#slithering shadow snake // ic

[bittenbcund]

" Or he's just oblivious. Come on, we all knew about you two. " Anko snickered behind her stick of dango, taking another bite.

[yanderes-galore]

Hiii I’m the person who requested the yandere catnap where the reader try’s to escape but the mini smiling critters dragged them back before the can make it to the lift .

Sure, I think I remember this! This is dubious on if this is my version of Catnap or the one closer to canon. You can see it either way. I don't really go into depth on how you met, this is a chase scene essentially.

Playtime Isn't Over

Yandere! CatNap Oneshot (FT. Mini Critters)

Pairing: Platonic

Possible Trigger Warnings: Gender-Neutral Darling, Obsession, Kidnapping, Blood, Stalking, Chase scene, Gassing/Drugging, Minor violence, Forced companionship.

Tons of tiny white eyes follow your form in the darkness. They know they shouldn't touch you, however. It's obvious you belong to their boss, CatNap. Touching you meant death.

The only thing you could hear in the halls of the Playhouse were giggles and squeals. They weren't from any human, you know better. The Playhouse was part of CatNap's domain. Your new prison.

The tiny critters were merely meant to watch over you like wardens.

They were guards, lesser creatures meant to make sure CatNap's new toy stayed in place. They stalked you from the darkness as your roamed the padded maze that is the Playhouse. Who knows where the exit was.

Wherever it was... you were determined to find it.

Skittering and squeaks echo in your ears as the small creatures scurry about. It was like they were rats, scavenging in order to survive. It was a tough life in these walls... which is why you're so determined to get out.

You assumed they wouldn't attack unless you left a certain radius. So far, the creatures only stared at you with slight curiosity and suspicion. You thought they'd leave you alone completely until you stepped on a weak floorboard.

When you crashed through the floor, the critters began to move closer.

Considering how they were now active, you assumed you had gotten close. The scurrying gets louder and the squeaks and squeals increase. You quickly dust yourself off and run through the halls.

It was clear that they knew of your escape attempts, the small plushies darting towards you. Some even manage to latch onto your legs before you shake them off and keep running. Both you and them are desperate.

Both you and them seem desperate to live and avoid CatNap... just in different ways.

You grunt as you shake off critters left and right. You desperately crawl through tunnels as you run, looking for any sort of exit. You just want out. You're terrified of CatNap's plans for you.

Your eyes light up when you see something that looks like a lift. There's a gap but you feel like you can make the leap. You grin, finally happy to leave this place.

Only for the critters to clamber onto your legs, knocking you down onto the padded ground.

You hiss when your body collides with the floor. The ruined living plushies squeak and hiss as they crawl over you. You fear they'll take you as food.

You try to shake the tiny feral beasts off you, but each time you tossed one another would take its place. You were stuck and pinned. You were just waiting for them to dig into your skin.

They didn't.

Instead you saw something come lurking from the shadows... something large.

"You're trying to leave, aren't you?"

The voice is deep and scratchy, making your blood run ice cold. You see the silhouette come closer, only to realize it's CatNap. The best has woken up from all the ruckus, only to stare at you covered in the smaller critters.

"You're quite clever... but not clever enough, my kitten." The large beast hisses, glaring at you with glowing white pupils. "If only you had a light, yeah? They hate the light...."

CatNap steps closer and the smaller critters scurry off into the shadows. CatNap then sits in front of you, tail slithering over to you to restrain you like a snake. The beast tilts his head, looking you over thoughtfully as you struggle.

"Such a troublemaker..." The monster sighs, watching as you glare back. "Troublemakers should be put to sleep."

"W-Wait, no, please-!" You try to bargain, but the cruel cat doesn't listen. Instead he leans closer with a permanent Cheshire grin and breathes out. A red mist flows out of his mouth, the scent smelling of lavender and flowers.

You hold your breath but CatNap restricts you with his tail. The tightness makes you gasp, the sudden breath just enough to make you quiver and faint. It's only when you pass out fully that CatNap lets you go.

Like a parent cat to their kitten, the beast picks you up by the back of your clothes and carries you in his mouth. The beast then makes a sound similar to that of a chuckle before dragging you back into the depths. You seemed to be getting better at these escape attempts.

But in the end, you'll always fall before CatNap...

You'll never leave Playcare under his watchful eye.

[goldenamaranthe-blog]

Puppy Fight: Chaggie ft. Emily

Puppy Love part 3 / Jazzercise part 2

Charlie: (hyping herself up and shadow boxing as she walks into the new hotel gym) Alright! I got this! I've been working on my cardio. Just a few more sessions before- *SCREEEEEEEEEECH!!!!*

Vaggie: (wearing even shorter spandex shorts than last time, wrist wraps, and her sports bra, grunting as she works through a set of Muscle Ups, body absolutely slick with sweat) Eighteen!!!..... Gah, fuck! .......Nineteen!!!

Emily: (hair tied up in a messy bun, powder blue, long sleeve, skin tight exercise shirt, and navy blue shorts that cut off just below her glutes) Come on, Vaggie! You got this! One more!

Vaggie: (takes a deep breath, scowls as she grits her teeth, and nearly roars as she muscles her way up and over the bar into a full extension) Twenty!!!

Emily: (jumps and squeals excitedly) Woohoo! You did it! (makes another check on a whiteboard) That's three rounds of twenty muscle ups, fifty mountain climbers, and 100 jump-ropes!

Vaggie: (drops to the floor with a sigh, wipes her face with her black sweat rag, and takes a drink of water) Thanks for helping me push through, Emily. I was kind of surprised you even showed up. Charlie didn't have another group exercise planned for a couple more days when the next meeting with Heaven came up.

Emily: (staring bashfully at Vaggie's muscles) Oh! Well, you know! I figured it would be good to come down early! You know. Catch up with Charlie. (eyes scour over Vaggie's abs and shoulders) See the sights.

Vaggie: (suddenly feeling a little naked) Riiiiiiiiight.... Well, I'm gonna go hit the showers. Thanks again for the help. (quickly jogs towards the door and stops as she sees Charlie) Hey, Babe! I didn't know you were going to be working out today. You should have said something. I would have waited for you. (shifts her eye back at Emily)

Emily: (awkwardly looks around to make sure she isn't being watched before she sneakily takes the sweat rag Vaggie left behind)

Vaggie: (whispering back to Charlie with a slight blush and a wink) We could have shared a shower after.

Charlie: (heart throbs painfully) Dammit! How did I not think of that before now?!

Vaggie: (chuckles before kissing Charlie lightly on the cheek) Another time. I'll be sure to save you some hot water. Love you. (slips through the door and jogs up to their room)

Charlie: Love you too~ (eyes dart to Emily as soon as the door closes and she zips over to the pull up bars with a smile painfully plastered on her face) Hi, Emily!

Emily: Yipe! (jumps and hides Vaggie's rag behind her back) Oh! H-Hi, Charlie! H-How are you?

Charlie: I'm good. I'm good. (obviously not good as her tail slithers along the floor behind her like a snake ready to strike) I wasn't expecting to see you for a few days.

Emily: Oh! Yeah, well, l-like I told Vaggie. I figured I'd come down a little early so we could catch up!

Charlie: (sickly sweet tone) Well, what better way to catch up and build a bond than by exercising together?! (wraps an arm around Emily's shoulder tightly and leads her over to the treadmills) How about it, Emily? I'm sure you guys up in Heaven exercise all the time!

Emily: (balks) Actually, Charlie, I'm suddenly not feeling the greatest. I think I got teleportation sickness.

Charlie: Then a light jog should help you get that good airflow that you need. (pushes Emily on a treadmill and takes the one right next to her before turning them both on and ramping up the incline and speed to 5/10 and 6/10) This should be a good warmup, right?

Emily: eeep!

-Later-

Charlie: (sitting and soaking her dead legs in an ice bath with a whine-growl)

Vaggie: (brings in a protein shake and hands it to Charlie) And what did we learn?

Charlie: (growling and baring her teeth like an angry puppy as she takes the shake) To mark every last inch of your skin the week Emily arrives. (all sad and sappy) She's still my friend! (back to snarling as she takes a sip of her drink) But she needs to remember that you're MINE!!!

Vaggie: (blushing) ......Did I completely miss something?

-In one of the guest rooms-

Emily: (whimpering as she soaks her noodle legs in a hot bath) Owie.... (stares at the sweat rag on the bathroom sink) ......*sigh* Worth it. I'll have to apologize to Charlie later. I think she liked those rainbow sprinkles back in Heaven.

[chaotic-orphan]

Intoxicating Fear (XVI)

Surprise visitor

TW: strangulation, choking, strangling

Part one // Masterpost // continued from here

~*~*~*~*~*~

The commute home was quiet for the most part, uneventful. Kit wore headphones to silence the world around him and let his mind go blank as he stepped out from the underground into the cool night air. The sky was halfway through its change, streaks of purple and red striking through the slowly darkening blues. Kit’s breath reflected back at him on the air, and he pulled his jacket tighter around him as he walked up the steps to his apartment.

Thoughts of a warm shower and dinner was tantalising as he unlocked his door and stepped in, pocketing his keys. He didn’t get a chance to close the door when his head was slammed again the wall. Kit cursed, clicking his fingers as electricity pulsed around his hand like a glove.

He swung his hand out blindly, hoping he’d hit his attacker. His attacker stepped back, to avoid Kit’s wild swing or because Kit managed to land a blow, Kit didn’t know or care as he stumbled further into his apartment. His eyes searched the darkness futilely, with a click of his fingers his lights came on and he was faced with the familiar dark eyes of Ambrose.

He was dressed in his usual suit, crisp and free of any wrinkles or creases. He wore a white shirt and a red tie today, a five o’clock shadow covering his jaw that somehow made his dark hair and eyes look darker.

Kit’s lip curled back as he threw his hands wide. “What the fuck! How did you even get in here?!”

Ambrose’s lips moved, but Kit couldn’t hear what he said over Bring me the Horizon playing at top volume in his ears. Kit’s anger dissipated as a realisation came over him and he laughed right in Ambrose’s face.

“Hey Rosey, can’t give me commands if I can’t hear you, dickhead.”

Ambrose tilted his head, amusement dancing in his eyes as Kit stuck his middle finger up at Ambrose. “Get out of my house, or I’ll give you electro-shock therapy free of charge.”

Take off your headphones, Mallory.

The command was like a snake made of ice slithering through his brain, his body reacting before his mind became aware of the order. Ambrose smiled as Kit’s expression turned sour.

Did you forget that I don’t need your ears to make you obey me, Kit? I just need your mind.

“Fucking show off,” Kit muttered, turning his headphones off and discarding them on his couch. He took off his jacket and did the same, deflating as his prospects of a nice quiet evening and a shower dissipated with his guest’s arrival. “I had a long day. Sue me.”

“Still, you forget your manners around me, Kit,” Ambrose said, beginning to remove his tie from his neck. Sensing the direction Ambrose was about to go down, Kit clicked his fingers quickly and was only starting to raise his hands when Ambrose ordered: “don’t move.”

Kit tried with everything in him to fight the order that settled thick over his body like cement, locking his limbs in place. His hands still sparked with electricity as Ambrose undid the knot of his tie, starting towards Kit.

“Listen, Rosey, I know you’re into some kinky shit, but doesn’t it have to be consensual? I get it, I’m a good-looking guy—”

“Stop talking.” Kit’s lips wired shut and all he could do now was glare up at Ambrose as he stopped in front of him. Ambrose smirked down at him. “You’re so much more palatable this way, Kit. You should consider never speaking again.”

You’re such a dick, Kit thought as loudly as possible, pointing it straight into Ambrose’s mind. Ambrose didn’t reply, his smirk staying on his face as he wrapped his tie around Kit’s neck. He looped it, once, twice and pulled it tight until Kit made a noise in the back of his throat, his breath getting slightly more laboured.

Kit glared at him as Ambrose said: “you may speak.”

“You piece of sh—” Ambrose pulled the tie even tighter until it cut off Kit’s words and tied a knot to secure it properly.

Ambrose chuckled as Kit coughed, his breath catching as Ambrose wrapped the loose end of his tie around his palm.

“Now,” Ambrose hummed, pressing a hand to Kit’s shoulder. “On your knees.”

“Are you serious?” Kit barked, his voice coming out harsh and breathy. Kit fought his shaking legs that ached to obey Ambrose’s order, glaring up into two dark eyes.

“As the plague, you need to learn respect, Kit. Which is why, from now on,” Ambrose grabbed Kit’s face with two hands, forcing Kit to look into his eyes that were enthralling and far too intense to look away from. “When you see me, you will fall to your knees.”

This time Kit dropped like an anchor, his knees smacking off the ground was the least of his concern. Ambrose yanked up on the tie and Kit was choking as his airways were cut off from oxygen. Kit wanted to reach up and claw at Ambrose’s arms; to try and relieve the pressure on his throat but his arms were still locked to his sides. His electricity cackled with his panic before weakening to dull sparks and dissipating altogether.

