went quiet. In the distance the stars were beginning to fade, the dark of night giving way to soft purples as the sun rose behind them. Clouds were beginning their slow crawl through the sky, swarming from the mountain peaks to bring more ice and snow. It would be deadly cold soon without the right equipment. Still, Tav didn’t move, shielded from the elements by Raphael’s warmth even if she couldn’t feel her toes within her ruined slippers. 

“I’ve wanted to pursue the bardic arts from a young age,” Raphael’s answer was sudden and unprompted. It looked like it even surprised him. “My father is a military man and always has been. There was little room for beauty in his house besides his concubines. I resented being deprived of that as a child,” 

Tav smiled. “Tell me more?” 

And Raphael told. 

He told and told the story of his immortal life until the sky was pink and yellow and baby blue and cardinals sang soft songs in the cold morning air. He spoke to Tav of his time at his father's side, about his rivalries with siblings and the loss of his mother. He divulged the secrets of his very first deal, a woman’s soul in exchange for the death of her politician husband. Hours were spent poring over his writings and triumphs, his favorite paintings, and the acquisition of the soul of his favorite playwright. Tav saw him. She didn’t see all of him, but another facet of the man had been revealed and it was surprisingly pleasant.

“We should return soon,” Raphael said softly, “I’m sure you’re nearly frozen, you’ve had enough snow for now,”

She shook her head. “Just a few more minutes?”

“If you insist, though I must warn you that I’ll be extremely displeased if you succumb to hypothermia because of this little misadventure,” he sighed, leaning back. “I like you alive, little mouse. At least for now,”

“Does it even make a difference? You have my soul. Even if I did die of hypothermia I’d just be stuck in the House of Hope anyways,” Tav laughed, sitting up from his lap and resting her head on his shoulder. 

He tensed at the contact at first before loosening and turning to face her, all business. “It’s different. You’re flexible now. Once a soul passes into Avernus permanently they grow stagnant, one-note. Every bit of their self is boiled down into an unchanging ghost based on their greatest longings. I quite like how you never cease to surprise me,” Raphael paused, “On second thought, though, perhaps I should let you freeze out here.” 

“And why is that?”

“You would desire me above all else, forevermore my frozen bride,” 

Tav hated that she was flushing with heat at his flattery. If he asked, she’d tell him it was his imagination or the cold, but he’d never believe her. She craved this odd new normalcy like a drug. It balmed every ache, calmed every fear. She didn’t even have the heart to consider that it might be a ploy anymore or a test of loyalty. It was just kindness, something that had been missing from her life for so many seasons passed below the ground. 

Her friends had abandoned her. Haarlep had almost gotten both of them killed. But Raphael? Raphael had taken her into his home. He had never forced himself on her. He had helped her on her quest to defeat the netherbrain. He’d fed and clothed her. Even now, he’d seen her struggle and taken her out to see the world she missed so dearly. Surely there was something more important that he should have been doing instead, but he took the time to comfort his ward and watch her play. He trusted her to return.

He trusted her, and Raphael’s trust was very difficult to earn. 

Things were easy. Things could continue to be easy. All it took was obedience and a little goodwill.

She leaned over and kissed his jaw. Her pulse thrummed like soft rain and with every breath she gave him another kiss down his neck. He welcomed all of her advances openly, even when her frozen fingers ghosted along his inner thigh, dancing through dangerous territory. “Just what do you think you’re doing?” He asked. 

Tav shrugged, letting her fingers run up the seam of his trousers. “I’m cold, you’re warm. Besides,” she let her touch linger on his hardening bulge just a little too long before moving on to undo the laces, “All that frozen bride talk really got to me,” 

Raphael had a look of utter disbelief on his face as his cock came free, but it was all underlined by a smug victory. “Is that so?” His cock was already leaking, veins throbbing slightly as Tav took him in hand and began to stroke, crooking her wrist just so as she went. “Just how do you intend to warm yourself up?

Kneeling on the blanket, it didn’t take long for Tav to worm her way out of her own slippers and pants. “I think I’ll ride you,” it came out nonchalant as she straddled him. “Gotta keep my muscles warm, you know?” With little warning she plunged his member into her cunt, bottoming out with a little groan. His eyes fluttered shut as he let his head loll back. Tav was quick to set a gentle pace, rolling her hips, feeling her breasts bounce with each pump. The heat of his cock juxtaposed the chill in the air enough that she barely felt the sting of the cold breeze on her cheeks. Her nipples were still peaked, though, rubbing against the rough linen of her shirt again and again and again. 

She fought the pleasure. This wasn’t about her or her desires. 

No, this was about paying Raphael the same kindness he had given her. He was not a sentimental man. She had no gifts to give him; no poetic prose would pierce his stony heart. But sex? Sex he liked. Sex she could do. Enthusiastic, pleasurable, orgasmic sex that gave him a reason to keep being kind. 

Tav picked up her pace. 

The pair dropped the banter as heat built between them, Raphael grunting softly and Tav letting out little keening sounds every time she brought her heat down again. Every muscle in her legs had overexerted itself tenfold by then. They shook with each thrust, threatening to give out under her, and yet she pushed through each time she felt herself wobble, chasing her pleasure and the little noises Raphael made when he thought she couldn’t hear them. 

Grabbing her hips, he came without warning, keeping himself wrapped in her soft, tightening walls as he rutted through the waves of pleasure. 

Cum dripped lazily down her thighs when he finally let her go. 

“Lay down,” 

“What?” Tav asked, finally letting her ass rest on the cool blanket as her legs splayed out. 

It didn’t take much for Raphael to push her flat onto her back, gripping the underside of one of her thighs to bring it over his shoulder. “I said lay down,”

She had no intention of stopping him. 

Raphael’s tongue was gentle and probing as it circled her clit, lapping up her wetness and his own spent with an almost casual nonchalance. It was obviously new territory for the devil. A little fire lit in Tav’s fragile mortal heart at the thought. He picked things up quickly, though. Soon she was a whimpering mess, trying with all her might not to buck into his mouth. 

She had never thought about it before but Raphael’s immortality was a definite bonus when it meant he didn’t have to come up for air. 

Her pleasure built slowly but exploded all at once, her legs shaking uncontrollably as she let out a cry that scared the birds from their trees. All she could focus on was the pastel blue sky and the snow clouds that had settled on the sky, beginning to blanket the world in white all over again. A flake fell and caught on her lips, melting as soon as it landed. 

Life was beautiful.

As the waves of pleasure subsided the devil untangled their bodies, uncharacteristically soft as he helped her shuffle back into her soaked pants. Then he lay beside her and let out a deep breath. They enjoyed the peace and company for as long as it lasted. 

“Raphael?” Tav said his name like a lover. He smiled. 

“Yes, you insatiable thing?”

“Let’s go home,” 

Raphael stood and offered a hand to help her up, bowing down dramatically. “As the lady requests, so it shall be done,” 

Tav turned her back on Baldur’s Gate without a second glance, the pale elf all but forgotten. 

———

The hearth crackled at Raphael’s feet, warming his claws as he scrawled into a little leather-bound book. “Phenomenal performance today, Haarlep. I believe our little problem has been dealt with for the time being thanks to you,”

Haarlep leaned against the doorframe behind him. They watched the reflections of flames dance across the floor. “I do what I can,”

“Nice touch with the sappy ‘You’re loved’ blabber, it inspired me,” Raphael continued, “Though your choice of body… I will say, it was a bold choice. What if she had started asking questions? We’d be in an even bigger conundrum.” 

The incubus didn’t bother getting sentimental. That wasn’t their job. They were a spy and a good one at that. No pathetic little mortal would get in the way of the good faith they’d spent millennia earning at their master’s side. And yet…

“She didn’t. Just proves that even if she does see him, she won’t recognize him. Isn’t that a good thing?” 

“I suppose so,” The scrawling stopped. Raphael set his dry quill within the book and shut it, placing it gently onto the low table where he rested his legs. 

“Remind me again why she’s so important to keep around?” Haarlep’s voice wasn’t entirely insensitive as they approached. “Mystra has the crown, Lord Ancunin has been entirely quiet since her disappearance, and, to be completely honest, I don’t think little Tav would stand a chance on the battlefield anymore, especially against the demonic hoards. I don’t see how it’s useful to keep breaking her at this point. If anything, she’s starting to look like a liability,”

Raphael turned to face them. “And this, Haarlep, is why I make the plans and you enact them. She was the hero of Faerun! With my assistance, she was responsible for feats most mortals wouldn’t dare dream of. Once we’ve sufficiently broken her down I will build her back up at my side. She obtained the crown once so she should be able to do it again, especially with that soft spot the wizard always had for her. Besides…” he rested an elbow on the arm of his plush chair, “I’ve grown a bit more fond of her,” 

Haarlep walked to his side, sitting on the other arm of the chair. “Oh really?” 

The devil nodded. He reached blindly for a carafe of wine at his side and poured two generous glasses, handing one to his most trusted ally. In the corner of the room, Tav was curled in on herself sleeping peacefully in a matching chair, oblivious to the scheming and plotting. He raised his cup to her innocence. 

“Happy three years, Tav. Here’s to centuries more,”

--------

(A/N: And with that, I have everything I've edited and completed posted! Thank you for reading and putting up with the sudden influx of content. I have no idea what the schedule for posting the rest of this will be, but I already have a good chunk of the next chapter ready so it shouldn't be incredibly long. If you'd like to be tagged when the next chapter is posted just let me know!)

Last Chapter

Next Chapter

[dutifullynuttywitch]

Content warning: blood and death

Short snippet of my HS1 rewrite

I’m in my nightgown, walking in a strange forest. On wet, sticky ground, covered in scarlet rose petals. I feel a profound sense of foreboding. My nerves are on edge. The trees all around me are bare, skeletal. The sky is dark, but there’s a strangely pulsating light all around. It illuminates the way towards a lone massive tree in the middle of a field of red petals. Human bones hang from the branches, rattling eerily though there is no wind.

I hear a chilling scream up ahead. I can make out a humanoid figure bent over something, partially hidden by the thick leaves.

I immediately know it’s Laura.

I walk towards the tree, feeling the moist ground squelching under my bare feet, between my toes. Its warm and wet. There's an overpowering smell, akin to rust.

Oh god…

I realize…

It’s blood!

Every nerve in my body is on edge, screaming at me to run the other way. But I am compelled to go on. My subconscious knows this is a dream. That somehow, this is important, I need to go on. I need to see this through.

My body trembles with fear as I force myself to continue.

As I near the massive tree, I start to feel crunching under my feet. I look down and see piles of bones and wing cartilage cluttering the slick petals. Are these dead immortals? Shepha, there are so many… hundreds, if not thousands… What does this mean?

At the foot I see Laura. She’s leaning over her own broken body. She slowly turns towards me. She is crying bloody tears.

“It’s harder dying a second time…”

“Laura, I am so, so sorry this happened to you. Can you tell me who did this?”

She smiles, now, a disturbing grin that reveals rows of bloody teeth. Her smile is unnatural, too wide. Her eyes are a deep black.

My body is seized with a wild panic – like something is very, very wrong here.

But my feet are stuck in place, almost like I’m slowly sinking into the warm, thick wetness.

Laura presses the wound on her neck and red blood starts gushing out, completely drenching her white burial dress. She laughs, a hair-raising, hysterical cackle. But just as suddenly, she turns serious. Laura tilts her head sideways in an unnatural angle, staring me down, blood still oozing down her slender neck. She stretches the syllables, showing me her blood-drenched teeth:

“Mal-bon-te.”

[prairiesongserial]

22.1

Val heard the noise before he saw the headlights–something huge was rumbling down the length of the tunnel towards him and John. There was only one thing it could be. Nevermind that it was impossible, nevermind that Officer Liang had said the tracks were only good as footpaths now. It was a train, and it was bearing down on him and John quicker than they were ready for.

Friday screamed something, on the other side of the tunnel. It wasn’t hard to guess the jist of it. Val moved to press himself flat against the wall of the tunnel, then turned to look when he didn’t feel John do the same at his side.

John was still on the tracks, frozen in place. He lifted one leg as though trying to step forward, then set it down again.

“John,” Val said, sharply.

John struggled in place. If he said anything, it was swallowed by the sound of the oncoming train. The headlights were drawing closer; Val could see in their glow that John’s boot was wedged between the rails of the tracks, trapping him where he stood.

Val hissed through his teeth. This was bad.

“Can you get your foot out?” he shouted.

John grunted. He was trying, Val could tell that much, but John’s foot was stuck fast, laced tightly inside the boot that the rails had swallowed up. John couldn’t move, and he was going to die there–not just die, but be pulverized on impact. Explode into a thousand bloody chunks, ten feet away from Val’s face.

The tunnel shook with the force of the train as it approached. Val’s heart hammered in his ears.

“Shit,” he said, under his breath. Then, “Okay.”

He shucked off the backpack with the explosives in it, flinging it as far away as he could and briefly bracing for an explosion that didn’t come. Maybe they weren’t as volatile as he’d been told. Val didn’t care. His world had narrowed to a single point: John’s boot.

There had been an ornate letter-opener left in his room at the palace, by some fault of the guards. Val had taken it, felt the weight of it in his pocket all morning as he wondered if he’d actually need to use it. He’d thought it might be good to have a weapon if they were somehow ambushed in the tunnel, but now it seemed that God had a different plan for his little jewel-encrusted knife.

Hopefully it was sharp enough to do the job.

Val lunged for John, dropping onto his knees on the tracks. The train was even closer now, so close that the blinding white of its headlights threatened to blind Val. He held the laces of John’s boot firmly in one fist, the letter-opener in the other, and sawed through them without any real precision–he only knew he’d done it when he felt the blade nearly cut into his fingers.

“Go!” he shouted, and he and John both dove to one side of the tunnel.

They were inching farther along the wall, in the direction the train had come from, when it flew past them. The sheer speed of it as it past blew Val’s hair into his face, rattled his body all the way down to his bones. He had enough time to hope that Friday and Cody had gotten out of the way–and then there was an awful crunch of metal, an explosion that turned Val’s vision white.

Val tried to breathe, and coughed, choking on a mouthful of smoke. He was at Kill Devil Hills, tied to a stake. He was at the barricade in Maine, staring down the scope of a rifle. He was in his church as it burnt to the ground around him. He felt someone (John?) grip his forearm tightly–Val tried to grip them back, to let them know he was alive.

The tunnel around them shook like it was falling apart. Maybe it was. Val looked upwards to see if there was an end to the smoke and the darkness, some light shining through the cracks.

“Val,��� John said next to him, so close that Val jumped–he realized that John was speaking directly into his ear, but Val could barely hear him.

There was a light. The flashlight–John had picked it up. Val must have lost his grip on it in the dark. He swept it in a wide arc around the tunnel, finally letting the beam come to rest on the twisted remains of the train that had just passed them.

Val understood immediately what had happened. The train had hit the backpack of explosives head-on, and they’d detonated. The middle of the tunnel had collapsed in on itself and dropped directly onto the front of the train, forming a barrier of rock and metal that cut off any access back to the station. Back to Cody and Friday.

Any noise from beyond that barrier was muffled. Maybe there was no beyond the barrier–maybe the rest of the tunnel had collapsed, too. Maybe the force of the explosion had taken the rest of the station with it. But–no, he heard something. The ringing in his ears was subsiding. Voices.

Val took a single, hesitant step towards the remains of the train, then another.

“Fri-” he began, and was interrupted by cold steel pressing down on his Adam’s apple. 

It was the flat side of a large knife. Sharp knife, too–Val instinctively tried to twist away from his attacker, and the blade tipped upwards to nick the underside of his chin.

“Quiet,” a voice behind him hissed, directly into his ear. The accent was similar to Officer Liang’s. Val couldn’t see the speaker, but felt their other hand fumbling for his wrists, to hold his hands in place behind his back.

There was the sound of a scuffle nearby. Evidently, something similar was happening to John.

“You need to let us go,” Val said evenly, holding as still as he could. He could feel blood running down his throat from where the blade had gotten him. “Our friends–”

“Came down here to kill us,” the voice in his ear said. “And are probably on their way to report back to the Queen. So pardon me if I’m not feeling particularly sympathetic.”

“We didn’t know there’d be a train,” Val said. His throat hurt. It still felt hard to breathe in the tunnel; there was really nowhere for the dust and ash to filter out to.

“And we didn’t know there’d be guards planting explosives,” the voice said.

“Not guards,” John spoke up. “She blackmailed us.”

“What?” a fourth person asked loudly–presumably the one holding John.

“We’re not here by choice,” Val said, only once it became evident that John was not going to explain. “The Queen thinks we’re spies or something. We could come down here, or be executed.”

“You’re not here for the princes?” the voice in his ear asked.

“What? No,” Val stammered. “Why would we be?”

“You’re lying,” the voice snapped.

“Alys, I don’t think they are,” the person holding John said.

The pressure of the knife abruptly vanished from Val’s throat. A pair of hands gripped him by the shoulders and spun him around roughly; he found himself face to face with a woman almost exactly his height. She was thin and grim-looking, with dark hair that was only just growing out of a buzz cut.

In the center of the woman’s forehead was a third eye. It glared at Val just the same as the other two, sizing him up.

“I want to know where you’re from, what you want, and everything you know about the Queen’s plans,” the woman–Alys–demanded, before Val could open his mouth. “You can be our spies now. Or hostages, but it sounds like you’re not worth much, so let’s go with spies.”

“No,” John said. The person who’d been holding him tightened their grip as he made a move for the rubble.

“I strongly recommend you reconsider,” Alys said.

“Or what?” Val asked.

Alys grinned wolfishly. “Or execution’s not off the table yet.”

epilogue 21 || 22.2

[4311osij]

(I wrote this poem: WARNING graffic content)

My last meal.

I think I've spent a great deal thinking of my last meal.

There's so many foods,

Melanzane,

An italian classic

It made me feel at home

Mac and cheese with the crust on the top.