“See? This just feels right,” Ambrose hummed above him. “You would have the women flocking around you if you just shut up for once in your life. You look almost decent when you’re not running your mouth.”

Kit fought his way through a coughing reply. “Fuck… yo—ou—ou—.”

Ambrose yanked the tie harder and Kit airway was cut off completely. Kit gasped, struggling to breathe trying to pull in air through his nose but there was nothing coming. All thoughts left his mind replaced by a blinding, hot panic.

Kit’s desperation was plain on his face, pleading with Ambrose to let him breathe, but one glance at Ambrose’s coal-like eyes and he knew there would be no mercy.

“I can wait until you pass out and we can try this again, or you can submit to me, and we can move on. It’s your choice, dog. Blink twice if you’ve had enough.”

Kit glared up at him, trying desperately to hold out but his face was going purple, and he thought his head was going to explode. Hating himself, Kit blinked twice, and Ambrose stopped pulling on the tie.

“You can move,” Ambrose told him. No sooner had the words left his mouth that Kit fell forward, hands hitting the floor, gasping bucketfuls of air into his scorched lungs. He choked on the air as it overwhelmed his airways, falling further to rest on his forearms and knees, wheezing as he tried to collect himself.

“You-ou-ou,” Kit wheezed, punctuated by short coughs between, “fuck-king ah-arsehole.”

“Oh, stop flirting, Mallory,” Ambrose said waving the comment away.

Kit satisfied at the amount of oxygen he had now pushed himself back up to his knees. One hand on the floor he began to push himself up again, but Ambrose interjected: “ah-ah-ah. Stay on your knees, good dog.”

Kit wiped the tears from his face, sharpening his gaze to a glare. “I hate you.”

“Standing privileges are earned, Kit. Someone has to teach you manners now that your only parental figure is indisposed.”

Kit’s heart thrummed in his chest, a quick flash of anxiety and hurt at the easy comment. “You—” he began but no other words came to him as humiliation crawled hot and red up his neck and flooded his face.

“I?” Ambrose asked with a shit eating grin, sitting down in Kit’s favourite armchair and spreading out as if it were a throne.

Kit looked away from his coal-like eyes and turned his attention to removing Ambrose’s tie. Until Ambrose stopped him again. “Don’t touch your leash, doggie.”

“Quit calling me a dog!” Kit barked, running a shaky hand through his hair because he couldn’t do anything else.

“I’ll call you whatever I like, Mallory. That’s the beauty of being me. If you want to stop me, then stop me. If you want to disobey, then disobey.”

“I can’t,” Kit spat through gritted teeth.

Ambrose spread his hands in a shrug. “Well, that’s not my problem, is it?”

“It’s your orders I’m following!” Kit said hotly, looked away, his anger getting him nowhere. He ran a hand through his hair and let out a breath. “You know what, forget it. What do you want?”

“I missed you. Can’t an old friend come by and see his favourite pet?”

“Evidently you can do whatever you want,” Kit muttered, sitting back on his heels to alleviate the pressure on his knees.

“I’m glad we understand each other,” Ambrose hummed.

An easy silence fell over them, interrupted by Kit’s growling stomach which neither of them commented on. Kit just wanted a shower and food and his bed, to process everything that had happened at work. From his theorising with Tides, to interrupting his meeting Superhero was having with Mr Silver, to his argument with Superhero to put him on the rota for patrols.

“Not now, you’re still recovering.”

“I know myself,” Kit protested. “Put me down on patrols, Superhero. I’m fine! I wouldn’t be back at work if I was still sick!”

Superhero stared at Kit. Kit stared at Superhero imploringly. Superhero sat back with a sigh. “Okay. Fine, but you’re not patrolling the inner city. I’m putting you on residential.”

“But—”

“No buts, it’s residential or nothing.”

Kit pouted like a child, folding his arms across his chest and looking away. “Fine,” he said after a beat. Something was better than nothing.

Ambrose unbuttoned the top two buttons of his shirt, drawing Kit’s attention to him. He had already unbuttoned his suit jacket before he sat down, and Kit scoffed.

“Make yourself at home, why don’t you?”

“You really are so accommodating, Mallory.”

Kit glared at him. something strange struck him. “How’d you get into my apartment?”

Ambrose pulled out a key in reply. Kit shot forward, remembered he was on his knees and had to stop himself before he fell forward. “I made a copy of your key.”

“Yeah, I sort of got that,” Kit said, running a hand through his hair with a huff. “How’d you make a copy?”

“I asked you to give me your key and made you forget that I asked,” Ambrose replied as if it was the most casual thing in the world. “It really is easy to get what I want.”

“Must be nice,” Kit muttered.

Ambrose looked at the key, something flashing over his expression as he turned it over between his fingers. “You would think.”

Kit scoffed, crawling over to the kitchen. “Is this the part where you tell me how hard it is to be able to control everything and everyone to your will? Because I’m all out of sympathy for psychopaths today, so come again another day.”

He had only put the kettle on when Ambrose spoke again. “Come here, Kit.”

“Are you serious?” Kit whined, crawling back towards Ambrose. Kit stopped right in front of Ambrose, glaring into his impassive face. Ambrose reached forward and grabbed the end of Kit’s tie, yanking him up.

Kit yelped and shot his hands out, grabbing the red fabric with his hands trying to alleviate the pressure.

“Let go, Kit.”

“Wait, Ambrose, please. I—” I’m sorry didn’t come to his tongue, his pride wrestling with his self-preservation and winning.

Ambrose tilted his head, black eyes dancing with amusement. “You?” He prompted, wrapping the tie around his knuckles once.

Kit pinched his lips into a thin line, halfway between a grimace and a frown. “Look, I’m—”

“You’re a rude, insolent child?” Ambrose supplied, wrapping the tie around his hand again, drawing Kit up closer towards him. Kit was now high on his knees, his face inches from Ambrose’s. “You need to be taught some manners?”

Kit didn’t say anything.

“I think you—”

“Do you not like my rudeness?” Kit rushed out, straining his neck to try and get more air into his lungs. Ambrose’s death grip didn’t make it exactly easy to breathe. Ambrose tilted his head at Kit, a silent motion for him to continue. “You like that I fight back. You like that you’re able to be rough with me and make me submit because I hate you. I fucking despise you when you do it.”

“You are so bold.”

“And you like it!” Kit all but yelled. Kit cried out as the heel of Ambrose’s palm slammed up into his nose. Blood gushed instantly and Kit’s hands went to his nose instead of the tie, which Ambrose used to his advantage, tightening the tie until it cut off Kit’s air supply.

Ambrose got to his feet dragging Kit along the floor behind him until they cleared the couches. Ambrose released Kit in the open space of the living room, to gasp and curse and choke on blood.

“Don’t bleed on my suit, Mallory. Honestly, were you raised in a barn?” Ambrose asked, removing his suit jacket swiftly and undoing his cuffs as Kit pushed himself to his hands and knees. “Oh wait, I almost forgot. You’re from the Rookery, aren’t you? No wonder you have the manners of a swine.”

“Fuh— fuck off, Rosey.”

“Mmm,” Ambrose hummed, something dark in his tone. a dress shoe was flying towards Kit’s cheek, and he was thrown off balance, his shoulder hitting the ground hard. “That was rude, Mallory. Don’t worry. I’ll whip you into a model citizen.”

Another kick to the face and Kit was on his back on the ground. He didn’t have time to move or blink before Ambrose was on top of him, two molten black eyes gleaming down at him. Kit put his hands up, trying to push the villain off of him. Pain, anger and fear blunted his reflexes, leaving him dizzy and weak.

Ambrose didn’t touch him again. Instead, he started to slowly, methodically roll up his sleeves, his weight pinning Kit to the ground, knees straddling Kit’s waist.

“You know, Mallory, you caught me off guard the last time I was here. I mean, your connection to Mentor, how poetic could all this be, hmm? What sort of God hated you so much that he drew me to you, after I disposed of Mentor?”

“Shut up,” Kit hissed, throwing his fist up. Ambrose caught it and punched his nose. Kit cried out, warm blood beginning to gush again as he bucked his hips trying to throw Ambrose off.

“Manners, Kit. Your elder is speaking.” Ambrose chided with a sickening smirk, tucking his sleeve all the way to just below his elbow. “So, I decided to do some digging into you, into your— oh what did you call it? Your tragic backstory, and damn. Talk about pathetic. Not only did your parents not want you, but apparently neither did any of your precious heroes.”

“Shut up!” Kit roared, grabbing Ambrose by the shirt and planting his foot on the floor, bucking his hip and they went rolling until Kit was on top of Ambrose and started to rain down punches.

Ambrose threw his arms up, forearms protecting his face from Kit’s furious onslaught. Kit let out a roar as he punched, switching from his face to punch Ambrose in the stomach. He managed to get one solid hit on Ambrose’s solar plexus and Ambrose gasped, curling up as he gasped.

Kit’s nose curled up, grabbing Ambrose’s shirt and sending a nasty left hook to his jaw. Ambrose saw blood flying across his face, though it wasn’t his. Ambrose grabbed Kit’s tie and yanked him down. Ambrose slammed his forehead into the bridge of Kit’s nose and Kit cried out.

Ambrose used the distraction to flip them again, slamming his palm into Kit’s nose once more. Kit let out a harsh cry, kicking uselessly, struggling to get away, to get Ambrose off of him.

Ambrose laughed as Kit writhed beneath him, hands cupping his stomach where Kit had punched. If Kit could see right now, he would see the crazed look in Ambrose’s eyes, that were always so impassive or subtle. Splatters of blood painting his alabaster skin with bright red freckles that were starting to dry in.

“Fuck, Kit! This is why I just can’t leave you alone. You’re too much fun, you know that? If you were boring, maybe I’d’ve gotten bored by now, but no.” Ambrose leaned down, grabbing Kit by the collar of his shirt, fists twisting into the fabric. “Look at me Kit.”

It was more of a growl than a command, but still Kit obeyed. Tear-filled blue eyes met sparkling onyx and widened in fear. Ambrose looked insane in that moment, and something primal took over.

One of Kit’s blood-stained hands went to Ambrose’s wrist trying to dislodge it from his shirt while the other pushed at his crisp white shirt, trying to push him off.

“Look at you,” Ambrose whispered, cupping Kit’s cheek and digging him thumb into Kit’s cheekbone. “Knuckles beaten raw, nose broken, blood dripping down your lips and chin and still you try to fight me?”

Ambrose let out a boisterous laugh, verging on hysterical. His eyes narrowing as if Kit was a puzzle he couldn’t solve.

“What makes you think you’d stand a chance against me? Like are you stupid? Delusional? Is there something wrong up here?” He asked, tapping Kit’s temple with his finger.

“I think…” Kit said, tightening his grip on Ambrose’s wrist. He sucked in a breath through his mouth, feeling the energy rippling in the air and his eyes turned a static red. “That you talk too much.”

Ambrose was thrown off of Kit before he had time to react. His back smacked off the wall with a dull thud before he slid down. Kit’s entire body cackled to life, his lights flashing in the apartment, his TV turning on and off. All the electrical appliances in the kitchen beeped and buzzed, sparks flying.

Kit got to all fours, gasping in laboured breaths through his mouth, his nose too clogged with blood to breathe through as his body thrummed with an uncontrollable energy. Sparks flew from every part of his body, even his blood which was dripping onto the wooden floor beneath him seemed to glow with the eerie red hue.

Ambrose let out a startled, broken laughter, his muscles spasming as he drew his knee to his chest with a wince. “Phew, Kit. You… you’ve got a dark side. You would be a truly, magnificent villain.”

Kit looked over his shoulder like some wild animal, baring his blood-stained teeth at Ambrose. “Make it stop,” Kit growled, his words filled with static. A particularly nasty strike of lightning erupted from his chest and Kit faltered, crying out. “AMBROSE! Make it stop! Please! Argh!”

Kit’s arms shook and faltered as another shockwave of red electricity thronged from him and he hit the ground. Ambrose watched, licking his lips as Kit fell again to the ground. He let out a soft scoff, pushing his back against the wall to get himself standing again. He ran a hand through his dishevelled hair and took a deep breath. he said, “Kit, stop using your powers.”

 Another shockwave of energy blasted from Kit, staggering Ambrose and pushing him back against the wall. Ambrose’s eyes narrowed. “Kit… hey. Kit! Shit.”

Kit cried out again as another wave of energy was torn from his body. Ambrose kicked Kit onto his back, grabbing the tie and pulling it taut. Kit gasped, wide eyes on Ambrose’s face, kicking out at his legs. “Ah, fuck. Kit! I’m trying to help you, stop … nng… fighting –”

Another red wave hit Ambrose square in the chest, and he was sent flying back against the wall again. The whites of Ambrose’s eyes disappeared completely, his lips turning a deep crimson red. “Kit. STOP using your powers.”  