Grabbing my fork I would thrive at the trust of its being.

Reminiscing of italy,

This little restaurant by the sea with thinly sliced octopus legs.

Not calamari,

Thin as paper. Lighter than a feather. Painted with olive oil.

And a little salt and pepper.

Putting up a show, eager to try. Eager to buy.

Or to finally try hot wings again on the superbowl.

Nachos and crab rolls.

And those tiny taco bell burritos.

With the cheese all about to leak.

Or some really large platters of meat.

Sushi, with my brother

Telling him about all the southerners.

All you could eat sushi. Only rule is, finish the plates and you wont get charged.

each round filled with 4 new sushi rolls.

Scallion pancakes

And steak lo mein with extra broccoli

Tempura rolls

and seasoned sticky white rice.

You eat so much it’s like you’re stomach is going to explode

It’s nauseating and a little humiliating but amazing.

Have you ever taken really salty fries, like the ones from five guys and drunk them into a double whipped vanilla milkshake.

How it tastes highly salty and way too sweet

Bobby's burger palace. Right outside the smith haven mall.

Buffalo burgers with potato chips crunched in the middle.

In and out animal style fries.

What will it taste like?

What does it feel like?

My friends are probably thinking…

But, you don't eat meat? Would it be a cheat?

You don't eat eggs and avoid breads.

And You never eat dairy?

They’d think this is scary.

But it's my last meal! And I don't care if I steal!

Because at the end of the day.

When i die, you will still hear the cry

When it's slaughterhouse time.

I wasn’t always this way.

I too ate lamb on Easter,

enjoyed dark gravy smothered on a turkey leg.

With stuffing and my aunt's infamous jelly.

I would eat the christmas pie

And frown at the sky as i felt my stomach rip in half from all the food.

I too, ate mcdonalds chicken nuggets.

Or those sonic hot dogs.

I too loved it all.

But I was far too young and extremely dumb. When I clicked on my first video.

I watched the cows fly, and be torn apart by the hands of a guy.

Did you know dairy cows after giving birth are immediately separated from their young?

Grieved over the realization of losing their child, they scream.

Yes, I heard it. Little 12 year old me, hear a mothers scream for her child.

And it doesn't stop.

They never stop.

It's only until their voice box has been destroyed and they are deemed “grounded”

Meaning unwilling to move.

That they are dragged by one foot,

Usually from a tractor or claw machine.

And dumped into slaughterhouse pens.

Pens were thousands of hands drag these cows to die, upside down.

Drowning in their blood, covered in mud.

And puss and sweat, and steroids.

Yes, your delicious milk and cheese.

It churns and yearns in a bucket after excretion. In a bucket filled to the brim with blood and puss.

There's so much of it due to mass production that not even the filters can clean it properly.

That's why dairy companies massively inject their products with dyes and chemicals to look more appealing to the eye.

Don't believe me? Watch it for yourself.

Cause I sure can forget it.

and of course this is America so it NEVER stops there.

No god forbid it stops there.

We need our double deep fried burgers and lard filled chicken tenders.

We need every single egg, as we ignore as the animals beg.

We even eat their young

Veal. What was the gain? What was the steal?

And yes little 12 year old me grew up, and started to throw up, every single meat i ever ingested.

For this was not fair! When did the food industry become such a scare?

When did cows stop being cows and become “meat”, “#9828674”

When did the babies become “veal tenders 2 for one sale!”

When did all of you close your eyes and pretend you actually care when in reality you still go to the same Mcdonalds every day, eat the same fried chicken every wednesday.

I'm going off track!

Im sorry

For I too will not care, when the day comes.

It will be my last meal.

I will eat the young, and I will slaughter the cows, I will steal all the eggs, and never make amends.

I will scarf down the lamb and ham, until I barf.

I will cut into my streak and reminisce as I, a 12 year old girl, watched a man deep dive his hand into a anus of a dairy cow.

To rape and impregnate her.

To continue the cycle

Don't believe it?

I assure you, I could not make this up even if I wanted to.

I would gaze at the stage, the conveyor belt would ring the chickens round and round.

As tiny blades sliced at their necks and watched as no one double checked.

If only they double checked.

These chickens most of the time do not die right away.

They live,

And have to stay alive again even as smaller blades cut into their veins and shaped their meat into dinosaur legs.

But it is my last meal!

And i could give a great deal.

Over how much I hate the food industry.

but even when I die.

You will always hear the cry

When it is slaughterhouse time.

I spent my entire life letting the mass production go to waste.

When I die, I will eat so much that it will no longer be for nothing.

Because who doesn't love a good burger and fries.

Who doesn't love needing to cry from having a lard induced heart attack.

This is america.

Bigger is better.

And we wait in these lines for our double deckers mounted sky high.

And we fantasize our fatty surprise.

Philly cheesesteaks.

Doubled loaded pizzas.

Lamb chops.

Steroid induced thanksgiving turkey.

Provolone,

And extra sweet Mascarpone,

Bacon egg and cheese.

And fudge filled ice cream.

Trust me when I say I will eat it ALL.

You know why?

For even when I die, no one will even try.

To stop the violence when it is slaughterhouse time.

[thepilgrimbetweenworlds]

Power Trip, Part 2

Bashmouth had never been so furious in his life. Kevin had lied to him, to the others, all this time! How could he have been so stupid to believe him? When they had come into being, they were lost. Terrified. Surrounded by strangers who were just as ready to tear you apart as you were them. Then Kevin came along and told them all that great big lie. He told them they were created from DNA samples stolen from Tennyson. He told them that they were created because Tennyson abused the power he wielded, and that they would show the bratty kid who was really in charge. Bashmouth mentally ripped out his fur at how easily he had fallen for Kevin’s deceptions. It was obvious how easy his lies were to pick apart. How the hell did a kid Kevin’s age get that kind of technology, the parts, the know-how? And who was this shadowy figure from his dreams? Bashmouth’s mind swirled with conflicting emotions.

“Goddamnit, stupid fuckin plane, go faster! He screamed as he jerked the controls of his Billions Flyer. He was lucky Quadsmack thought to steal a backup, one of the few decent ideas that purple brute had. He eyed the onboard HUD and pressed several buttons, double checking the coordinates he had beaten out of Bootleg. He was a mile or so away from where they were hosting that stupid space camp. He called Kevin’s cell and waited anxiously for the kid to pick up.

“Come on you little shit, pick up.” Bashmouth tapped his foot against the floor of the cramped cockpit. He hated this little plane. It was clearly designed for rich kids like Billy Billions; the cockpit was so tiny he had to rip out the front seat just to make room. He eyed the HUD with a furrowed brow as the dial tone continued to hum from the cheap speakers. A thousand scenarios flashed through Bashmouth’s head, each more disconcerting than the last. He could feel his heart pounding in his chest the more he thought about why Kevin wasn’t answering. He knew Hotshot and Quadsmack would be too busy causing mayhem to pick up, and Kevin always liked showing off how in control he was. Or was that just another part of this lie he made?

“When I get down there Kevin, I’m gonna-”

Then call connected… but then went to voicemail. Bashmouth felt his heart drop. He checked the coordinates again; he looked out the window and could see the town getting closer. He was almost! “No no no! Come on you fucking gold plated toy plane! FLY FASTER!” Bashmouth jerked the controls back and forth, frustration growing too much to bear. His raging only stopped when he heard a disquieting crunch. He looked to see the controls ripped out of the HUD, the joystick sparking pitifully. Then the lights began to flicker, the HUD sputtering in and out as it went dark. As if on cue, the engine sputtered as it ground to a halt.

“Oh fuck.” Was all Bashmouth could utter before the plane started free-falling. It dived at a steep angle, emergency alarms blaring loudly in Bashmouth’s sensitive ears. He grabbed for what remained of the controls and attempted to correct his course, but all he could muster was a weak upturn.

“Damn! Come on come on!” He pulled back on the damaged control stick as hard as he could, his failing altitude barely changing. He knew he was going to crash, but if he didn’t do anything to slow his descent, he might be crawling his way into town on his belly. He pulled back even harder, the jagged edges of the broken controls slicing his palms. Even the smallest increment was worth the cuts and bleeding. His angle of descent leveled out in only the slightest, but it would have to do. With the ground was coming in hot, Bashmouth grit his teeth and summoned his bracers.

“This is gonna hurt…” Bashmouth thought as the plane collided with the dirt. The aircraft skid across the ground, sending a wave of earth and rubble outwards. After skidding for some time, the plane’s nose lodged itself into a tree and stopped the plane cold. The wings fell off first, then the tail, and finally the cockpit began to open… until Bashmouth’s bloodied fist smashed the whole damned thing off. He slowly and carefully exited the now destroyed plane, taking slow steps until he could safely fall and kiss the ground. He looked back at the smoking wreckage and sneered.

“The best a Billions a could make my furry ass.” Bashmouth stood up and cracked his back and neck, sighing with relief at the pleasant popping noises his joints made. With that whole ordeal out of the way, Bashmouth turned and spotted the town. His mind almost immediately went back to Kevin. He sniffed the air, putting his nose to work until he could he track the kid’s scent. He caught a whiff of something; it was strong and mixed up, but it was something. No doubt Hotshot was already blowing his lid. Bashmouth got on all fours and took off towards town.   “You’d better be alright kid. I just hope you didn’t start burning the town down.”

Bashmouth wished he never said that. The town was in a state of utter chaos when he arrived. Cars were overturned or smashed to pieces, and a few were burning or left smoldering wrecks. Trees were broken or smashed through display windows, scorch marks littered the buildings, and entire sections of street were torn away or lodged into buildings. The setting sun only added to the apocalyptic atmosphere. Bashmouth sauntered through the deserted streets, slowly tracking the scent he picked up earlier. It was odd though, because the scent itself felt… fragmented. He knew it was once scent, but each new sniff gave him different information. Sometimes it smelled like sweat or gallons of bodywash, and other times he caught whiffs of bad cologne or burning sulfur (God he hated how pungent Hotshot and Quad’s scents could be). Something wasn’t right about this.

Was all this destruction theirs?

“How could Kevin have lost control of them?” Bashmouth took a deep breath and yelled out a furious call. “KEVIN! KEVIN?! WHERE ARE YOU!?” Nothing. He quickened his pace and focused on the odd scent, trying to focus on Kevin’s. He scanned the area, looking for signs and following the blasted streets. He heard no crying, no calls for help. Just then, he heard a muffled “thum.” He followed the sound and a new scent towards the outskirts of town. Another “thum,” louder this time, alerted Bashmouth to the appearance of an old museum. The front was similarly damaged but not to the same extent as the town was. He picked up the scent, even stronger and more mashed together than before. The front door of the museum was smashed open, scorch marks and broken concrete everywhere.

“Are you in there kiddo?” Bashmouth caught himself. Since when did he start calling Kevin something like that? He pushed forward, then tripped on something. He looked down for a brief second… but then there was a moan, all he needed to look back and stare. Lying on the ground was some thin, gangly thing covered in misshapen armor. Bashmouth leapt back in shock and dropped to all fours on reflex. The thing starred back at him, its four spindly limbs-

Wait. Four limbs? Bashmouth was so focused on Kevin, he didn’t have to process what he was seeing. The four arms, the paled yet easily recognizable purple skin, and two pairs of red, near deadened eyes staring back at him. Reaching out for him.

“…Quadsmack?” Bashmouth’s jaw hung open. He scrambled to the malformed bruiser and knelt at his side. The poor man’s breath was ragged, and his limbs trembled with even the slightest movement. Bashmouth gently took each of Quadsmack’s hands and held them. “Jesus Christ, what the hell happened?”

“…he-her… the girl…” He croaked out, his rotted lips barely moving.

“Slow down. What girl? Who did this, and where’s Kevin?”

Quadsmack moved his top right hand with a herculean effort and pointed to the museum. “…He’s… there… it hurts… the hunger…”

“Don’t speak. Where’s Hotshot, is he in there-“ Quadsmack pointed to Bashmouth’s left. He looked and saw what looked a pile of rubble, only to realize that it was Hotshot in a similar drained state. His internal fire was cooled to the point his exterior was coal black. He shivered incessantly, and Bashmouth’s hearing could be pick up words under his muttered breaths.

“Socoldsocoldsocoldsocold…”

Bashmouth looked on in terror at the sight. Kevin was still MIA, and if whatever had done this to these two was still… no. He had to focus now. Terror would do nothing but doom them all. A blast could be heard coming from the museum, so it was now or never.

“I’ll be back, ok? I’ll get Kevin and we’ll get you and Hotshot fixed up.” With that Bashmouth ran towards the destruction…

“…no…stay away… stay away from Kevin…”

Part 3 coming soon.

[alexagirlie]

September Song Challenge

Day 10: A song from your childhood

You took the words right out of my mouth by meatloaf (if childhood includes early teens haha) Fandom: Dune Rating: T Duncan/Paul .. ish tags/warning: cryptid Paul. unsettling encounter. blood. spooky.

It was a hot summer night and the moon was full and huge in the night sky as Duncan walked through the woods on his way home after a hard mission. He had walked these woods a thousand times but something about this night was different, off, wrong. The fog was thick and the path was barely visible under his feet but he was sure he was going the right way.

Until he wasn't. Until the path came to an abrupt end and let him out into a small clearing edged with wild roses, their petals a red so deep they looked like splashes of fresh blood against the green of their leaves. 

At the other end of the clearing stood.. a man. Or at least Duncan was pretty sure it was a man. It looked like a man, tall and slender, but as the figure stepped out of the shadows and into the light of the moon there was just something… off about him. His eyes almost seemed to gleam, like an animal's eyes reflecting the light, green and otherworldly.

Duncan felt the hair on the back of his neck stand up and he let his hand rest casually on the pommel of the sword at his waist as he called out to this strange being. "Good Evening!"

The man tilted his head to the side, his mass of dark curls sliding across his pale face and neck and then he grinned. That feeling of wrongness increased when Duncan noticed that the man's mouth looked… strange, like his mouth was too wide. 

Then the man opened his mouth to speak and Duncan could swear he saw fangs. "What are you doing here?" The man's voice was husky, a hard edge like a growl trying to escape at the end of his sentence.

Duncan could feel the sweat gathering on the small of his back and under his arms as his nerves continued to skyrocket. "I'm on my way home, it's just a few kilometers north from here." 

"This is my land and you cannot proceed through it unless you pass my test.." 

Duncan had been a warrior for many years and his instincts were honed and sharp and they were screaming at him to do as the strange man asked. That his life depended on it.

He nodded his agreement.

"On your knees and offer me your throat." That growling quality grew stronger and Duncan practically heard the hunger dripping from each word. Like the man was starving.

His knees went weak and he found himself in the dirt without conscious thought, his eyes trained on the star speckled night sky. 

He could hear footsteps, the crunching of dry leaves under foot and a bone chilling growl which sent a violent shiver down his spine. There is nothing human in that sound. It was a sound Duncan had heard before, in the dark around war camps and on hunting trips. Usually followed by howls to the moon and snapping jaws in the dark. Bones picked clean of blood and flesh.

A shooting star flashed across the night and he made a wish. A wish to survive this night and to walk away whole.

His body trembled against his control as the warmth of the beast in a man's skin knelt at his front and leaned in. Those dark curls tickled the skin of his throat as a set of lips and sharp, sharp teeth pressed against his pulse and bites down ever so gently. Even with such a soft bite Duncan can feel the fangs break his skin and his blood runs hot down his throat in thin rivulets, soaking the collar of his shirt.

Just as he thought that he was going to have his throat ripped out the man moved back and cupped Duncan's head in his slim hands and Duncan moved as they directed his face down to meet those glowing, animal eyes. 

Duncan can see now that they are the eyes of a wolf, green and feral and hungry.

He opened his mouth to speak when lips covered his and the surprise stole the words right out of his mouth. He had no idea what he had been planning to say, and it didn't matter. His mind went blank and he returned the kiss, tasting the copper of his blood on the man's tongue.

taglist: @gatoenlaciudad @almostg @softhecreator

[avataroftheswarm]

💅 ☕ 🎼

💅 Do you have a comfort show, game, or book?

Well I mean right now it's Stampede, I've rewatched it more then I've watched any show ever honestly and I listen to the soundtrack several times a week. Other then that, I go back to an old copy of Swiss Family Robinson over and over again. I have to be careful with it now, the cover's starting to fall off with how often I've read it.

☕ How do you take your coffee or tea? If you drink neither, what is your morning beverage?

Okay well not a morning drink but I also like lavender and chamomile tea with honey and just a dash of milk. When I'm feeling fancy I'll drink it out of my special teacup with matching saucer and pretend I'm fancy and not sitting in my comfy jammies and hoodie being a nerd online LOL

🎼 What is one song that seems to perk you up whenever you hear it?

Courtesy Call by Thousand Foot Crunch! Every time I hear it I gotta crank up the volume and belt it, dunno why. It just tickles my scream the rock music at the top of your lungs buttons I guess.