Kit’s body went impossibly still. The only movement was aftershocks spasming through his body as he stared blankly up at the ceiling. His eyelids grew heavy when Ambrose stepped into view, his lips a bright red against his marble skin. It faded back to their normal colour, still more vibrant than most. Kit couldn’t really focus on them though, thoughts moving through his brain like sludge, heavy and muddled.

Ambrose crouched down beside him, pushing Kit’s hair off his forehead, almost tenderly. “That’s it, Kit. Just relax. I’ll make us that tea while you get your bearings, hmm?”

Kit didn’t move while he stood; he just rest his worn body while his tormentor left to go make him some tea. He wished in that moment that his electricity would consume him, tear through his veins and kill him swifter than an electric chair or a noose. When he closed his eyes they were still gleaming an unnatural red.

*~*~*~*~*

Continued here

Orphanage roll-call (lmk if you wanna be added or removed): @beatenbruisedandbloody @404lunar1216 @whumpyworld @nameless-beanie e @andithewhumper @annablogsposts @whumpasaurus101 @0eggdealer @rejectedbytheempty @sleepy-pearl @n3rv0usn0v4 @whumpatize-me-captain @sunshiline-writes @burningkittypoet @honeyed-euphrates @sacredwrath @theonewithallthefixations @acer-gaysimpstuff @m3rakii @xxgalgurlxx @princess-bubble-blossom @blood-enthusiast @steh-lar-uh-nuhs @andtheysaidspeaknoww @dutifullykrispyland @mononeigbour @tippytappytyping @stefaniesblogs @shinokoro @bedtimescenarios @whatwhump

[jeannineee]

Hi! Can I request a Cassian and Azriel x Reader date night? Just something sweetie they take reader to a nice restaurant and dancing

Dance with Me

Cassian x Azriel x Reader

a/n: requests are open. I decided to just have them go to a bar lolol.

warnings: none, but some suggestiveness at some points

Upbeat music boomed throughout the crowded space, reverberating through your bones. Azriel stood behind you at the bar, arms wrapped around your waist, chin resting on top of your head.

“Remind me of why we let Cassian pick the spot for our date tonight?” Azriel asked, monotonous as ever.

You laughed. “It was his turn to choose, Azzie.”

At the sound of his nickname, Azriel spun you around, pecking your lips. “I would’ve chosen something better,” he mused, hands running along your curves.

You tilted your head, arching a brow. “Oh? Care to enlighten me?”

Azriel smirked, shadows slithering around the two of you. “It would’ve involved the three of us in a much more private space, in much less clothing.”

Your breath hitched, a faint blush blooming on your cheeks. “That’s not really a date, though, is it?”

Azriel shrugged. “The lack of clothing would’ve occurred after Cass and I made you a home-cooked meal, of course. Would’ve bought you some flowers, too.”

You snorted. “Of course. Have to butter me up first, right?”

Cassian’s voice sounded behind you. “I don’t know about butter, sweetheart. But icing, or honey, or chocolate? That, I could work with.” Cassian placed your drinks on the bar, and then snaked his arms around your waist, just above where Azriel’s rested.

You rolled your eyes at Cassian’s comment, tilting your head back to look at him. “You’re incorrigible.”

“You’re beautiful,” Cassian countered with a cheeky grin, brushing his lips against yours. “Even when you’re being mean to me,” he added, voice teasing.

“You haven’t begun to see ‘mean,’ General,” you quipped back, not missing the way his pupils dilated at the use of the title.

The thick tension that hung in the air, that swept through the bond was hint enough at what would happen once the three of you got home. But until then…

You tugged on your mates’ arms, attempting to pull them towards the dance floor. “Dance with me.”

Azriel smiled, letting you lead the way. Cassian followed, playfully grumbling under his breath about being unable to dance.

“You’ll live, Cass,” you murmured as he wrapped his arms around you from behind, with Azriel in front of you. “Just one dance, and then we can go home.”

Cassian laughed, his warm breath ghosting along the side of your neck. “Alright, sweetheart. One dance.”

“Maybe two,” Azriel said, eyes raking over your form. “I’d like to admire this dress for just a little bit longer before we take it off of her.”

[oatmeal-stans-the-trash-rat]

Hold Me Before I Drown

Let me know if you wanna be added on or taken off the taglist!

Pairing: Intruality

Warnings: abandonment issues, touch-starvation, insecurity, chronic pain, pining, unreality

Description: Patton, as the Heart, can sense when the Others are hurting. He starts feeling the odd tug of something he’s unsure about, and he belatedly realizes who’s been hurting. Remus hates his traitorous, painful hand as it renders him unable to use it for the time being. High Pain Days, or even Weirdly-In-the-Middle Pain Days, are always the worst when he’s been left alone.

Extra: Day 1 of @intrualityweek! Prompts are Fear & Realization.

[Masterlist] | ao3 link

[fic under the cut]

Something tugs painfully in Patton’s chest, right where he feels what’s wrong with the Others. 

Remus doesn’t care, he doesn’t , it’s always like this and most of them don’t know, anyway. 

Something tugs painfully in Patton’s chest, right where he feels what’s wrong with the Others. 

Patton can feel when something’s wrong with the Others. He is the Heart , after all. Emotions are his job! It’s a little cavity of swirling emotions and feelings right on the underside of his heart. Every Side feels different. When it’s Logan, there’s an odd poking of wiring or writhing fire that wants nothing more than to burn . With Janus, it’s not always as noticeable as he wishes it were when there’s flakes of plastic masks swimming in salty waters—tears, more like, he’d guess—or there’s the smoothness of scales slithering around in the little cavity. The reason why it’s not as noticeable as it sounds is because, well, he usually feels the ghost of a slithering snake in his chest. 

He needs to talk to Janus about that, but it’ll have to wait until later. 

Another tug in the cavity. Patton frowns as he sets the bowl of batter down on the kitchen counter. 

When it’s Virgil who’s feeling upset, it’s like millions of tiny spiders crawling around. Or, when it gets really bad, there’s nothing but a shadowy emptiness . The emptiness always worries him because he felt those same empty shadows in his chest right before Virgil had...well. Right before he’d, um, ‘disappeared’ before they all got him back. 

They’re past that now, and Patton hasn’t felt the emptiness in a long time. 

With Roman— god , Roman. It’s always so cold when it’s Roman. Like with Janus, he’s always feeling a sense of chilly ice in his chest. It’s...he worries about Roman. He’s so strong and good , but he doesn’t know how to ask for help. Patton knows, with guilt pressing against his tongue, that he’s part of the reason Roman’s afraid of asking for things. He’s working on it now. He’s listening to Roman now. It’s getting better. Slowly, but still getting better . 

Patton sighs, leaning against the counter as he sets the wooden spoon into the bowl of batter. 

He doesn’t know what Remus’ hurt and upset feels like. He doesn’t know a lot of things about Remus, if his Christmas gift to him says anything. Patton smiles at the memory of Remus getting excited over it anyway, though he lightly grimaces at one of the Duke’s...less conventional suggestions of what he could fry in the airfryer. All he hopes is that Remus got as much use out of it as he possibly could. As long as it makes him happy, right?

He doesn’t know who the tug belongs to. It’s painful, yes, and sharp like spikes and blades. If he were to guess , it could be from one of the twins. Roman’s is usually cold, but who says the sharp tug isn’t just a different form of hurt from the Prince? It could be Remus’, but why would he ever feel so…like this? Remus isn’t affected by anything! He's got this uncaring attitude—not that he doesn’t care, he cares so much about everyone in his own way, especially where Roman’s involved—and how he lets every little thing bounce off him like it’s nothing. There’s no way it could be Remus! Remus doesn’t get all mopey and sad or numb or upset. He doesn’t get like this ...right? Well, Patton doesn’t know him that well, but surely Remus wouldn’t be so...hurt. 

His chest tugs again, but this time it’s more like something tugging on him than the sharpness of spikes. It’s like—Patton’s heart clenches for an entirely different reason now. It’s like...like a little kid tugging on their parents’ clothes because they’re scared . Is...is Remus scared ? Can Remus get scared? Well, he’s as humanoid as the rest of them—minus the kraken-like tendencies, he supposes—so it’d make sense that he could get hurt. But Remus? Really? Why would—

A sharper, more urgent tug in his chest nearly sends Patton bumping into the counter. 

Oh.

Oh.

Oh, no. Oh, kiddo, no.

Something smells like it’s burning, and it’s definitely not the cookie batter. 

Oh, god.

Patton sinks out immediately, leaving the cookie batter on the counter to go search for the Duke of the Mindscape. 

=====

Remus doesn’t care, he doesn’t , it’s always like this and most of them don’t know, anyway.

It’s fine. It’s fucking fine, okay? No one knows. He doesn’t have to be all mopey and sad and shit out there because no one knows, and if they did know, they wouldn’t get it. Roro’s the only one who might get it, but he already does so much for Remus. He and Remus can finally bond after so long of being separated. It’s amazing and good, it is, he loves his brother so much and he wouldn’t trade that little dork for anything . If Roro saw him all mopey, he’d sprawl all over him and squish him wonderfully into the abyss so he can be again. They’ve got some of the same shit. They’re twins. They used to be One. They’ve got the same kind of shitty shit-shit. Shit all around. Shit, shit, shit. 

Remus huffs a small laughter at his brain as it repeats that word over and over. 

Shit, shit, shit. 

It’s a funny word. 

Remus winces, frowning as his hand jolts in sharp pain. It spreads rapidly all throughout the bones and joints in his hand. Remus whines softly, clutching his stupid hand to his chest. 

Roro just left. He was here because he felt Remus hurting and having bad pains in his fucking hand. He helped with getting him situated in soft things and as comfortable as he could be—Remus holds his hurting hand with the okay one—and asked his brother if he needed him to stay. He always asks that, to be fair. ‘Do you want me to stay?’ he’ll say, ‘Want me to take care of you, Re?’ Remus refuses him unless it’s really bad. Sometimes, his bones are trying to break and crack and tear themselves out of his skin. When that happens, Roman won’t leave even if Remus tries to get him to. He knows Remus needs help , and because he’s so good and he’s Roman , he’s gentle and caring and Remus loves him. 

But it’s not that bad this time. Just a little extra than it typically is. Remus can manage on his own. 

Besides, Roman got summoned by Thommy Salami, so there’s very little chance he’d come back for a while. It doesn’t matter that they’re brothers or that he’s in pain or if Roman can still feel how much it hurts . It doesn’t matter because meetings with Thomathy are still important , and it’s not like Remus doesn’t have practice dealing with this by himself. 

It’s fine. 

Remus ignores the faint hiss from the shadowed corners of his room. Jannie’s not here , stupid brain. He’s probably out plotting some fun little scheme, or, more accurately, lounging in soft sweats and binging Scooby Doo movies again. 

It’s fucking fine . 

Pain shots through his hand again as he whimpers quietly, curling up further in his bed. High Pain Days are so fucking dumb . It’s even a high pain level, it’s not like that . It just hurts more than normal. It’s not—it’s not . This is fine. He’ll just curl up into a little kraken cube and stay here, alone, in pain, and it’s so fine that he’s alone right now . 

Remus closes his eyes shut, squeezing, as his hand twitches and sparks another sharp spike of pain in his fingers. He turns his head into his pillow, breathing out shakily. There’s a soft whoosh of someone rising up, but he dismisses it. Ro-bro wouldn’t be finished yet, it takes time for the creative process to go go go. No one else would come to check on him, especially not Virgil or Patton . Patton hardly knows him. He’s...he hardly knows him. And Virgil doesn’t want to spend time with him right now. To be fair, he did pour a bucket of slime when he was hoodie-less, so...pranks do that. It’s not normally a big deal, Virgil just needs some self-time to recover from prank wars and peopling, he gets that. But it still hurts . Why does it hurt? Why’s Remus so fragile? He’s the conduit and vessel for Intrusive Thoughts! He’s a scary gremlin, he can’t be fragile. Besides, not even Janus likes messy Duke-krakens. 

Another sharp prick in the back of his hand that aches , and Remus whimpers again. He doesn’t dare let the tears at the edges of his eyes fall. He’s being messy right now and he needs to stop being messy because then the Others will eventually ask about things and they won’t understand and—and—

A weight sinks next to him on the mattress, and he buries his face deeper into his pillow. He must be imagining someone there. No one would come for him, not right now, not now . He’s just imagining someone because he’s so lonely . His hand aches in all the wrong places, and he gasps painfully. He aches, but it’s not just his traitorous bones that hurt . 

“Um, Remus? Buddy, you okay?” the imaginary voice asks, gentle, soft, so soft , “Come on, let me see you. Show me what’s hurting, buddy.”

Remus curls up tighter. It—it sounds like Patton . It can’t be, he wouldn’t be here , he doesn’t like him, he’s always so uncomfortable around Remus, he wouldn’t be here . 