[erabundus]

❝  splitting  up?  in  a  place  like  this?  ❞   a  TEASING  undertone  bleeds  into  the  words.  ❝  that's  pretty  cliche  of  you.  ❞   yet  he  clearly  speaks  in  jest  rather  than  protest  —  they  are  nothing  if  not  capable  of  handling  themselves  just  fine,  after  all.  cyno  is  one  of  the  few  humans  ren  feels  comfortable  trusting  not  to  DIE  SUDDENLY  behind  his  back.  someone  as  tenacious  as  he  is  would  surely  get  in  a  few  good  hits  beforehand,  at  the  very  least.

hand  raising  in  lazy  farewell,  he  drifts  down  his  hallway.  as  the  footsteps  of  his  companion  fade  into  nothingness,  ren  is  instead  left  with  only  his  own  THOUGHTS  for  company  —  a  dangerous  thing  indeed.  there  is  a  peculiar  discomfort  prickling  at  the  back  of  his  skull.  the  same  vague  distress  that  has  been  haunting  him  since  the  moment  they  set  foot  in  this  accursed  tomb.  something  that  runs  even  deeper  than  his  desperation  to  see  their  efforts  bear  fruit.  he  isn't  AFRAID  —  and  the  mere  implication  that  he  might  be  makes  the  wanderer  want  to  (  simultaneously  )  laugh  and  bear  his  teeth  with  indignation.  yet  even  a  puppet  is  not  without  INSTINCT.  (  or  perhaps  the  years  spent  living  among  humans  have  infected  him  with  such.  )  the  sights,  the  smells  —  they  evoke  stirrings  of  a  deep-rooted  anxiety  lurking  in  some  repressed  little  corner  of  his  mind.  this  place  will  hurt  you,  experience  seems  to  scream.  pulling  at  him  to  flee  like  a  tiny  child  tugging  insistently  at  their  parents'  clothing.  get  out.  get  out.  get  out.

ren  ignores  it,  nudging  a  door  open  and  frowning  at  the  empty,  sterile  room  that  greets  him  within.  pain  is  only  a  temporary  feeling,  he  reminds  himself  —  as  he  has  reminded  himself  a  THOUSAND  TIMES  before.  it  doesn't  matter  if  it  hurts  him;  he  cares  more  about  making  it  mean  something.

exhaling  a  weary  sigh,  he  allows  the  door  to  swing  closed  and  starts  to  make  his  way  over  to  the  next  —  only  to  FREEZE  very  suddenly.

"REN!"

the  cry  is  faint  —  an  echo,  shuddering  down  the  halls.  barely  able  to  reach  his  ears  with  its  last  breath.  in  an  instant,  his  prior  objective  is  FORGOTTEN.  that  isn't  the  shout  that  comes  hand  in  hand  with  discovery  —  it's  too  raw,  too  strained  to  be  anything  other  than  an  ill  omen.  he's  in  the  air  before  he  even  has  the  chance  to  consciously  consider  his  last  move,  doors  flashing  at  his  peripheral  as  he  retraces  his  path  at  INHUMAN  SPEEDS.  (  one.  two.  three.  four.  turn  here.  one.  two.  three.  )  it  feels  like  both  a  moment  and  an  eternity  before  he  hovers  at  a  familiar  crossroads  once  again  —  then  takes  the  OPPOSITE  path.  now  more  than  ever,  he  feels  like  a  rat  trapped  in  a  maze.  scuttling  down  corridors  that  only  grow  all  the  more  claustrophobic  with  each  passing  second.  rather  than  trying  to  look  out  for  anything  specific,  he  scans  the  blurring  scenery  for  a  break  from  the  monotony  —  a  flash  of  color.  something  out  of  place.  he  finds  it  in  the  form  of  a  familiar  purple  glow  down  a  conspicuously  placed  side  corridor.

he  only  has  an  instant  to  take  in  the  scene  before  him.  the  pale  glow  of  anemo  casts  odd  shadows  over  their  surroundings  —  making  it  appear  warped  and  dreamlike.  ❝  cyno  —  ?  ❞   the  wanderer  starts  to  ask,  brow  furrowing  at  the  familiar  figure.  trying  to  ascertain  what  kind  of  state he  might  be  in.  he  doesn't  get  the  chance;  there's  a  ripple  in  the  air  and  the  whistle  of  a  blade.  then,  a  visceral  CRUNCH ... followed by a bloodcurdling scream.

ren's  fingers  curl  around  the  agent's  broken  wrist  like  iron  shackles.  invisibility  sheds  like  a  second  skin,  and  the  wanderer  grins  —  almost  hungry  for  CRUELTY.  ❝  perfect.  ❞   a  live  one.  his  other  arm  shoots  out,  grabbing  the  mortal  by  the  throat  and  SLAMMING  HIM  into  the  ground.  his  eyes  are  wild,  pupils  reduced  to  mere  pinpricks.  a  grating  sound  reaches  his  ears,  and  it  takes  far  too  long  for  the  wanderer  to  realize  it's  the  sound  of  his  own  delighted  LAUGHTER  spilling  through  too sharp  teeth.  ❝  what  are  you  doing  here?  ❞  he  all  but  purrs,  the  velvety  undertone  of  his  voice  more  disturbing  than  comforting  in  any  capacity.  ❝  did  your  MASTER  leave  you  behind, idiot fatui dog?  ❞  he  punctuates  the  question  by  squeezing,  feeling  the  broken  bones  GRIND  ROUGHLY  against  one  another.  this  sadism  is  like  an  elixir  more  intoxicating  than  mondstadt's  finest  spirits.  on  some  level,  he's  aware  that  he  shouldn't  indulge  —  but  he  simply  can't  help  himself.  it's  been  so  long.  he's  so  angry.  he  needs  to  hurt  something,  just  to  get  the  poison  out.

Relief blossomed and caught in his chest like a flower unfurling into belated bloom. Let this unfold as it would, he had an iota of control in this spare moment, a polished aperture through which to momentarily stall the pace of Ren's figurative esurience before all went to hell and perished in the face of this crazed and narrow optimism.

Eagerness soured to madness, a blazing tincture of WASPISH desperation, the fuel of self immolation stirred and pungent in the air - surely this very volatility was what graced the vessels of his inhuman counterpart, a mockery of the divine wrought out of rage and the endless desire to claw and CLAW - to carve a path to ascension with fingers bruised and raw, to tear at the flesh of obstinate victory until his teeth were worn blunt and torn from their roots.

Cyno was only human. If Ren chose to disregard him, he would. So - better a momentary cessation than the inevitable devastation of a collision. There was only so much that the axe of determination could glean from the broad trunk of fate.

He nodded stiffly, slowly, after a beat, eyes flicking up once again to take in the gaping yawn of darkness, looming and cavernous, peril coiled tight behind each corner and around each bend, each possibility a limb retracted and made ready to strike. "That would be reasonable. Let's make our way down the hall then. You on the left and I on the right."

His role as a Matra demanded stoicism in the face of all peril. It was this very discipline which he conjured now as he set off, breaching the inherent sanctity each silent entryway, clearing each room of any suspicion before returning to the main hallway between each measured interval to reconvene. It was their continued perusal that built the platform for his mounting skepticism. It was just as Ren had said - it was all too clean and all too EFFICIENT in its vacancy, the emptiness nearly a vacuum so thorough that none of it could have been anything but a performative product of outright deliberation.

The final room was different. The door set ajar led into a similar corridor - almost a chute - that seemed to stretch an inconceivable distance. Cyno hesitated, faltering as he tried to better assess the path ahead.

Movement.

There was a ripple in the shadows out the corner of his eye, a figure slipping lithely out from behind him. Cyno jolted and abided by his first instinct, pulling away from the kiss of blades, every sense coming alight as he staggered down the path and away from the main corridor, each step made clumsy in the dark.

He felt the danger before he saw it. His foot brushed along something colder than stone, something that GAVE beneath the weight of his stride with a click and a metallic clatter. He drew his foot up sharply - just as a pair of frigid jaws closed around his calf. Panic seized him and the trap stammered with protest as he jerked and fought on pure instinct. Beneath the stinging pain of the metal teeth was something more insidious, a burning sensation that crept gradually up his leg, an acrid feeling he couldn't quite place.

The game was up. Cyno swung out blindly, charting the position of his pursuer, conjured electricity flashing in vivid, BLINDING shades of violet.

"REN!"

[splintergirl13]

hello! i know you said that you like song recommendations so here's my list for fluff pining and stupidity! most of them are just herobrine songs but shhhhh

- we have it all by pim stones

- atlantis by seafret

- icarus by bastille

- achilles come down by gang of youths

- fire and fury by skillet

- king by laruen aquilina

- fire on fire by sam smith

---

OH MY GOD IM SO SORRY LOL I have absolutely no idea how long this has been in my inbox sorry Tumblr mobile ate this!! Lol it's so weird I checked my inbox because I got a p0rn bot notification that I had to go block and report and saw this sitting there like OH NO OH NOOOO

But seriously these songs made my day better so it was almost like a random gift to find today hahaha

Okay let's get into it.

Seriously my personal Playlist is 90% just herobrine songs so I understand

We have it all - love the vibe very good. Good aetherian monster song

Atlantis - AHHHHHHHHHHHHH Girl we do be dancing alone at home right now to this. This goes hard and doesn't stop. Ugh I'm filled with emotions. They can save it I swear they just need to work at it ahhhh

Icarus - gotta say bastille I'm hit or miss with just because it's one of the bands that they over played back when I would listen to the radio lol. But this one I enjoyed! :)

Achilles come down - this one gave me such nostalgia my friend made a Playlist for me and this was one of the songs. Very beautiful. Takes your breath away. Should be required for everyone to hear

Fire and fury - this is on my normal daily Playlist so I wholeheartedly agree lol. Fun fact I used to do that YouTube 2 player thing and play circus for a psycho along side gods don't die 2. It works lol

King - herobrine redemption and healing arch my beloved

Fire on fire - idk why in my gut I knew this was going to be my favorite of the songs. And I was somehow right, holy shit this slap

Thank you for the lovely songs I greatly appreciate them all and you ❤❤❤

[love-toxin]

thinking of your plagas leon fic again and ideas…

It’s hard to enjoy the nice starry night when running away from an infected soldier. You escaped from the castle’s walls before he could finish counting to 10 and you run to the nearest exit and that turns out to be the courtyard.

The lush green of your surroundings helping hide you, it was a perfect hideout. It also helped that before Plagas had Leon in the palm of its hands, he and you cleared out all that had stalked the courtyard’s bushes. The serenity of the green courtyard really set in with the moonlight cascading onto its plants, while the stars shone brightly in the night sky. The buzzing of various native insects was only things you could hear, with the exception of your beating heart in your ears. It seemed so peaceful, and the reality of your dire situation never really set in. But the familiar sounds of Leon’s gun popping in the humid night air broke your momentary relaxation. The sounds are getting increasingly clear as he gets closer to you. You take one more deep breath before making a break for the marble bridge that connects both sides of the courtyard. Gaining distance between the infected Leon and yourself seemed to be the only thing that prevented your inevitable demise. As you started to run the way the path headed, you were instantly stopped by a CLANK! coming from your right foot and it instantly felt like a bone was broken. Your brain was almost overwhelmed at what you saw next.

An iron bear trap had sunk its teeth into your leg. The pain was excruciating and you let out a bloodcurdling scream. Even though Leon most likely was instantly notified of your location, you didn’t care, you needed that damn thing off and fast. Blood was flowing down your leg and onto the iron teeth staining it in the process. The knife! Instantly reaching down to your side, you find it empty of the knife that you momentarily stole from Leon. You instantly freeze, cringing at the memory of you nicking not-Leon in his handsome face. Foresight was a fickle bitch. More noises arise as you can hear someone’s heavy footsteps rapidly approaching, crunching the grass beneath every step. Your breathing becomes uneven and its rapid. He’s coming. The crunching is getting closer. The world around you is spinning. The footsteps are even closer. You’re going through shock. Your blood is dripping into the grass and blood loss is getting to you. As you set your head on grass, you start to try and make amends before you pass. It was your fault that Leon had been infected. Had he not been so worried with you, he probably wouldn’t have been infected and you wouldn’t currently be dying after risking your life trying to escape the very same man who became infected in your place.

I’m so sorry Leon… It’s all my fault.

Your vision starts to blur and go dark. The peaceful night sky had stars that twinkled brightly in it. The pale moonlight cascaded across your injured body. The cold plants of the courtyard, you failed to escape, cradled your cold and bloodied body. The blurry darkness in your vision consumed you, with your ears picking up one last crunch.

Your head pounded and your foot throbbed with a dull pain. Wait you were alive? Jolting up in surprise, earning you a painful jolt throughout your body, your surroundings are more than familiar. You were stuck in that dammed castle again. The fire roared in the fireplace next to you, it’s flame brought you warmth. The room was dimly lit by it and sitting in the chair in the corner of the room was an awfully familiar and handsome face. “Oh? Look who decided to wake up from her thousand year nap.”

Leon.

BRO JUST DROPPING A WHOLE FIC IN MY INBOX !!!!!! 🥵🥵 i wanna.....wanna be chased.....imagine Leon sitting far from you because the smell of your blood makes him so needy, and bandaging your wound was almost enough to make him pounce on you.....but now he has all the time in the world to spend with you as you recover 🤪

[husbandohunter]

You know ur small predicament post?? you should make a reverse version where s/o is smaller!

A Smaller Predicament [Genshin Impact x Smol!Reader]

Characters: Scaramouche, Diluc, Kaeya, Childe, Xiao, Zhongli, Albedo

Synopsis: Not only did you shrink, you went pocket sized as well!

(A sequel to "A Small Predicament")

(A/n): Sorry for the long wait anon, and I kind of added a twist to the scenario for more diversity hahaha hope you don't mind >_<. And why is Childe the poster boy for this series lmao.

------------

Childe

When Childe walks in, he doesn't see you....until he looked down. He almost crunched you beneath his feet if it weren't for your constant flailing of arms and screeching voice. He blanks out for a hot minute as you clung onto his toes, doesn't dare to move an inch because he's so petrified (even though there's nothing to be afraid of??). But honestly if Childe moved right now, he might accidentally flail you to the side and that's the last thing he wants.

"WHAT HAPPENED TO YOU??" He screamed so loud it nearly blew you out of proportion. Seems like he's going to have alot of adjusting to do. Childe is a tall man (canonically the tallest) and he knows how impulsive he can get which is why he bought a handmade dollhouse from one of the Liyue merchants for you to stay in.

Though there's something about your tiny size that makes his heart flutter. With your face so small with a pair of eyes far too big, *clutches chest* "My oujo-chan is so cute" -Childe probably. He won't stop saying them over again and you were growing tired of his gushing reactions. He can't help it. He wants to spoil you rotten. You fit right onto the flat of his palms, the way you just snuggle up againts his finger and he just- swoons, might tear up (bruh).

Toys may be for kids but for Childe it was now his favourite pass time. While you navigate around the wooden dollhouse, he pitches in by moving around the furniture to make it easier for you. Offers to carry you through the rooms like a personal elevator. And please, please let him tuck you to bed. He has to pinch his fingers to grab the blanket. It's so adorable to him.

Loves it when you snuggle up against his collar. He thinks it would be the best area for you to be nearby him since the risk of you getting hit by anything (or him) by accident is very slim chance. Sometimes he pulls up his collar so that you're more comfortable and cradled within. He would have to avert his eyes down rather than turning his head if he wanted to look at you otherwise you'd be hit by his chin and that would hurt.

The poking sensation with you by his neck can bother him since he's veeeery tickilish there. Plus, Childe can get easily sweaty so have fun with that.

You have a feeling that he wasn't so pleased when you transformed back. You might be right. Actually, you are right. He secretly has an extra potion hidden somewhere...just in case.

Diluc

Mortified, his soul just left his body. To think things couldn't get any worse ever since he turned into a child to the point no one took him seriously, now you're literally the size of an apple. Oh god what if his bird suddenly swoops in and gobbles you right up? Or the wrath of the wind comes by, swirling you away towards a tornado. Needless to say, Diluc grew paranoid over your well-being ever since.

Due to your extremely small size, he will ensure that you are supervised by him (except at night where he has places to go). In otherwords, you're slipped into the inner pocket of his coat. It's super warm, you can fall asleep (and feel his heartbeat awww). Diluc doesn't like keeping you in places where people can see you, it would be too easy for outer things to access your tiny form (or maybe he secretly likes the feeling of you in his pocket.)

And he's such a gentleman about it. You noticed how careful he moves among his footsteps because he's worried that you might get dizzy. Diluc guards the pocket at close parameter, keeping an eye on things so he won't bump into them. As if he was treading on thin ice (you even suggested it was best to leave you home but he's too overprotective for his own good).

You're like his little assistant. Diluc does so much paperwork through out the day and although the act was small, he finds it endearing how you would help bring the papers back to it's rightful pile or pushing the ink bowl towards him. Or during his shifts at Angel's Share, crawling around the glass utensils and trying to find a specific wine beverage on his shelf. Of course that only happens when the shop is closed, how is he going to explain to his patrons that you shrank and now live in his pocket?

He dislikes the thought of you wandering too far. It's so easy for you to get lost especially when the mansion is so large.

At night you now sleep atop the fluff of the pillow. Diluc is a calm sleeper so he won't have to worry about hitting into you. However he radiates warmth so you just subconicously roll towards to his face. He usually wakes up with you sprawled over his nose. He can hardly breath (careful, he might just sneeze too).

This all happened because of the experiements you participated with Albedo. Diluc ensures that doesn't happen again. It will take some tencaious effort to convince him otherwise.

Scaramouche

Fuck this guy. He treats you like his new pet, a new toy (though you technically are one). He has this arrogant, smug and sadistic look as if he was a predator looking at his prey and grabs you by the collar before dangling you up in the air.

"Hmph, looks like the tables have turned," he says while toying with your state. You tell him he's just angry because he's short himself and mad that everyone else in the Fatui organization is taller than him. Scaramouche demon face activated. He's about to devour you. (Maybe you should keep your mouth shut this time. Honestly your relationship with him is pretty weird).

His hat is so fun to play with. You'd swing around like Tarzan using the strings that were hanging from it. His head was your playground now which annoys him to an enourmous extent because it makes him look ridiculous. Scaramouche will have a hard time catching you since you move around so much. Climb around him, especially the back of his neck. He'll start wheezing when you tickle him there.

The type to put you in a box but also the type to keep you on his shoulders. Being relied on makes him feel taller (lmfao). Scaramouche seemse to have developed a habit to poke your cheeks whenever he needed your attention and you bit him back once when he pushed too hard that you nearly fell off. Despite your size, your teeth still hurt. He threatens to put you back into the box if you don't behave and the outcome ends with a full out brawl as he tries to grab you again while you run around, pulling the strands of his hair to climb on top of his hat. (This is literally Tom and Jerry wtf.)