“I know I don’t know you as well as I’d like to—” Patton wouldn’t want him, this is imaginary, it’s in his head, it is , “—but I care, okay? I do. I know I’m not good at showing you, but I do .” 

Not real, not real, not real—

“C’mon, Remus—oh, oh, hey , it’s okay, baby, it’s okay.”

Remus flinches away from the warm, warm hand on his shoulder that soon retracts, keening, whimpering, because real things are warm but this isn’t real , it isn’t . Patton’s not here, he’s not, he’s not, he’s not , why’d he be here? He wouldn’t , and it aches so badly . 

“Shh, baby,” and the petname buries itself into a soft part of Remus’ chest, making it flutter in hesitant hope, “It’s okay, you’re safe, baby. It’s just me, it’s Patton, I came to help, buddy, that’s all. I’m here to help you.”

Oh fucking Christ, oh god. Please be real , please don’t be real, please, please, please.

“Oh, sweetheart, I know it hurts,” the imaginary Patton whispers close to him as Remus makes a desperate noise. “I can feel it, baby, I know.” 

He can what ?

“I don’t know where, but I can sense it, baby. You’re hurting, and I wanna take care of you. Let me take care of you, please?” 

Remus hurts and aches so much, he wants to be taken care of, he wants Patton , but he knows Patton wouldn’t want him. Not the real Patton, anyway. 

But he hopes.

“You’re not re al ,” Remus’ voice is quiet and small and cracking as he tries .

There’s shuffling on the mattress, and now the imaginary Patton is silent. Fuck , he fucked up. Patton was in his head and not real, and now he’s gone . Remus shudders as he cries into his pillow. He’s gone because he was never really there to begin with and now he’s alone again, truly, so fucking lonely and he deserves to be, doesn’t he? He fucked up, god , what the fuck is wrong with him? What’s so wrong with everything Remus is that he can’t just leave things be instead of fucking everything up ? 

A soft noise and warm hand on his shoulder again. 

His breath hitches from how warm it is. It’s—the hand—

Real? Are you real? Really real?

“Oh, Remus…of course , I’m real,” the voice is back, it’s there, it’s there , “C’mon, baby, open your eyes. Look at me, come see me.” 

And because Remus is a messy, weak bastard, he hopes .

He turns his head slightly out of the pillow, and he opens his eyes. 

“There you go, baby,” Patton says, he sees him, that’s Patton and he’s real , “You see now, yeah? I’m right here, I’m real, sweetheart.” 

Remus stares at him as his breath hitches. The hand— Patton’s hand, he belatedly realizes—rubs smoothing circles on his shoulder. It’s so warm, it’s so warm , oh god, it’s real and there and Patton’s there and he’s real and he’s here .

“P-Patt’n?” Remus is clumsy with words. 

“Yeah, sweetheart, it’s me,” Patton’s voice is tender and kind ...oh no, oh no . 

“You’re here?” 

“Yeah, I’m here, I’m right here.”

“You’re here .”

“Yes, Re— oh , baby, it’s okay, it hurts, I know.”

Remus’ stupid, fucking hand shoots up in pain that engulfs the entire thing, and he can’t stop the whine that slips from his lips. Patton spots the way he clutches his hurting hand tighter to his chest. Remus sniffles and sluggishly realizes tears are falling down his face. 

Stupid, stupid, stupid .

“Can I touch you, baby?” Patton is so caring . 

“I—I don—”

“It’s okay if not, baby, I just wanna take care of you.”

Remus hesitates, but a pained noise helps him make a decision, “ Please ?”

“Oh, sweetheart, of course. I have you now, it’s alright, just gonna move you a little, okay?”

Remus can hardly think once he feels Patton scoop him up in his arms and hold him tenderly. He’s so warm , he’s holding him in his lap , and it’s warm , so warm, too warm, not warm enough, warm —

A hand cups the back of his neck as he hides in the crook of Patton, making him gasp and breathe . 

“ That’s it, baby, breathe. Try breathing for me, okay?” 

Remus gasps and gasps for breath, his lungs trying to hoard it all in big gulps of air. His hand twitches as he shivers from the overwhelming warmth that burns his body, pressed tendering against Patton. It’s real, it’s all real . Patton’s here and taking care of him. He cares , oh fucking god , Patton cares . He buries himself deeper into the fatherly persona desperately, chasing after the warm feeling that makes his stomach squirm. 

“I’ve got you, Remus, it’s alright. I didn’t realize ...baby, you’ve been hurting for a while, haven’t you?”

Remus nods silently, not trusting his voice to speak without breaking. He keeps shivering . He’s so cold, and Patton’s so, so warm. 

“I’m so sorry, sweetheart. I didn’t realize you could hurt. I’m here now, okay? I’ve got you now.” 

“...not leavin’?” Remus asks, stumbling as fear leaks through his voice. 

Patton’s heart clenches, “No, I’m not leaving, I’ll stay, I’m staying, baby.” 

“Pat…”

“Yeah, Remus?”

“P-Pat—”

“ Oh , shh, baby, it’s okay.” 

“ Hurts .”

“I know, baby, c’mon, it’s alright.” 

Remus is crying fully now, red-rimmed eyes and sniffling nose and desperate babbling about his hurting hand. Why is he like this right now? He can usually handle it fine on his own. It’s not even a High Pain Day! 

Then Patton cards a hand through his hair as the grey fog of loneliness stutters in response. 

Oh.

Oh.

Oh, fucking god.

Shit .

It takes a while for him to be able to form words that aren’t just ‘hurts’ or ‘warm’ . It takes even longer for him to slump in Patton’s hold, tired, messy, and very much not sure if he could handle separating from him. The moral Side’s hand keeps carding through his hair, steady and grounding. His hand still twitches and aches and hurts , but with all the affection from Patton, it feels more manageable without the threat of grey on the edges of his vision. 

“That was a lot, huh?” Patton mumbles as he holds Remus tightly. 

“Uh-huh,” is all Remus mutters, eyes closed as he embraces the warmth. 

“Does your hand still hurt?”

“Mm.”

“Does it—is it always like that?”

“Mm, yeah. ‘S fine, though. Jus’ gotta deal with it.”

Patton frowns, “What?”

“Gots chronic pain, Pat-Pat. ‘S all the time.”

“Oh, baby...that explains the tugging…”

Remus sobers up a little at that, opening his eyes to glance up at Patton, “The what?” 

“Well—okay, it’s not easy to explain, um…” a sigh, “Y’know how I’m the Heart and stuff?”

“Yeah…?”

“Well, a part of being the Heart is sensing—uh, more like feeling others’ emotions. Like, I can feel when everyone’s hurting or upset.” 

Hold on, wait a minute, back up . 

He can fucking what now?

“Sometimes, I feel when Roman’s cold,” he continues, even though Remus.exe has stopped working, no thoughts for him, nope, he’s still wrapping his head around Patton being able to sense when they’re all upset , “Or when Logan isn’t doing so good. I had this tugging thing, all sharp and stuff or, like, pulling for my attention. I thought it might’ve been Roman , but…”

Patton pauses when he sees Remus gaping and staring at him. 

“Remus? Baby, what is it?”

“You…” Remus swallows, ignoring the small blush on his face from the petname, “You know ? You feel the hurt?” 

“Yeah, buddy, I— whoa , okay, I’ve got you!” 

Patton nearly falls backwards as Remus flinches hard . Sharp pain rockets through his hand everywhere, in every bone, in every joint, and he feels as though it may rip away from his body. He doesn’t have the energy to bite back a curse under his breath. 

“Oh, sweetheart ...do you have meds that help? Pain killers, anything?” 

Remus shakes his head, “No, none of ‘em work for me.” 

Patton makes a sympathetic noise, hand scritching lightly against his scalp as it cards through his hair. 

“I’m sorry, that’s gotta be tough, sweetheart.”

“Yeah, it’s—’s...how’re you so warm ?” 

“Warm?” Patton asks, confused. 

“Mhm, you’re all warm.”

Remus’ eyes glaze over when Patton scritches and cards his hand more firmly in his hair. Oh , he’s cold. Remus is cold .

“Oh, you poor baby,” Patton mutters, tightening his hold on the Duke in his arms. “I’ll share my warmth, c’mon.” 

Remus shudders as he’s held so tenderly and kindly by Patton, unable to process anything more than the warmth surrounding his body and his bones and his aching heart. God , it’s worse because it’s Patton, and it’s better because it’s Patton . 

“Warm, warm —”

“Yeah, come take some of my warmth, Remus. It’s alright,” he reassures. 

Remus’ glazed eyes flutter, ready to shut now that he’s all cuddled into the fatherly persona. His hand reminds him of its painful presence, but it only brings out a soft whine this time as the warmth chases away the last remains of the icy grey. 

“You can sleep. If you need to sleep, go ahead. I’ve got you, I’m not going anywhere, baby,” a soothing mumble buries itself pleasantly in Remus’ brain. 

Remus, though very tired, blushes a dusty pink at the petname again. 

Patton notices, “You okay, sweetheart?”

Remus nods, “Mhm, jus’, um...name?”

Patton blinks before a fond smile stretches across his face.

“‘Sweetheart’, ‘Baby’? Are those—can I call you that, Remus?”

Remus just buries his face away as his cheeks heat up a little more, humming a ‘yes’ . Patton’s smile widens, somehow, and he plants a light kiss on top of the Duke’s head of tousled hair. It brings out a quiet gasp and the thrumming of a heart. Remus nearly freezes, but Patton presses a firmer kiss to his hair, and he melts . Slumping in his friend’s—friend? Lover? Something else? He doesn’t know anymore—grasp, which causes a chuckle to rumble through the moral Side’s chest. 

“We’ll figure it out later, okay? Just rest now, baby,” Patton whispers into Remus’ hair as the little cephalopod’s eyes flutter shut. 

Patton holds him tightly, firmly, steady. He doesn’t waver. He’s safe there, in his whatever-the-hell’s arms, in the confines of his messy room, where his hand won’t stop hurting but a softer part of his chest does . 

With the grey away and him edging on sleep, a small part of his mind cheers as it goes ‘he cares’ .

Taglist: @lost-in-thought-20 @thegoldenduckie @not-sure-what-im-feeling

[unforgivenn]

BLOODBOUND

CW: captivity, violence, blood, fear, and psychological distress.

The darkness was thick around Whumpee, suffocating, as he lay there, strapped to a chair, his wrists bound tight. Every breath he took felt heavy, laden with the scent of blood that filled the air, a potent mixture of terror and sickened anticipation as to what was to come for him. Though, he had a feeling he didn't want to know

The silence was suffocating, a heavy blanket pressing down on Whumpee, amplifying the thud of his heartbeat in his ears. Each beat seemed to reverberate through the room, a stark reminder of his vulnerability. Every second stretched out like an eternity, each heartbeat echoing in the hollow chamber, a drumbeat of dread in the darkness only to be broken by the soft footsteps making the floorboard creak

Then, like a serpent slithering through the darkness, a voice cut through the silence, sending icy tendrils of fear snaking down Whumpee's spine. "You're going to enjoy this," it hissed, a sinister promise dripping with malice.

The vampire emerged from the shadows, his form a twisted silhouette against the dim light filtering through the cracks in the walls. Blood-red eyes gleamed with unholy hunger, sharp fangs glistening in the darkness like daggers waiting to strike. Whumpee's breath caught in his throat, terror seizing him in its icy grip.

Whumpee's heart hammered against his chest like a trapped animal, desperate for escape. He tried to scream, to plead for mercy, but all that came out was a choked whimper as the vampire drew closer, his breath hot against Whumpee's neck.

"You're my little blood bag, aren't you?" the vampire whispered, his voice a twisted caress that sent shivers racing across Whumpee's skin.

Whumpee wanted to deny it, to defy him with every fiber of his being, but the fear held him captive, rendering him powerless. Tears streamed down his face, mingling with the blood on his skin as he sobbed quietly, a silent plea for mercy.

The vampire chuckled darkly, a sound that chilled Whumpee to the core. "Such a delicious fear," he murmured, his voice dripping with sadistic delight. "I can taste it on the air." His eyes suddenly glistened with a sinister gleam staring right at Whumpee's terrified face, reflecting the dim light in the room like shards of ice.

A whimper escaped Whumpee's lips as the vampire drew closer, his breath hot against Whumpee's skin. The scent of blood grew stronger, mingling with the sickly sweet aroma of decay that permeated the room. Whumpee's stomach churned with revulsion, bile rising in his throat.

"Please," he begged, his voice barely more than a hoarse whisper. "Let me go."

But the vampire only laughed, a sound devoid of warmth or mercy. "Oh, my dear," he said, his voice dripping with mock sympathy. "You don't understand. You were never meant to leave this place."

Dread coiled in the pit of Whumpee's stomach, threatening to consume him whole. A sob tore from his throat as he closed his eyes tight, not sure if it were from fear or just from the much awaited anticipation that the vampire would devoid him of blood completely this time leaving him dead. Anything to leave this hell of a place.