After transforming back, he outwardly admits his disappointmen. Scaramouche says it suits you better (when he actually meant that he highly prefers you small). You marked his words, keeping an extra vial for your own entertainment in the near future.

Xiao

Xiao was face-palming against his forehead real hard about this. For the love of Rex Lapis, what kind of trouble have you gotten yourself into this time? First it was the child incident, now you're the size of his finger? Good grief, looks like he will have to keep an eye on you from now on but at the same time he's scared to get too close, you are nothing but a tiny mortal in which he would have to double his effort to look after.

He lets you sit at the crown of his head rather than anywhere else. You insisted since it was easier to see everything at a nice distance (plus he's short so you won't have to worry about him bumping into door frames). You noticed that Xiao also has a little strand sticking out from the center (ahoge) and you sometimes grab onto it for stability. Turns out he's quite sensitive there and winces when you pull too hard.

For the remaining week as the antedote was being prepared, Xiao became extremely aggressive over your well-being, he looks as if he's ready to massacre everything in his way...which he did. Clears out the monsters off the path before going on daily strolls with you, you wouldn't have to lift a finger from now on. No one except for him is allowed to hold you unless they're a trustworthy person. You could feel his sharp eyes glued on you like a hawk when walking into the grasp of Zhongli's hand.

You once accidentally tripped into his almond tofu when he wasn't looking and he almost ate you. Turns out being small made his job as your gaurdian ten times harder (especially when you're the clumsy type). If you were to fall off the table, he would have to catch you right? Xiao often bumps into furnitures in the process...ouch!

He's very soft. It's all over his forehead, his mouth, his eyes. When he looks at you, his tense eatures melted away and there's an invisible fondness over them as he cradles you in his palm. The way you snuggle in them is lke the most precious thing in the world.

When you turn back, there's a wave of relief. He was really stressed out you know?

Zhongli

His first thought is to get you as far as he can from the Funeral Parlour before Hu Tao finds you. Who knows what that child might have in mind. Zhongli takes one of his empty tea pots and urges you to go inside, or carries a tea cup with you in it, he likes placing you on objects while carrying you around.

Zhongli realizes that you can no longer use the household items like before so he has to remake them to your standards- especially when he realized he doesn't have the mora to buy you a dollhouse. He improvises. Takes a handkerchief to make your blanket, his cups for your bathtub, Zhongli had to cut the foot into byte-sized too. But in terms of clothes, well he had to make them as well. Living thousands of years would mean he would have lot of experience. Sewing was one of them luckily. But that would mean he has to take your measurements as well. In the end, most of the things he made were dresses since they were alot easier.

You like to sneak in between his shirt and his vest tucked behind the coat he wears. Unfortunately Zhongli doesn't seem to have visible pockets (most likely the reason why he doesn't carry mora either), though if you don't hold on tight you might just slip down his vest and right to his stomach. It makes him chuckle when that happens even if the amount of effort to get you out took more than he thought since his attire is quite complicated to put on. If you really want to climb on him, he'll find a seperate pouch (but realizes it won't be a good idea when there's alot of pick-pocketers in Liyue streets).

All of a sudden he reads you bedtime stories. It's some sort of inner instinct that tells him he's taking care of a child now (he's right though). You realized that his voice was equivalent to a thunder's roar due to size difference. He would have to whisper now.

It will always be part of his precious memories when you turned pocket-sized. Zhongli still keeps the clothing he made somewhere in his closets too.

Kaeya

Amused by this eventful situation. Absolutely thrilled! He's not evil like Scaramouche but this new version of his s/o is both adorable and fun at the same time. You're so easy to tickle, just one poke using his finger against your hips makes you yelp. Sometimes he twirls your hair or taps your forehead gently despite your protest, he's so handsy like always in an affectionate yet annoying way.

Kaeya picks you up and places you among the fluffy comfort of his feathery scarf. You sneezed, the last time he cleaned it was before he went on a mission with the knights. Though you have to admit, it's the best feeling in the world. It's so soft you might sink deeper into the fabric. He likes to put you in places where he can talk to you easily, sometimes on the table while he downs on his wine. Normally you have to take the bottle away before it gets too much, now you have to push it away which he finds very entertaining at your futile attempts.

"Don't you have anything better to do?" you tell him. Since you turned byte-sized, he can't seem to stop playing around. Takes his two fingers and pretends they're legs walking across the surface. You would turn around and he halts, Kaeya sends you his signature grin. When he promises that he wouldn't do anything funny, you would let him hold you. Since hugs are out of the equation, Kaeya gives you his finger instead to wrap your arms around. He can't get enough seeing you like this, things he couldn't do when you were normal-sized. he enjoys your reactions way too much.

His favourite pass time is helping you brush your hair because the hairbursh is too big for you to handle. Kaeya ensure he's handling things delicately but he would love to help style it for you as well. Pretty please? At this point one request turns to another because he's having way too much fun. But it couldn't be helped since you would need his assistance in almost everything so there's really no escaping.

You were so happy when things were normal again but Kaeya would bring this up again during your conversations (how next time he would like to put you in his drinks while you're wearing a swim suit).

Albedo

Legit blurted out if he could put you on a hamster wheel.

What about trying out the little maze he just made?

Or participating in a race against slimes of different elements?

No? Okay, then he'll just turn you back.

Albedo isn't going deal with this as along as he can help it (especially when he remembers what Klee did to him when he turned small.)

[zoloftbrainrot]

scars <> prologue

characters: sanemi x female reader words: 1.7k contains: injuries, violence, abuse, disordered eating habits, implied fear of men author’s note: prologue for what will be a slow burn, hurt/comfort piece; mostly for background before things get spicy, y/n is 18+, tanjiro is just here for character development; i’m sure there are literally a thousand fics titled “scars” ft. sanemi but idc 

read on AO3 here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/41349609

------

You had always been filled with rage. 

It was passed to you from your father, a violent and paranoid man. He was deeply manipulative. You knew you had that capacity — to be charming yet intimidating, with an iron-clad wall surrounding your emotions. It was what caught the Demon Slayer Corps attention in the first place. 

They’d found you littered with bruises and bearing a distinct slashed scar across your forehead. It wasn’t hard to convince you to leave an abusive father and enabling mother. 

You’d been hand selected by a retired hashira as his tsuguko. Typically an honor for young corps members, it quickly turned nightmarish. The hashira was violent and punished any training mistakes with beatings, frequently withholding meals as an added consequence. He was masterful at hiding your current condition and abuse from prying eyes at his remote estate, keeping you in a locked room adjacent to his suite. It wasn’t until one day in a group training that things fell apart. 

“Look at y/n,” Zenitsu remarked, “she’s been training under that old hashira.”

“It’s weird he makes her wear so many layers. It’s way too hot today for me to do that,” Inosuke sneered. 

“Inosuke, you don’t even wear clothes half the time!” Zenitsu chided, “plus, she’s still so fast. I don’t think even you could keep up with her.” 

It was true. The repeated abuse had effectively beaten your argumentative nature into listless obedience, you were mechanical in nature — swift, skillful, and uncompromising. You couldn’t remember the last time you’d eaten a proper meal. Hunger seemed to be replaced with a persistent numbness throughout your weakening body. To make matters worse, today’s weather had you dripping in sweat on top of the malnutrition and lingering injuries.

You leapt upward, slicing a straw dummy to ribbons in midair. But, as you spun on your axis to land, dizziness flooded your senses, and you hit the dirt with a thud. 

Heat radiated from your face as you turned onto your back, wincing. 

“Y/n, are you okay?” This time it was Tanjiro’s voice, hinted with concern. 

“Don’t touch her. She’s fine,” your hashira hissed, “On your feet. Now.” His heavy steps marched angrily toward you. 

You got up, still dazed from the fall and barely managing to stand stiffly at attention. “I’m sorry, master,” you murmured shamefully. 

His anger was boiling over, you could feel it as he approached you. 

SMACK 

He flung his open palm across your face, tossing you in the dirt again. Before you could react, his foot struck your abdomen with a crunch. You curled inward, gasping at the dusty air around you.

“What are you doing?!” Tanjiro shrieked in horror, running toward you both. 

His scream caught the attention of the nearby hashira, Giyuu and Shinobu, who turned to see you in fetal position on the ground. 

“You come with me, now,” Giyuu seemed to materialize next to your hashira, and seized him with a rough grip on the shoulder. 

In your daze, you could barely make sense of Tanjiro’s horrified face above you, calling for help. 

The scope of your condition unfolded through the afternoon, though you were largely too delirious to remember. Upon stripping the heavy layers of clothing down to your undergarments, the kakushi were stunned to see not only the extensive injuries but the sheer emaciation of your figure. 

“He must have been starving her. It’s clear this isn’t the first time he’s beat her like that.” A kakushi solemnly looked toward Shinobu, “I’ll take her to the Butterfly Mansion with me so she can heal. We’ll see if she remains fit to continue training,” she sighed. 

You awoke later that evening in a cold sweat to Aoi changing the sheets on the bed next to yours. Sitting up abruptly caused you to let out a strained gasp. 