The pain was unlike anything Whumpee had ever experienced, a searing agony that tore through him like wildfire, consuming him from the inside out. A guttural cry escaped his lips, torn from the depths of his agony, echoing through the darkened room along with body-wrecking sobs.

But beneath the pain, there was something else, something perverse and unsettling—a sickening pleasure that twisted his insides into knots.

Why did it feel like this? Why did his body betray him, responding to the vampire's touch with a sickening kind of euphoria?

"W-Why?" he gasped, the word torn from him as he managed to catch a breath, from the sobbing and screaming. "Why does it feel like-like this?"

The vampire's laughter filled the air, making Whumpee flinch violently. "Because, my dear," he said, his voice dripping with malice, "your body knows its place. It knows that you belong to me now."

Whumpee clenched his teeth, trying to stifle the screams that threatened to escape his lips, but it was futile. The vampire drank deeply, greedily, his lips pressed against Whumpee's skin like a lover's kiss, as Whumpee felt himself growing weaker with each passing moment.

He's nothing but a vessel to the vampire, a mere pawn in his twisted game of dominance and submission.

And as the darkness closed in around him, Whumpee couldn't help but let out one last single sob wondering if he would ever escape this nightmare alive, or if he would remain forever trapped in the vampire's web of darkness and despair.

[dabiconcordia]

Shadow Lake Snow Snakes

Not the inviting cotton candy snow scene on a holiday greeting card or sparkling fluffy flakes floating softly in the shaken crystal globe,

these wind whipped ice shards blown, thrown, stinging, not sticking, hurled, swirled across bare brown ground like long white snakes slithering in the sand. by Carl Palmer

[sapphire-heart-tippy]

Sugar Crash Void Bash: The Fanfic!

Back to the beginning

CWs: Peril, unnatural body contortion, blood, violence, sharp weapons

Chapter ???: Piece of Cake

Previously on Sugar Crash Void Bash:

Emmanuel strains and shudders from both the pain of being shot with an energy beam, and from being shocked by the cage’s bars. He finally has Jonathan fully enveloped in Slick’s shadow form. Now all there is left to do is pull him out.

Ramón wails as he slams the golden halberd down into the jewel repeatedly. Gilded Cobra slithers over to the fusion, unhinging his jaw and going in to take a finishing bite. Ramón looks over once again and shrieks,

“NOOOO!!!”

This time sobbing in terror. There is not much time left before Razz separates back into Ice and Tippy.

Now:

Emmanuel attempts to pull Jonathan into the shadows with him. Beleza sees this and sends Gilded Cobra to take care of it. The snake stand opens his mouth and sprays corrosive venom all the way up to where Emmanuel and Jonathan are. Razz kicks and kicks at Beleza, but it appears to no longer have an effect on him. That’s when he uses up any ounce of strength he has left to make Volatile Amethyst tackle Gilded Cobra.

Gilded Cobra sprays venom from his fangs, but is completely taken down by Amethyst. The corrosive venom barely misses Emmanuel’s face by a hair. He shakes it off and ends up finally enveloping Jonathan in Slick’s shadow form.

Beleza collapses onto the ground from his stand being attacked. He hisses from frustration and shoots an electric blue energy beam at Emmanuel, missing him just barely. 

“Okay, you know what?” The one-eyed man huffs and slips back into Slick’s shadow form, crawling down the wall. 

Ramón continues smashing the gem with the halberd, causing it to crack and chip even further.

Beleza stands up, about to blast Razz with an energy beam. Just then, the fusion is broken apart because his time is up. Vanilla and Tippy fall to the ground, completely depleted of strength.

CRRRK!!!

Beleza’s arm jerks away, blasting a hole into the ceiling,

“HUH?!” He looks at his hand with confusion.

Ramón smashes the head of the halberd into the gem, still pulsating with a red glow. Beleza contorts forwards, then backwards, popping his spine with an audible crack. His hands are stiff, fingers twisted in a disturbing fashion.

SMASH!!!

Beleza’s body twists and contorts.

CRRSHHKK!!!

Beleza’s eyes are rolled back in his head and his mouth is agape as he convulses violently. He is completely bent over backwards, twitching and stiff.

With a final crash with the enchanted halberd, Ramón completely destroys the gem. The lavender haired man’s eyes and mouth glow a bright blue. Energy pours out of his eyes and mouth until he limply falls over onto his back, presumably deceased.

Ramón scrambles to his fathers, Emmanuel does the same. They both gaze upon the two gentlemen with widened eyes.

Tippy rubs his forehead then points at Vanilla,

“V-Vans! Your… your hair.”

Ice touches his hair and sees that there are no longer grey streaks,

“W-what the hell?” He looks at Tippy, “You… oh no.” He looks up at Emmanuel and sees that he no longer has wrinkles on his face either, “Emmanuel… you too…”

“Me?” Emi gives Vanilla an incredulous look, then takes out his phone, flipping over to the front camera, “Another one of those ‘bloop’ things must’ve happened… that’s what that weird feeling was.”

“I don’t care what you guys look like!” Ramón wraps his parents up in a hug and weeps from relief. Vanilla and Tippy hug their son back with warmth radiating from their smiles. Ice goes in to kiss Ramón on the cheek, but stops himself. Instead, he gives his son a loving smile.

Ramón motions for his papa to lean down, to which Ice does. The teen gives Vanilla a soft kiss on the cheek and chuckles at his reaction. The family members all laugh and hug each other with joy and relief.

“Uuuunnnghh…”

Vanilla’s brows furrow in rage, 

“HE’S STILL ALIVE!!!”

Ice angrily makes his way to Beleza with clenched fists. The lavender haired man is on his hands and knees, hair over his face. Ice shoves him and grabs Beleza by the collar of the top, ready to punch him in the face.

“Vanilla?!” Beleza’s voice is more light, sweet, and a little lilted as opposed to the deep and sultry voice he had before. His eyes are dark brown and widened with pure bewilderment. Ice lets him drop to the ground on his knees,

“W-what?!”

Bel looks around, distressed and disturbed. He stumbles and crawls backwards on his behind,

“W-who are you?!” He shakily points at Tippy, then at Ramón, “A-and you?!” then points at Emmanuel, shaking even more, “A-AND YOU?!” He gives Vanilla an infuriated and betrayed look, “Where am I?! What the hell is going on, Vanilla?! Where did you take me?!”

Everyone pauses in stunned silence, all staring down at this new Beleza Muscadine.

“Um… would somebody be as kind as to free me, please?” Jonathan calls down to everyone.

Back at the mansion

Beleza is sitting in a chair, thighs squished together and hands holding his biceps tightly, clearly uncomfortable and defensive in this environment. He doesn’t look at anyone, only pouts and shakes his head to continue talking,

“I told you, I don’t freaking remember anything.”

Dio pours some tea into little tea cups as Bel goes on,

“All I remember is, when I was under the jewel’s spell, trying to kill Dio, then he banished me. The last thing I remember after that, was looking up at the moon and saying, ‘What am I gonna do now?’ That’s it. I don’t know any of you people besides Dio, Jonathan, and…” Bel sneers, “Vanilla.”

Ice ignores Bel’s disdain for him and asks,

“Do you know what year it is?”

“Probably like… 1991 I guess? I dunno, I mean, I guess like a few years have passed after I got possessed or whatever.” Bel pouts and rests his cheek on his palm. Emmanuel and Tippy grimace at each other. Tippy’s brows frown in worry,

“Well… it’s actually… 2038.”

Bel slams back in the chair, grabbing the armrests of it,

“WHAT?! Are you freaking kidding me?! That makes literally no sense!” Bel points at Vanilla, “If it really is that far into the goddamn future, then why aren’t you a wrinkly old bastard?! Did ‘Big Bad Mr Dio’ finally turn you into a vampire?!”

“Er… no.” Ice grits his teeth, trying to maintain composure.

The group explains to Beleza everything that had happened, including the second Big Bloop. Which, come to find out, others have decided to call it, “The Great Ripple”. They all check news outlets and articles both on the television and the internet. This has yet again affected everyone on the planet. A lot of people have reverted back to how they were 10-30 years ago, some physically, some with their memories, and some with both.

Vanilla looks down to his lower left and mumbles,

"There's a chance... They won't be so old now..."

"Hm? What was that, Vans?" Tippy asks, tilting zeir head at him.

"Nothing, sweetie. I'll, um... I'll tell you on the plane ride back home." Ice lazily rubs his husband's head.

Ramón reads more articles on his phone, feeling like The Great Ripple is partially his fault. Dio clicks the TV remote, making it turn off.

Bel is scrunched up in his chair. He has his nose wrinkled and lips twisted into a displeased frown. He pretends not to be fearful and upset, but he very clearly is.

Dio takes a sip of his tea,

“Quite daunting, hm?” He chuckles, “Well. I certainly don’t want the likes of you in my manor anymore, I don’t care if you don’t remember your crimes.”

“Whatever,” Bel crosses his arms, “As if I ever wanted to come back to this shitty little shack anyway.” He points at himself with his thumb, gripping the armrest with his other hand, “I made my own way out of a shithole before, and I’ll do it again.”

Tippy can sense that Bel is lying and he doesn’t know what to do after this. Ze feels great sympathy for him. After thinking for a few moments, ze finally speaks up,

“Hey, Bel?”

“Yuh huh?” He crosses his legs and gives zem a bored look.

“There’s… there’s room for a fourth person back home–”

“Yeah, and it’s going to Emmanuel. My family.” Vanilla interrupts Tippy, appalled that ze would be willing to let somebody like Beleza into their home.

“Actually, ‘cous,” Emi chimes in, “I’m good staying here in Egypt. Besides, I’m making bank being one of Mr Dio’s servants.”

Ice purses his lips and gives his cousin a piercing glare. Emi shrugs in response. Tippy steps a little closer to Bel,

“Well, you’re welcome to stay with us, Bel. It’s up to you, okay?” 

The lavender haired man is stunned at Tippy’s gentle tone. He blushes and gets angry at himself for being enchanted and feeling vulnerable. Bel pouts,

“Hmph…” He side eyes Tippy, “I’ll think about it. After all, apparently that guy saved my life.”

“That guy… would be my son.” Ice pats Ramón’s back. Bel’s face twists into utter confusion, his teeth are showing and he looks even a little disgusted. His eyes dart back and forth from Vanilla and Tippy. Quicker than a bullet, Bel’s face changes from confusion to realization at the implication,

“Oh.”

He stares at Tippy, feeling even more drawn to zem in particular.

The next day

Tippy is sitting on zeir suitcase at the front door, playing on zeir phone and waiting for zeir husband and son to finish getting ready. Bel hesitantly approaches Tippy. The blue haired person sees him from zeir periphery, but ignores him so as to not deter him from speaking. Bel clears his throat and leans his back up against the wall,

“So…”

“So…?” Tippy looks up at Bel. This makes Bel’s cheeks flush and avert his gaze,

“Hmph.” He glances over at zem a few times. Beleza nonchalantly pretends to scratch under his top, revealing his telling scar under his right pectoral. Tippy notices and realizes what he’s doing. Tippy smiles knowingly and mimics what Bel is doing, revealing one of zeir faded scars on the left side.

This makes the lavender haired man’s heart race and gives him a shot of adrenaline throughout his body. His cheeks heat up even more. Bel tries to stifle a giggle and hide his smile by pulling his lips into his mouth. Tippy chuckles and looks up at him, gosh, he’s… pretty cute.

One month later

Dio, Jonathan, Erina, and Emmanuel live a pretty lavish and cozy life in the mansion. Emi keeps in touch with his family. Erina and Jonathan are still very much in love and appreciate Emmanuel’s assistance as well as his friendship.

The family of three and Beleza Muscadine end up going back to the Ice family’s home. Bel didn’t want to intrude and stay in their house, so he opted for a hotel room until he can get back on his feet and get a place of his own.

After many visits and hang-outs, the couple and gentleman started becoming very close friends.

“Hey…” Vanilla whispers softly to his husband. Tippy turns to Vanilla, trying to see him through the darkness, using the moonlight pouring from the window as a lightsource,

“Yeah, baby?”

“I need to get this off my chest.” Ice sits up and puts his head in his hands. Tippy sits up as well, feeling concerned,

“What’s wrong, Vans?”

It takes Vanilla a while to speak. He drags his hands across his face and leans his head back against the wall,

“It’s about Beleza.”

“...Go on.” Tippy’s heart races, feeling a little anxious as to what Ice might say. The brunette exhales,

“I… I find him… I find him to be quite attractive. That’s not to say I no longer find you attractive, of course. I just have–...” Ice stops speaking. A giggle escapes Tippy’s lungs,

“I think I understand. He’s pretty cute!” Ze covers zeir face and squeaks. Ice’s cheeks heat up, making him shuffle around uncomfortably,

“Yep…”

The couple sit together in silence, Tippy holds onto Ice’s muscular bicep and nuzzles him. The brunette grimaces, 

“Wait– there’s… there’s something else.”

“Oh yeah?” Tippy teases him.

“I… I’m sorry.” Vanilla holds onto Tippy, “I love you so much. I suppose I have developed a soft spot for Beleza,” Ice kisses the top of zeir head, “He and I used to be at each others’ throats, but… I guess once Dio was out of the picture… he and I became rather close.”

“I agree.” Tippy smiles and kisses Ice’s left shoulder, zeir lips gently brushing up against his scars.

“I feel that it would be generous of us to go ahead and allow Beleza to move in.”

“I also agree!” Tippy joyfully replies.

Vanilla pauses, choosing his next words carefully,

“Bel is practically… already part of the family, heh. You know?”

“Exactly what I was thinking,” Tippy replies, “It’s like he was a missing piece in our life.”

Ice chuckles in response, feeling his heart skip a beat. The brunette closes his eyes and speaks,

“Hypothetically speaking… what if… Beleza was actually part of our family? Perhaps… if he– hypothetically speaking of course, if he were to be an addition in a certain way…?”

Tippy chuckles and gives zeir husband a teasing smirk,

“Vanilla! Are you saying that you have…. F-f-feelings for Mr Muscadine?”

Ice waves his hands around with embarrassment and worry,

“No no no no! That’s not what I–”

“Ahaha! Relax, relax, baby…” Tippy touches Vanilla’s cheek gently to calm zeir husband. Ze looks away, then back at Ice,

“I like him like that too.”

This news relieves Vanilla to no end.

Soon enough, the three gentlemen end up dating and becoming a closed polyamorous throuple. Beleza moves in with the family and sleeps in a big cozy bed with his boyfriends…

The End (true ending)

The First Story!

Bel, Tippy, and Vanilla first kiss

Epilogue (COMING SOON)

[glitterdragonthegreatprotector]

Drew the Doomslayer vs my Lucifer based on an rp idea

From behind the slayer

To in "front" of the demon

...he'll be fine, right?

The draft I based this drawing on under cut

Lucifer's eyes nearly become black from how tight the slits of his eyes become. All six of his nostrils flar as they are filled with blood, staring at the green monster he heard so much about. His breathing becomes heavy, a heavy and cold mist from his lungs. He can practically hear the child begging for mercy from this monster. The blood of the innocent has a distinct smell, that he knows far too well...

"So... the slayer has gone for easy prey, has he...?"

He growls, his voice so dangerous, the burning stones beneath his feet frost with fear. He begins to walk, to cross that line he has only crossed a few times before. The glassy sound of ice breaking is heard, as he pulls his hoof from the ground with a mighty tug, as he goes from a just being of honor, to a cruel and cold beast.

As he steps forward, he watches the slayer, his mind absent. He does not read him, he does not see him, he only sees something he must rip apart. A sinner that needs to be torn limb from limb to pay for what he has done.

Then... lucifer disappears.

He seeps into the ground, a oozing and wicked fog, slithering out of sight, like snakes into the cracks.

The silence only lasts for a moment, as a wall of darkness is suddenly seen overhead. Crashing down, a tsunami of wrathful shadows plunges everything into the black cold. The darkness consumes everything and everyone with dread and morbid anticipation for execution. Every now and again, there is a sudden gust of warmth every few minutes, like the breathing of a beast, and it doesn’t take too long for everyone to realize that's EXACTLY what it is. The hot and wet breath of this... he cannot considered a demon at this point... whatever he is, he is somehow everywhere. This darkness itself breathes, and with every breath, snow begins to form. Swirling as a blizzard begins to form in this mass of pure hatred.

But the darkness feels different to the demons than the slayer...

Though they are in the same, endless and all consuming darkness, the demons feel an odd mix of terror and safety, like they are merely sitting in the maw of this beast, in the safety behind the teeth, while the slayer stands in the belly, completely surrounded with no light to guide him. The ground beneath their feet seems to begin breathing with lucifer, icey teeth forms around the slayer, wishing to consume but not yet. Lucifer will savor every delicious and painful breath that comes from this poor excuse of a man, like how he assumes the slayer savors every drop of demon blood that falls on his hands.

Then in the endless darkness, everyone sees white. Not light, white. Eyes begin to form, in constellations in this hateful mist, glaring at the armored man, his armor bleached by this beings power. All things that are not lucifer, besides his eyes, are white. There are some spots of red here and there, in a million different places, where gaping eye sockets float, bobbing up and down like leaves threatening to sink in the murky depths of the murderous waters that is this monster.

Gallons of blood starts pouring from above filling the black and white with red, the tiny red dots above deceive their true size, being miles across.

Eyes and hands occasionally slither around the slayer, trying to hold back from slaughtering him now. No, no he must wait to kill him.

Something wet presses against the slayer's back, making his armor warm, as white fangs start forming around the teeth, occasionally swallowing or being swallowed by eyes. Others can see what presses again the doomslayer's back. An endless shine in the black, as one final pupil slits. The white of this eye shines all all except for him, as he is bathed in darkness. The black is endless behind him, the eye literally touching his back unblinking. A wall of warmth and wetness, the only warmth he will get, till he feels his own blood going cold on his own skin.

It would be a cold day in hell if the slayer were to die by a demon's hand. And with how the snow swirls so cruelly around only him, it may be fate.

[sleekervae]

Past Lives [1.8]

Masterlist

A/N: *Commence adorable flashback sequence*

Warnings: delinquency, nothing major

--

The sun had dipped below the horizon, leaving behind a canvas of warm hues that gradually melted into the deep indigo of the night sky. A gentle breeze rustled through the leaves, carrying with it the scent of blooming flowers and distant laughter. It was a hot summer night, and the city was alive with the magic that only such nights could bring.

In the heart of downtown Toronto, the streets were lined with charming cafes and quaint boutiques. Strings of twinkling lights hung above the sidewalks, casting a soft, golden glow on the bustling pedestrians. The night had drawn people out of their homes, and the energy in the air was palpable.

The night was alive with sensory delights. An ice cream truck parked at the corner beckoned to families with children, the promise of sweet relief from the lingering heat. The scent of freshly baked goods wafted from a nearby bakery, tempting even those who had just finished dinner.

As the night deepened, the stars above became more pronounced, scattered across the velvety sky like scattered diamonds. The distant sound of a train's horn added a touch of nostalgia, a reminder of the city's history and connection to the railway.

As the clock ticked on, the temperature began to dip, offering relief from the day's sweltering heat. Yet, the warmth of the night continued to envelop the city, inviting people to linger a little longer, to savor the fleeting moments of the summer.

All of this provided cover for eighteen-year-old Jade; mousy, slender and unassuming, one wouldn't notice her in the dark. She surveyed the chain link fence and the expanse of the park, security wasn't out tonight.

Behind her, nineteen, just about twenty-year-old Austin bit nervously at his lip, rubber necking around, his nerves getting the better of him as he foolishly followed his friend. He was excited, but apprehensive.

"I can't believe you talked me into this shit," he whispered, his voice barely audible.

Jade turned back to him, her usually long hair tied in a messy bun atop her head. Her eyes twinkled with excitement, "C'mon, I do this all the time. It'll be fun,"

She gave him a little wink as she produced a pair of wire cutters from her backpack. The metal strands of the fence yielded under the pressure, creating a small gap just wide enough for them to slip through. She crawled through first, slithering like a snake without hesitation. She dusted off her knees, motioning for Austin to follow.

Heart racing, Austin squeezed through the opening, his pulse pounding in his ears. Jade bent down to help pull him up. Once inside, the world around them transformed. The pool area was shrouded in shadows, the water reflecting the pale glow of the moon, like liquid silver.

They exchanged a triumphant grin before kicking off their shoes and peeling off their clothes to reveal their bathing suits. The cool, dew-kissed grass felt refreshing against their feet as they approached the edge of the pool.

"Last one in's a goober," Jade teased, her voice a hushed but excited whisper.

"What are you -- eight?" he asked, amused nevertheless.

"Come on!"

Austin rolled his eyes, a laugh bubbling from his lips. Without another word, they took a running leap and plunged into the water. The shock of the coolness enveloped them, stealing their breath momentarily. But as they resurfaced, the thrill of their spontaneous adventure surged through their veins.

They swam side by side, their movements fluid and effortless. The water felt like a secret they had unlocked—a hidden world they now shared. The pool's stillness magnified the sound of their laughter, echoing off the tiles and fading into the night.

As they floated on their backs, gazing up at the stars, Jade whispered, "And you doubted me"

"Okay, okay I admit, this is awesome," he corrected, a playful grin tugging at his lips as he turned to her, "You're pretty awesome,"

Jade's heart fluttered, thankful for the darkness lest the moon reveal the deep blush in her cheeks. She was keeping herself together for the most part, half naked with her friend in a public pool, so close to him. It was rebellious, scandalous; if her mother knew what she was doing she'd certainly keel over. All she told her was that she was hanging out with Austin, and she was lucky that her mom liked him.

"I know," with that, she turned over and dove back under the surface.

Austin didn't do stuff like this. He was usually the quieter type, didn't make waves, kept his head down and worked his butt off. If his agent found out what they were doing, he would surely be eaten alive. But right now he didn't care: filming was long and tedious, the heat was unbearable sometimes. So when Jade had suggested they break into the city public pool, he was skeptical. But he ought to have known better than to doubt her, she brought him so far out of his shell.

Hours slipped by, and the two friends lost track of time in the embrace of the water. Eventually, shivers began to run through their bodies, a sign that the late-night swim was coming to an end.

Reluctantly, they pulled themselves out of the pool, water droplets shimmering on their skin like liquid diamonds. They wrapped themselves in towels they had brought along and settled on the edge of the pool, catching their breath.

"You wanna do this again?" Jade asked, a coy smile on her face.

Austin nodded in agreement, a contented expression on his face. "Yeah, but maybe next time during the day and without the whole breaking-in thing,"

Jade rolled her eyes, nudging his shoulder, "You're such a baby,"

"No, I just don't want to get arrested," he pointed out.

"Fair," she nodded, "You're too pretty to go to jail, anyway. You might end up becoming somebody's girlfriend,"

They shared a laugh, their bond stronger than ever as they sat there, savoring the serenity of the night and the memory of their daring midnight dip.

Jade had often thought back to that night; it was a memory she cherished most. Her youth was a cluster of impulsive, stupid decisions, wishful thinking, and stars in her eyes when she thought about her future. She had so much hope for herself back then, so many plans and things she had wanted to do.

She had been nursing a crush on Austin for a while, whether or not she had wanted to admit it to herself was a whole other can of worms. When Jade had embraced her knack for song writing, only then did her feelings truly reveal themselves. The music she was writing was wistfully romantic, imagining incredibly luscious, fantastic adventures that she could only dream of.

Her first major hit, 'Roman Holiday', captured all of that. However, Jade soon realized the damage she had done to herself when she was writing that song. It was clear when she read over it that she was writing about Austin, and by that time he was already getting settled in his new relationship. She didn't release it for a while, fearing people would figure her out, call her out for her crush. Though the moment she did, it was clear that nobody really gave a shit about who it was about more than what it was about.

That song, and much of her first album helped spearhead the iconic 2013-14 Tumblr era. The subculture of being funky and weird and a passionate poet was in and it definitely helped boost Jade's music career.

Of course, Jade was older now; she was a little wiser. And her song writing looked quite different, or so her producer, Zakk, mentioned. They were listening to the very raw recordings of Jade's progress. She had a few solid tracks she was confident in, 'Evergreen' being one. Being back in Toronto, with her family and in familiar surroundings pushed her to sit on her reflections, some more uncomfortable others.

"I think I felt God strike me from the top Humbled my ass real quick I thought I had it all, but it went wrong Felt like an acid trip Bite my tongue, right my wrongs But I don't wanna deal with it"

Her voice floated beautifully along with the soft chords of her guitar, and Zakk nodded his head approvingly to the music.

"'Cause no one gives a damn shit less you're dead Or you're seventeen, an overnight prodigy, Everyone could care less 'til you're dead Or you're sеventeen, I wanna be evеrgreen"

Zakk had worked on a couple of Jade's previous albums, attuned to her unique and alternative sound, as well as her writing style. He watched her grow as an artist and a visionary, and he couldn't have been more proud to see her progress now.

"Damn," he finally responded when the demo ended. They had spent the last ten minutes reviewing her recordings, and Jade had her heart in her throat as she awaited his critiques. 'American Whore' was definitely in the running to be on her album.

"What do you think?" she asked tentatively.

He was silent at first, mulling over her sounds, her stories, "I think you've never been more honest in your writing, and I fucking love it," he told her, grinning like a proud father despite the fact that they were the same age.

She let out a collective sigh, relieved, but still apprehensive, "What would you say if I told you the label wants an album by the end of the year?"

Zakk's smile fell; he rolled his eyes, closed the laptop and pinched the bridge of his nose. He was often dismayed by corporate deadlines, no matter whether it was his bosses, hers, or society. He lived by the golden rule that you simply couldn't rush art.