“Oh! Miss (y/n)! You need to lie back.” Aoi rushed over, “two of your ribs are crushed. Lots of internal bruising.” 

Tanjiro peeked around the doorframe sheepishly, “Is she awake, Aoi?” 

“Tanjiro, go back to bed. She needs to rest.”

“Is she going to be okay?”

“We’ll find out in a few days, Tanjiro.”

Those few days came and went. Physically, your wounds would heal and you could regain strength with proper nutrition. It was the mental ones that worried the hashira. At first, you were numb to everything. Nothing scared you or excited you, it was just a deep emptiness. You trained with the same vigor and focus as before, but ran your psyche on overdrive. Food was sickening. You couldn’t suppress the feeling that you didn’t deserve to eat. 

Your new dinner habit was stomaching a few miserable bites, pushing the remaining food around on the plate to make it look eaten, and discarding the rest when you had a moment alone in the kitchen. 

On one night, you only thought you were alone. 

As you crept out into the hallway, you felt warm fingers grasp your wrist. 

“Sh-hh-shit!” You nearly went limp against the wall in shock. 

“Y/n! I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to startle you,” Tanjiro’s worried burgundy eyes caught yours, “why didn’t you eat tonight? Did you not like it?” 

“Oh. No. I just wasn’t that hungry,” you lied. 

“Y/n, I can wrap one of my hands around your wrist completely. You’re training too hard to not be eating,” he said softly. 

Why was he being nice to you? It didn’t feel right. It made your skin crawl to hear the worry in his voice. 

“Please, come eat something,” he begged, “I can make you whatever you’d like.” 

A mix of guilt and shame churned in your stomach. You felt a wave of nausea rising in your chest. 

“I-I-I’m gonna be sick,” with barely enough time, you ran to the kitchen sink, vomiting what little food was in your system into the drain. 

You heard Tanjiro start to call for Aoi behind you as you sunk to the floor, taking slow breaths to suppress your trembling limbs. 

Tanjiro knelt in front of you, squeezing your hands in his as if trying to hold your shaking form together. His eyes were glued to the floor, obscured by his wine colored locks. 

“Y/n, what’s going on?” Aoi rushed into the kitchen. 

“I felt sick all of a sudden and threw up. I just want to go to bed,” you overplayed the tiredness in your voice, hoping to catch Aoi’s merciful side, while Tanjiro’s eyes snapped up to yours in disdain. Lying again.

Aoi sighed. “Fine. We’ll see how you’re eating tomorrow,” she relented, extending a hand toward you to take you to bed. 

“I can do it,” Tanjiro cut in, pulling you up with him, a little too abruptly. He saw the color start to drain from your face and realized his mistake, sweeping an arm around your waist to steady you. 

His physicality, so soft and gentle, felt foreign. All you’d known was violence from men — your subconscious sat in high alert waiting for him to turn on you. 

As if she could read your expression, Aoi guided you away, “That’s okay, Tanjiro. We can handle it,” she smiled. Out of his earshot, she whispered to you, “I know he can be overwhelming at times. Kanao was this way with boys when she arrived, too.” 

You softened a little.

——

That was months ago. In the time since, your eating habits became more regimented — strictly based on calorie and nutrient intake to maintain fitness. It was easier to compartmentalize that issue than unwind your underlying fears of comfort. Shinobu stepped in to polish your skills alongside Kanao when you lost your tsugoku master, yet you still kept everyone around you at arms length. 

You were known for your intensity and resolve on missions. Viciously uncompromising and emotionless when the situation called for it, yet able to be levelheaded and practical in the aftermath of a demon encounter. Your success rate was unparalleled — ripe for a new challenge. 

“Y/n, you and Shinazugawa are called to the northeast mountains to investigate a suspected upper rank demon attack,” Kagaya announced at assignment rounds at headquarters, “I believe you are both well matched for this task.”

Shinazugawa? Your brain was reeling at his name. Even though you were solidly trained as a kinoe, to be sent out with a hashira — and Sanemi at that — seemed unfathomable. Shinobu, with Aoi’s input, had made an effort to avoid sending you out with men alone, opting for another female as a buffer or for solo endeavors. And why on earth would they pick Sanemi for your first duo mission? You’d only heard rumors of his vicious, punishing nature with subordinates and felt glimpses of his intimidating presence at headquarters. 

“You’ll leave at once in the morning.”

——

“My child, do you remember the tsuguko that Kocho took in a few months ago?” Kagaya’s milky eyes turned to Sanemi. 

“Not particularly,” he muttered.

That was a lie. In those months, Sanemi had his fair share of injuries repaired by Shinobu at the Butterfly Mansion and had noticed you, usually in the company of Kanao, training beneath the wisteria. He knew you were one of the most likely kinoe to rise to the hashira ranks — just needing to down an upper demon to meet the minimum criteria. You were a little older than your peers and mirrored Muichiro’s rapid ascension to swordsmanship mastery. Fluid, graceful, and swift. 

Admittedly, he knew little of the extent of abuse you’d suffered and your current state of recovery, just that you seemed unusually quiet and agreeable around your superiors. 

Kagaya continued, “Her name is y/n. I’d like you to take her to investigate a likely upper rank attack. She’s talented but psychologically fragile. It will be a worthy challenge for you both.”

Sanemi was seething. “You just want me to take a kinoe to babysit?”

“Not babysit. She has potential to become the next pillar but doesn’t do well with men. I selected you because I think you’re the most likely to challenge her without overwhelming her,” his breath hitched for a moment as he sighed, “I suspect her former hashira trainer was sexually abusing her in addition to the physical and mental harm. I also suspect she’d find Uzui too intimate and Tomioka too inattentive for this purpose. Do you understand?” 

He wasn’t sure if it was the pride that he was better than Giyuu for the task or the anger toward her former master that pushed him over the edge, but Sanemi responded firmly, “I understand.”

—-

<> read chapter one here

[lunartearrose]

Envisioning goggles finding tartar's barely living ai carcass instead of marina

He just smiles as it rambles like a madman - default expression all the way - and it asks why its plan, how its plan could have failed, how it lost to goggles of all idiots.

"Dunno. Maybe it's because i have friends. Maybe it's because i didn't kill thousands of people. Maybe it's because i didn't plan to kill thousands more - people with best friends, families, lives. Didn't your humans have all that?" Goggles says.

Tartar thinks - and maybe thinks for a moment he has made a grave error in calculations. Maybe. Regret or no, he needs a place out of weather. "Perhaps you can give me a closer look."

Goggles is still smiling. He leans over tartar a bit more.

"My friends mean the world to me. Headphones, bobble, specs, rider, hachi and the rest... and you wanted to kill all of them."

He puts a foot on the tartar box. It creaks slightly under pressure.

"You put hachi in the hospital. You put rider in the hospital. He can barely see right now, and the docs don't know if his sight will come back."

More pressure. The box is breaking more, crunching down like a soda can.

"Turf war means the world to him. You have no idea what you're talking about when you call it stupid. "

Gears and circuitry start to pop as tartar pleads for goggles to stop. That it'll do anything.

"Anything?" Goggles asked, and paused for a second.

Tartar stammers out, "riches. Turf prizes, anything, I'm sure it is acheivable with my resources-"

"How about a cure for sanitization? Bring back all the octarians you zombied." Goggles says.

"That's impossible- there must be something else you-"

Crack. Goggles brings his foot down hard on the box, breaking it open. Fizzling sanitizer ink leaks out, too weak to form any attacks, too weak to do anything but dry out in the sun.

"That's what I thought you'd say. Either way, i think you deserve to have your dreams crushed - just like theirs were. Okay?" Goggles grinned, dragging his foot in the dirt, smearing that sanitizer and sparking circuitry into the ground. His expression and tone remained sickeningly sweet - he refused to let this box get any joy from his pain.

And of course, just to be thorough, goggles grabs a nice big rock, and continues to kick around and gut tartar's machinery, taking his time crushing the villain to dust. He talked over the robotic screams.

"I don't care if you say it's impossible, either - I'm gonna look for a cure. It's not fair to them, to suffer for something you did. Maybe some sun will help! I mean, your sludge dries so quickly in the heat. Maybe I'll bring rai and hachi to the beach! Maybe marie's special charger ink could fix em. Anything’s possible."

And once the circuits are crushed, and slime is all dried, With no more sounds coming out of anything, Goggles picks up the empty phone box shell.

"As for you... you're the biggest idiot I've ever met, thinking I'd take a killing stranger home. I'm glad you're gone." Goggles said.

A ways away, he hears the call of the other agents, plus off the hook looking for him. He kicks some dirt and leaves over the remains, and trots over to give Marina the remains of the phone box.

"The heck were you doin' out here alone, anyway?" Pearl asked him.

"Just trying to feel better. This whole mission was really stressful..." goggles answered.

Marie glances between him and marina, who was studying bits of the box excitedly. "Did it help?" She asked.

Goggles shrugged. "A bit. But i think food will help better!"

Anyways just sayin' goggles should be allowed to have feelings and also vengeful bastard moments. He should be able to have a Shadow goggles moment or two, a bit of the true self exists in the false self etc. Etc.