"Do you think you'll be ready by then?" he asked her.

She shook her head, "Not at all,"

"Thank I say 'get fucked'. We're gonna' take our time," he decided, "And if they have a problem, they can come kiss my ass,"

"Classy," Jade nodded back.

Zakk rolled away from the desk and towards his switch board, "How many are fully written? Let's get some acapella done today and it'll set the course for your sound," he turned to her, "Is there a particular sound you're going for?"

She shrugged back, "Nothing super cohesive, yet. I got two slow ballads, two alt tracks and a classic rock song," that last one, 'Butterflies', was another particular favourite of hers. It was bombastic, fast paced, serving as an antonym for its title and expressed the anger she had kept bottled up within her.

Zakk paused, running through her demos in his head as he turned to her, puzzled, "You have two ballads?" he could recall 'American Whore', he couldn't recall the other one.

Jade realized she'd let it slip; she was still undecided on 'Little Death'. -- at least, that was the working title -- and she hadn't played it for Zakk. Mainly because -- and much to her chagrin -- it was about Austin; and she wasn't sure she should be incorporating him so much into her album.

"... Yeah," she admitted, "It's a love song,"

Zakk chuckled under his breath, "Didn't you tell me a few months ago you were swearing off love songs?"

She averted her gaze to her boots, "Yeah... well... you could say I got inspired,"

"Do you want to play it?" he asked her, trying to gauge her mood, "You know I don't care who it's about -- even if it's about anybody,"

"I know. But this isn't gonna' be a love album, anyway," she pointed out.

He scoffed back, "Call me cynical, but all the best love songs -- truly great love ballads -- tend to come from the albums not trying for love. They just feel it. You have the demo?"

She shook her head. He rolled back over to the desk, "What about the actual song? You have that on you?"

She nodded then, "... You want me to play it?"

"Is the pope catholic?"

Jade sighed heavily, her limbs suddenly felt very heavy. Nevertheless she grabbed the guitar he had hanging off his wall, got comfy with it on her lap and took some tentative strokes of the strings. If there was one thing she had to credit Zakk for, it was his persistence. He sometimes had to wrangle music out of her, more often than not the stuff she was afraid to play, that showed her vulnerabilities, was the stuff that garnered the most success. She took a deep breath as she began to sing the first few lines,

"I would drown in your holy water Got a taste, now I'm going under And let the world just fade away Treat me bad like no one's daughter Body bag, baby I'm a goner And let it all just fade away,"

She couldn't help her voice shaking as she sang, the guitar chords memorized in her fingers as she hit every note, every melody with perfection.

"Just put your hands around my throat Ain't been to heaven but I'm close Your love is a murder Your love is a murder I'll let you touch me sweet and slow Just take my body and my soul Your love is a murder Your love is a murder"

Zakk sat back in awe, taking in her everything. He noted how she kept her eyes closed, letting herself become lost in the story she was weaving, reliving every word that passed her lips.

"In your bed just the way that God made me Cover me up, baby, just lay me In the dirt 'til I'm pushing up daisies, You got a dark side and it don't phase me Cover me up, baby, just lay me In the dirt 'til I'm pushing up daisies,"

The last twang of the guitar faded out peacefully, and Zakk's silence weighed heavily on Jade. She was apprehensive about this song, not only for Austin, not to stay "on theme", but because it felt a little too personal. She hadn't felt this way since writing 'Roman Holiday'.

Zakk began to smile, "That's clearly for somebody," he noted.

She scoffed back, "You just said you didn't care," she pointed out.

"I don't. But every time you lose yourself in a song -- like you just did -- you're reliving something special. It's beautiful, Jade," he replied.

She sloughed back in her seat, letting the guitar rest agains the desk. She was mad because Zakk was right, her mind raced to the same place over and over whenever she played that song. His house, his bed sheets, his warm chest, dark eyes, the smell and the vibe. Austin was everything in this song; whether she liked it or not, he was penetrating every part of her, killing her slowly. So 'Little Death' seemed like an appropriate working title; straight up 'Murder' was another. It would certainly push her love for paradoxes.

"I'm glad you like it," was all she'd said.

Austin had never been happier to receive a phone call than when he had Callum's. He'd flown into town for a new project, but he was more than happy to make time for his friend. Of course, the one place he knew he had to take him was Santa Monica Pier.

The scent of cotton candy and freshly baked treats wafted from the snack stalls, tempting passersby with sweet indulgence. The colorful blur of a Ferris wheel spun against the backdrop of the ocean, its brightly lit capsules carrying passengers high above the water, providing sweeping views of the coastline.

At the end of the pier, the iconic Santa Monica Pier sign stood tall, a symbol of a timeless connection between land and sea. As the sun dipped below the horizon, the sky painted a masterpiece of warm oranges and deep purples, casting a tranquil aura over the bustling scene.

"Boys in the Boat?"

"Yeah. Never quite taken to boating, but if George Clooney's directing, I'll learn how to tame a lion if he asks," It was clear Callum wasn't used to the West coast heat, even in February as he fanned himself off with the neck of his shirt. Austin meanwhile was unbothered, the only show of the heat was the thin film of sweat dotting at his forehead.

Austin simpered, "I don't see him working on the Greatest Showman sequel, I think you're safe," he replied.

"Reckon so," he said, "Did Tarantino ever ask you to do anything crazy?"

"Riding a horse," he replied, "My first day, I didn't even have one leg up before he threw me off,"

"Fucking hell," Callum laughed, "Tell me you landed arse-first?"

"... Sure,"

"Ah well," he shrugged, "You looked cool anyway. What else is new with you?

"Nothing, really," he wiped the sweat from his brow as he spoke.

Callum cocked a brow, "Nothing? You bought yourself a house, didn't ya? Settle back into life? Reconnect with friends?"

"Oh sure, I did all of that," he replied.

"No girlfriends?"

He shook his head, blinded momentarily by the glare of the busker's trumpet in the sunlight, "Afraid not,"

"Well, that's a shame," he marvelled, "What about Florence's friend?"

"Jade?" he said her name a little too quickly, licked the salt off of his lips, "She's just my friend,"

Callum gave him a wanton look, incredulous, "Not what those pictures said," he pointed out.

"You believe everything you read?" Austin scoffed back.

"I believed the little pep in your step you had when you came back to the table," he replied.

"We've been friends since we were teenagers,"

"Mate, you went home with her. Raff was bloody steaming!"

Austin shook his head, relenting finally, "Alright, so I kissed her,"

"Just once?" Callum smirked.

"... In public, anyway,"

His English counterpart laughed, "Aye, nice mate!"

Austin chuckled under his breath, "Keep that to yourself," he pleaded.

"Of course!"

They stopped along the railing, gazing out at the vast expanse of the Pacific Ocean, where the horizon seemed to stretch endlessly. Seagulls soared overhead, their cries merging with the distant music and the waves below.

Callum turned to him, perching his sunglasses down the bridge of his nose, "Mathilda's coming out in a couple weeks, maybe we ought to double date? She always wanted to see Disney Land," he suggested.

As lovely as that sounded, Austin shook his head, "We're not together in that sense," he said.

"In what sense is it, then?" Callum asked.

"No strings attached," Austin replied bluntly.

"That was her idea?"

"How do you know it wasn't mine?"

Callum glowered, "Because you've been looking miffed since we've been talking about her. What's eating you?"

Austin shook his head, keeping his eye on the rippling sea below, "I think I wanna' attach some strings,"

"And she doesn't?"

Austin didn't know how else to explain, other than to start from the beginning. He swore Callum to secrecy, of course. He talked about their situation, Jade's reservations about relationships, the music she was writing, revealed how equally jealous and disappointed he was when he found out about Jade's date. Callum was at a loss for words at first, he could picture this very scene playing out in some corny romance movie. Though it was clear on Austin's face that this wasn't a joke or a post-method phase he was going through. He had fallen for Jade, he seemed to deflate as soon as he'd finished talking.

Callum gave a low whistle, "Shit. That's a lot,"

"Yep,"

"Dating's complicated enough when you're a normal person. Tack on fame, fortune, and the eternal curse of everybody nabbing a piece off'a you, it's near impossible," he mulled.

"No kidding,"

"Does Jade know how you feel?"

"Doubtful," he huffed, "I don't want to put that kind of pressure on her, she's got a lot going on,"

"Sure, but so do you. And if you have time to have an existential crisis over this, then I'm sure she does, too," Callum pointed out.

Austin scoffed, "I'm not having a crisis,"

"If we had pints between us, I'd bet yours would be bone dry by now," he replied, "Look, there's no harm in trying, neither in being honest. If you want her, you should tell her. You should tell her all you’ve been feeling and then ask her how she’s been feeling too. How she feels about what you told her. She can't read your mind, you know?"

Austin nodded, "I know. Even I don’t know what’s going on with me half the time. And if I lose her, then she's gone forever. I don't wanna' jeopardize what we got, already,"

Callum tutted, "You're thirty, Austin,"

"And?"

“And you need to be a man. You want her, right? You want this to work?” 

“Yes, if she wants it, too,” the younger man confirmed. 

“That’s already something, isn’t it?” Callum encouraged him. 

Again, Austin nodded.

"I suggest that you reflect on it a little. Think about how you feel when you were with her, when you took a pause, when you were without her. Now, I'm not saying it would be easy, but there are things you guys are gonna' have to compromise on. Be realistic. Make them small things, just two or three. Show her that you care, reach out. That’s all it takes to make a conversation work. I’m sure she'll appreciate the effort,” he moved his hand to Austin's shoulder, “And remember to ask her what she doesn’t like. Be empathetic. Suggest improvements for the both of you. That’s what women appreciate: empathy,”

Austin blinked back, ideas spinning as Callum's words echoed in his ears. He started to smile, and Callum became excited.

"You got an idea?" he asked.

"I got a couple," he nodded.

"Good,"

Soon enough the sun began to set, bathing the pier in a warm red glow. People equally funnelled in and out of the board walk, the noise heightening, the heat began to die down.

Austin shoved his hands into his pockets, his thumb brushing anxiously against his phone screen, "You still wanna' do the hike tomorrow?"

"Nah, I can't," Callum shook his head, "Forgot, I have a thing,"

Austin glanced at him curiously, "Just like that?"

"Just like that," he nodded, "... I can think of someone else who might wanna' go," Austin laughed to himself, "What's funny?"

"Jade never really liked hiking,"

Callum simpered, "Something tells me she might tough it out for you,"

It had been a couple of days since Jade and Austin had spoken. He had told her Callum was in town and she wanted to give him his space with his friend. More than anything, she figured it would be best for her to start distancing herself from Austin, their last in-person conversation continuing to float in the recesses of her brain.

So, she was quite surprised when he had phoned her that afternoon. She was clicking through designers that Cam had sent her, needing her to pick out a dress for the Batman premiere. She would have to jet out to New York in a couple of weeks, but truth be told she wasn't as excited as she should've been. Nevertheless, she picked up Austin's call.

"Hey,"

"Hey," even through the speaker, his voice was like liquid gold, "Whatcha' doing?"

"I'm tablet shopping for gowns," she replied, trying not to sound too disinterested.

"Oh? For the Batman premiere, or just for fun?" he asked.

"A little of both," she admitted, "What're you doing?"

"I just got home, I was at the pier today," he replied.

"Santa Monica?"

"Mhm,"

"Beautiful," her eye suddenly caught on a long, slinky black gown, the skirt near completely see through. She was intrigued, "How's Callum?"

"He's good, he says hi," he replied, "We were supposed to hang out tomorrow, but he's got a thing,"

"That's too bad," Jade tapped on the Michael Costello dress, only half listening at the moment, "You gonna' take the day off?"

"Yeah. But I was wondering if you were free tomorrow?" he asked suddenly.

She paused at that, "Um... yeah! Yeah, I got nothing going on," she replied, "What did you wanna' do?"

He inhaled sharply before he spoke, the idea taking Jack aback a little, "You like hiking?"

[bittenbcund]

" Booo!!! " She's throwing her empty sticks of dango in the direction of them.

[sepublic]

Post-Hoot for Hollow Mind!

-After doing the portraits in Belos’ mindscape, they went back to scratch them up during production.

-Fun fact I noticed, but Amelia Lorenz (the namesake of Boscha’s plant friend Amelia) has a crew shirt, with a dripping King skull and a snake slithering through, titled; Owl Crew 2021.

-Cat’s favorite character is Lilith!

-“Littlest Lapdogs” is the team name Amelia, @Hayleynwong, and Cat like to go by, because Hayley brought her dog to work.

-Cat got to draw Lilith eating ice cream in Keeping Up A-Fear-ances and “all that stuff”.

-Sarah thought Luz chased after Hunter at the end of the episode, but maybe she was remembering a previous version; Sarah wanted Luz to do that.

-According to Cissy, if Lilith traveled back in time to human history, she’d like the Edwardian Era, being a lady at the palace of Versailles, being wealthy, eating it all up.

-According to Sarah, Luz would go to the Ren Faire after working on a Crab Maiden costume for months, drink some grog without knowing what it is and hating it, and join a navy ship again.

-Dana had to rein in Hayley on making the characters cry because she LOVES to make them suffer.

-Cat found it scarier to have Belos fail his little genocide experiment and say that they have work to do; She pitched that idea to Dana who was like Oh shit, Cat laughed deviously to her reaction.

-One of S&P’s rules is no realistic weapons, but fantasy versions are okay; Sarah admits that she sees the logic and agrees with this, and is surprised about it.

-Amelia had the idea for the Collector to move from the shadows after being squished up, and worked with Hayley over his movement.

[xtruss]

Solar Eclipse Path Map Shows States Where Sun Will Be Blocked Out

— March 16, 2024 | Newsweek

A rare total solar eclipse will take place next month and will be the last chance for Americans to view the natural phenomena for two decades, astronomy experts have said.

A total eclipse will be experienced by millions of Americans on April 8 this year—a rare astronomical event in which the skies briefly turn dark during daylight hours. Next month's eclipse is a rare event, with the last one taking place over the U.S. in 2017.

"You definitely want to be looking at the sky on April 8th because if you miss the solar eclipse this year, you have to wait two decades until the next chance to see a total solar eclipse from the contiguous United States," Brian Lada, AccuWeather astronomy expert, told Newsweek.

"Total solar eclipses themselves are not rare. They happen every year somewhere around the world. What is rare is to have them visible here in the United States."

Total eclipses occur once every other year somewhere on the planet, but for each individual community, they occur once every few centuries with some exceptions, Lada explained.

A solar eclipse is seen at Liberty Island in on August 21, 2017, in New York City. While New York was not in the path of totality for the solar eclipse, around 72 percent of the sun was covered by the moon during the peak time of the partial eclipse. Noam Galai/WireImage/Getty

What Is A Total Solar Eclipse?

According to Jonathan Belles, digital meteorologist for The Weather Channel, a solar eclipse takes place when the moon's orbit "takes it into the same plane as the sun, blocking out the sun."

There are numerous things to look out for - aside from the skies turning dark in the middle of the day - during a solar eclipse. Belles told Newsweek: "During a total solar eclipse, you can see explosions of matter being launched from the sun on some occasions. You'll likely see some eerie shadows in the form of eclipsed discs or even slithering snakes on the ground under trees and other objects. You might see bats and birds head out for food thinking that the sunset has arrived."

"If you look at the horizon, you may see thin clouds of ice that are usually invisible to the naked eye. You may also see clouds shrink over land or grow over the ocean. In elevated locations, you might also be able to tell where the sun is still shining."

Where Can I See The Total Eclipse?

A Map, Provided by NASA, Showing the Trajectory of the Solar Eclipse on April 8, 2024. NASA

According to Lada, those wishing to catch a glimpse of the phenomenon will need to be "in a narrow area called the path of totality", stretching from Texas all the way to Maine in the northeast.

A NASA map shows the full trajectory of the eclipse across the states, including times it will occur on April 8. Starting in Texas at around 1:30 p.m. CDT, the eclipse will occur in Oklahoma, Arkansas, Missouri, Illinois, Kentucky, Indiana, Ohio, Pennsylvania, New York, Vermont, New Hampshire, and finally in Maine at 3:30 p.m. EDT. Small parts of Tennessee and Michigan may also experience the total solar eclipse.

"Everywhere outside of the path of totality will only experience a partial solar eclipse, of course, as long as it's not cloudy," Lada told Newsweek.

Americans in 13 States Will Experience a Rare Total Solar Eclipse Next Month. Getty Images/Newsweek

If you're planning to look skyward to see the event, you need to be prepared. NASA advises using the correct equipment to prevent causing serious damage to your eyes.

"When watching the partial phases of the solar eclipse directly with your eyes, which happens before and after totality, you must look through safe solar viewing glasses ("eclipse glasses") or a safe handheld solar viewer at all times," NASA explains. You can also use an indirect viewing method, such as a pinhole projector."

[baejax-the-great]

Sunset in Your Veins

Patroclus x Achilles | modern AU | reincarnation AU | AO3

Chicago is Hell

These are not the grassy hills of Elysium. The ground beneath Achilles’ feet is hard stone, cold, freezing even, but not ice. Gray and flat, like it had been carved, and dull. The cold seeps through his sandals and into his feet and he shivers and stares around numbly at this foreign land lit by orange lanterns that cast a dreary pall upon it all.

The last thing Achilles remembers is the arrow piercing his chest. He touches the area, but there is no wound. The poison had burned as his torn-up heart continued trying to beat, his own pulse becoming the only thing he could hear, the only thing he could feel, until everything went blessedly quiet and blessedly dark. He welcomed it, his death. On the other side waited Patroclus. On the other side he was promised peace.

He is on the other side, and he would not describe it as peace. In the center of the ugly crossroads in front of him, bright and terrifying beasts with shining eyes roar through, belching smoke and glowing red in the darkness. This must be the center of Tartarus, and these people who walk cowed in fear along the smaller roads in their strange, bulky clothing must be the other damned who offended the gods during their lives. 

He now numbers among them.

Perhaps freezing in a dark, rocky world is his punishment for dishonoring Hector like he did. He knew as he turned from the gods and his own honor for the first time in his life that there would be a price. He had felt at the time that he had already paid it. How foolish to imagine that the gods would ever stay their vengeful hands. 

Patroclus will not be here. He never violated the laws of their land be they from kings or gods. The only oath he ever broke was his last one, to Achilles, when he promised to drive the Trojans from the ships and go no further.

So. Death will be of no relief after all. Achilles bows his head, and he cries.

A horrible rumbles cuts through his sobbing, loud enough to shake his very bones. He wipes his face and follows down one of the roads, the monstrous rattling only growing in volume. The others around him do not seem to notice or care, though some start to run into a squat building with some sort of metal rack on top. It is the rack that is groaning, then screaming, and a large beast, a dragon or a snake—perhaps the famed hydra—races across that metal. Achilles’ teeth gnash as he listens to its horrible cries, but then it stops, the beast and the noise together. A human voice calls out, though not in alarm, and it says something Achilles does not understand. With a chime, the best slithers away at a speed Achilles had not thought possible for something of its size. 

He is overcome with an urge to fight it. He will hunt it to its lair, except he has no weapons in his possession, and none of the shades appears to carry them. Try as he might, he cannot spot a single shield or spear among any of them. There are no warriors in this part of Tartarus. This must be how the beasts of metal and lights and smoke and sound have overrun it. 

He pulls his chiton more tightly around him and wonders what he should do. There is nothing familiar here, and each person he addresses ducks their head and hurries off, as if he has given offense. He has never been received this way in all his life. He stands in the shadow of strange towers blinking lights near the only familiar thing—a tree—devoid of all its leaves, no doubt a gift of the Queen of the Underworld for those trapped in her most dismal domain.

Read the rest here

[motherfuckingmaneater]

Were Voldemort and Bellatrix reunited in the afterlife? What do you think that would look like?

It’s dark when she awakes. Her wand is still clutched in her hand. There’s a strange sensation across her body, like she weighs nothing. She sits up from where she’s lying to realise she’s in a densely packed forest, but there’s not a single rustle of winds or water or leaves to be heard. High above is a huge blood moon pouring its light down onto her. She grips her wand tighter and begins to walk ahead towards it. Her footsteps make no noise for a long time, until they do. Suddenly a step forward crunches leaves beneath her heeled boot. The noise startles her. The sky is not so dark either. She pushes on ahead, going as quickly as she can. 

She reaches a clearing before long and in the middle is a body of water. In its centre something much like a cauldron is sat, its brim just inches above the surface of the water. The red light of the moon seems to be centred towards it, beams directed right onto the cauldron. She tentatively steps towards it and the water swishes around her feet. Further in she ventures, to entirely silent waters, her wand still clutched tight. The water stops making noise the further in she goes, and she only realises when she’s in at waist height. Her clothes are drenched and stuck to her skin, but the unmistakable touch of something immediately makes her jolt. She steps back and casts a light into the water.

The shadow of a creature — perhaps a mere kappa — retreats against her light. She steps forward again, into the water which makes no noise, and the light goes out. 

All at once she feels hands on her, pulling her down, desperately yanking at her clothing. She gasps in terror and slashes her wand down. Her curse cuts the water’s surface and buries through to the bed at her feet. Blood begins to pool up to the water’s surface. She does it again and again as hands, desperate and ice cold curl around her ankles and her legs, trying to pull her under.

She’s being dragged under the surface before long, like a vacuums pulling her deeper and deeper. She splashes to no avail, the water not making a noise as she strikes it. She can only hear herself struggling and feel hands on her body drawing her in. 

She gulps air quickly and then she’s submerged, all around her are inferi. Horrible creatures with skulls for faces and withered away bodies like corpses half rotten. She spins spells fast and whatever has wrapped around her ankle retreats only long enough for her to resurface and gasp for air before it pulls her back. She’s going to drown here, she thinks. 

A blazing green glow high above her makes them hiss in terror and release her. Bellatrix frantically swims to the top and finally, she hears the splash of water. She gasps for air and swims fast for the cauldron, in which the light is emanating. It’s almost unbearable how hot it is — the closer she gets finally she realises — it’s fire. From behind the roar of fire and splashes of water she hears a voice. His voice.

Bella. 

She clutches the edge of the cauldron and it burns her hands with heat but she won’t let go. She has to go. If it’s him, she has to. She pulls herself over the edge and falls into the blackness of it. She hurtles, down and down and down she goes. For so long does she fall that she fears she may never stop falling. Then, this is what the descent into Lord Voldemort has been like.

Finally, she is at the bottom. She’s in another place she doesn’t recognise, the light is so dim she can hardly see ahead. It’s another tunnel. Lined along its side are old stone statues of snakes, their mouths open their fangs bared, their forked tongues pointed, their faces fierce. She follows through, again the whole way her footsteps don’t make a noise. It’s eerily silent down here.

Hissing startles her and Bellatrix turns to the source of the noise. Slithering along beside her is a giant serpent with clawed out eyes blood red and dripping. The beast must be at least seventy feet long. It doesn’t attack, but it’s huge forked tongue slithers out of its mouth to taste the air around her. It hisses and suddenly opens its mouth opens wide. A single fang on the front left of it’s mouth is missing as though it’s been torn out. It’s poised to strike, and suddenly she raises her wand, ready to defend herself. 

Hissing calls through the tunnels and the beast stops. It closes its mouth, hisses again and lowers its hulking body to the ground. Around her it slithers and her eyes search frantically from the source of noise. Ahead of her, beside a small body of water and a huge statue — a statue she now recognises as Salazar Slytherin — she sees him. 

She runs, flinging herself down beside him. He’s lying on his side, a mess of a man, entirely ruined. Whatever is left of his soul is horrifying to witness, but she knows him. She would know him in any life. His eyes turn to her face. One eye crimson, the other is white. Her eyes are fast over his face, taking in the way his cheek has completely hollowed, how half his skin is gone, his jaw exposed to show sinew and muscle beneath. A long tear following the missing skin drags its way up over his milky white eye as though magic has torn him apart. But what had put him back together? 

“Bella.”

Tears pool her lashes, she can’t bring herself to utter a word. She leans, she kisses his cheek. Tears fall onto him and for a moment she closes her eyes. She relishes the feel of him, no matter what he feels like now. He is still the man she loves. He doesn’t say a word but relief falls from him in waves. She clutches at his shoulders as carefully as she can, feeling bone and barely-their flesh beneath her hands and beneath his robes which have soaked through. He presses his hand to the ground as she pulls him up and he snares his other hand around her wrist. His hand clutching her is almost entirely bone. One half of his body is skull and barely-their flesh, the other half is just about fine. 

They force themselves up after some time, escaping has never been so difficult — after all, where do they go? Voldemort doesn’t have a wand. His arm is slung around Bellatrix’s shoulder, her arm around his waist. She keeps her wand drawn in her hand. They leave a different way to how she comes in and before long they find themselves outside again soon. This time they've come out through Hogwarts castle. They share a glance and traverse old pathways they both know so well. The turrets of the castle are blackened, though by what neither of them are sure. The grasses glow purple not green, the trees of the forbidden forrest are shaped like monstrous creatures.

It’s a reflection of their own world, they realise, only darker and more terrifying. Then, what is a little terror to the darkest witch and wizard to have ever lived?

They stop at in the great hall, of which's windows are haunting and shadows creep along black stone walls. This is the last place they remember being. This is where they died together. Magic swirls around them, bright green and violent. It's trying to drag them in. Voldemort and Bellatrix stare down into it, against the torrent of magic, into what looks like another world far more like the one they remember.

Are you ready for another adventure, Bella? With you, my Lord? Her fingers lock into his and she meets his gaze, Always.